#🐍venomous words

[aceparagonings]

tag dump part 3 ( dynamic and ship tags! )

･::･ﾟ☆ HANEKOMA: you took me under the gentle touch of your wings; you have always been my father. ☆ KAKYOIN NORIAKI 💎 meeting you was a fated encounter; you are my shining emerald; our radiance will envelop the galaxy itself. ♥☆💎 HIKARU ｡･::･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ NORIAKI — the sunshine that illuminates your unbreakable emerald; you brighten my world & life. ☆ THE-COMPOSER ☆ you look after me like a guardian angel does; you are my first friend. with you I feel like I can do anything. ☆ KIRYU JOSHUA ☆ you waltzed into my life like an unknowing crescendo; yet our harmonies are melodic together. I will keep Shibuya safe. ☆ KISARAGI GENTARO ☆ my dearest friend — you and I are the stars that will light up the galaxy. with you at my side I have nothing to fear. ☆ G'RAHA TIA 💠 you inspire me to keep going despite the odds I face; with you at my side there is nothing to fear. ♥☆💠 HIKARU ｡･::･ﾟ★｡･::･ﾟ☆ G'RAHA — love that transcends time & space. when we’re together I feel like I’m home. ♥☆📷 HIKARU ｡･::･ﾟ★｡･::･ﾟ☆ TSUKASA — fate dictated that we are never to meet; and yet we are two halves of a whole. ☆ KADOYA TSUKASA 📷 destroyer of worlds & my other half — together we'll defy our destiny and forge our own path. ☆ JUGGLUS JUGGLER 🌙 with words laced with sweet venom to coil around a heart — yet you didn't need to cast illusions to win my heart. ♥☆🐍 HIKARU ｡･::･ﾟ★｡･::･ﾟ☆ JUGGLER — a heart of darkness cannot exist without a heart of light; let me be the guiding star on your path. ☆ DANTE SPARDA 🌹 the devil to my angel; on wings of rebellion does hope burn anew. ever stronger; ever higher. ♥☆🌹 HIKARU ｡･::･ﾟ★｡･::･ﾟ☆ DANTE — ''heaven or hell; let's rock!'' for you—I’d brave the flames of hell itself on wings of hope. ☆ TOKIWA SOUGO 🕛 oh valiant boy king — how brightly does your smile shine. may you never forget that brave heart as fate tests your will. ☆ MYTHCAELS ☆ heroes we are; standing side by side to protect what's important to us. as your mentor I vow to subvert your destiny. ☆ ONODERA YUSUKE 🪲 you who also protects everyone's smiles — because of your kind heart I've found another ally to always rely on. ☆ KAITO DAIKI 👑 although our ideals didn't always align — I know that I can depend on you. thank you for also keeping tsukasa safe. ☆ HIKARI NATSUMI 🍊 it's because of you that tsukasa is who he is today — you kept believing in him no matter what.

[celesomnis]

❝ The Lionguard Gambit ❞

Nyoka Wadjet x Prefect Reader

The prefect requires some help. The snakeman will not provide it without a catch. There is chess, and a more harrowing "game" is maybe played too.

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babes, bros, and nonbinary beaus, I present to you the highly anticipated ''x reader'' ficlet for @cozymochi and @oddberryshortcake 's slitheringly handsome oc!

because let's be so real, we all down bad for that snake boi.

(and happy christmas you two dears! <3 I hope you do enjoy this and that it lifts your spirits fghsjk and i am so sorry if he is wildly ooc,, I tried my best 😭)

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“I know a guy for that.”

"Yeah. I'm kinda... I'm kind of here because you do, actually."

Nyoka Wadjet did not look amused.

You folded your fingers together and regarded the venomous beastman as passively and politely as you were able.

"Look. I know since we've been sticking around in Savanaclaw lately, Grim has been pushing your boundaries here and there. So if you help me, I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again like that... for two whole weeks."

Air pushed slowly through his nostrils. He was regarding you more seriously now.

Approaching the very allusive, and admittedly rather frightful, student in order to find somebody who could counterfeit thaumarks was perhaps not the most self-preserving decision you'd made. But it was imperative to a growing idea you had on how to deal with you and your friends' latest Azul troubles.

"Three weeks." You sweetened the deal.

Nyoka's eyes narrowed.

"He landed on my head." was stated factually, like the action's offense spoke for itself.

That had indeed happened. Grim was not a often creature of preserving personal space.

"A month?" You tried.

"A year."

Well that wasn't happening. "Um. I could offer two months, maybe." People really had a tendency to overestimate your level of control over that little (lovable) demon.

It seemed like that was not a favorable compromise. Nyoka's attention dipped from you and moved to the room's center where he had previously been seated.

Your stare followed his towards the shining, porcelain chess set readied and untouched at the low-standing table. Sparking a different tactic.

"Or, maybe you could play me for it?"

His gaze swung lazily back at you. Something about the action, and the hooded way his eyes looked, put little tingles along your arms.

"I promise I actually know how to play." You said, in case he was doubting your authenticity.

Movement caught your attention behind his legs, and a second later, his long tail came swishing side to side. A myriad of scales glittering under the sunroof's light.

A somersault happened inside your stomach, but was ignored in favor of catching Nyoka's next words.

“I like to be on the winning side.”

"Is that you doubting yourself against me?" You pushed.

He tipped his chin up slightly, a sun-flare running over his glasses.

“One battle doesn’t lose a war, prefect.”

The message was clear. Challenge Accepted.

He waved a gloved hand, inviting you to sit, which you obliged.

"Alright." Nyoka told you, easing himself gracefully onto the opposing seat. "If you beat me, I will connect you with my friend. But if I beat you, you will forbid your familiar from invading my presence for the remainder of the year."

Oh dear. He was dead-set on that, wasn't he.

Your eyes met. The colors in his clashed your own.

These were desperate times.

"Deal."

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The first few minutes of the game were done mostly in silence.

While it was true you knew how to play (at least, back in your home world you had) it'd been awhile since you'd done so for real, and there was a necessary amount of concentration needed in the first half while you eased back into things.

Nyoka, naturally, was a hard player from the start.

Though some of the plays and tactics he tried helped along in jogging your memory of the nuances, there was still some clear rust in your play, whereas he was all refined sharpness.

Poising in ponder, then striking fast.

Quick as a cobra.

The game did not take long to be leant in his favor.

And the silence was becoming brutal.

It was very quiet in the room, which made sense as to why Nyoka liked to frequent here. And it wasn't unsettling.

That was not the issue.

The distress came because in its peace, it caused the only sound you could latch onto in the whole room was the slow, deep, even breaths leaving the man's chest.

Slow in, slower out, over and over.

Each breath led your concentration to phase in and out of the game with it.

When you snapped back to, you found you just lost one of your knights. Rather viciously.

"You're really subtle with your attacks." You noted sardonically, mostly just to say anything.

There was a shake to your hands as they moved your king.

Nyoka watched you fidget.

In reply, there was a smooth counter of; "Hmph. Like a drop to the head."

You wetted your lips. Moved a pawn. "Grim's harmless, just very personable."

"He is lucky I didn't bite him." Nyoka murmured.

You were still a little lost to thought when this was said, so your ears failed to detect if its inflection held jest or sarcasm.

"Really? I figured you too elegant to go around handling annoyances with your teeth," Slipped out of your mouth before sense caught up to it.

His eyes slid at you. Pinned you there.

Something in your gut flipped.

"I should bite you, Prefect."

The game, and entire room, might have disappeared, but right then you couldn't have been sure.

He spoke it low, and it rolled out of his throat in a way that sent heat down your back. "But I think I wouldn't get the taste out of my mouth for days."

The heat became infernal.

Your head turned away, cheek meeting the forgiving cold of the sofa, desperate to pretend those words weren't the most charged thing you'd experienced in your time here.

"Calm yourself," He intoned, and maybe it was your racing mind, but you almost thought he had the gall to sound amused. "Any venom I have is reserved for other targets."

Oh, you were anything but calm. But there was a bell ringing in the distance, another later hour revealing itself.

It was getting late, and you still had a chess game at stake.

Nyoka exhaled, a low and long huff that makes you at once certain you won't be able to stand for a long while after this.

It felt like a lot of things were at stake right now.

From infernal to charred, you were a wreck at this point.

Forcing your focus to cooperate, the board came back to life before you and a realization was brought with it.

"Finding it difficult to think?" His words were edged with a sultry hiss.

You steeled. Made your move fast. Trying to keep your face unchanging.

Nyoka fluttered his long fingers atop his pieces, calculating, before finally resting atop his queen. And took your pawn.

A sudden sense of victory quelled all other emotions within you, and with haste you moved your knight into a position that seemed vulnerable.

Taking the bait, Nyoka moved his queen back where it was before.

You struck, using your bishop to fly across the board for the winning move. Exclaiming "Check!" and knocking porcelain against porcelain. Hands springing up, elated. "Hah! I did it! The Lionguard Gambit!"

Nyoka looked up at you fast, then moved aback. Expression one you couldn't define. "The... What."

You remained as you were. Enjoying the simmer of your victory.

Thanking the gods and the Seven for having provided the luck that led you to stumble across that move in a late-night library study one evening.

The snakeman stared at you a long time.

The longer that the seconds ticked by, the less sure of yourself you became. Fearful there had been a miscalculation or premature celebration.

You hadn't done it wrong, had you?

And then, Nyoka said; "...Lionheart Gambit?"

A rush of burning sensation to your ears coaxed your arms into a deflate.

"Oh." That was embarrassing. "Well- you know what I meant! My point is, I won!"

"So you did." He relented, sparing you by moving on from your blunder.

It had felt like your mispronunciation had sort of rattled him, for whatever reason, but that was a mystery for another time.

“I guess some battles can turn a war’s tides, snake eyes.” You said, tone lilting once more coy.

Nyoka lowered himself into the spine of his chair with crossing arms.

You waited. "...Um. So. Nyoka?"

"Don't get fretful, prefect, I withhold my ends of bargains. I'll introduce you to the person you seek tomorrow."

You felt a press of disappoint, but relented that it had gotten late. You hadn't realized when the sun's shine had been replaced with the softer lights of the overhead lanterns.

Rising from the seat, knees mercifully only wobbling a little, you offered him thanks and began to make the - perhaps a little purposefully slowed - trek towards the exit.

"Well. Goodnight, Nyoka."

"Hmm."

"You not going to sleep?"

"In a while."

“Ah. Putting in some extra practice for when you get a good chess partner?” You tossed playfully over a shoulder.

“That is not an issue.”

Nyoka rolled his fingers into a fist and set his chin on it. He did not look back at you, but somehow, the heat in your chest returned all the same.

And beyond noise of the door shutting after you, you caught six words that kept that heat burning low in your chest for the whole night following;

“I know a prefect for that.”

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fin.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 2: I’m The Son Of Rage And Love]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Jesus Of Suburbia” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

On the shores of the Susquehanna River, just north of Harrisburg, you find a Wawa with no gas: bags on all the pumps, cars with their fuel caps unscrewed and dangling. This is a common courtesy adopted en masse, like rationing during the World Wars or flying American flags after 9/11. It signals that a car has already been siphoned, no gasoline to be found here, no transparent flammable gold made of eons-past decomposition. You wonder if in a few million years, some unfathomable new apex species will be drilling your liquefied remains from the lightless layers of the earth to power their spaceships.

“Then we got sent to Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling,” Rio continues, gnawing on a piece of beef jerky, Jack Link’s in a red bag, teriyaki. Mercifully, whoever took the gas left some of the food. You are sitting in the parking lot, a quaint zombie apocalypse picnic, trail mix and Rice Krispies Treats, Herr’s potato chips and Tastykakes, warm soda sipped from plastic bottles. Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the Tahoe. Jace is tearing the convenience store apart; he is convinced the employees must have kept a gun somewhere in case of robberies. You know he’s fine. You can hear him banging around and swearing in there.

“Then we built some schools and a hospital in Djibouti,” you say.

Aegon is baffled yet intrigued. “Djibouti…?”

“It’s on the Horn of Africa, near Ethiopia and Somalia.”

Luke snorts. “It’s nice of you to assume he knows where Africa is.”

“Huh.” Aegon tosses a green M&M into his mouth. “Djibouti is horny.”

Rio says: “And after that we spent like six months in Key West, and then we got shipped to Corpus Christi, where Chips very narrowly avoided getting impregnated by, marrying, and inevitably acrimoniously divorcing a Marine.”

Everyone laughs except Aemond, who gives you a teasing smirk. “Did you really?”

“Uh, no. He asked me out, I ghosted him, that’s as far as it went.”

“Why’d you ghost him?” Baela says, crunching on Utz Cheese Balls.

Aegon turns to Rio. “You want a Honey Bun?”

“You’re my Honey Bun,” Rio replies. Aegon smiles, his sunburn flushing darker.

You shrug, eat a handful of candied almonds, tell a half-truth. “I just didn’t like him enough.”

Rhaena yelps and points: a snake, black and maybe five feet long, is slithering across the parking lot. It passes beneath the shade of the Tahoe and then continues towards the bushes. A moderate amount of panic erupts.

Helaena glances up from her notebook. “Rat snake. Not venomous.”

Rhaena shudders. “Well, I still don’t like it.”

“Where were you stationed next?” Daeron asks Rio.

“Chinhae, South Korea. Wicked cool place. The people love Americans, the food is incredible. We were there to rebuild a pier that got wrecked in a typhoon. They have these cute dolphin-looking things, they’d swim right up to the edge of the water with fish in their mouths to try to give to us. Like cats bringing home mice for their owners.”

“Finless porpoises,” you say.

“Yeah, those. And after Korea, it was Diego Garcia.”

“Diego…what?” Rhaena says.

Aegon turns to Luke. “Try to act like I’m stupid for not knowing where that is.”

“Diego Garcia is a tiny little island in the middle of the Indian Ocean,” you say, a bit wistfully. “It’s technically owned by the British, but we share a base there, we use it for airfields and to refuel submarines, things like that. We were renovating the housing facilities for Camp Thunder Cove. At night we’d go to the beach, have a few beers, look out into the ocean and it was just…nothing. Wide open dark nothingness for as far as you could imagine.”

“That’s what we need now,” Helaena murmurs as she makes elegant cursive annotations in her notebook, the cover picturing different species of spiders, a pinktoe tarantula, a green lynx spider, a black widow. “Someplace to go where no one will find us.”

“So you’ve known each other since basic training.” Aemond’s remaining blue eye shifts between you and Rio, like he’s still trying to puzzle it out. There’s really no mystery. You’re friends, and you’ve always been friends, and you’ve never been more than friends, despite many of your fellow seamen’s jokes to the contrary.

You tear open a Slim Jim. Aemond rebandaged your hands this morning, though they barely hurt anymore; he touches you with a clinical, focused restraint. “Not quite that long. Rio enlisted a few months before I did, so we weren’t at Great Lakes together, and then carpenters do technical school in Gulfport, Mississippi near Biloxi, and electricians train at Sheppard Air Force Base in Texas. We met after we were both assigned to Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 1.”

“The First and The Finest,” Rio quotes the motto, grinning. “The original Seabees, founded during World War II. People called our battalion the Pioneers, which…is kind of ironic now.”

Aegon says, munching noisily on trail mix: “It’ll be so appropriate when you end up dying of a broken leg or the flu or in some other totally preventable way.”

“It’s so crazy, people died of anything back then,” Luke marvels gravely. “Tuberculosis, pneumonia, infections, starving, freezing, poisoning, getting kicked by a horse, giving birth…”

Rhaena shoots him a fearsome look and Luke shuts up, but of course he can’t take it back. There is a long uncomfortable silence punctuated only by birdsong and Jace’s muffled outbursts from inside the Wawa. Everyone looks at Baela, concerned, pitying, entirely unable to do anything to improve her situation. She is still eating Cheese Balls with one orange-stained hand, but the other rests on her belly.

“Clearly, the timing is less than ideal,” Baela says after a while, and if she’s terrified she doesn’t sound like it. “It wasn’t planned to begin with, but I was determined to make the best of things. I figured that I could still finish up my master’s degree with a baby, and Rhaena and our parents could help, and Jace would be done with law school soon, and it might be stressful for a while but we’d all get through it. And now…” She shrugs wryly. “Now all those plans are gone. Just gone.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Aemond says; a fierce low determination, a promise, a vow.

Baela smiles at Rio. “How old is your baby?”

He is caught off-guard, clears his throat, averts his gaze. Aegon looks over at him, alarmed. “Oh, he, uh…he’s little. Really little. He…” And Rio, so rarely at a loss for words, can’t continue. He eats his beef jerky instead.

You explain for him. “Sophie’s due date was right around the time the phones and internet went down. The last we heard, she was headed to Odessa to stay with Rio’s parents.” Aemond and his companions nod and don’t say what they’re thinking, but it’s swimming in their eyes: Sophie could have died, the baby could have died, they both could have died, you and Rio might be risking your lives to cross the continental United States for nothing. “Rio’s parents live in this…well, I joke around and call it a doomsday prepper cult, but that’s not really what it is, it’s just a farming community out in the middle of nowhere. People who have their own chickens and gardens, churn their own butter, don’t wear deodorant, make medicine out of tree bark…and a lot of them have kind of a survivalist mentality, they stock pantries and collect guns. So we figure we can reunite Rio with his family and then carve out lives for ourselves in relative peace.”

Rio reaches over to bump his fist against your shoulder. He is grateful. You punch him back, fairly forcefully; it’s like hitting a brick wall. Rio is as tall as Aemond but probably outweighs him by a hundred pounds.

You ask Aemond: “What’s in the Bay Area?”

“Our parents have a beach house. It’s up on a cliff by itself, pretty isolated, and surrounded by state parks. That’s where they were when everything shut down. I assume they’re still there.”

“Beach house?” Rio raises his eyebrows. “On a cliff?”

Rich kids. REALLY rich kids. “Your parents couldn’t just fly you to California in a private jet or something?” you say.

“Our pilots stole the jets,” Aemond replies, not realizing you were joking.

“Oh.”

“Jace and Luke’s parents were home in London, so getting there isn’t really an option, and then Baela and Rhaena…”

“Mum and Dad were on a business trip to Moscow,” Baela says. “I’d like to think they weren’t eaten, but…they were probably eaten.”

“I am so sorry,” you manage awkwardly.

A single zombie goes shuffling past the Wawa on the main street, a woman in a floral church dress, hair falling out of its curls, one pink high heel that clicks on the pavement, blood all over her mouth and chin. She notices the nine of you and begins to hiss, lurching closer. Daeron shoots her down and then trots over to retrieve his arrows, yanking them out of her cheek and eye socket. Rhaena winces. Aemond, distracted, bites into a Nature Valley granola bar. Aegon opens a can of Pringles, pizza-flavored.

Luke is peering through his binoculars, looking south towards Harrisburg. Faintly, you can see sunlight glinting off the gilded statue of a woman—the Spirit of the Commonwealth—that tops the green clay tile dome of the state capitol building. “What is that?”

“The sculpture?” you say.

“No. Farther away. Those big concrete towers, right on the water.”

Now you know exactly what he means…and you’d forgotten all about it. It’s an oversight you hope doesn’t cost too much. “That’s Three Mile Island. And we should leave so we can put more space between it and us.”

“Oh, fuck me…” Rio mutters.

Now everyone else is squinting to see the facility, barely visible from the Wawa. “Why?” Aemond asks you.

“Because it’s a nuclear power plant. And since the electricity is out everywhere, as soon as its backup generators fail, it will melt down and the whole area around it will become radioactive.”

Aegon puts two Pringles into his mouth so they look like a duck bill. “How do you know?”

“Did no one else go through a Chernobyl obsession phase in high school?”

“The professor mentioned it in one of my chemistry classes,” Aemond says, but he sounds doubtful; this must have been years ago, when he was consumed by med school prerequisites and had no space left in his brain for mere curiosity.

“Okay, listen up.” Rio knows the key points; he’s had to study different sources of electrical power. He demonstrates with dramatic hand gestures. “You have super radioactive reactor fuel, usually uranium or plutonium. You have a pool of water around it that circulates continuously. The heat of the fuel evaporates the water, which makes steam, which spins turbines, thus creating power. But if the external electricity fails, the water stops circulating, and the heat vaporizes all of it, and when there’s no more water the reactor fuel overheats and melts through the floor and poisons the earth, air, and groundwater. Any questions?”

There is a chorus of distressed chattering as people swiftly rise to their feet, clutching armfuls of snacks for the road. Jace comes trudging out of the Wawa, conspicuously not in possession of a firearm.

“No luck?” Daeron asks.

“Obviously not.” Then Jace snaps at Aemond: “Why were you stomping around all pissed off in the medicine aisle earlier? What were you looking for?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says quickly.

“Seriously, dude, what was it?”

“Nothing!”

“Damn, Plankton, calm down.” Jace shields his face from the sun, following Luke’s nervous eyeline towards the concrete cooling towers to the south. “What’s that?”

“Three Mile Island,” you say. “And we’re leaving now.”

Aegon yawns loudly. “I’m so full! Rio, can you carry me to the car?” And before anyone can tell Aegon to shut up, Rio has crouched down to let him scramble onto his back. Aegon cackles and waves his can of Pringles around as Rio sprints to the Tahoe. Now there are a few more zombies stumbling up the street, but you don’t waste arrows or bullets on them. Baela runs them down as she swerves out of the parking lot and drives northwest, heading towards Clarks Ferry Bridge where you will cross the Susquehanna River in a less populated area and commence the long slog to the Ohio border. She turns up the volume on the CD player: London Bridge by Fergie. Immediately, Rio, Aegon, Daeron, Rhaena, and Luke are singing along.

Baela checks the fuel gauge and looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “We have half a tank left.”

“We’ll find gas somewhere.”

“Aemond, it’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not going to be able to walk to California.”

Baela can’t think of a response. He’s right. Outside, the miles roll by in a blur of radiant, reptilian, early-summer green.

~~~~~~~~~~

Each time the interstate is blocked by a snarl of crashed vehicles or a backup too thick to navigate through—both common occurrences—Aegon digs the folded map out of his shorts and charts a new course for Baela to follow. This particular divergence might prove fortunate. The Tahoe has rolled into Distant, Pennsylvania, an Appalachian speck of a town, churches, coal mines, dilapidated old sheds. On the outskirts, perched on a hill and surrounded by oak trees, you find a small single-story brick house with a myriad of banners on the flagpole: an American flag, a Confederate flag, a black POW/MIA flag, Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024.

“Yeah,” Aegon says, scratching his scruffy chin as he peers up through the windshield. “I feel like they probably owned guns.”

“How do we know they’re not still home?” Baela asks warily.

“No car in the driveway,” Aemond observes. “No windows boarded up. They probably ran into trouble while they were out somewhere and never made it back.” Then he waits, the question upspoken. Are we going to risk it?

“We’re down,” Rio says after exchanging a glance with you.

Aemond turns to Jace. Jace—curly dark hair down to his shoulders, eyes on the house, chewing his full bottom lip apprehensively—doesn’t reply at first.

“You said you wanted a gun, Jace. All the Walmarts are cleaned out. This is what shopping looks like now.”

“Fine. Okay. Let’s go.”

Baela parks the Tahoe in the gravel driveway and tells Rhaena and Luke to stay inside with Helaena until the property has been cleared. The rest of you climb out, afternoon sun and mountain wind, dandelions crushed under your shoes. There’s a barn behind the house, you see now, gaps between the wooden boards and flaking red paint.

Luke is standing up through the open sunroof, inspecting the scene with his binoculars. “No movement.”

“We’ll take the house, if you want,” Rio tells Aemond. You’re clutching your borrowed baseball bat with bandaged hands, though it still feels unnatural; your M9 is in its holster in case of emergencies. Jace, Baela, and Daeron start plodding across the yard towards the barn. The grass is tall and mostly shaded, the oak trees decades old, massive, weaving a patchwork canopy of leaves.

Aegon trots over and slaps Aemond on his left shoulder, his blind side. Aemond says without looking at him: “I’ll go with them. You wait out here.”

Aegon drives an imaginary ball with his golf club. “I’m very sensitive to rejection, you know.”

“You’ll survive.” Then Aemond follows you and Rio to the house.

Rio tries the knob, locked. He doesn’t waste a bullet by trying to shoot the lock off the door, something that is far less reliable than movies would have you believe. He kicks it open instead, three tries and then the screws that secure the latch give way and the door swings ajar. You wait, counting seconds in your head, listening for growls or footsteps. There are no sounds except the breeze sighing through the trees, the warbles and wing flaps of birds. You steal a glimpse of the barn. Jace, Baela, and Daeron have unhooked the rusted iron latch and are venturing inside, Daeron last and glancing around watchfully, his compound bow already drawn. Rio steps into the house.

It’s hot, stifling, all the windows shut. But this has its advantages. You inhale deeply: no trace of decomposition, no black swampy nauseating rot, just dust and lemon Pledge and old-people staleness.

“Smells fine,” Rio says. And then, loudly: “Anyone home? We’re just looking for supplies. We don’t want to hurt you. If anybody is here, just let us know and we’d be happy to leave. And, uh, sorry about the door.”

You stay close to Rio as he sweeps through the living room—floral couch, television turned off, crosses on the walls—and then the kitchen, where bananas are turning black on the counter. Aemond is to your right; he’s placed you on his blind side. He trusts me, you think. When did that happen? You haven’t heard anything from Aegon or the barn. That must be going well.

In the bedroom, Aemond pulls the curtains open to let some light in. You search the drawers, the closet, under the bed. No weapons. The bathroom has 1950s-style pink porcelain, the dining room table is set for a meal that never happened. There is a deer head mounted on the wall, ten points, not bad.

“I can’t believe these fuckers didn’t have guns,” Rio says. “But where the hell are they?!”

You have always watched more than you’ve spoken. That’s why you’re good at shooting things, and why you’re still alive. Rio talks and you listen; Rio acts and you reflect. “Wait.” You turn to Aemond. “Did you see a cellar outside?”

“A what?” He is perplexed. “Like…a wine cellar…?”

“No. A regular cellar.” You walk back into the midday heat and circle the house, Aemond and Rio hurrying to keep up. Over by the barn, everyone else is stretched out across the grass, joking, relaxing, Baela with her hammer on the ground and her hands laced over her belly, Helaena cradling a praying mantis in her palms and showing it to Rhaena. Aegon is teaching Luke how to smoke with a pack of Marlboro Golds he found at the Wawa. Luke, game yet somewhat anxious, takes a puff and then immediately coughs until he starts retching.

“I want to try too,” Daeron says.

Aegon shakes his head, taking a nonchalant drag off his own cigarette. “Nope. Not for you. Illegal. You’re under eighteen.”

“I want to try!”

“Shut up, you can’t even vote.”

“Nobody can vote, the government has collapsed!”

You find it at the back of the house: a pair of large metal doors leading down into the underground cellar. The weeds have begun to encroach on them, wild violets and black nightshade.

“Awesome!” Rio says, lifting the doors open one at a time, the hinges shrieking. They’re heavy, but they cause him no trouble. Underneath is a staircase and a room dark with shadows; you can see a light switch that won’t work, the electricity long gone. Rio unclips the flashlight from his  belt—taken from Saratoga Springs, waterproof with a 90-degree head so it doesn’t roll, known as a Moonbeam—and ducks down into the cellar. It’s a small room, easy to clear, and then you can start inventorying your findings. Rio is laughing, ecstatic. There is a workbench, a coil of thick rope, an array of tools—screwdrivers, wrenches, hammers, saws—some homemade leather wallets and holsters, cans of Brillo color spray…and then a treasure trove of weapons mounted on the walls.

You scan the collection. “We got Marlin .22s, we got Ruger Magnums, we got Remington 12 gauges, we got hunting knives…and one Glock 20.”

“A lot of ammo under here, Chips,” Rio says, yanking boxes out from beneath the workbench and stacking them on the floor, organized by caliber.

“No scopes?”

“Not that I’ve seen yet.”

You lift one of the Remingtons off its hooks and examine it: dusty, unloaded, vines of rust on the receiver. “We’ll have to go through and sight all of them. I don’t think they’ve been used in a while.”

“That’ll be a lot of noise. But here’s the place to do it, I guess. Low population, and we’re not staying.”

“Exactly.”

“Sight them for close range, like ten yards?”

“Yeah, that should work.”

Aemond says, eyebrow raised: “I didn’t know the Navy used shotguns.”

“Everyone hunts where I’m from.” You put the Remington down on the workbench then pick up the Glock, a box of 10mm ammo, and a can of Brillo. “Come on. Grab one of those hammers. I’ll show you how to shoot.”

You bound up the cellar steps and out into the shade of the oak trees, not stopping until you are at the edge of the property. Across the backyard where he lounges on the grass, Aegon gestures to the barn and asks Luke: “What’s in there anyway?”

“Nothing. Saddles and a few dead horses.”

“Oh, dynamite, I gotta see the dead horses.”

Jace says: “Aegon, man, what is your diagnosis?”

You use the can of Brillo to spray a large chocolate-colored circle onto a tree trunk, then make another two feet above that. You count your steps as you walk back towards Aemond: approximately ten yards. You load a single bullet in the Glock, aim for the bottom circle, and fire. A hole appears at the very edge of the circle. You take the hammer from Aemond and give the rear sight a few knocks. “This isn’t recommended, but it usually works.”

Aemond is smiling. “Okay.”

You load the full magazine and try again. The bullet hits closer to the middle this time. “Here. Both hands.”

Aemond takes the Glock but hesitates. “Is…my eye…?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. A lot of people close one eye anyway when they’re aiming. I always do.”

He is relieved. “Oh. Good.”

You tap the underside of the Glock. Aemond obediently lifts it. “The line of sight is slightly higher than the barrel, so you have to account for that. And then gravity will pull the bullet lower, and the longer the range of the shot, the more it will drop. So when you fire, the barrel should be angled upwards just the tiniest bit, not horizontal.”

“Like throwing a football.”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s an arc, not a straight line. At first it’ll feel like you’re trying to do all these calculations in your head, and it will be overwhelming, but then it becomes muscle memory and you don’t even have to think about it.” Jace, Baela, and Daeron are now eagerly crossing the yard to help Rio carry the guns out of the cellar and receive their own lessons. “Alright, we’re going to start with a really terrifying enemy. I want you to shoot that tree.”

“What a formidable tree.”

“Aim for the top circle. And if you hit it, then you can practice on Jace.”

Aemond laughs, butter-yellow sunlight filtering down through the trees, the shadows of leaves flickering over his skin, a mosaic of flesh and earth. You ghost your open hand down the length of his arm as if adjusting the angle. Really, you just want to touch him, to feel his warmth and his stillness, the tension of his muscles, the rhythm of his pulse. He’s watching you, lips parted, goosebumps rising beneath your fingertips. Birds are chirping, sparrows and blue jays. High above, squirrels leap and scrabble through the branches. You pull your hand away.

“Look through the sights. The rear sight at the back of the barrel is shaped like a U, and the one at the front is an I. Is the I in the middle of the U?”

“I have no idea.” A pause as he reconsiders. “Yes.”

“Right, it is, and the bullet should go exactly where you want it to because I already sighted that Glock. I’ll show you how to do it later. Now shoot the tree.”

Aemond aims but doesn’t pull the trigger. He’s nervous; he doesn’t want to seem incompetent, pathetic. You imagine it is rare that he isn’t the one with the solutions.

“Hey,” you say softly, and he looks over at you. “You don’t judge me for not knowing how to cure people. I won’t judge you for not knowing how to kill them. Deal?”

Now he’s smiling again. “Deal.” He returns his attention to the tree, lets a few more seconds tick by, and fires. He hits one of the branches. “Oh, that is…embarrassing.”

“It’s not that bad. You hit something. Try again.”

More seconds, more birdsong, more wind through the grass and the leaves. Aemond’s second bullet pierces the trunk about six inches above the top circle. “Yes!” he cheers, boyish triumph on his scarred face.

You resist touching him. It is startlingly difficult. “That was really good.”

He lowers the Glock, and you click the safety on for him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say.

“Why’d you ghost that Marine at Corpus Christi?”

“I told you. I didn’t like him enough.”

“Okay, sure, but actually. What was wrong with him?”

“I’ve known you for like twenty-four hours. You think you’ve earned all my secrets?”

“Well, not all of them,” Aemond says, grinning. Rio is showing Jace, Baela, and Daeron how to load the .22s. Aegon is swinging his golf club in circles as he follows Luke into the barn. Helaena and Rhaena are giggling as butterflies land on their outstretched fingers. “But our time together could be very finite. It seems unwise to waste it by trying to preserve some amount of mystery.”

“You’ve convinced me.” You want to be known by him, you want to be understood. That is a frightening thing to realize. It’s like handing a stranger the keys to your home. Will they visit graciously, or will they rob you, ruin you, burn you down? “I haven’t seen many examples of love working out for people. I’ve seen couples who hated each other, and couples who split up, and a lot of women having to raise kids all on their own and turning into these…bitter, exhausted, hollowed-out versions of themselves. I never wanted that to be me. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like that was just one wrong choice away from becoming my life. I don’t want men to disappoint me. So I don’t give them the chance.”

You think Aemond is going to say something cheap, flirtatious, awful: Give me a chance, baby. I won’t disappoint you. Instead he says: “I haven’t known many happy couples either. I mean…Luke and Rhaena would be the closest, I guess. But they’re so young. I’m not sure if they count.”

“Rio and Sophie seem happy. But they’ve also barely seen each other in five years.”

“It does things to you, when you start to believe love might be doomed to end or tear you apart or turn to hatred. If it’s just an evolutionary mirage to trick us into reproducing, what’s the point of giving someone that power over you?”

“Exactly.”

“I feel like one of us should be trying to talk the other out of being so fatalistically cynical.”

“Yeah, totally. Okay. You talk me out of it.”

He chuckles. “No, I don’t think I can. You talk me out of it.”

You’re watching Aemond, realizing you like everything about him—his smirk, his height, his hands, the clear direct blue of his eye—and wondering what the hell you’re going to do about it. Then there is a scream from the barn.

What?? Who??

“Luke!” Aemond shouts, and takes off across the yard. Now you’re all running, even Rhaena and Helaena who don’t have anything to fight with. Everyone is yelling, their lungs heaving in wild June air, their shoes pounding against the earth.

Inside the barn, on a wooden floor strewn with hay, Luke is shrieking as he tries to push a zombie off of him with his bare hands. She’s an older woman, grey hair in rollers, yellow nightgown stained with gore. Something has happened to her feet. Both of her legs end in exposed tibias and flapping strips of purplish, rotting skin. Aegon is beating her with his golf club, but he can’t get a good shot at her head. If he accidentally hits Luke, he could make it worse, he could stun him or even knock him out, and he’ll be bitten in the few seconds it takes anyone to remove his undead assailant. Rio lunges to grab the zombie. She snaps at him with bared teeth and he retreats, drawing his M9.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace is saying. The air is putrid: dead horses, dead people. “You’ll hit Luke!”

Your own M9 is suddenly in your hands, the safety clicked off, one eye closed. “Luke, don’t move.”

“Kill it, kill it!” he pleads hysterically, pushing the zombie as far from him as he can, his palms sinking into the decomposing bruise-colored tissue of her chest and throat.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace orders, but you ignore him. He fades into the background with all the other frenzied voices. Your finger on the trigger, a boom like thunder, bits of bone and brains against the wall. Luke shoves the corpse away, trembling, sobbing. Rhaena flies to him.

Aegon spots the fresh blood on Luke’s right hand and panics. “Is that a bite?!”

Luke notices the wound for the first time. “I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I don’t know!” Luke wails, tears flooding down his pink face.

“I thought you cleared the barn!” Aemond roars at Aegon.

“It fell out of the loft, we didn’t think anything was up there!”

Luke is blubbering: “I hit my hand against one of the stalls, I think that’s how I cut myself, I was just…I was pushing it away…I didn’t think it bit me…oh my God, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t want to die…”

“It only takes once, kid,” Rio says grimly, fidgeting with his M9, looking at Aemond as if for permission.

“Don’t touch him!” Jace hisses, stepping in front of his brother and clutching his bat. “No one is going to hurt him, it’s not a bite, you can’t prove it’s a bite!”

You reach for Luke’s bleeding hand. “Can I see—?”

“Get away from him!” Jace swings his bat. The tip of it connects with your skull, just a graze fortunately, but still enough to rattle you. Rio charges Jace, tackles him to the floor, starts throwing punches. Baela has apparently forgotten she’s heavily pregnant and is trying to pull them apart. You join her.

He’s going to demolish Jace. He’s going to break his nose or jaw or something. “Rio stop, I’m fine, stop!”

There is another gunshot, a cataclysmic earth-shaking explosion that makes the pain in your head surge from a ripple to a wave. Aemond is aiming his Glock skywards; a hole has appeared in the roof of the barn. “Stand up!” he commands. Rio and Jace reluctantly comply. You help Baela to her feet.

“Aemond,” Jace says. “You have to stop them, they’re going to kill Luke—”

“No one is killing anybody.” Aemond lowers his Glock. “Maybe he’s been bitten. Maybe he hasn’t been. And even if we knew for sure that he was going to turn, we don’t just execute people like this, threatening them when they’re terrified. We have humanity. We have compassion.”

There is a silence that strikes you as heavy, laden, holding meaning that escapes you. Aegon points at Luke. “So what the fuck are we going to do about him?”

“We’ll tie him up,” Aemond decides.

“What?!” Luke exclaims.

“There’s rope in the cellar. We’ll tie his arms and legs so he can’t do anything and keep him like that for a few days until either his hand heals up or he turns into a zombie. Someone will always have to be with him to help him eat and take a piss and also…you know. Deal with it if he turns.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says immediately.

Aemond’s voice is now gentle, sympathetic. “I don’t think you want this.”

“If Luke has to die, I should be the person with him.”

“You’ve never had to put someone down before.” And in this statement lives another: Aemond knows what that feels like. Aemond has had to kill someone when they turned.

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says again, this frail harmless doe-eyed girl, and you see a steeliness in her that you hadn’t thought existed.

“Okay,” Aemond relents. “When you’re asleep, Jace or I will take over.”

“It’s not a bite,” Jace murmurs, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“We’ll all find out soon enough,” Rio says, casting him a glare, then goes to fetch the coil of rope from the cellar.

Aemond cleans and bandages the wound on Luke’s hand. Then the weapons, ammo, and newly immobilized Luke are loaded into the Tahoe. Aemond asks you once everyone else is inside: “How’s your head?”

“Fine, I think.”

“Hurts?”

“Just a little.”

“Dizzy? Double vision?”

“No, nothing like that.”

He takes a quick look, parting your hair with his fingertips, feeling gingerly for blood and swelling. And this is becoming a serious problem: every time he touches you, you want more.

“Aemond…who did you have to kill?”

He doesn’t answer. For another moment his hand lingers by your temple, then Aemond turns away and climbs into the Tahoe. This time, no one sings along to the next song on the mixtape. Heads rest on windows, eyes are vacant and misty. Baela steers the Tahoe westbound on Route 1004, the Chainsmokers drifting through the speakers: All We Know.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Pick a card, any card,” Aegon says when he’s done shuffling. He fans out the entire Uno deck face-down and offers it to Rio, Aemond, and Jace. They each select a card, then Aegon picks one for himself. Finally, he holds out the deck to Luke, who stares up incredulously from where he’s still bound with rope and sitting on a curb in the parking lot of a Burger King just outside of Yarnell, Pennsylvania.

“Are you serious?”

“You’re an adult male, aren’t you? You think being in the middle of transforming into an undead murder machine exempts you from gasoline siphoning duty?”

“I’m fine!” Luke insists.

“Great. Then pick a card.”

“I can’t move my hands, you idiot.”

“Pick it with your mouth.”

“I hate you.” Luke bites his card of choice and waits with it clasped between his teeth, glowering.

“I want to pick a card,” Daeron says cheerfully.

Aegon refuses. “No. Too young. A baby.”

“Aegon, I’m seventeen!”

“Can’t enlist, can’t do jury duty, can’t buy lottery tickets, can’t sign up to drink gasoline. Okay, everybody show their cards.”

“I got a three,” Jace says, then yanks Luke’s card out of his mouth and reads it. “He got a skip.”

Aemond’s card is a nine, Rio’s a five, Aegon’s a reverse. “That means you lose, Jace,” Aegon announces, admittedly rather gleeful. “You had the lowest number.”

“This is bullshit, I had to siphon last time!”

“Then stop picking bad cards.”

“Jace, I can do it,” Aemond says.

“And get to be the martyr, as usual? No thanks. Give me the damn hose.”

Aegon roots around under the Tahoe seats and produces a long, semitransparent siphoning hose. “All the ones with the little pump attachments were sold out everywhere by the time we thought that might be useful,” he explains to you and Rio.

“That sucks, Jace,” Rio says. “I mean, literally, it sucks.”

“Next time we cross a bridge, I’m pushing you off it.” Jace takes the hose from Aegon, pops open the gas cap of the Dodge Ram 3500 you’ve found, and threads the hose down into the tank. He sucks on the other end and then shoves it into the Tahoe once the gasoline starts flowing. The fuel gauge was hovering just above E. Hopefully you can get at least a few gallons out of the Ram, another fifty or a hundred miles, maybe even two hundred, enough to get you across the Ohio border.

Jace is bent over and vomiting gasoline onto the pavement. Rhaena and Baela sit with Luke as Aemond feels his forehead and peers into his eyes. Daeron accompanies Helaena as she goes to scavenge inside the Burger King, her burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Rio is now holding the siphoning hose and watching the liquid gold pour into the Tahoe, his smile growing with each passing second. Your eyes fall on Aemond and stay there, his careful hands, his brow knitted with concentration.

A whisper from behind you: “We could fake date to make him jealous.”

You whirl to see Aegon, mischievous smirk, neon green plastic sunglasses. “That is a super generous offer and I appreciate the thought you put into it, but no.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dishonest. It’s manipulative. If something is going to happen with Aemond, I want it to be real.”

Aegon sighs. “No, you’re right, it was a dumb idea. I just figured I have a lot of experience.”

“Experience with what?”

“People pretending to love me.” He flashes a strange, sad smile, then follows Daeron and Helaena into the Burger King.

[weyirn]

Hello :)) I hope you’re well! could i please ask for a sort of reaction-type thing with marvel men x male reader, where the reader smothers their face and hands in small kisses, especially when they’re in a bad mood?? thank you!!

Hi!! I hope you're doing good as well!! :3

Marvel Men x Male!Reader

Smothering Their Face and Hands With Kisses

----------------------------------

☆Steve blushes and smiles every time. He gladly returns the favor by grabbing your waist and kissing you on your lips, as well as giving you forehead kisses. If he's in a bad mood, it probably won't change his mood drastically, but he will appreciate you trying to make him feel better.

❄️Bucky hasn't gotten this kind of affection in a long time, but this is still a pleasant surprise for him. He absolutely just melts underneath your touch and the kisses you give him, especially when you're using this to comfort him when he has nightmares. He's a little shy on returning the favor at first, but when he eventually does, he gives you all the hugs and kisses you desire.

💲Tony teases you about how you just can't get enough of him and then brags about how irresistible he is (ugh lol). He'll probably kiss you in public and have his arm around your waist to show you off. Doing this while he's in a bad mood will cause him to roll his eyes and say something among the lines of, "a kiss can't fix everything." (And then he'll ask for some later lol)

🕸Peter gets flustered every time and just stutters over his words, not sure what to say. There are times when he's too shy to ask for kisses when he wants them, so he uses little hints instead, which may result in him being teased about it. It will give him comfort when you give him kisses when he's in a bad mood.

⌲Sam jokes about you doing this all day long (which you probably would do lol), but admits that he wouldn't mind it. He can always count on you to cheer him up, laughing while you give him kisses, lifting his mood. He loves to give you surprise kisses every now and then.

🐜Scott would immediately cup your cheeks and kiss you all over your face in return. When he's in a bad mood, it catches him off guard and he might just forget what he was mad about.

💚This surprises Bruce and makes him a little flustered at first, but he still appreciates it. It's beneficial if you do this when Bruce is in a good mood; it makes him feel loved and he appreciates the affection.

⚡️Thor gives you just as much kisses (if not way more). But he kisses you anywhere and everywhere, not just your hands and face.

🐍Loki doesn't know what to think about it at first since he's not used to receiving affection. Over time, he slowly just wants more and more of it. When he's in a bad mood, he acts like he doesn't want it or enjoy it (even though he actually loves it).

🖤Eddie definitely needs something like this. With all the stress and how tired out he gets from it, it's good for him to finally wind down, along with you just pressing kisses on his face. Venom on the other hand teases you about it.

[libellule-ao3]

Blood will out 🐍

Rating : T | Ominis Gaunt x Unnamed MC (or F!reader) | angst | Established relationship | DAD!Ominis

Summary: Ominis Gaunt wrestles with the growing fear that his son might succumb to the family legacy he has spent his life trying to escape.

A/N: I believe that, as a father, one of Ominis’s greatest fears would be his child following a dark path, tied to the toxic legacy of the Gaunts. This idea led me to imagine his stress and doubts as he begins to notice possible signs in his son.

When I wrote this, I had in mind the French saying "Bon sang ne saurait mentir," which means that everyone is the product of their heritage, their lineage. Instinctively, I wanted to translate the expression as "Blood tells no lies," but I later discovered that "Blood will out" could convey a similar meaning.

I hope you will like it🤞

The silence of the night, heavy as a lead blanket, seemed to want to crush him. Ominis Gaunt sat in the darkness of his study, his fingers nervously stroking the ebony wand in front of him. In that touch, a man whose inner struggles kept him awake long after his son had fallen asleep sought comfort in vain.  

His eyes were open to the darkness he could not see, but his mind was haunted by a ghost of memory: his child.

Twelve years old.

Too young to understand everything.

Too young, and yet…

Through the familiar pulsations of his wand, he could perceive the delicate hands of his son, fragile yet disturbingly assured, caressing the yellowed pages of a grimoire on the dark arts. It was no ordinary book. The child had stolen it from Sebastian’s dusty library, a deliberate choice, too precise to be dismissed as mere happenstance. Each turn of the pages felt like a whisper of their family’s cursed legacy — a legacy Ominis had fought so hard to bury.

A cold blade twisted in his chest as the question, implacable and cruel, formed in his mind: was this simply curiosity? The fruit of a keen and insatiable intelligence, too mature for its age?

Or… Was it the first venomous stirrings of an inheritance that refused to die, seeping into his son’s veins like an ancestral and irreversible poison? 

He swallowed hard, his thoughts veering towards darker corners. There had been other fleeting moments, unsettling in their familiarity, where his son’s voice carried an authority that chilled him to the core. Too similar to the sharp commands of his father or the merciless judgements of Marvolo to ignore. In those moments, Ominis did not hear the innocence of a child. He heard the distorted echoes of spectres he had thought long buried. Even the most banal words seemed to bear the weight of a lineage clawing to reclaim its place.

Damn, Ominis was no longer certain of anything. Each moment spent near his son felt like a cruel wager, a precarious balance between the boy he knew and the shadow he dreaded. Ominis gritted his teeth.

Was it still possible to resist this fatal legacy? Or had he already lost the battle, despite all his struggles, prayers, and sacrifices? 

A hoarse sigh escaped his lips. He closed his eyes, but this only amplified the chaos in his head. The cruel laughter of the spectres of his past flayed his thoughts behind his closed eyelids.

Manigoldo Gaunt, or the brutal authority of a father who crushed his childhood.

Atropa Gaunt, embodying the poisonous charm of the deadly flower that gave her her name.

His brothers and sisters, led by Marvolo, cold and implacable, perfect instruments for perpetuating the abominations of their lineage.

Ominis had thought he was different. For years, he had clung to the fragile hope that his wife’s love and blood would be enough to shape a different future for their son. But now... now that hope seemed distant, as fragile as the lingering scent of a wilted flower. 

His breathing became jerky. The spiral of his thoughts accelerated, tearing him apart. His grip on the wand tightened, as if the polished ebony could anchor him against the storm within.

A creak.

The door.

The sound, discreet as it was, was enough to break the oppressive cycle of his mind. His muscles tensed instinctively —a reflex honed by years of fear— but the faint scent of wildflowers and freshly cut grass reached him first.

She was there.

Silent as ever, she slipped into the room, rounded his desk and settled astride his lap. Her arms went round him, a gesture without expectations or demands, betraying an affection that no words could express.

No promises.

No useless words.

Ominis lifted a trembling hand, his fingertips tracing the curve of her shoulder and down to her elbow, grounding himself in her presence. His head rested against her chest, and in the silence broken only by his breath, he could hear her heart beating.

Slow.

Regular.

A rhythm that whispered a truth he too often forgot: he was not alone.

His arms closed around her like a castaway clinging to a piece of wood. Her smell calmed his anxiety, but didn’t make it go away.

She couldn’t do it.

And she knew it.

They shared the same brutal lucidity: certain burdens cannot be lightened. They could only be carried together.

A furtive, gentle kiss touched his hair. The warmth that enveloped him contrasted with the coldness of his thoughts. But even in that fragile moment, the acidic threat of his father crept into his mind, shattering the precarious balance. His arms tightened around her, a dull fear gripping his throat.

“Blood will out.”

Masterlist

[mapsthewanderer]

Maps rambles - Caleb. You. A snake-bitten leg. You get it.

‼️ Trigger warning: venom, blood, cut

I know I’m super late to the party, but I just started watching Heaven Official’s Blessing and… yeah. I’m down catastrophically bad.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The venom-sucking scene??? My brain just—poof. Gone.

And look. There is obviously something deeply wrong with me (yea no shit) because the moment it happened, my mind immediately went: imagine Caleb doing that on a hike… just strategically lower huhuhuhu. Yum

Like—he’d be all calm and capable, make those two precise little cuts just above your ankle with zero hesitation, and then just—latch on. And of course, you’re spiraling in pain (and thirst). It goes something like this *clears throat and cracks fingers*

Details: 150 words of Caleb sucking your snake-bitten leg.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

🐍 Caleb sucking venom

“Fuck. It got you?”

He’s already crouching, jaw tight.

“Don’t move. One breath too fast and it spreads.”

He slices your skin with practiced ease, but his voice stays low—serious, steady, all focus.

“You’re gonna feel it, but don’t flinch. I need you with me.”

No warning, just the firm press of his hand against your leg, his gaze locking with yours before he leans in—mouth sealing over the bite as he starts to draw the venom out.

“Stay still.”

Your leg twitches and he pauses, murmuring something against your skin—half a warning, half a reassurance. He spits the venom to the side, grip tightening just slightly, eyes sharp now—dead serious.

“Don’t do that again. I’m not losing you to some backwoods wildlife.”

He mutters it while tying the bandage with just a little too much force, blood still streaking the corner of his mouth—like he hasn’t even noticed.

“If you wanted me on my knees, you could’ve just asked.”

BYEEEEE

[whumperly]

Whump Symbols Masterlist

Send one or more of the following for receiver's muse to discover sender's muse... (or include a 🔄 for the reverse!)

😈 ...being tortured.

🩸 ...bleeding out.

🦴 ...with a visibly broken bone.

🪡 ...patching, stitching, or cauterizing their own wounds.

🩹 ...beaten and left to die.

😵 ...unconscious.

🪑 ...collapsed or unable to stand.

⚡ ...being electrocuted.

🔍 ...suddenly returned after having gone missing.

🍽️ ...dying of starvation.

🥤 ...dying of thirst.

🕳️ ...fallen into a deep pit, hole, or ravine.

⛰️ ...dangling from a ledge.

👐 ...being strangled.

🔪 ...stabbed.

🔫 ...shot.

🌊 ...drowning.

🚬 ...covered in cigarette burns.

🤕 ...covered in bruises.

🫗 ...poisoned.

�� ...drunk.

💊 ...drugged or overdosed.

🐴 ...whipped.

⭕ ...branded.

🐍 ...bitten or stung by a venomous creature.

🤧 ...severely ill.

😨 ...having a dangerous allergic reaction.

🤰 ...suddenly going into labor at a bad time.

🔇 ...mute from trauma, shock, or conditioning.

🧍‍♂️ ...paralyzed.

🙈 ...blinded.

❓ ...suffering from amnesia.

💥 ...caught in an explosion.

🔥 ...trapped in a fire.

❄️ ...suffering from hypothermia.

🥵 ...suffering severe heat stroke.

📸 ...being publicly humiliated.

🗣️ ...being verbally assaulted.

💪 ...being physically assaulted.

💋 ...being sexually assaulted.

🪢 ...bound and gagged.

⛓️ ...chained up.

‼️ ...forced into a stress position.

🐶 ...collared and kept like an animal.

⚠️ ...having a panic or anxiety attack.

👹 ...experiencing sleep paralysis.

🛌 ...having a nightmare or night terror.

👁️ ...severely sleep deprived.

🛞 ...unable to drive safely or at all.

🚙 ...struck by a car.

🛻 ...in a car accident.

🏚️ ...trapped beneath a collapsed structure.

💣 ...with a bomb strapped to their body.

🚨 ...arrested and taken to jail or prison.

🚑 ...rushed to the ER.

⚰️ ...buried alive.

💀 ...on the verge of death.

🪦 ...dead.

Feel free to change whatever you like to make the wording more specific for your muses or desired scenario!

[marsprincess889]

@cassiopeiansoul hello, tumblr keeps torturing me, I tried to post your reading like 20 times so I think I shiuld tag you and post it like this, because the ask cannot be answered apparently.

Thank you for waiting🤍

Your divine archetype:

✨🌊🐍 Possesor of feminine magic_ mysterious prophetess🔮🏹

Your goddesses:

Angitia_ Roman snake-charmer goddess. Her name comes from the words anguis_ "serpent".

There are conflicting accounts of her according to  different myths. One says that she's the sister of Medea and Circe_ famous witches from Greek Mythology and the daughter of Aeëtes. She was said to live near the Fucine lake in Italy where she specialized in curing snakebites.

Ashlesha nakshatra is closely connected to serpents, especially the toxis and/or healing power poison and venom. It's about manipulation and control, so snake charmers are under its domain.

Your Ashlesha moon, also being your atmakaraka, is clearly the dominating force in your chart, but interestingly, your other big three nakshatras both share themes with Ashlesha, so even though I'm listing these goddesses because of your moon, they can easily resonate with your other placements too, and consequently, to you and your chart as a whole.

Sirona_ Gaulish goddess of healing, connected to serpents, snake eggs, stars and springs.

Another serpentine goddess who rules over healing, she represents the healing, purifying and cleansing powers of water. She was worshipped in central Europe among Gauls in the Roman Empire. 

Besides snakes and snake eggs, her symbol was a cornucopia_ horn of plenty  as she also symbolized abundance.

Your moon and sun are in the water element and your ascendant, Punarvasu (which is in Gemini in your case) is another nakshatra associated with purity. It's also Ashleshs's yoni consort (cat yonis).

Your Rahu is in Rohini in the 12th house_  the lunar-venusian nakshatra of shameless enjoyment and the house of vastness and receptivity. This is the direction you're moving in, your destiny. Your ketu however is conjunct your Sun in Anuradha, in Scorpio_ nakshatra of humbleness, devotion and eventual success through good reputation, it's also in your 6th house. Another planet that's in Scorpio is Mercury, your atmakaraka (soul's planet) _ the magician planet in the nakshatra of Mercury_ Jyeshta (Anuradha's rabbit yoni consort, the "conqueror" nakshatra). This would mean that your destiny is to be achieved by everyday "magic", continuing the Mercurial theme that's dominant in your chart (6th house is the house of Virgo, an earth sign ruled by Mercury).

Your ascendant is in another Mercurial sign_ Gemini, in the nakshatra of Punarvasu, another lunar mansion associated with magic and witchcraft. There's also a theme receptivity and sensitivity that's used as an advantage. Because the element of water and the planet Mercury dominate your chart, imformation gained through receptivity and used skillfully(often subtly) is your true power. Other planets that you could feel resonant to are Jupiter, Saturn, Mars and Moon.

Hecate_ Greek goddess of crossroads, doorways, magic and occult.

Before she was associated with the occult, she was a goddess of crossroads and "the in-between", which for many meant the world/state between this world and the other. So, Hecate became heavily connected to magic and all things hidden.

She's often depicted holding a pair of torches and a key or accompanied by guard dogs. In later depictions she is three-formed and triple bodied. The moon and its phases is a significant symbol of hers.

The "other" world could be the underworld, but since people's interpretations of that other world are different, for all intents and purposes, she's a "liminal" goddess. Witchcraft, herbalism, the Moon and the underworld all still come under her domain.

Dogs are her sacred animals and her plant is the oak tree.

I'm going to mention this next goddess but I wanted to write about her more. There are many goddesses that can theoretically resonate with a person based on their chart, but I choose the specific goddesses intuitively. I was really drawn to speak about her in this, I thought she was the perfect fit and got excited but for some reason, everytime I tried to write, I got the sense that something was off and deleted it. I have no idea why, but I thought I'd tell you...

Morgan le Fay (Morgana) is a character from Arthurian legends who is considered to have also been a goddess. She is a fairy and an echantress of largely ambivalent nature and a distinct, morally gray character. In most of the stories, she is Arthur's sister.

Different from another deity that peoplr associate with her_ the Morrigan, she has lighter and more "magical" associations, but both are associated with the occult on some level.

Morgan le Fay is a powerful enchantress and possibly the most famous embodyment of the "ambiguous witch" archetype. You can absolutely research her if you want to.

Other than these, Egyptian Wadjet, Alpine Berchta and Holda might resonate to you as well.

I hope this was interesting and resonated.

...

Please leave a feedback in the asks after reading, as long or short as you wish.

Have a great day 🤍

[amenti-aardwolf]

Practicing the monkie kid style with my Ninjago OC Cadmus! Info about him below the cut :3

Cadmus Rant 2.0! 🐍

Name: Cadmus Everin (goes by "Cad")

Age: 23 (19 at the time of bite)

Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Complicated ^^' (serpentine human hybrid, chosen savior of the great devourer though he rejected this destiny)

Bitten by a fangpyre at 19, the venom triggered a different sort of change, one that had never been seen before. Given that he never truly became any specific species, he just ended up stuck in some kind of limbo and had no idea why, then finds out he can shift to become a particularly large and tailed serpentine, which confuses him even further. (Similar in design to the serpentine generals, follows something along the lines of werewolf rules, though he's in full control in what he calls his 'were-snake' form)

Before being hunted and pushed out of his village by his own father, who viewed him as a threat now that he was capable of so much that he never even wanted, he learned from his mother that she was infected with venom from the great devourer during her pregnancy, and though it had no immediately noticeable effect on her or Cadmus- especially not in the traditional sense of evil- he knew it changed the path that her son would have to take, despite not yet knowing the consequences. His unknowingly impacted body mixed with the new fangpyre venom triggered it, causing the change to take a different route than it should have.

He fled the village alone, keeping this information close to him as to not potentially put his mother in danger as well, eventually electing to build a small shack from scrap pieces in the woods outside the main city, far from where he'd be found by his father. He lives out there for years, scared to look for any sort of help outside of taking supplies from the serpentine, who felt some sort of obligation to him though didn't exactly want a 'failed half-blood' around, either. He kept his larger form secret, not wanting to be used as a weapon by the serpentine or hunted by society. It was bad enough that his village saw, he just hoped that word wouldn't get out about the 'monster in the woods'.

He didn't belong anywhere in particular it seemed, and eventually, he became okay with that idea. The quiet of the woods was peaceful, and the night sky without the light pollution from the city was absolutely mesmerizing. He learned to take care of himself using nature as his guide, electing to just never go back. He didn't want to put anyone in danger, especially since he started having dreams of the great devourer, her form bound and buried, guarded by the soul of the first master. She was calling out to him, calling for him to release her, though it was a call he was never willing to accept. His connection to that great evil remained a secret, something pushed deep down into his subconscious, though he knew he'd have to face his destiny eventually. He just hoped he'd have the chance to make the right choice, to keep Ninjago and the people he still loved within it safe. But when you're born with a destiny tied to your soul, it's a hard thing to escape.

He befriends Lloyd much later on because they can relate to eachother on a lot of different things, and they sit down and have a good little conversation about making the most of your life despite being bound by what everyone else tells you you're supposed to be

They meet when Lloyd starts having to deal with his oni side- Cad finds him after a fight (he had been operating as a masked vigilante for a bit in his late twenties to try to do some sort of good and prove to himself at the very least that he wasn't inherently evil) and they just have a heart to heart where Cad reveals that he's not what he'd want to be in life, either, but it's up to them as people to decide whether they use what they are and what they were given for good or for evil. They decided that their serpentine and oni forms respectively could be considered rather morally gray, that the line between good and evil isn't so evenly drawn in black and white and certainly isn't fully dictated by fate. That good can come from inherently bad things if you just give them the chance to be something better.

[bah-circus]

Hi! Can we have a level 3 loser non-binary Headmate? We have this other Headmate who is super lonely and we wanna give him someone to be around or even date someday. Paras and transIDs can we have extra of?

Of course dear audience! We have heard your request and have found a suitable performer for you! We hope this performance suits your needs, but you are free to make any adjustments you wish.

❣︎For Our Next Act, Please Welcome,,,❣︎

Loser Non-Binary Brainmade!!!

°·⊱ Name: Mercury, Cyanide, Serpent, Simon, Hemlock, Meta, Doppler

°·⊱ Age: 18 [polyAge(12 / 17 / 24 / 257)]

°·⊱ Race/Species: Elf

°·⊱ Source: BAHtroject / Brainmade

°·⊱ Role: Physical Protector, Persecutorflux, Emotional Outburst Holder, Drowser

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Sex: Male

°·⊱ Gender: Nonbinary, Gendervoid, Snakegender, Bladegender, Futch Otter, Neptunian

°·⊱ Pronouns: They/Them; Hiss/Hisses; 🐍/🐍s; Tox/Toxic; Ven/Venom; It/Its

°·⊱ Sexuality: Abroromantic Bisexual

°·⊱ Personality: Mercury is a quiet person, who is typically laid back and almost lazy though ven can be provocational, and when people fall for tox’s bait they can become a very viscous and mean spirited individual, lashing out at any chink hiss can find in the offending person’s ‘armor’. Takes a good bit to get to that point though. 

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Nicknames/Titles: [Prn] Who Lays Traps, The Poised Predator, [Prn] Who Relates to Snakes, The Snake Charmer, Merc

°·⊱ Likes: Reptiles, Skateboard Tricks, Cognito Hazards, Conspiracy Theories, The Front Bottoms, Folk-Punk Music

°·⊱ Dislikes: Pop Culture, Ball Sports, Forcing People to Conform, Strict Rules, Harassment, Lying for Popularity

°·⊱ Emoji Sign-Off: 🐍🚬🛹🧪⚠️👎

°·⊱ Typing Quirk: Replaces ‘E’ with ‘3’, ‘I’ with ‘1’, elongates ‘S’s at the end of words, constantly misspelling words and speaking in slang terms. Typing Example : h3y b1tch3sssss!! howss 1t hang1nn you fucksss!!

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ TransIDs: polyAge [12/17/24/257], transForkedTongue, transWelshAmerican, permaBandaged, permaBruised, transGorgon, mutoStoner, transCocaineAddict, amorCigaretteSmoker, transSlitPupils, transSnakeJacobsonsOrgan, transManipulative, permaInnocent, Blueberryscentian, Vanillascentian, transColdBlooded, permaWarm, permaJacket, transBlackNailPolish, transHikikomori, transHarmful, tramHarmed

°·⊱ CisIDs: Pale Skin, Heterochromia, Blue Right Eye, Green Left Eye, Pierced [Several in Ears, Snake Bites], Autism, BPD, PTSD, Yandere, ASPD, Introvert, Aggressive, Short Term Memory Issues, GERD, Fibromyalgia

°·⊱ MUDS: Repellant Personality Disorder (RPD), Love Obsession Personality Disorder (LOPD)

°·⊱ Paras: 🐾, ξ, 🐲, 🤕, 🦖, 🌹, 👄, 🍖, 🍬, 🫀, 💧, 🫨, 🌹🥩, 🐍🐾, 🌷

°·⊱ Extra: Always making friends with random snakes

°·⊱ Faceclaim: 1 | 2

Kind of ended up filling out one of our fragments while working on this! So I really hope that's alright!! They are a jerk /insanely aff though - Pest Swarm ; ???

[silversnake888]

Kirsten Dunst is an Ashlesha Moon, and I love how they characterize her role as a condescending rich girl with an “venomous ” snark in her words. 🐍

[cryptid-cafe-bah]

Hi I’m back! You did so well the first time that I’m back for more :p could I please have a level 2 subsystem (w/o the collective stuff though cause you wrote that out for the starter system already :p) with three more phobia based headmates? If possible I’d also like a room for each of them, but I ofc don’t need another full headspace lol ^^ - @sleepy-space-bah

Chupacabra Croissant #009

3 More Phobias

Disclaimer headmates might not turn out exactly as specified

Second disclaimer images are not mine

AHHHH Thank Youu!!! 💕💕💕 /pos

Ohpidiophobia - fear of snakes

Names: Nadia, Ophelia, Viper, Athena, Allyah

Age: 24

Pronouns: she/her, they/them, it/it's, fae/faer, phob/phobia, snake/snakeself

Gender: female, snakegender

Orientation: uranic

Titles: the snake princess, she who slithers, the venomous viper

Species: Naga

Source: Ohpidiophobia

Typing quirk: adds extra Ss in words when not in sh

Sssso she might type like thissss (so she might type like this)

Faceclaim:

Emojis: 🐍☀🐉👑☁

Likes: statues, music, painting, snakes

Dislikes: most men, cold weather

Aesthetic: ancient greek core

Alter room:

Agoraphobia - fear of public places (I have this one)

Names: Adam, Louis, Pumpkin, Spirit, Aiden

Age: 14

Pronouns: he/him, they/them, it/its, one/oneself, panic/panicself, ghost/ghostself, fear/fears

Gender: nonbinary, ghostgender

Orientation: aroace

Titles: the lonely ghost, sheet ghost, the avoidant one

Species: ghost

Source: agoraphobia

Typing quirk: uses lots of ellipses, types in all lowercase

Faceclaim:

Emojis: 👻💀🎃🍁🍂

Likes: autumn, being alone, reading, emo music

Dislikes: being around people, outdoors

Aesthetic: emo

Alter room:

Claustrophobia - fear of enclosed spaces

Names: Claudia, Claws, Chains, Hoodie, Ethan

Age: 16

Pronouns: he/him, she/her, they/them, it/its, fear/fears

Gender: trans masculine, genderfluid

Orientation: pansexual

Titles: the hidden one, secret keeper, the chained boy

Species: human

Source: claustrophobia

Typing quirk: types in all caps when angry, ends sentences with ellipses.

Faceclaim:

Emojis: ⛓️🩸☠️💢💥

Likes: being alone, cars, poetry, video games

Dislikes: people, public places

Aesthetic: goth

Alter room:

Surprise! I had time to do it earlier than I thought! /pos

[bornstark]

@reaperscr0w gets another Stsrter

( 🌿ꪜﺃᜣꫀ᥅🐍 ) BODY VIBRATED, hands folding into balls at her side. Nails digging into her palms, leaving marks in it's wake. To say she was angry, was a understatement! Fingers wrapped around the metal bar, that was attached to the glass door that let into the Ice Cream Shop. Her eyes were flamed, darkened, judging, as she stood still. Watching Jax and the rest of THE SONS inside. She sucked in a deep breath , fingers turning white from the extreme pressure used on THE DOOR HANDLE

She was on the verge of crying, and breaking anything and everything in her way. That black leather jacket hugging her body, hiding the caked on blood, that was smeared across the fibers. Causing her tank to cling to her chest, and her stomach. Two of her girls stood at her back, there guns held firmly in there hands. She could hear their HEAVY BREATHS, the desire to harm very much present across all three girls faces. Shoving her hand against the door, causing it to fling open, banging against the wall.

The glass CRACKING FROM THE IMPACT , causing her to give it a quick glance to the damage , before she focused on Jax's back side. The commotion caused Bobby, and the other guys to turn toward her. A AGITATED CRY spilling from all there mouths. But they froze when they saw Alexis and her two girls at her back. Jamie and Alice cocked there guns, raising them in the air, shooting a round a piece off. She didn't waste any time, as she closed the space between herself and Teller.

She laid a hand to his shoulder, spinning him around. Not waiting for him to say anything, she raised her hand and slapped him so hard. It left red welp on his left cheek. Her anger was boiling over by now, and it showed on her face, as she shoved her hands now, against his chest. Shoving him back against the counter once, and then another.

She heard the shuffling of leather, and knew the guys were coming to pull her off him. But her two girls spun around toward them, lowering their shot guns, aiming them directly at the guys. ' I Wouldn't try it, Assholes! Or we WILL fill your asses full of led. ' Alexis knew she wouldn't be stopped, her voice was explosive as she spoke. Directing it at Jackson!

❝ ----- WHAT THE FUCK, is wrong with you. Fucking piece of shit! Do you fucking stop and think about what your going to do. You running around here, making deals with everyone, then attacking them. DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER , there is still some of us out here who could be put in danger. Now thanks to you, YOUR STUPIDITY sent off a shockwave so big , it came back at US. I lost TWO of my Girls tonight.❞

She took in a deep breath, brows furrowing, as she placed her hand to the butt of her gun. Eyes dangerously lowered, blonde locks spilling forward , covering her eyes. She had to take a moment, she didn't want to do something, stupid. She wasn't him, she knew what was needed and what could happen if she continued. Cutting her eyes back up at him, fingers reaching up, to collect the fabric in her fingers and twisting it. Nostrils flaring, as she stared him down. Her next words were filled with venom.

❝ And Rosemary, SHE IS IN THE HOPITAL, thanks to you fucking dicks. Cause we had a relationship with Marks, AND the chinese. They decided to pay us a fucking visit tonight, and then proceded to open fire on us. And the worst of it all, OUR DAUGHTER WAS THERE JAX. I want you to stay the fuck away from us, and as for our Alliance. It's over, if I was you, i'd pray my Father doesn't come for you. And, I am revoking your rights to Madison, I don't want to see or have anything to do with ANY OF YOU. You better pray Rosemary pulls through! ❞

[arttrampbelle]

Snake man/Naga au shang tsung

Ok ok hear me out

snake man shang tsung. Or naga shang tsung. Whichever one you prefer to use.

Ok listen. This is a fun au idea.

And no this isn't about mk1 2023 shang tsung! Picture any other shang tsung. Plz. Even. Chin hans shang tsung from the mk 2021 movie for all i care. (Tho i pictured tagawa's shang but thats just me)

But anyways.

Snake man shang.

Cw:none really. I guess au shang tsung? Snakes?

🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍

Imagine.

Shang tsung as a snake man

His eyes are of a gold and green. The pupils almost look like they have galaxies in them,secrets of the unknown. Hidden knowledge of the universe and the magics of the veil and void. Flashed gold when angered and threatened. And in darkness.

And scales of viridian dark greens fading into an iridescent metallic lime green. Golden flecks throughout the scales.

Claws are black painted with golden tips.

Hair is a deep black ink. The deepest black and long tresses neatly kempt. Adorned with the finest hair ornaments. Some were "trophies" of the souls he took and the warriors he devoured.

His fangs while intimidating,only produced venom when nessicary. Tounge is long, serpentine,when he speaks his s's hiss and his R's growl. You can feel the primal sounds.

His upper half was of a handsome man. In his mid to late 40s. That of far eastern decent. Nose distinctly hooked and that of serpentine. Smile is soothingly sinister. As if he is knowing before one speaks. A golden tan to his skin reflects that of a man who loves sunning. Sleeping on his island domains beach and shore is his favorite pastime. Nicely muscled and very active.

His voice is of honey. Rich,deep,thick. Sweet words of lulling. Only to extrap you in his coils. And by then...it is all but too late. He has you.

The master of his den,keeps it spotless. Takes very good care of it. Adorns it with only the finest treasures,jewels,silks,and decor. His island home is absolutely beautiful. All are welcome. But few ever want to leave....or....*laugh* could leave. Books upon books scattered about his lair tells of an intellectual man. Various tinkering of devices also states of a man who is engineering. Alchemy and science. Magic and practicality. This is a man of absolute brilliance. Deadly and terrifyingly intelligent.

To look upon this man. Is to look at the devil face to face. How you face said devil. Tells more about you traveler. Than the serpentine you gaze upon.

Some run,some hide,some act in righteous fury,some cry in fear. And some...just some...look upon him.

And feel free. Alive. And even fall into a deep love and compassion.

These are the people you should be wary of.

For they do not fear death nor hell.

And they find comfort,in his deathly coils.

Shang tsung,lord of souls. High mage of magic. Emperor of the grey isle. Master of death itself.

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

Oh boy this was so much fun to write! Lemme know if you guys want more!

💖💖💖

[whumperly]

Whump Symbols Masterlist

Beneath the cut is a list of symbols. Send one or more of the following for receiver's muse to discover sender's muse... (or include a 🔄 for the reverse!)

😈 ...being tortured.

🩸 ...bleeding out.

🦴 ...with a visibly broken bone.

🪡 ...patching, stitching, or cauterizing their own wounds.

🩹 ...beaten and left to die.

😵 ...unconscious.

🪑 ...collapsed or unable to stand.

⚡ ...being electrocuted.

🔍 ...suddenly returned after having gone missing.

🍽️ ...dying of starvation.

🥤 ...dying of thirst.

🕳️ ...fallen into a deep pit, hole, or ravine.

⛰️ ...dangling from a ledge.

👐 ...being strangled.

🔪 ...stabbed.

🔫 ...shot.

🌊 ...drowning.

🚬 ...covered in cigarette burns.

🤕 ...covered in bruises.

🫗 ...poisoned.

🥃 ...drunk.

💊 ...drugged or overdosed.

🐴 ...whipped.

⭕ ...branded.

🐍 ...bitten or stung by a venomous creature.

🤧 ...severely ill.

😨 ...having a dangerous allergic reaction.

🤰 ...suddenly going into labor at a bad time.

🔇 ...mute from trauma, shock, or conditioning.

🧍‍♂️ ...paralyzed.

🙈 ...blinded.

❓ ...suffering from amnesia.

💥 ...caught in an explosion.

🔥 ...trapped in a fire.

❄️ ...suffering from hypothermia.

🥵 ...suffering severe heat stroke.

📸 ...being publicly humiliated.

🗣️ ...being verbally assaulted.

💪 ...being physically assaulted.

💋 ...being sexually assaulted.

🪢 ...bound and gagged.

⛓️ ...chained up.

‼️ ...forced into a stress position.

🐶 ...collared and kept like an animal.

⚠️ ...having a panic or anxiety attack.

👹 ...experiencing sleep paralysis.

🛌 ...having a nightmare or night terror.

👁️ ...severely sleep deprived.

🛞 ...unable to drive safely or at all.

🚙 ...struck by a car.

🛻 ...in a car accident.

🏚️ ...trapped beneath a collapsed structure.

💣 ...with a bomb strapped to their body.

🚨 ...arrested and taken to jail or prison.

🚑 ...rushed to the ER.

⚰️ ...buried alive.

💀 ...on the verge of death.

🪦 ...dead.

Feel free to change whatever you like to make the wording more specific for your muses or desired scenario!

[iobartach]

@hearsvices // continued from: poking the viper 🐍

He's been around shapeshifters enough to know that he should keep his guard raised, avoiding the mistake of exposing a weak-spot, or inviting an attack when he least suspects it. Some had revealed themselves to be the crafty sort, whilst others relished in embracing the instincts of the creature they had become, dispensing with words entirely.

Whilst Miguel had yet to determine where exactly on that same scale that the serpent looming before him sat, he didn't hesitate to reveal his talons, keeping his fingers splayed wide and arms extended by his sides as he did so, settling into a half-squat. "So do I." Venom, that was. Or at least enough of the potent material to immobilise a target.

"Last warning. Stand down, or else I'll drop you on the spot."