#Can he not just find a Clydesdale?

[sarnai4]

Ahhh! This is so cool😍🤩😍🤩!! If you're going to have a chariot, make it one with fire-breathing horses. Otherwise, what are you even doing with your life? You know, besides FAILING.

(Ares giving the horsey words of affirmation is very sweet)

I think it's very badass that chariot of Ares is pulled by fire-breathing horses

golden version of the horsey under the cut!

[eachuisge-cc]

Honestly I'm astounded that nobody has taken that name yet.

Do you dislike the look of vanilla Skyrim horses? Are you tired of riding some kind of Clydesdale/Belgian/Cob thing around fantasy Scandinavia for no clear reason? Do you want your beloved and loyal horse to stand out from the crowd as much as you do? Well great news, this mod covers all of those things.

Basically I made some significant edits to the horse model including a fuller, longer mane and tail, redone feathering, somewhat more realistic conformation, and entirely redone ears because at a certain point it was just easier to make new ones. None of the changes affect how the horse fits the vanilla rig so it still bends and moves without distorting weirdly. The textures are entirely painted from scratch and have new normals to go with them that are meant to give the horses a somewhat softer, more natural look that still fits with Skyrim's general vibe. I used references of primarily North Swedish and Dole horses, but also borrowed from the wider range of colors and patterns in Icelandics because I couldn't give up the pintos.

Current Features:

Asymmetrical coats/markings, because I fully redid the UV while I was messing with the mesh (mostly because mirrored pinto horses in video games are the bane of my existence)

Distinct meshes for mares and stallions, the mare model is closer to the vanilla horse's conformation, while the stallion model has a slightly bulkier build and thicker neck, and a an unobtrusive low poly dong.

Five generic solid-coated textures that appear on most NPC horses in the world.

Unique texture for each purchasable player horse

Unique texture and model for Frost (he's now a mealy chestnut as his papers claim)

Unique Shadowmere

Unique Karinda (this mod does NOT add Karinda into the game, but her texture should show up if you have CRF or another mod that does add her, as long as it doesn't alter her texture or base model)

Unique Hearthfire stable horses (purchasable through the steward)

Unique unsaddled stable horse in Markarth because uh, I just felt like it

Unique coats for a growing number of modded follower horses (see the mod page for the list)

Future plans: see the mod page

Compatibility:

This mod should be compatible with most things, though for best results it should be loaded after any mod that affects vanilla horse records (this isn't always obvious; SkyTEST has no visible affect on vanilla horses, but if you load it after this mod the unique player horses will have generic coats). Most mods that add new horses use the existing vanilla records, so unless a modded horse has a unique model (and assuming it doesn't have a unique coat addon) it should be replaced automatically with the edited model and one of the generic coats. That isn't always the case, sometimes another mod gets weird with it and there's nothing I can do about that, but in those cases a patch will likely be needed.

This mod will NOT be compatible with any other mod that changes the appearance of the vanilla horses or replaces their models/textures.

I will not personally be making patches for other mods because there's no way I could possibly keep up with that and I'd rather spend the time and energy on the mod itself, however I encourage anyone else who wants to to make whatever patches are needed. Please message me if you do so I can link them here for people to find.

Huge thanks to SassiestAssassin, who has been an incredible help in navigating the learning curve of editing nifs (and is continuing to be a huge help with solving my inability to make patches), and also has a lot of fantastic mods you should check out.

Download:

Nexus Mods

[4-ustin]

The Outsiders Mythical Creature Headcanons. because i positively cannot keep this to myself any longer

[The Curtis Bros:]

-Centaurs (because I couldn't just NOT take that opprotunity)

-Their house is HUGE by human standards, but small by centaur standards

-(Edit: all the curtis brothers were gonna be 10 feet or taller but I reaslised how FUCKING MASSIVE 10 feet+ is)

Darry:

-his bottom half is a Clydesdale horse

-Darry is 7'5

-Still works in contruction, but tends to haul around heavy equipment more often than not

-Stomps on the ground really loud with his front hooves to get people's attention

-..Chest hair. Lots.

-Ties his tail up in a bun so it doesn't get in his way while hes working

-Socs tend not to mess with him cause he could buck them into next tuesday

Sodapop:

-his bottom half is a thuroughbred

-Sodapop is 7 feet tall

-Tends to work outside when at the DX because hes big and he likes it better outside

-a bit easier for socs to mess with, as long as you're in front of him

-prances and marches around all fruity (I know what you are, Sodapop.)

-his tail is his baby, he would die before messing it up

Ponyboy:

-Bottom half is a paint horse

-Ponyboy is 6'3

-On the track team but Darry always tells him to "go easy" on the non-centaur kids (he only listens because he'd actually leave half the other kids in the dust)

-Trains for track like a madman, if he doesn't have something to do he's doing laps around the backyard (probably while reading, fuckin showoff)

-Socs find him easiest to pick on, but its still hard because you've gotta get him down before you can do shit

[The Greasers:]

Johnny:

-Merman/sea creature

-is able to breifly get out of the water but he doesn't really do it much because, well, he cant walk

-His scales kind of look like denim

-The scar on his cheek is actually from a fishing hook that accidentally got stuck there

-The others built a little river that connects to a pond next to the curtis house/barn so he could hang out with them, they probably mske him a stupid little fish tank inside the house that they can just carry him to

-sharp teeths :3

Dally:

-Vampire (but like, he can go in the sun and wear silver because vampire rules are lame)

-Red eyes in the dark, white in the sun

-Throws late night parties with any other nocturnal creatures he knows

-Usually drinks animal blood or eats raw meat in replacement of human blood (but if he gets his hands on human blood he wouldn't necesarily be upset..)

-knows ecolocation

Two-Bit:

-Gorgon/Medusa-like fucker

-Why? it's just a feeling, really. And Two-Bit seems like the type of guy to like snakes

-THE SNAKES ON HIS HEAD ARE RED CORNSNAKES AND YES HE'S NAMED ALL OF THEM.

-Blindfolded most of the time so he doesn't turn the others to stone, he can only imagine what the others look like, when Ponyboy wrote his essay (don't ask how johnny ran away and stabbed a kid without being able to walk, maybe it was a 'write a fictional story' essay instead of 'write about an expirience) he actually liked it a lot because it gave him an idea of what the others looked like

-Probably has a walking stick if he isn't helped around by other greasers

Steve:

-Half-minotaur/bull-human type hybrid

-Covered in piercings. It might just be a bull thing but he has earings, nose piercings, septum piercings, piercings on his chest and horns. Bro goes CRAZY

-The only person allowed to ride on Sodapop's back (for convinence, they say.)

-His mom was a human and his dad was a minotaur

-Stamps his feet in place when hes bored or irritated (like a child)

[fluffle-writes]

I laugh at the mental image of Yuu going rogue in Heartslabyul trying to find out the taste of each member eye goop

Like, Cater is calming Ace down when suddenly *PLAP* Yuu sticks their hand in Caters eye with 0 warning. Cater is screaming in pain and the prefect is licking their fingers before screaming that is too spicy.

Trey and Deuce are sweating bullets because they are next.

Also how the Unique Magic’s work in this Au? Do the guys get literally beheaded when Riddle uses his? Or like, the eye remains and the flower just got cut (it grows back) so now they are just floating eyes with a humanoid body?

LMAO Yuu is truly an agent of chaos in the eye goo saga. Channeling their inner Laios or something haha.

I don't think the flower guys would really feel pain when Yuu touches their eyes - unless they're full-on twacking them lol. Instead, their touch would give them a brief numb sensation which would probably bother them a little. But that's about the extent of it lol.

They do yoink the eye goop without warning though. Like, they guys could give them some if they asked - but it's less fun than sneaking up on their chosen victim and startling them with a lil poke to get some eye goop to taste. (For science, of course!)

Cater did scream a little since he was distracted by Magicam at the time, but found Yuu's reaction to the spiciness of his eye goop somewhat amusing (he may have snapped a pic or two lol.) Trey finds Yuu's curiosity endearing and is also amused by their reaction to the overwhelmingly cold mintiness of his goop.

Deuce gets pretty flustered about it though - same with Riddle who would yell but he's a little more taken back by the utter audacity of the human. Their reactions are even funnier if they lick the eye goop off directly, since it's almost like a kiss and they would react as if they've bluescreened lol.

(Grim is also very much on board with the idea of tasting anything that can be vaguely edible lmao)

As for Unique Magics, I'm actually still thinking about how they could work... Ones like Leona's sand disintegration ability or Cater's cloning magic would probably remain the same since they can work with the Weirdcore setting quite well...

But Riddle's collar may be more like a creature that clings to someone's neck (or the closest approximation) and may dig into their flesh with rose thorns when they try to cast magic. It would probably also be kinda flesh-like to the touch. Plus, it could have an eye that Riddle can see through to monitor the behaviour of the person who he collared to help him decide whether they deserve to be uncollared yet.

Similarly, Jack's UM would make him into a much more monstrous wolf form - with many more legs, eyes, and teeth than you would see on a regular wolf. Not to mention that he would be much, much larger. Like about the size of a Clydesdale horse.

Weirdcore AU Masterlist Here!

[matchadobo]

KIDD; beauty & the beast

wc: 10754 summary: a beauty & the beast inspired story where kidd is the beast and reader is the beauty. featuring killer, law, and luffy. tw: this is my first time writing a fully fleshed out fantasy story sO PROCEED WITH CAUTION, monster au, suggestive themes but no actual seggs, fem reader, if i miss any errors im sorrrryyyyy

in the quaint village, a seemingly quiet town busy to each their own. the arch that welcomes the entrance of the city has ambrosial vines snaking up to each side of its pillars up to its voussoir and keystones that had the townsmark engraved in it.  a fountain welcoming each soul that enters the village was riddled with swans, birds, and vociferous children chasing each other. 

a vast cobbled path with shops of varied provisions: empty antique bookstores, butcher shops with burly men, bakeries jam packed with patrons, and flower shops filled with gentlemen and swooning ladies. a town as old as time where everyone knows each other. and everyone knows you as that one eccentric lady who always got her face sunk in books and hasn't got herself a man yet. 

you had just finished buying a book that you've got your eye on. a leather-covered, raven book with gold linings in the spine. you hugged the piece tight to your chest as a joyous smile decorated your face. you opened the book excitedly, relishing the scent of newly pressed paper wafted into your nostrils. your eyes sparkled in delight when your eyes skimmed across the tiny letters of the paper, breezing through the pages as you fully immersed into the fictional world. yes, it has been your solace. your imagination could run miles upon miles across the globe, galaxy, and all existence. the beauty of each tale you got lost on, wandering around the dazzling dream fiction has to offer. 

more than anything, books have shaped you as a person. a knowledgeable woman, unlike the ladies who'd dumb themselves down to be someone's bride. a visionary, unlike the people that surround you and your scientist father, you have the initiative for change and have the intellect to do so. a refined lady, wanting a man because of your standards, not just because they're a man. you want to be courted, treasured, and loved by a man who is willing to stoop himself down to treat you just how you deserve it. 

"weird lady,"

"'s why she doesn't have any man yet. pft i mean, who wants a woman who reads?!"

"she should be bearing a child right now."

mocks, jeers, and insults. the all too familiar strings of slurs which you've grown to hate and ignore. you sauntered across the stone-carved path of the town while hearing those remarks. you huffed a disappointed sigh and carried onto your way home.

"i'm home! i brought the tools you were asking, papa!" you called out, shutting the door by your feet and putting your basket full of goods and hand tools on the wooden table draped in checkered red and white cloth.

your father welcomed you to a tight hug, an ear to ear grin when he saw the hand tools. "this is perfect, thank you dear! i can now carry on to my journey to showcase my experiment!" he placed a kiss on your forehead before grabbing the tools you brought to his satchel.

"always be careful, papa!" you farewelled, helping him up by the horse. you also bid the stallion goodbye, patting it lightly by its head. you sent them off and carried onto your day.

a couple of days had passed yet no signs of your father coming back, it was one drowsy morning when you heard philippe come back with a neigh of distress, only to find out that it was only philippe who had returned and your father missing. you surmised that the stallion was sending a message with the muddle of neighs and frantic movements so you opted to ride onto where he was pointing to after grabbing your coat and draping it on your head down to your body.

soon enough the agitated, cinnamon-colored clydesdale hesitated to enter the black forest. an eerie and desolate forest barren of trees and vegetation that had bright yellow eyes lurking, unbeknownst to you what creature it belonged to. the breeze of the frigid wind sent a chill down your spine. sharp, gnarled branches of the tree lured you into its peril as you slowly entered the forest. ignoring the hearsays that uttered horrors of not returning and the forest itself leading you astray and towards your demise, you ventured in full speed with too much desperation of getting to your father before it's too late. 

not too long after your chilling journey, you stumbled across a gothic castle with bats and crows settled on the peak of each pillar. the sky remained gloomy, and brought thunderous clouds despite the sunny weather back in your village. the castle was grim; pointy gargoyles were accentuating each apex of the roofs, its raven colored stones that make up the most of the building had numerous cracks from its age, ghastly branches and vines of withering plants almost blocked the flying buttresses and the pointy, arched iron gate you were facing. what surprised you and perked your eyebrow was the garden of tulips spread across the vast yard that was beside the cobbled path where the front of the house led to.

it piqued your curiosity, the contrast of the tulips and the arid aura of the place drew you even more to its mystery. that's why you couldn't help yourself but enter, despite the danger awaiting you. crows flew across the field at your arrival, you shielded yourself in return but they went over your head, the gust of wind raising goosebumps across your skin. you mused at the beautiful batch of flowers, well-tended, yet seem to be missing a few. there you saw in the middle of the grass, your father's hat. you immediately thought that maybe, your father got stuck here. so you rushed into the castle without thinking of the possible consequences.

you knocked at the double wooden doors with the labyrinth knockers settled on each knob just above your head, desperately calling for someone. no one answered and the silence killed you. so you pushed through the towering doors, using all your weight to enter the castle. the sound of the door creaking open echoed throughout who knows where, because goodness was the castle vast. it was phenomenally dark, it scared you. tall ceilings and wide rooms. a red, velvet carpet spanning across the checkered porcelain floors. countless mirrors lined with golden, intricate details decorating the walls. lofty stairs with delineated golden railings. broken yet glimmering chandeliers. colossal paintings of individuals poshly dressed in layers of clothing and heavily styled hair that curled in ways you could never imagine, yet each painting was harrowed by scratches on each portion where it seemed to be a place where a prince stood. you tilted your head in confusion and curiosity. 

swoosh!

you could've sworn seeing a shadow in one of the balconies in your peripherals, so you sharply turned your head to that direction. yet there was nothing but a gust of wind. 

you swallowed a huge lump in your throat, mustering up all the courage you had in you. you grabbed the candelabrum settled at the cabinet near the front door to have some light as you venture deeper in the castle, calling out to your father. your voice echoed.

you heard incessant whistles by your side. you turned your head and saw a man in one of the elongated mirrors, smiling and waving at you. 

"oi, you seem to be lost." he giggled, getting a good look at you. "are you the one finally for our master?" you tilted your head in confusion as you mused at the man inside the mirror. he was wearing a red suit with a black button up and a frilly, pink tie. he had round eyes and a tiny scar below the left one. but what's most remarkable in him was the straw hat resting on his disheveled, raven locks.

"a word of advice, leave at once. and straw hat-ya, stop humoring her." another voice spoke across from you, another ominous mirror  mounted in one of the pillars beside the stairs. "we shouldn't impose on our master, he'll get his love when he demands it." he had this composed aura, more earnest than the other one. dark, baggy eyes, arms adorned with ink of varied designs, yellow three-fourths button up perfectly hugging his lean torso, he had a goatee and prominent sideburns, and he also had a white, black-spotted northern-style fur hat.

"aaaw, you're no fun torao! don't you want to finally get out of these mirrors?! we haven't gotten on that date i asked you years ago!" the red one whined, jumping in his place with a pout on his face. you could see the other one, pulling his hat down in embarrassment as he stayed quiet. 

you on the other hand, couldn't muster up anything to say. completely trying to piece out whatever the fuck is unfolding in front of you. men flirting in mirrors are certainly not what you expected in this castle! in the silence of your overwrought, another voice emerged from the corner of the castle from what seemed to be a kitchen.

"but we have a deadline, don't we? it's steadily approaching." he calmly uttered as his features got illuminated , wiping his hands with a towel. the only normal you’ve seen in the flesh so far. his noticeably blonde hair was voluminous and almost masked the left side of his sculpted face, blue eyes glowing in the poorly lit manor, his charming face contrasting his burly build clad by a stygian three-piece suit. "allow me to introduce myself. address me as killer, the butler of this castle. that red one is luffy and the one wearing yellow is law. please, follow me to your qua-"

"no!" you immediately refused, suddenly all eyes of the three gentlemen were on you. "i-i'm sorry but, i came here to find my father...! i think he's in danger. can you please take me to where he is?" you desperately interjected, hopeful tone as you pleaded through your eyes.

"i told all of you, she'll come looking for him in an instant. forget the matchmaking." the earnest guy scoffed. you could see the butler sighing but he returned to you with a smile, gesturing for you to follow him. 

as you reached the basement where a dungeon appears to be, you could hear the meek coughs of your father from the corner cubicle. you hurriedly rushed to where he was. he was shivering. you touched his cold fingers from the small window of the cell, trying to warm them up as tears streamed down your face. "n-name! you should run! you're not safe here! hurry, before he comes!"

"i won't go, papa! not without you! are you hurt? you shouldn't stay here, you must be starving. but wait...before who comes?"

in a blink of an eye, you were met with a towering creature as thunder erupted. he was much, much bigger than you, bigger than anything you have ever encountered. he was covered in a red, fur hooded cape; dimming most of his features, a crimson, satin scarf mask covering his lower face and only showing his gleaming, golden eyes, his toned torso bare; the cape shielding the sides of his upper body, his pants were incongruously varied sizes of yellow dots with a black base, and his boots that reached his calves made him even more taller. looming over you, his aura filled with hostility. it's as if he's ready to kill you. 

he reeks of blood. his anonymity, the darkness, and his prodigious size terrified you to an extent that hazed your mind. the glint of his haughty gaze, how he looks at you as something so measly that could be destroyed eventually with little to no effort. he can crush you under him, spill your brain matter in mere seconds. you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. you wanted to run. scream. just fucking get away from your inevitable passing.

“you have the damn gall to enter my castle?! who do you fuckin' think you are?! " he furiously roared. bellowing across the layers of stone carved walls, the glass of the lanterns mounted on the wall cracking at the reverberations of his growl. you stood there, frozen from the fear rushing through you. your hands felt numb. your knees were jelly. the soles of your feet digging by the hard, cobbled floor. you looked up at him teary eyed. 

his bellowing came to a stop when he met your glassy eyes, you didn't miss the hint of hesitation in his eyes. he soon rolled his eyes and avoided your gaze, scoffing. "i'll have you know that the man you call father's been acting foul, woman." 

"w-what?"

"your father took tulips from the garden, our garden. without permission." killer retorted, leaning by the pillars of the jail cell. "the tulip garden is a very important asset to our master. even if permission was asked, our master would be downright enraged."

"damn right. to say the least, i was merciful enough to just detain him." he snarked, kicking the door of your father's cell and laughing to see him flinch. you glared at the towering man, almost punching him if you could just reach him. "tch, entitled humans."

"for flowers?! you detained him for picking flowers?! that's absurd!" you fumed, brows furrowed in indignance. you leaned slightly towards him, boiling in anger.

"insolent fuckin' lass!" he bellowed once more, leaning down at you. you leaned back yet he was still so close you could smell him. you got a good look at his eyes, it's almost as if fires were dancing on the yellows of his eyes. you could see him seething in anger at the mild translucence of his mask, you inhaled his musky scent that mixed with the aroma of freshly laundered garments. "know your place." he ordered, guttural voice rumbling from his chest. 

you shivered at the proximity, stiff beneath his gaze once more. killer stepped in and put a hand on his master's chest. "please! leave her be! she's my daughter!"

"quiet! i'll have your head by midnight!" he barked, your father shivering in cold fear. you stepped in amidst the shaking of your hands, instinctively protecting your father.

"no! s-stay away! please!" you defensively stood at the space between the creature and the door of your father's cell. "whatever it is you're planning to do to him, d-do it to me...! i'll be your prisoner!" 

each man in the dungeon, including your father, had their eyes staring daggers of horror at you. "no, name! please don't!" your father pleaded, tears streaming down his place.

"fine by me!" the creature responded, whirling his cape as he stormed out. "killer, take this man to the carriage and send him to their distasteful village. as for the woman, throw her in jail! she's my prisoner." and with that the door shut. 

it was a tear-filled goodbye. killer had a difficult time prying your father off of you as he was ignoring the pleads you two are giving. and all of it happened in a blur; now, you're crying in the same cell your father was in earlier. 

"oi." luffy called out to killer, preparing the dinner at the kitchen. ignored.

"oi~" no response.

"OII!!!"

"what is it, luffy?" killer returned to the boy in the mirror beside him, voice calmly pissed. his sleeves rolled up as he doused the tarte in brandy and flambéd the dough. it's the appetizer for this evening.

"aren't we gonna matchmake master and that pretty girl?" he pouted, examining and drooling at the tarte he was making. 

"we could but, master's furious right now." he tsked lightly, turning the stove off. "mind doing some...interventions?"

luffy immediately knew what he was talking about and traveled through the master's quarters, after forcing law to come with him of course.

the beast was pacing in his quarters, dour and grubby. curtains lopsidedly hanging on each window, disheveled by multiple scratches. the mattress had its stuffing rumpled and taken out angrily. furnitures broken and dilapidated, thrown across the room. carpet ruggedly clawed. the only light source in the room was a glowing, red tulip encased in a cylindrical glass. its petals slowly falling over time. 

"master!"

"what the fuck is it?"

"torao has a suggestion!"

"w-what?! i-i don't even kno-!" law smacked the smaller lad, the hint of panic at his shaky voice sent luffy snickering. law cleared his throat and uttered, "well. you seem to be perturbed, master. mind lending me an ear to help you feel better?"

"what idiocy are you two up to again?" he scornfully answered, snarling in his seat at the presence of two fellows in the mirror. 

"quite the contrary, my lord. it has something to do with...the guest down at the dungeon." his little pause caused the beast to turn his full attention to the two, luffy hiding behind law at the beast's sudden action.

"what about that damn woman?!"

"she might be the cure to your curse, our curse." law started, earnestly holding the beast's gaze. "we have a great inkling that she will get rid of your bane." the doctor's tone was careful and solemn as he studied the beast's expression, gradually considering his proposition.

after a few moments of silence, the beast huffed a deep breath. "fine. then what do you propose i do with her?"

"a dinner would be nice!" luffy butted in, a bright smile on his face as he emerged from behind law's back. 

"dinner?" the beast asked, puzzled at his suggestion. it has been so long since he shared a meal with someone.

"yes! it's the first step for every date nowadays." luffy rubbed his chin, trying to think back when he peeked at the newspapers killer brought in a few days ago. 

"but i presume giving her a room first would soothe this volatile situation, yes?" law urged.

the beast thought to himself for a moment before finally making up his mind and rushing down to the dungeon. he found you cooped up in the corner as you hugged your knees, biting your lips to try and stop yourself from crying.

"oi, woman!" he slammed the prison cell open.  you flinched at his arrival, nothing but terror mirrored your eyes. 

"i know you're brash as fuck but this is your soon to be bride. being more gentle is the wisest option, jesus christ." law shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. the beast looked a little embarrassed but maintained his brazen front. 

"w-what is it now" you shakily asked, trying to be brave despite your prickling skin.

"...follow me." he turned around, expecting for you to follow him. yet you don't find it in you to stand up and obey this monster. your life was taken away!

"why should i follow you?" you daringly asked, pulling yourself up from the cold, stone floor.

"i'll show you to your room, stop being a fucking pain in the neck before i change my mind." he snarked, looking at you over his shoulder. his aureated orbs flickering, perilously drawing you into him.

"i wouldn't expect manners to come from you but goddamn you are ill-bred." you bit back and he swiftly turned around, bending to your height as he got dangerously close. your heart galloping in your chest.

"irreverence won't help your situation, brat." you felt cold at the gravel of his voice, reaching the back of your throat. you almost choked at the ominous ambience he gave with his words but instead looked away and cleared your throat.

"g-get it over with then." you looked away, looking at him would suffocate you more.

you followed his tall figure, still not getting a good look at him. all you remember from his physical features was his toned torso, snowy skin, piercing golden eyes, and harrowing, gruff voice that never fails to make your heart race from unease. 

"stop boring holes at the back of my head, little mouse. i won't go anywhere." he cheekily teased, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"stop your presumptuous thoughts, beast. as much as i would love to bore actual holes in your fucking boneheaded skull, a lady needs her beauty sleep." snarking, you crossed your arms and blew an air of irritation.

the beast found himself chuckling as he sauntered through the gothic concourse of his manor. "your derision is daring, perhaps you're not aware of your situation."

"i am. i'm just not scared of you." a lie. you're shivering. the tips of your fingers are cold. your mouth was dry. your knuckles were white, uncertain from anger or from fear. you are shaking. it shocked you how bold you are right now.

the beast stopped walking and the sudden urge to flee came to you but you couldn't move. even if he was glaring at you over his shoulder, sharp eyes digging into your soul. he scoffed after continuing his steps, "arrogant woman."

you opted to wisely shut the fuck up before you push yourself further to your demise. not too long after the suffocating silence, you have reached a tall, ivory door accentuated with golden roses. 

"there." he stepped aside, letting you enter. you stand before the door of your room. "don't get too lost in there, it's quite vast."

you twisted the knob in your sweaty palms and was met by an enchanting quarter. it seemed like it did not belong to the castle, it looked too serene.

milky walls generously embellished by medieval ornaments and paintings. high ceilings with exquisite glass chandeliers. a wide traditional canopy bed with upholstered headboards in ashen. a three-mirrored, mahogany vanity lateral to the bed. an arched, bay window at the far side of the room where snowy pillows settled and velvet curtains shielding the sun. it had somehow lulled you to sleep.

"once you're finished gawking, get ready for dinner. i'd like a date who doesn't smell like grime and shit." he stifled a laugh, walking past you.

your cheeks flushed, heart seemingly to fall out of your ass. you tried smelling yourself and goodness how you reek of hell. "h-hey, i didn't agree for a d-date?!"

"you are now." his deep voice echoed in the wide halls of the manor as his figure disappeared in the shadows. 

you sighed as you thought to yourself, what did i get myself into?! men speaking to you in mirrors, you were his prisoner earlier and now you're his dinner date?! what's next? are the appliances gonna move now?!

you almost shat yourself when the closet opened on its own, laying out all the clothes it had in its compartments. the vanity cabinets also sprung open, the variety of cosmetics sprawling out one by one on the desk. the bathroom door opening and the bath started running on its own. you were starting to think you were going off your fucking rocker until luffy spoke in the mirror.

"before you start crying, this is an enchanted palace." he said with both of his hands up, as if trying to stop the tears looming in your eyes. 

"i-it's not haunted?"

"in a way," law intruded, clearing his throat. "you'll know more about it when the master intends to disclose it to you." his tone was stern, it's as if he hadn't smiled in years. "for now, it'd be best to heed to his requests. the amenities in your quarters are doing the work for you. the least you could do is follow through."

"it's ludicrous that you lot think that i will easily agree to the farce you have set up. hah, i mean, how arrogant can you all be?!" you almost threw a fit, furious at the doctor inside the mirror. "unlike you servants, i don't follow that beast! i'd never! i volunteered to be a prisoner because of my father, not because i want to be his date or some other bullshit you lot imposed on me, fucking hell! i refuse to go out!" you crossed your arms, angrily sitting on your flocculent sheets.

"perhaps we might've gone too far and lacked briefing, my lady." a suave voice emanated from the balcony outside, the brawny man in a suit making his way to stand before you at a decent distance. "our master needs a bride quite badly and you appear to be a perfect candidate at a perfect time. the master has a...distinctive way of showing his affinity to particular things but i assure you, you are special to him. i mean, why else will he willingly give a mere prisoner a room himself and invite this prisoner to dinner if he wasn't keen on pursuing her?"

"why make me a prisoner in the first place?" you scoffed, leaning back in your arms and rolling your eyes. "your master's a brat."

"a brat?! she called me a fucking brat?! i'm gonna fucking kill he-"

"sure, kill the only way to save all of us in this damned castle." law blatantly retorted, his words returning all sense in the beast's head.

"i reckon that the situation is incorrigible. she refuses to get in the bath nor even look at some clothes. she's quite stubborn, much like you unfortunately." killer stifled a laughter, fixing his coat afterwards to politely brush off the informality. the beast threw him a glare so deadly common folks could shrivel up and die.

"she doesn't eat then. dinner with me or no dinner at all." he sulked, snarling once more in displeasure.

"pigheaded prince." law mumbled to himself, transferring to another mirror on a different room.

as the grandfather clock chimed across the echoey walls of the palace, the dead of the night came. your stomach was growling and you are longing for food, but boy was your pride strong.

"you and the master are stressing me out, how far do your prides go?! just fucking eat, woman!" law fumed from the vanity mirror as he looked at you in disgust.

"i don't want to see your dishonorable master." you plainly responded, still sulking. "but i can't help my stomach." and there came another growl of hunger.

after careful pacing and overthinking, you opted to make your way down the dining hall and looked for something to eat. in the far side of the room, a light was shining. a silhouette of a tall, broad build was looming at the kitchen illuminated by the fire of the stove.

"apologies for keeping you, here's your dinner." killer welcomed, setting down a bowl with a beef stew.  you thanked him, giving the beautiful man a smile after digging in. 

"you said you refused to go out, did you not?" that ominous and familiar aura sent the hairs on your neck standing, it was near to where the voice was. "funny to see you enjoying yourself here, aye?"

the spoon shook with the shivering of your hand. it's him again. "unless you'd want me dead, i'd stay there gladly. but it seems that you badly need me, as stated by your butler." you cockily retorted, munching on your food to swallow all the fear away.

"that spunk in you. wherever the fuck do you get courage to snark at me like that?" he slammed his hand on the space beside your tableware, the objects jumping at his force. 

"from something called, a mind of my own. something you appear to have none of." you answered, trying your best to maintain this nonchalant front you have. while deep inside, you have nothing but foreboding anxiety.

he laughed to himself, bellowing across the vast dining hall. "you interest me, dollface."

"i'm glad you find me annoying."

"quite the opposite." he sat on the seat across from you, not too far. "i find you amusing. a mere woman, snide enough to keep a conversation with me. you're one of a kind, huh? tell me your name."

"it's a two way street, big guy. i'll tell you mine, you tell me yours." you finally looked at him, setting aside the cutlery and holding his gaze. his eyes were so hypnotic, the swirls of his buttery orbs grew more prominent each time you see him. he contemplated for a while before taking his hood off. 

his thick and bouncy curls resembling flames sprung up at his gesture. he then combed through it with his fingers, pointy nails coated in dark crimson. chunky, curling ram horns were mounted on each side of the crown of his head. he looked devilish and ghastly; you grew more scared and more riveted. a prominent scar on his left eye that appears to be extending down somewhere, you couldn’t see since the mask obstructed his visage. "eustass kidd. the twenty-first generation prince of the eustass monarch." despite his gruff tone, his words managed to smoothly reach you. shit, he's pretty. you almost gawked seeing more parts of him but you restrained yourself.

"name. full name." you returned. "i have to say, for a prince like you, your vulgarity is unexpectedly natural." you went back to your meal, hearing a scoff from him.

"for a lowly townsfolk like you, you've got some damn nerve insulting me like that." you fell silent, his cavernous voice never fails to make the hairs on your back stand. "tell me little mouse, how are you not scared of me?"

"you're no different from the fools in my village." your response was blunt, eating a mouthful of the stew in indignance. "arrogant, selfish motherfuckers."

he clicked his tongue, anger starting to boil. he almost mauled you off of your seat but stopped when he saw a piece of food stuck in your cheek, snickering to himself when he knew how hungry you were.

"you have shit on your face." he blurted out, pointing at you. you stuck your tongue out, trying to reach over at where he was pointing at but with how he was laughing at you, you thought he was fucking with you. 

"whatever game you're playing, i'm not having it you stupid prince."

"oi, you're the stupid one. you really do have shit on your face, dumbass." he insisted. "here let me-" he reached over, you felt his sharp, dark-tinted nails prick lightly on your skin as he scooped the piece of food on your cheek. you got a good look at his scarlet tousled locks and its contrast on his white, porcelain skin. his chest and biceps gravely close to you. you almost recoiled but with the difference of his whetted nails and his velvety touch, you were uncharacteristically undaunted and drawn to it. so much so that it brought heat rushing in your cheeks and your heart hammering to your chest you could hear it going crazy.

what the fuck is going on with you?! why are you flustered?! you berated yourself. you sucked in a deep breath and downed the tall glass of water, swiftly excusing yourself and bolting to your room. man, you need to get some serious talk with yourself. 

kidd plopped down his wingback chair, bitter at your departure.  "why the fuck did she leave?!" he snarled at his servants, as if they could calm him down. 

"i can't deal with this dumbass." law had his head in his hands, agonizing over the moronic prince's thought process. 

"you did a good job, master." killer spoke from the kitchen, wiping the golden wares and storing them in the cabinets. "i presume she's hiding in her room to suppress her budding feelings for you."

"whatever the fuck do you mean?"

"she was blushing, my lord." the blond insinuated, finally looking at the prince who immediately flushed at his remark. a gratifying smile on the butler's lips at his master's realization. "the proximity between the two of you may have gotten to her. her frantic behavior is enough evidence for it."

you on the other hand felt like you were going to faint. you had your back pressed against the door as you had both of your hands at the sides of your face, trying to cool your burning cheeks and collect yourself. your fuzzy mind going places it shouldn't be. he just took food off your face, stop being thirsty! he's a beast for fuck's sake!

you've decided to sleep it off before it gets worse.

once morning came, you were awoken by the bright light outside and a gentle voice jolting you awake. "name, name. wake up, your breakfast is waiting for you."

"what?" you groggily responded, still trying to stomach the fact that you just awoken at the castle of a beast.

"a bath and a new set of clothes has been prepared for you as well, you may choose among the garments; whichever fancies you. i'd rather not hurry you but, the food master left for you might run cold." he said, turning off the faucet of the tub and pointing to the hanged clothes at the rack as he spoke.

you made your way to the dining hall and reveled on the aroma of pancakes, strawberry purée, and brewed coffee. you quickly feasted on the scrumptious food prepared just for you.

too consumed in eating, you didn't notice kidd watching you at the balcony from the second floor, an unseen smile in his lips at the sight of you happily stuffing yourself. 

"falling already?" kidd almost jumped at his butler's voice, almost cursing him out the castle. 

"shut the fuck up."

"why don't you join her, my lord? staring would only make you want for more." the blond teased, inducing the light tint in the prince's cheeks.

killer had been kidd's butler ever since the prince could remember. killer's family have been the butler of the eustass monarch for ten successive years, their families have been deep-rooted and became friends rather than master-servant. when kidd was a little boy, killer and he would always play by the yard and would spend most of the afternoon together doing whatever little boys do. up until kidd reached his adolescence, killer was his servant and confidante. even until the curse was cast upon the prince, the two remained close friends. fortunately, killer wasn’t present when the curse was brought upon the castle since he ran some deliveries but bearing the sight of his family, including the servants and the prince himself, being anathematized; he suffered the same loneliness as them.

“tell her to meet me at the garden afterwards, refusal is not an option.” he ordered, making his way to his quarters.

“what folly does that prince want?” you raised a brow. 

“he didn’t mention anything else other than that, my lady. although i have a hunch that what awaits you is something special.” he smiled, picking up your used wares.

you pondered and gazed over the garden. it does look pretty. what could possibly go wrong in the garden? it wouldn’t hurt to explore a little, right? as much as you don’t want anything to do with that beast, your curiosity at his peculiarity and mystery weighed more than your rationality. as someone who is imaginative, your affinity to books has honed this attitude of yours; sometimes benefiting you and often not. and so you listened to your heart rather than your head, such a rare occurrence.

as you pushed through the arched, glass double doors, you were met with the sun blinding you. you covered the top of your vision with your hand to take in the sight before you. you felt the damp soil under the soles of your sandals. the whistling of birds, skittering squirrels, and fluttering of butterflies across the viridescent bushes as they appear to be greeting you. the breeze of the wind rustled the leaves, soon blowing through your hair and soothing you. you inhaled the aroma of the pleasant tang of tulips, hydrangeas, sunflowers, camellias, amaryllises,  and berries. and at the far side of the garden you saw that all-knowing, fiery, currant hair, your heart hitching at the sight. you almost drummed your chest to calm it down but took a deep breath instead.

you sauntered across the dense fields of grass towards the gazebo where he was standing tall and gazing at the river. “saw anything you like?” he started, turning to you as you reached him. you somehow got lost in his eyes once more, the clarity of his features in the sun intoxicating you. 

“t-the tulips were…cute.” you rubbed your arms, avoiding his gaze.

“what’s wrong?” he furrowed his brows, leaning down at you to try and get a view of your expression. “saw anything you hate?” 

“other than you, no.” you mumbled under your breath, turning your back to him to try and get away from his stifling presence.

kidd chuckled.  there she is. he thought to himself. “tell you what, little mouse.” he leaned down closer to your ear, resting a hand on your shoulder. “i don’t normally do this but, pick whatever you like, it’s gonna be all yours.”

he was so close you thought he heard how fast your heartbeat thundered. you quickly pulled back, walking backwards to the field of tulips as you waved at him. she really does get flustered at the closeness. he mumbled grinning, pleased at himself.

he watched you as you strolled across his garden, heading straight for the pink tulips. you bent down to their height, smiling to yourself as you plucked out a handful. you take in delight the blossomy aroma of the garden and the pleasant singing of the birds surrounding you. what a sight to behold. how his heart won’t stop fluttering at the sight of you dear god. how peaceful you are, how he never seem to feel serenity before you arrived. never in his life, has he witnessed someone so delicate, so divine, and so feisty enough to measure up to his own pugnacious self. he’s pissed off at you, yes. at how daring you are and how sharp your insults are. yet he can’t get enough of it. the fire that doesn’t seem to falter even if he daunts you. he finds it annoyingly attractive.

“he’s completely under her spell, don’t you two think?” killer muttered to the two lads in the mirror. 

“he’s whipped as fuck if you ask me.”

“oi that’s how i look at you, torao.” luffy blurted out. the older lad intensely blushing and hitting the smaller at the remark.

“tulips, huh?” he abruptly spoke behind you. you almost jumped at his presence.

“yeah. they’re rather exquisite.” you smiled at the bouquet of tulips clutched close to your chest.  “a unique one out of the bunch.” you mused at the widespread flowers at the yard. 

“it means perfect and deep love in the language of flowers.” you continued. “it dates back to when two lovers fell in love and met a tragic end. much like romeo and juliet but… juliet actually died; driving the other one mad, he killed himself and the tulips grew where his blood was spilled.”

“s-sorry, that was witless. i-i just read about stupid shit like this a lot, i’ll shut u-”

“fuck no.” he interrupted. “go on with that thing you call stupidity then, i want to hear more.”

a shaky smile on your face starts to widen once his words had sunk in. you giggled, carrying on a tangent about flowers, its legends, and etymologies. while he sat down on the lawn with you, listening and remarking from time to time. admiring the way your eyes beam with genuine happiness and how you never ran out of things to say.

“ten years? you’ve been isolated for a whole fucking decade?!”

“damn right, no contact from the outside. drove me crazy for a while, but it grew on me. i wore insanity as a fuckin’ cape.” he laughed to himself, seemingly proud for reaching this far.

“how’d you last this long?”

“i’ll… show you somewhere.” he had hesitation in him but it was clear that he was eager to show wherever it is he wants to show you.

he took you to a place, not far from the garden. it was a little shack, quite dilapidated. built of planks as its walls and cobblestones as its roof. he entered first before opening the door for you. and you have to say, each time you enter a room in this castle, you are enchanted.

you couldn’t help but be enamored at the trinkets that filled the shelves that was mounted on the walls of the vast shack. they were all intricately done, meticulously built with torques, bolts, and metal scraps of varying sizes. a range of sculptures of animals, mythical creatures, abstract designs, body parts, and the like. a big, wooden workbench settled at the far side of the room where different knicknacks reside messily.

“done gawking?” he nervously laughed. “you don’t have to fucking like it, i know it’s not that mu-”

“shut up, kidd! this is breathtaking!” you clasped both of your hands together before your mouth. “the amount of patience, the creativity, the time it took, h-how did you…”

“y-you shut up.” he looked away, thankful for his mask which covered the flushing of his cheeks. 

“can i touch them?”

“can i hold them?”

“can i keep one?”

you were giddy and he found it adorable. he doesn’t understand what he was feeling and he hated it. he hated how he wants you to fawn over him and his works. he hated how he craves for your elation. he hated how he wanted to show off more of his aptitude to you. he hated how funny you make him feel. “j-just don’t break anything. i’ll make you do it all over again if you do, numbskull.”

“but if you’re gonna take something, take this.” he towered over you, reaching at one of the shelves above you. “��s a necklace, nothing special.”

your heart melted at the sight of gold-lacquered jewelry in your hands, glimmering at the glowing afternoon. “when did you make this?”

“it was a long time ago, i was like…fuckin’ 12? ‘s my mom’s.”

you looked up, surprised. “hold up! 12?! and why are you giving me this if it’s your mom’s?”

“j-just fuckin’ take it and stop yammerin’ off, fuckin’ hell.” he stormed out the workshop, ears red. was he that angry that it reached his ears?

“h-hey!” you hesitantly called out, running out the shack into the field where he was standing. “thanks for… not treating me like shit. and this necklace too..!  you create… beautiful things.” you fiddled with the bundle of metal on your palms, not meeting his eyes because your cheeks are outright ablaze right now. your mouth is running dry. your head is fuzzy. the base of your fingers sweating waterfalls. and all you could hear was your wavering voice and the deafening pummels of your heartbeat.

there was a moment of silence. you tried and peek at his expression because christ does the complete absence of sound gnawed at you. you saw him covering the span of his upper cheek from the left side, across the bridge of his nose, into the right side with his palm. his eyes also refusing to meet yours. to your surprise, he was also brightly red; it was evident even if his scarf mask hid most of his face. 

“i-it’s fuckin’ nothing, s-shut the fuck up and let me fuckin’ breathe jesus christ.” he said in one breath, trying his best to not slur his words. “i-i need fuckin’... air.” he mumbled, not even looking at you as he sauntered far, far away.

he left in the middle of the field; dizzy at the events, flushed and bothered. you bent down and hugged your knees, burying your face in your palms as you screamed through your nose silently. resting both of your hands beside your face to regulate your temperature once more. cause fuckin’ hell has it been going wild ever since you arrived here. 

as days passed through, you had either spent most of your days doing chores or experimenting with food in the company of the three servants. you had managed to establish a camaraderie between the four of you. baking with killer has been delightful, he always has the most intriguing stories about the prince.

as for the prince, you almost never see him after that incident in the shack. whenever you find him in a room and it’s just the two of you or the other way around, he always leaves you and won’t say anything. absolute avoidance. 

so you’ve decided to take matters in your own hands and head to his quarters. they’ve told you it was forbidden, that he would be more than bent out of shape. as if that ever stopped you. 

you traversed the west wing. same high ceilings, aristocratic paintings, and golden chandeliers. in the far middle of the vast room, there lied a scraped up wooden door. you immediately knew that it was his.

you tried knocking a few times but was met with silence. so you entered and was met with an ominous, abraded room. frayed carpet, broken windows, scratched curtains, broken bed frames, rugged furniture stacked upon each other. it scared you, and made you want to call out to him. 

until you saw that tulip encased in a glass, emitting a soft glow. unlike any other tulips in his garden, this one looked distinct. you got closer to have a better look. tilting your head as you examine the glittering object.

“the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“i-i’m sorry you didn’t answer so-”

“you fuckin’ trespassed, is that it?! get out before i change my mind!”

“b-but i still have some ques-”

“out!” he growled, thunder erupting once more. for the first time, fear had completely taken over you from the force of his voice and his aura. minatory gaze chilling in your spine. you ran out his room, into the garden of tulips, trying to calm down and get some air.

“it seems you have made a wrong move, master.” killer spoke, as the both of them gaze out the window.

“i don’t care.” cold. but man, killer’s right and it’s painfully annoying.

a few hours after, you were with the men in the kitchen as you ranted your heart out. 

“what’s wrong with him?” you frowned, kneading the dough in your powdered hands. almost as if pouring all of your frustrations in the paste between your hands.

“everything.” law said in passing, rolling his eyes. 

“i suppose you’ve bewitched the master.” killer returned as he mixed the gouache for the dessert later at dinner. “your little thanks and gesture at the garden had sent him into a state of deep coma. he almost never eats too, says his stomach felt funny these days. ”

“i-i don’t understand…?”

“other than his late mother, he never felt anything remotely close to rapport to other women; only indifference. you see, the master is awfully confused. emotions are somewhat foreign to him. why don’t you help and make it clear to him?”

“make what clear?”

“that the feeling is mutual.”

“w-what feeling?!” you grew rather agitated, trying to piece out whatever killer was saying.

“ah. they’re both dumb.” luffy snickered, rubbing his nose. 

you could see the mild frustration in the butler’s eyes, he sighed softly before continuing. “nevermind that now, the master has prepared another something for you.”

the mention of him jolted you awake, “is he finally gonna come out of his fuckin’ cage?” it sounded bitter but boy were you hopeful to see him again, not like you’d admit that.

“as a matter of fact, he will. he is waiting right now.” he straightened up, gesturing at the yard leading to the riverside.

“h-huh?!” you tilted your head in confusion, “but it’s… dark out.”

“precisely.” a playful smile crept on the blond’s lips.

“how can you have a bonfire when it’s bloody bright out?” law’s tone was sardonic, crossing his arms.

“aww torao they’ll stargaze at the riverside! do you remember when we do that?!” the rubber boy shook the doctor in excitement, instigating the bright tint of pink in the taller lad’s cheeks.

“what took you so fuckin’ long?” the prince ‘greeted’ you with a frown. before him was a bonfire, not far from the riverside as water splashes against each other. he was sitting on a snowy, silk cloth spread across the silty ground. a woven basket, red and white checkered fabric blanketing the inside, a variety of sustenance ranging from loaves, finger fruits, packed sandwiches, and two bottles of exorbitant-looking rum. 

“that’s not the issue here, kidd.” you firmly started, brows furrowed and face red from fury. the scowl in his face got deeper since he expected you to be delighted, he was stunned at your tantrum.  “you’re baffling me! you shower me with all those romance, ignore me for seven days, and then have a bonfire, stargazing at the beach date after?! make one thing clear, eustass kid! what the fuck do you intend to do with me?! are you just doing these things on a whim?! are you having fun playing with my feelings?!”

he avoided your gaze. hands curlings into fists because he’s mad that you’re right. he doesn’t even know what’s going on with himself either. he always feel sick around you, feels like he’s gonna vomit fuckin’ glitter as he put it. his head is all fuzzy and full of the thought of you. 

“...sit down.” he said under his breath. you sighed and did so.

he took a deep breath before going on a tangent. “even i have no fuckin’ idea how this romance thing works! i thought the solitude in this castle will drive me crazy but no, you fuckin’ did!  i want to avoid how good i feel about you. i hate that you’re right about every little thing and i want to praise you for it. i hate how i always want to hear your voice. i hate how i always seem to fuckin’ look for you. in those seven days of avoidance, i stopped myself. because i know that if i didn’t i’ll be far too gone. i fuckin’ hated that i’m starting to fall deeper with you, goddamn it!  all these damn years i’ve been condemned to hell on earth, i lost all hope. and then your cute ass fuckin’ showed up.” 

your chest tightened as butterflies bloomed in your chest and your ears rang continuously. you were frozen. he repeats ‘hate’ a lot but it all sounds like love to you. the way he frolics in his seat as he tries to muster up his words. with the contrast of how red he is and how he ‘hates’ you so much, you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself and grow cocky.

“you think i’m cute, huh?”

“fuck off, little mouse.”

“if that’s your declaration of love i’m taking it.”

“it’s not.”

“really?”

“no.”

“‘cause i feel the same way.”

“fuck yo- wait really?!”

you hid your face in your palms, trying to regulate your heartbeat and temperature. after a long while of silence from getting tongue-tied at the confessions, you both faced each other and laughed it off.

“since you love me so much, fulfill a request for me.” you scooted closer. hands brushing by his sinewy arms, up to his broad shoulders, up to the thick column of his neck, to his half-clothed face. you could feel him going hot under your touch. “take it off for me. the mask.”

he hesitated for a while, before untying the knot behind his head. the satin material flowing graciously down his lap, revealing the lower part of his face. the canines of his lower teeth were prominent, both reaching up to his cheekbones. his scar that you noticed a few days ago, extended down the left side of his face down to his neck; seeming to be extending even further to his chest. 

he carefully watched how your face will contort. will it be fear? disgust? prejudice? he expected you to recoil from whatever grotesque visage you’re seeing but no. even you got shocked at your actions.

you reached over, cupping his cheeks with glassy eyes and a smile as you tried stifling your sobs. you then wrapped both of your arms around his neck and pulled him close. he grew awfully red at your embrace. “thank you for being brave enough to show me.”

his heart swelled in his chest, it seemed surreal that such words were uttered to a beast like him. how could you endear someone so inhuman and jarring like him? no one has thanked him for showing his face, only shrieks of fear and disgust yet here you are smiling before him.

as the night deepens, so was your warmth for each other. talking about all things possible. the moon scintillating, casting a soft glow on each other’s faces. 

in the quietness of the river and the tree branches you two were under, it was not too long after both of you started taking swigs of rum. the sweet yet bitter taste filling your being. you were settled between his legs, he was leaning back to the tree bark to support your and his’ weight, his heartbeat steady on your back, his thick fingers combing through your locks; his piercing nails giving your head little cozy scratches as it lulled you to drowsiness, while the other hand intertwined with yours. 

“you feel warm.” he lowly mumbled, placing his chin on top of your head. you snuggled closer to the juncture between his neck and shoulders. “it’s sweet.”

“am i?” you purred, hiccupping afterwards; obviously drunk as shit.

“that was just half a bottle, how are you drunk?”

“i don’t drink much.” you giggled uncontrollably. startled by your own actions, you suddenly straddled yourself on his lap. 

you held his face between your hands and placed a kiss on his forehead, holding it for a while. “never knew i’d fall with someone like you.”

“what, someone like a beast?” he scoffed.

“someone so out of everyone’s leagues yet i managed to draw you into mine. i like it. more than the fantasy of ideal men in fiction. more than the love stories i dreamed of being on. more than the written words i dreamed of hearing. more than the romance the books had taught me.” you declared. “you stand on top of all of them, my prince.” you rubbed your thumb on his tinted cheeks, tracing his horns with your fingers. you soon got lost in his eyes reflecting the rising sun from the east, falling deeper as you stare even further.

“why’re you gettin’ all fuckin’ sappy,” he tried looking away, quickly heating up. shortly after, you soon nestled in his arms and returned to the cuddle position you two had earlier where he was behind you. 

“do the books also tell you that,” his hand crept up under your shirt, immediately startling you as his cold hands stung in your warm skin. “couples do this.” he continued, hand rubbing on your stomach, precariously trailing up to your chest.

“w-what are you-” you tried stopping him but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, melting in his touch.“we’re not a fucking couple.”

“not yet.” his hands roamed even further inside, playing with the seams of your bra. “tell me little mouse, how does it feel?” 

“p-prick.” you should stop him before it escalates to something more yet you want him to keep going, even further. his breath is hot against your neck. his fangs brushing by your ear.  “i feel like throwing my fist in your stupid face.”

“mm.” he grinned, both hands running on your waist. he pressed his nose on your head, inhaling your scent before placing a kiss on your ear. “want me to keep going?”

“fuck you.”

he then unhooks the clip of your undergarment, you felt the peril creeping up in your neck together with his small hums. “never knew you were this hungry for me.” you added.

“oh, you’ll find out now.” he whispered in a low voice. “the sexual tension was too palpable, no?” his hands slid beneath your now loose undergarment, his serrated nails poking you from time to time as he kneaded your mounds in his massive palms.  

“degenerate.” you said it bitterly through half-lidded eyes. but you were just trying to mask the great amount of pleasure he’s arousing off of you.

“but you love it so much, aye?” he whispered, his fangs poking in your ear. “by the time dawn comes, you won’t be whining so much, i promise you.” his words spread electricity across your body, his smoky voice drying your throat and awakening something in you.

“go on then,” you turned around and slid your clothes off over your head, watching him fall completely red and crazy over you as his eyes scanned each curve and detail of your body. “do what you want with me.”

moments after, the alcohol soon had taken an effect and you had a hazy memory of whatever unfolded. but you know one thing for sure, you fell asleep in his arms after a long while of pleasure under the stars. 

the blinding sun jostled you two awake. you grumbled lightly as you nuzzled your face in his chest, where the minimal shading of the tree you two are under was prominent enough to hide from the light. he hugged you tighter, rubbing your bare shoulders. “oi, wake up and get a good look at your prince.”

it took you a while to register what he was saying, your mind was still cloudy from sleep. but you sprung up immediately and got a good look at his face, the daylight glow accentuating his sharp features.

“who the fuck are you?!” you instantly got on your feet, clutching the blanket wrapped around you and getting the most amount of distance from this dashing young man before you. 

he bellowed a laugh. but this time, it’s not chilling anymore, it’s dreamy enough to bloom flowers and spread butterflies on your stomach. 

“it’s me, the man you’re so crazy about.” he smugly retorted, opening his arms for you.

you narrowed your eyes before it all finally came back to you. you ran to his arms, hugging him so tight he fell on his back. he returned your hug. one arm spanning across the width of your back, getting tighter with each second while the other propped you both up. burying his nose in your neck, the absence of fangs makes it easier to plant kisses at the juncture between your neck and shoulders. brows furrowing as he inhaled your scent once more, relishing at the touch of you. 

“a little fuckin’ tight, mouse.” he complained, almost choking. 

you pulled away, scrutinizing him as you placed both hands at the sides of his face while you straddle his lap. you traced your fingers across his high cheekbones and hollow cheeks sculpted by the gods. mused at his intense, canary eyes reeling you in as you studied each feature in his face in the aurora. you run your fingers across his extremely defined and narrow nose bridge. down to his plump lips that kissed you all night until daybreak. “you’re fucking stunning, i can’t believe i got my hands on you.” 

despite his rose-tinted cheeks, he managed to plaster a cocky grin on his face. “i’m all yours, don’t worry.”

“NAAAMEE!!!” you hear your name being shouted from a distance, it grew closer each second. you furrowed your brows and looked back. there you see luffy and law, jogging by the vast fields. “we’re turned back! y’all did it!” you raised a brow in confusion. you assumed that since kidd turned back, they might as well too?

as luffy jumped in both of you two’s arms and rejoiced loudly, law and killer stayed back watching the two of you try and manage luffy’s embrace.

“who would’ve thought master would find love?” killer sighed in relief.

“they’re both crazy, of course it’d work out well.” the doctor responded, arms crossed.

after having a banquet for breakfast with the members of the manor, you and kidd have decided to bathe in his black, porcelain tub at his master’s bedroom. washing each other up, scrubbing each other’s backs, playing with the foamy bubbles, and rambling about all sorts of things. time seems to pass by but you couldn’t care less, you have all the time in the world to spend it with him.

subsequently after lunch, kidd decided to take you somewhere after blindfolding you. guiding you as he held your hand and shoulders to arrive at where he wants to take you.

“what is it?! stop pushing!”

“be fuckin’ patient, alright?”

as soon as he took off your blindfold, you were met with walls upon walls of books. two balconies with mahogany railings, extending to each side of the room. shiny, porcelain floors where you could almost see your reflection on. a reading nook on a tall window seat with pillows and linen sheets. books of all kinds filling all the shelves brought enormous bliss to you.  

“kidd this is…”

“yeah it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he scanned the room, then back to you. “it’s all yours.”

you turned to him, smiling ear to ear. you wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping into his embrace. “it’s everything i ever dreamed of.”

he placed a kiss at the crown of your head, hugging you just as tight as you did. you spend the afternoon rummaging through the sets of books as he follows you around like a puppy, taking pleasure in your euphoria. once you’ve picked out books, you read it to him and he patiently listens and watches how your face always has that gleeful sheen when you’re around your books.  you even taught him how to read piece by piece, it was an intimate moment you’d want to relive over and over again.

shortly after, you got yourself fixed up for dinner. the servants had taken their time in applying cosmetics and perfume to you whilst preparing different sets of gowns. lines of dresses with shades of varied colors and unique designs. but what caught your eye was the voluminous, off-the-shoulder, dandelion ball gown. it was conically tiered as the ruffles of the silhouette extended down to the floor. there were matching creamy, yellow gloves and golden pearl earrings. 

finally getting dolled up, you made your way to the castle ball room. before you went down the stairs, you saw kidd waiting in a three-piece, blue and white suit with a tailcoat. you snorted at yourself because of how proper he looks, he furrowed his brows at you at your remark.

“the fuck you snickerin’ at?” he said, holding out his hand for you. 

“nothing,” you pressed your lips together to contain your laugh. “you just look too formal, ‘s not like you.” you took his hand and he grabbed your waist, eventually getting into position for the dance. 

soon, the melody of the classical orchestra resounded. 

“you’re a good dancer, not bad.” you praised him.

“‘s nothing, one of the few things they drilled into royals back then.” he bragged, “you suck, though.” he snorted, looking down at you.

you blushed in embarrassment at his remark. “shut up or i’ll step on you.” you said through gritted teeth.

“by all means,” he winked. “you look fuckin’ amazing.” he leaned closer, placing a kiss on your ear.

“how’ll you tell your father? he probably hates my guts.” he instigated, laughing bitterly.

“he’ll love you… soon. trust me.” you tried comforting him with a soft smile. “for now, let’s just have ourselves a good dance, yeah?”

you hugged him close, placing your chin on his shoulder as he rested atop your head. reveling in each other’s arms according to the tune of the music across the lofty ceilings, porcelain floors, and widely decorated walls. 

when the next day came, you two had visited your village. your father almost had a heart attack from the attractive man you’ve brought home. when you told him it was the beast, he almost threw all his tools at him but you explained it to him and he calmed down. it’ll take some warming up, but kidd is more than happy to go through all that for you.

BRO FINALLY PUTTING THIS OUT GODDAAAAAAAAMNNN this is actually my first time using writing guides and thorough description i hope it was immersive uwu

[rainintheevening]

Part I – Part II ... Part XIV – Part XV

There are stables at their new school.

When Ed comes down for breakfast the first morning, he is gestured over by a rosy-cheeked Peter, hair distinctly wind-blown, who snatches up his coat from the bench, gesturing for Ed to sit beside him.

Ed hesitates, decides it doesn't matter, not on the first day of term, very few others are sitting where they're supposed to, and he doesn't even know for sure which form he's going to be in.

He nods shortly to the two closest boys, friends of Peter's from their old school. He notes the cold, fresh air smell clinging to his older brother as he leans over to pour a glass of milk.

“Ten horses, Ed!” Peter's eyes are alight. “Plus a few ponies. The stablemaster said as soon as I have a free hour to come down, and he'll let me try out a few. Mostly warmbloods, there's a pair of Clydesdales, and two thoroughbreds. Then Master Gringham has his own thoroughbred stallion; a big chestnut he calls Ben, apparently short for Benedict from that Shakespeare play. Just wait, I'll convince Gringham to let me ride Ben too.”

“Didn't know you were keen on horses, Pev,” one of the other boys remarks.

“Didn't even think you knew how to ride,” another snorts.

Ed shoots his brother a quick glance, as Peter's chin comes up in a flash of indignation, but then he seems to catch himself, and he smiles awkwardly, shrugs. “Comes of spending time in the country, I suppose.”

“What time did you wake up?” Ed mutters.

“Don't remember,” Peter says, and then the room is being called to order for the Head to make announcements and say the blessing.

Ed makes Second Form, and every third day he and Peter have the same free hour, and Edmund usually follows his brother down to the stables.

He quickly chooses one horse for his usual mount, a bay mare called Rose, but he prefers to hang back, enjoys watching other people watch Peter.

By the end of the first week, Peter is allowed to ride any of the horses he wishes, except for Ben. He is kind to them all, and his hands are gentle, but he is firm and his voice can pitch from a low sing-song to a sharp command in a moment. They listen to him, and Ed smiles to himself as the stablemaster Gringham leans on the fence watching Peter wander through the frosty paddock, greeting each animal by name.

“Who taught him about horses?” the man asks.

“A knight,” Edmund says quite truthfully, after all both Oreius and Erah had been knighted after the Battle at Beruna. “A friend,” he adds, because even with his hazy memories, it is hard to put a single word on what Peter and Erah the mute unicorn were to each other.

The stablemaster opens his mouth, then leaves it open, as Peter catches a handful of mane, vaults up onto the bare back of a black gelding.

Even in a threadbare coat, bareheaded under the grey English sky, face and hands stung red with cold, Peter looks regal, noble, even taller on the back of a horse. Something warm swells in Edmund's heart, and Peter's smile is magnetic as he and his mount pull up by the gate.

“Peter-boy,” Gringham says, slow, deliberate, “you ride like an Indian chief, or like the kings of old, and I can't rightly figure which it is.”

Edmund meets his brother's eyes, a flash of a glance, but so full of knowing it might as well be a whole conversation.

“Well, I've certainly never been to America, sir,” Peter laughs.

Other boys, the ones who were here at St. Maurice’s before, take to calling him Horse Boy with a tone Edmund does not like, but they watch him with as much awe as envy when he settles a wildly spooking horse, the only one not scattered by striking hooves close above his head.

“He used to be such a city mouse,” Ed murmurs to Rose, patting her neck. “Now I think he likes horses better than people. They remind him more of Narnia than all these boys.”

She whiffles her lips across his palm, finds no more scraps of bread, and turns back to her hay.

Even with the constant visits to the stables, Peter's top in the Lower Sixth two weeks into term, and Ed is proud of him.

He likes passing his brother in the hall, and exchanging smiles or little jokes, he likes when they take Rose and Atlas out for a canter, and he forgets how cold he feels in the joy of riding in step with Peter, as if they're back in Narnia with Philip and Era.

Philip the Talking Horse had been a dear friend, as capable of being quiet with Edmund as he was at sparking a battle of wits, and Ed remembers him fondly, but he knows their bond had been far looser than Peter and Erah's, knows the meaning in the wistful expression flickering through Peter's eyes as he pats Atlas’s black neck.

“Do you think they miss us?”

It comes out in a cloud of breath, Peter squinting in a shaft of rare noon sunlight. It is the first time he has voiced such a thought, and Edmund answers slow, searching for the right words.

“Well, if time is passing in Narnia (after all, we know it doesn't move the same between worlds), well... I think he, they, would miss us whenever they thought of us. Which is probably quite often.”

Edmund thinks about it sometimes, what might be happening back in Narnia, but that is usually reserved for the shades of night, when he finds it hard to sleep.

Distractions, he is glad for distractions, glad to keep his hands busy, glad to lift his chin and stride out into the sharp winter air, glad for Peter's blue eyes that remind him of a clear sky.

Winter has never been his favourite season, but it weighs on him a little more now, he’s much more aware of the shadows in his mind, of the chill in his bones, of the slippery, icy sense of unreality that creeps over him sometimes. He lies in bed, or curls by the common room fire, or eats his supper, and moulds his fingers into the curves and edges of the little silver lion he wears around his neck, breathes over his heart the promise lifted from the pages of the great heavy Bible in the Professor's study (Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine), until the shadow thins and the chill lessens.

Peter knows about some of it, without being told, as if he's seen it all before, and Ed supposes he must have, back in Narnia. He is attentive, watchful, pays far more attention to Ed than any other of the many elder brothers in the school pay to their juniors, but truthfully, Edmund is grateful.

He works hard in class, starts learning the violin, debates the theology master and earns a standing invitation to tea, avoids Finley and his little gang, finds a first form boy crying in the chapel and befriends him, joins the choir with Peter.

He finds his footing, and it seems Peter does too.

Next

[sorry-moots]

Inversion of Genesis But I Changed It

basically i decided to rework sumeru's interlude quest because i didn't like it and i feel like they did our scrimblo dirty also it's a reader insert because i love him characters featured: scaramouche, dottore (mentioned) cws: none wc: 599

masterlist | next

Chapter One

Snezhnayan mornings are rarely graced by daylight but today, the albedo from the previous night’s blizzard crept in and illuminated your bedroom.

With an aura of defeat, you pull your hair off your neck and into place so you can put on your work clothes. It would be a bit of a stretch to call it a uniform; many liberties were taken in its tailoring. The outfit consisted of a pair of cable knit stockings, a frilly white blouse, and a heavy skirt of black-and-crimson jacquard, which concealed half a dozen petticoats. Quite luxurious compared to the regular uniforms.

As you lace up your black leather boots, you think about your awful work conditions. The place itself was creepy enough with its harsh lighting and omnipresent chemical scent, but the mind games your boss played with you and the screams from his test subjects made your blood run cold.

Shaking yourself, you pulled on your black leather gloves and cloak. Dwelling on it would do you no good.

Finally, you grab your mask. The charcoal gray mask had the typical red stripe through the eye indicating your affiliation with the Fatui. In the middle where the wearer’s eyebrows would be, however, there is an extra marking. This little addition marks you not just as a Fatuus, but as a Fatuus working directly under the command of the 2nd Fatui Harbinger, Il Dottore.

You wanted nothing more than to toss it into the snow banks and forget about it, but your job was the only thing sustaining you. To leave the Fatui would be to freeze with no coal in your fireplace and die of hunger.

With this in mind, you pull the mask into place and step into the cold before you can convince yourself not to. ***** As usual, you arrive a little early to savor your last minutes of freedom before descending into the bowels of Zapolyarny Palace. You leave your Clydesdale at the stable and make your way to the palace at a leisurely pace, taking a breath of the stinging cold– but untainted– air.

You duck your head instantly upon noticing a commanding officer talking to one of the harbingers. Many of them are picky about etiquette and it’s never a good idea to offend one.

Nevertheless, one could hardly take offense at you walking a little slower than usual.

Making your way across the hall, you overhear their conversation:

“What do you mean there's no one available? I told you to find me a new assistant, you incompetent fool!”

An open position?

“My apologies, Lord Scaramouche, but unless someone volunteers to be reassigned, you’ll have to wait for the next induction ceremony.”

“Preposterous, that's months away! I'll drown in my own paperwork before then.” In that moment, you glanced briefly at the Harbinger, who had the bridge of his nose pinched tightly. “Find someone to take this bumbling fool’s place, or you’ll have the pleasure of being demoted to the position yourself,” he said, pointing his finger at the man menacingly before storming away.

Almost at light speed you double back to talk to the officer. Dropping into a quick curtsy, you blurted out, “Sir, I was wondering if you'd consider me for the position you were discussing with the Balladeer?”

Utterly bewildered, he replied, “Of course, but who in their right mind would choose to serve Lord Scaramouche?”

“The Doctor's assistant,” you responded ruefully.

The officer’s grimace was clear as day– in any other nation that is. “I see. Come with me and we’ll file the transfer order right now. Consider the job yours.”

a/n: lemme know if you're interested in this 👉🏼👈🏼 i'm planning on uploading what i have over the next few days; if you want me to tag you, i can do that too and yes reader talks to scara in the next chapter, this is just a VERY SLOW slow burn

master list | next

[hostilemuppet]

So the first piece of art of yours that I saw was the comic where two of Bruce’s kids came out has trans to him and Branch tells him he’s a good dad and Bruce said he wishes their parents were supportive of him.

After that I came upon the one where JD decides to pierce his ear. And ends up with a date with a trucker.

And after that it was your first Floyd/Creek comics where Creek thinks he’s tricking Floyd but Floyd his aware and using him to get expensive stuff!!! It was between those three that I started following you.

While your style has changed since those little comics, I’ve always found your art amazing!!! And funny!!!

I keep coming back for more art and comics. I don’t read most of the asks you get so what ever happens on chapter 14 will probably be a complete surprise for me.

I do have a few questions from those first comics, have you ever considered drawing Bruce before he came out has trans? Maybe a little comic flashback of him coming out to his family? Also why was Branch so surprised? Didn’t he know Bruce was trans? And or was he… wait is Branch a he or a she? I forgot to ask before I didn’t understand in the story, if Branch came out has a boy or a girl. What I was going to say was Branch surprised that he wasn’t the only trans in the family?

As for the JD comic, have you ever considered drawing that date JD had with the trucker troll?

Also I think I once saw a Spotify playlist for Fleek with a cover of Floyd eating sushi from Creek’s back? Did I imagine that? Cause I can’t find that art on either of your twitter accounts.

Speaking of Creek’s back, what does he’s tramp stamp look like?

first of all tysm! thats very kind of you 😊 ill go through em point by point:

1- the comic where branch finds out bruce is trans wasnt related to the tdau at all, it was based on actual canon, so that version of branch wasnt intended to be a trans he/him butch he was just a cis dude. branch didnt know bruce was trans bc he wasnt even a year old at the point of the breakup and bruce had been living solely as a man for years, maybe as young as 13? (he wouldve just decided "can you call me a he? and grandma can you start buying me boy clothes at pop troll walmart?" i dont think he wouldve had the resources available to know what transgender even meant at that point) and never ended up telling branch before the breakup bc... well hes like 6 months old. and he doesnt need to know anything about "spruce"s body. and over the years bruce just kinda forgot that branch didnt know, which is why he mentioned it so casually

2- i did actually draw the troll jd had a date with! his name is clyde (although i think calling him clyde S.D. ale would be cute. like clydesdale, and also ale like the alcohol). this art is old atp so maybe ill give him a fresher coat of paint, just like im planning for jds manic pixie dream rock troll girlfriends who hate him

3- i. yes. yes i did draw floyd eating sushi off creeks back and ass before 😭 based off a very good screenshot from captain laserhawk with rayman eating sushi off a cow woman. i drew it twice in fact, with the second being a redraw. here are both of them

i considered redrawing it a third time bc i massively overhauled how i drew trolls but i think if i keep doing it itll stop being funny

4- creeks (NON CANON) tramp stamp, i think would be ocean themed with seashells and waves. maybe ill design creeks tramp stamp today, but again its NOT CANON its not actually a thing in the tdau. unless alex wants it to be

[troy-boltons-pink-jelly]

EASTHIGH'S WIZTOBER 2024 EVENT + companions and familiars [week 2]

high school musical his dark materials dæmon au

dæmons are a person's soul in the form of an animal companion. my selection process and some ramblings about this are below the cut

dæmons from philip pullman's trilogy his dark materials are a person's soul in the form of an animal companion. as a child, your dæmon can change but as you reach puberty, your dæmon will settle on a single form that suits your personality.

my selections are based on this quiz and then further reading in these analysis. obviously, this would be a lot of work to do thoroughly, so i didn't. but i did do a decent amount of research. for most of them i did the test twice or more with slightly different answers for some questions. some characters were easier than others. chad being a toucan? yeah! that made total sense!! absolutely!! troy?? ryan????? so difficult to narrow down, i guess they have some very conflicting personality traits that push in different directions.

a lot of these are birds. idk if that's coincidence or if that's the nature of the test. there's a master list with all possible results and a lot of the main categories are birds. there's some general discussion about the size of dæmons and if they have to be small to medium sized. clydesdale horses are HUGE. philip pullman, the author of his dark materials, is the kind of guys who won't give a definitive answer. i took the test several times for troy and i kept getting horse, so i guess troy is just a horse girl.

sharpay being a form of primate was very clear. chad and taylor also made a lot of sense when i got the results. i looked at some analyses and very quickly thought "YEP that's them alright". gabriella to some degree was easy. there were some traits for the grasshopper sparrow i had to convince myself of, but i found an angle for it to make sense. troy and ryan were more difficult.

troy has this duality of both being a leader and strong-willed and wanting to do his own thing while also being an anxious people pleaser. i feel like the horse makes sense. horses are hard-working and seen as majestic and strong but they're also pretty nervous creatures.

ryan is both a follower of his sister but also wanting to be his own person. he's both willing to play dirty but also just a pretty nice guy, you know? he's often left in the background. the goldcrest is super-duper small, but it's wearing a crown. it's king of the birds. it's kind of fitting actually.

for the names i just used this random dæmon name generator for inspiration.

these are just my thoughts and interpretations and dæmons are of course not an exact science. it's actually completely fictional and up for interpretation. if you have thoughts on this or take the test or find an analysis you think fits a character better, tell me!! i would love to talk about it!!

[mavratt]

I felt that it was only fair to give you an ask of your own

What are your top 10 (real or fantasy) critters and please tell me about them

First off, how did you know I love critters? Second:

1. My all time favourite animal since I saw them on NatGeoWild years ago: the Marine Iguana! A completely herbivorous species of iguana that lives in the Galapagos, they eat sea weed and sea grass which they can dive more than 20 meters (65 feet for the yanks) to get to! (I also have a character based on one)

2. The Nile and/or Saltwater Crocodile: same reasoning as above, I love all croc species but Nile and Saltwater have a special place in my heart. I love the way crocs look, move and behave. Living in Australia, home of the salty's doesn't help either. All around just incredible creatures.

3. Bearded Vulture: number 2 and 3 are very close on this listing but I had to put crocs above my favourite bird. The bearded vulture is super cool because it's diet primarily consists of bones! It eats the bones of dead animals it finds which also means that unlike other vultures it is able to have feathers that go up to its head because it doesn't have to worry about blood and meat getting in them! They will also roll around in red dirt that makes their naturally white feathers red, making it look super cool! (I also did a lino print of one in art class last year):

4. Hoatzin: another bird but its so cool looking! How could it not be one of my favourite animals! Known as the stink bird or skunk bird, this guy smells like ass but it also has a segmented stomach system (like a cow) making it able to digest leaves and other vegetation better than any other bird. Also, as babies they have little claws on their wings that help them climb from rivers if they accidentally fall into them (making them look like dinosaurs). (I also have a character based on the Hoatzin).

5. Godzilla (sticking to the theme of dinosauric marine reptiles, huh? Maybe he just reminds me of the Marine Iguana): I just think he's neat, specifically in Shin Godzilla (2016) and Godzilla Minus One (2023) as in these movies they are incredible stand ins for their respective theme/disaster while also being great narrative foils for their respective protagonist (while also having my favourite designs of all the Godzilla's). (Godzilla is also the character that I have the most posters/merch for)

6. African Lungfish: while not the only species of fish that can breath air, they have the incredible ability to form a mucus cocoon and go into a state of torpor (like hibernation) if the water where they live dries up. I am currently doing my science assignment on them and they are super cool.

7. Thresher Shark: with a caudal fin that can be bigger than its whole body, this goofy lookin fella is my favourite shark species! They use that fin to whip fish, stunning them so they can eat it. They also use them to jump out of the water! (They also always look bamboozled and I love that)

8. Aardwolf: a super cool little hyena lookin fella that is completely insectivorous! They primarily eat termites! I just think they look cool lmao, they have a mowhawk!! Little punk rockers!!

9. Migaloo: my literal white whale. While we don't know if he is still alive or not, he has got to be my favourite whale, what I would give to see this guy irl.

10. Clydesdale horse: gotta be my favourite horse, what a beefy fella. Hard working horse that looks super neat!

(I realised as I got further from the top that I cared less and less about giving more detail than: looks cool! Visibly see my love for these animals has a drop off after 7 lmao) (I love them all I promise!)

[askthedarksidersfam]

Empty Saddle

The Black Stallion

Summary: After the skirmish with the demons, you come face to face with the beast you’d charged into battle for. What are you to do now?

A/N: omg I’m so sorry this came out later than expected, but with college, writers block and personal matters I’ve been swamped. Hopefully this’ll make up for the wait!

‘What have I gotten myself into?’

It’s the only thought that swirls around your cranium like it’s caught in a lazy whirlpool, spinning endlessly. The only thing you’re able to manage is a single blink, feet frozen in place as if you’d been cast to forever be stuck to the broken road.

You’re sure there’s reason to be stock still like a rabbit caught under the sight of a wolf. You just can’t find yourself to move away, not even if your life depended on it. Not that you could outrun this absolute monster.

The stallion stands tall, but if you weren’t an expert in knowing horses aren’t supposed to be the size of a goddamn elephant you’d credit his sheer size on his breed. At least, what breed he mimics, given this is no animal of Earth. If you’d have to bet, you’re between a Clydesdale or Ardennes given his heavy, draft-like build.

He’s huge, your mind still can’t comprehend an animal so enormous as he, yet here he was before you. He bears a solid coat black as soot, yet it doesn’t hide the flex of every single muscle nor the scarring both old and new from times of unknown battles. What gets your eyes to widen in a world full of impossible creatures such as real demons and angels was the endless plume of flames radiating from each hoof, glowing a blazing orange under the molten slabs of rock protecting the foot walls.

Perhaps you were too quick to assume that was the most bizarre factor of all once you incidentally make contact with his glowing reddish eyes, framed behind a wispy lock of flowing dark gray bangs despite the lack of wind. It’s eerie how intelligently they gaze back at you, no doubt gauging your threat level given how his ears are pinned back to his skull.

The silence is interrupted when a shoulder bullies you backwards, pushing you by the hip to make a safe distance away. A familiar black spine protruding from a muscular back was hint enough to tell of your loyal savior who’s quite well aware and conscious of the still lying danger. Yes, the main threat was eliminated, but that didn’t mean that the horse wasn’t as dangerous.

Pongo pushes you back again, but this time you make a sound from the back of the throat in protest. The hound however doesn’t listen to your half attempt of resistance, instead making it his mission to act as your shield, even as you try to walk past.

“Pongo,” you try to command him, “cease, it’s okay!” He doesn’t let up, instead turning his head to growl warningly at you as if to say ‘I hear your commands and that won’t stop me because I’m suddenly deaf!’

“I know you can hear me! C’mon!” You uselessly beg, keeping an eye on the horse who seems to be warily gauging Pongo. The hound however, yaps at the order as he tries to again shove you away.

“Pongo! Sit! Heel! Something!”

The hound chuffs. The stallion snorts softly and for a second you’d assume it was a laugh.

“Pongo look at him!” You say, not thinking about the fact you’re literally talking to an overgrown dog as if it were a person. ‘They’re more intelligent then they let on,’ Grace’s voice rings distantly, ‘speaking as if they are people gives them respect and they return it in kind.’ Blessedly, either from the thought of the teen herself that pacified his frantic attitude or maybe the urgency in your tone that Pongo is ever so responsive to, he actually stops.

You place a hand in his shoulder, stroking the leathery skin as you gesture gently to the stallion again, looking far more exhausted than before. “Just look at him, he’s tired, he’s bleeding out, he’s weak. He needs our help.”

Briefly you wonder when such a beast seemed so… feeble.

“Pongo please…” please let this work, “what would Grace say if we left him behind?”

That makes the hound stop. His taut muscles that quiver with the urgency to run cease their movements, his own fire tipped tail had lessened its protective glow. Although a spark of guilt had begun to rise in you for having to use such a tactic against him. Guilt tripping an animal-demon wasn’t exactly the best thing to do.

Despite the beast being your companion, he still held an attachment for the one who saved him from an untimely death in the streets. The girl who’d patched up their wounds and fed their empty bellies comparable to the company of demons who’d kick or starve in the name of cruel self satisfaction.

A kind hand was alien to them and upon first contact of affection, the rescues had been unwaveringly smitten since.

In a sense, they’d seek her approval in return for genuinely caring for them.

Like a child to their mother.

Presently, your companion chuffs as he stares at you, but behind those bright eyes, you can see the thoughts running about his brain. The meticulous picking of the choice words you’d used to coerce him. At least, attempt.

Pleading, you stroke the fin that juts from his back, just between the shoulders, scratching the good spot that he could not reach. Pongo gently grumbles under the ministrations, leaning into your fingers to encourage you to keep going. You do oblige his request, watching the way his tail swishes as his tongue peeks out his maw.

Now to try your luck again. “Please? Just let me help him,” cautiously you glance to the stallion whose ears are pointed at you, listening intently, do you lower your voice to a whisper. “If he does try to hurt me, you’ll know what to do.”

Pongo huffs, sending an almost nod your way. Then he lifts his nose to the air, sniffing cautiously, huge ears flicking to the horse, then swiveling about for any faraway sounds. You know what he’s doing. He’s searching for any nearby threats.

Your heart picks up, a smile slowly stretching on your chapped lips. He’s done this ritual before giving the okay to pass a dilapidated threshold.

A few moments of deliberate slowness pass by at a snail’s pace with your thrumming heart. Each second feels like an eon moving at a glacial speed. One flick of the ear, a twitch of the nose.

The snort of a weakening horse.

Huff!

The okay was given. And you waste absolutely no time. Running to the untouched wagon, you push the clothes away until you could get a glimpse of the gardening supplies below. Wedged between the wagon wall and fertilizer lay the object of your needs. Wire cutters.

Snatching the tool, you keep pointed downward as you then make your steady, careful approach to the stallion, determined not to spook him. Having just been attacked you’d guess he’d appreciate not having more metal weapons pointed at his face. Pray he just isn’t wild enough to try and kick you with those monstrous hooves that can knock your head clean off.

Pongo keeps a vigilant eye as you approach, hackles raising when you reach within arms length. He offers a terse growl to the horse who hasn’t even made a move. But the threat is clear as day.

Touch them, and I’ll kill you.

As you start to enter the steed’s personal bubble, you keep your movements slow and deliberate as to not upset him. And in the time you spend nearing him, you can really take in the sheer size of this beast.

True to your assumptions, he’s impossibly tall, with your head just barely reaching the elbow. His head hangs low and you can see it’s the size of your torso, and nearly just as wide. Those eyes, intelligent and eerily aware of you, never once break away from you as you finally come to his legs where the problem lay.

The damage is far more intense than you’d expected before, barbs digging into muscle and wire choking the limbs to a painful degree. The left hind leg hung like a dead weight, blood pooling down the gaping wound that brings you to gag. The acrid taste of your meager lunch stinging the esophagus as you try to swallow down both the food and your nausea.

He must be in unimaginable pain. The pitiful thought comes to mind, and your brows furrowed as tears sting the back of your eyeballs. You blink back the tears as your jaw locks up, lip quivering dangerously. No, don’t cry, not now. He needs your help.

Though you attempt to push away the onslaught of tears that threaten to fall out of your eyes, it’s inevitable as you lift the cutter to assess the situation. The wires are messily tangled across his chest, caught in the metal of a protective chest piece that you hadn’t noticed before. They coil around his legs and trail down the chain link straps connecting to his oversized saddle and entwine into the soft- er, well, softer skin of his belly. Just a few stray cables manage to snake around to his bad leg tight enough the limb is unable to even meet the ground. All in all, a terrible position.

Before your brain catches up, your mouth opens up for you, “Oh, you poor baby,” his head picks up at the words, ears pointed to you. Impulsively a hand raises up to stroke the tiniest bit of unmarred skin just under the stirrup nearly as big as your face. Whoever rode him must’ve been enormous.

His side quivers under the touch, with a snort he leans just centimeters from your hand. A deep grumble you’d come to realize as a warning growl from the beast. ‘Don’t’ is all but he conveys. Pongo from behind snarls, sending his own threat to the two of you. You send out a placating hand to the hound, attempting to ease his mood so he won’t feel so inclined to do anything you’d regret.

“Easy boy, it was my fault okay? Just stay there.” Pongo scoffs, but obeys, the tension in his hackles lessen just a millimeter. Returning to the task at hand you take the handle of the tool in each hand, then place the metal mouth to a wire on the leg and begin to cut.

At the first, glorious sound of the cable snapping the steed grumbles, whether discomfort or elation you’ll never figure out. He does shift ever so slightly when the cutter presses flat against his hot skin to pry off the especially stubborn strands, but he makes no further fuss.

Peeling the cut cords free, you toss behind you, far away from the three of you. Thankfully it seems your efforts are beginning to shine through, although the work is far from done, your acquaintance seems to be satisfied with the slow, but steady progress. His huge head is held higher, tilted just the slightest of a fraction to watch you currently work on untangling an especially confusing knot on his chest piece.

“Piece of shit, Ugh- wire!” You mutter to yourself, using the clipper to snip away the stubborn knot. “How exactly can something get so tangled, makes no damn sense.”

Snip snip snip.

“You know, I have to say something,” the silence is unnerving and the pairs of eyes focusing on your work doesn’t make you feel the slightest comfortable. You just had to fill the silence for some peace of mind. And maybe, just maybe, the big lug might under the microscopic chance, appreciate some small talk. It could help you win him over if you’re to bring him back to Haven.

Am I actually doing this?

You stopped for a moment, thinking about what would happen if you just came in with a hellish horse trotting along into the settlement.

You wouldn’t be the first one to bring in an otherworldly creature to the tree, that title being given to several predecessors. It wasn’t the size or type of animal, but rather the type he was, most likely demonic.

Now even though there are plentiful demonic companions, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park when they’d first step foot in. You vividly remember the absolute shitshow between Grace and Ulthane when she was commanded that her two ‘friends’ were to be separated and most undoubtedly… dispatched by the other Makers after being relocated to the Maker Tree. You’ve never seen the mild mannered girl lose her temper like that, or scream as loud as she did between the onslaught of tears.

You know the Maker would pitch a fit. He’d definitely tell you to take the beast out to the streets in the prospect of his rider coming back if he still lived, or cull him as an act of mercy. Maybe even for meat. He’d be final in his decision.

But just as stubborn as the Maker was, he was just as ironically, a pushover in the face of human begging. You witnessed the great giant turn to an absolute mush at the sight of survivors pulling puppy dog eyes or a well placed lip quiver. Perhaps, with a bit of luck and some acting if worse comes to worse, you’d be able to keep him.

“I don’t quite understand how a big old thing like you,” his ears pin back when you refer to him as a thing, but you digress, “could get all tangled up in wires like this. How did you even manage that in the middle of a city?” You clip him free of an especially irritating wire. You don’t expect an answer, but you’ve heard how some animals are just injury magnets, especially with horses. So you don’t put it above that possibility. Oh to be as lucky as he.

You wipe away the sweat that has begun to trickle down your brow, the sweltering heat from his hooves the culprit. But strangely despite the flames damn near licking your own arms, you don’t feel the sting. It then occurs that in your manic need to help him you plum forgot those fire spitting legs of his.

You decide not to question the legitimacy of fire physics and logic coming from an elephant sized horse. Lest there be a headache from picking apart the science of it. Just chalk it up to magic. Magic, as if that answer doesn’t send your head into a tizzy.

Shaking your head loose from the tizzy, you refocus on the task at hand, clipping away mindfully. You were making progress as you’d managed to clear him of most of the cable, freeing his legs and chest. The only bothersome pieces were those too far entwined into the metal saddle to properly dislodge in the dying sunlight.

It was starting to get late, far too late. Enough time had already passed that the sun was nearly behind a cover of clouds. Soon enough it’ll hide behind the horizon and leave you in the dark. The only guide would be half functional street lamps and the sight of your own eyes. Pongo would help, but you'd rather not leave it up to him to guide you in a rubble ridden city with a questionable stallion with an unknown temperament.

With time running out, and a job not finished, you looked between the horse and the hound who picks his head up under your gaze. You had to think of a plan.

‘It took me about forty five minutes, I think? to get all the way over here.’ You set your hand to the sky, palm facing you as you stick your fingers out. Lining up your fingers to the sun, you squint under the light as you adjust your pinkie just below the horizon. If memory would serve you right from time lessons with the hunters, you’d have about an hour of light at best.

Now you have two options: finish the job thoroughly, but likely risk a run-in with a hungry demon or livid Maker, or botch the job for the sake of time and get back to Haven before a search party gets to you first.

And most likely not let you get this beast to Grace so you can get her more expert opinion on what to do. Yes, you know she isn’t exactly a surgeon, but has done her work or two patching up the beasts.

Normally you’d turn to one of the people who knew how to fix up human injuries. The Makers were out of the question as they were the last person you’d turn to at the moment. You wouldn’t call them medics as no one was properly trained, but only a handful had some basic knowledge with first aid. This one is on a much more colossal scale and the “patient” might object to the prospect of surgery. He’d need a person who has more experience with handling as you have next to none, current demonic company notwithstanding.

“Pongo,” the beast lifts his head, tail thumping on the concrete as you tilt your head, “go get the wagon.” Obediently Pongo trots over to the plastic wagon to retrieve it. Leaving you to turn over to the horse and look back at the half finished job. You’ve noticed that his big head is turned more to face you, those fire red eyes flitting over you, a question hidden beneath.

“The sun’s going down, and I have to get back before dark.” Rolling your aching shoulders to soothe the strained muscles, you return to the job, eyeballing at the largest barbs, mainly the ones holding his bad leg. The salty stench of the wound is enough to make you pause, trying not to gag when you get an unfortunate closer view of his muscles. Suppressing a shudder, you swallow the urge to make a strangled sound of the grisly sight, instead taking one deep breath despite the odor.

Biting your cheek you begin to angle the cutters to his gaskin where the culprit cable coils painfully into his limb, lifting it several inches above ground. Just one last cut and this would be the end of the job for now, as you’d made the final decision that an angry Maker isn’t how you want to end this day.

Technically, this wasn’t the end to the day you’d imagined. You’d imagined returning back with your haul in tow and maybe a few moments of congratulations that would lift your spirits. Hunters and gatherers alike were given praise that they’d mostly sheepishly accept as it’s nothing more than a job to feed hungry mouths.

Maybe show off the seeds to the others so they’d get the greenhouse started, then end it with tonight’s dinner- undoubtedly a stew of sorts mixed in with savory spices and the hunks of meat from the latest kill. Definitely give Pongo a few scraps of the stew for his good work, before curling up in some undistinguished corner with a salvaged book the others had scrounged from the old stores. Then drift off to sleep.

And in the bouts of moments you wake from the dreamless sleep, drowsily wondering what tomorrow will bring. If not the same pointless, meaningless day that drones by one after the other. Isn’t that what this life had been reduced to after the apocalypse? Since you’d been shuttled into the tree? The same, wash, rinse and repeat of the day, going nowhere in a hurry.

At least in the old camp there’s been a sense of urgency, and that made the days go far quicker…

A whinny from your left interrupts whatever train of thought is running through your head, making your heart leap to your throat. Frightened that the horse sees a threat that you can’t, your head whips around in all sorts of directions, searching for a hidden predator in the creeping darkness. Pongo would’ve caught it, or chased it off, but there he was, the rope tied to the wagon’s handle in his mouth. Hauling it with little difficulty and little care to the threat the horse sees.

“What is it?” You try, turning back to the large herbivorous (at least you hope) animal, following the direction of his ears pulled back to his neck. Those big eyes pointed not at you, but the space between him and you. A sound that you can only describe as a growl rumbles deep in his throat that you can feel in your chest.

Hurriedly you follow his gaze and understand immediately why. In your daze your hands had lost their place and moved the clippers away from the cable and rested on the piece of flayed skin that hung limply. He’d thought you were going to cut him.

“Oh shit!” Pulling the cutters away as if it were to set him on fire, your brows shoot to the air as you look at the beast. His huge ears point back to you, the hard stare lessening as his tail flicks, swatting your shoulder. “Okay, I deserved that. Sorry big guy,” he tilts his head upon the word ‘sorry’. “I was just… distracted.”

Distracted isn’t even half the truth. A distracted mind at least would return from the deep recesses of the subconscious and carry in with the day, the last thoughts lingering in the cerebellum. What you’d be able to describe, at least to the best ability, was a constant never ending cycle of brain numbing thoughts that piled one after the other.

It was endless, this constant battle of the weak attempts to stave off the endless images and wonders that could be described as killing the human spirit. Like putting a resplendent bird most beautiful and free into a rusty barred cage in a corner. Slowly killing the beast with each slow, excruciating day.

It was simply best to try and cope. Emphasis on try.

Placing the mouth of the cutters to the wire, the horse from beneath it began to shift his weight, pulling himself away.

“Hey, no, no, no, you’re fine, it’s okay,” you attempt to soothe him, stubbornly following him as to not lose your position on the last piece. “Look, it’s no problem just stay-” he doesn’t simmer down as you’d hoped, but you’d take this chance as you’d expect to not be given another one.

Clip!

The result is immediate, as his leg is finally freed from the strangling hold, “-still, there see? All better!” You pry the pieces away and toss them aside, admiring the fruits of your work. At least he didn’t look so gnarled up as before. The damage however still stands, evident by the big wounds that need immediate medical attention, but for now you’d take this little victory.

Pongo huffs from behind you, his hot breath fanning on your wrist as his mouth comes to tug on your sleeve again. The wetness of his nose is cold to the touch, but grounding. He’s giving you the message, ‘it’s time to leave.’ One glance to the retreating sun and you take one moment to take in the orange painted clouds, the hue glowing so brightly against the inky evening sky.

You don’t remember seeing the sky so alive before. Not in a long time. The small tug of your lips pulls into something bigger, you don’t let it die even as you tuck the tool away in the wagon.

“Alright boy, let’s go home.” You hand off the rope to Pongo for him to bite on, giving him responsibility to pull it. The hound wags his tail as he gives the rope a playful shake of his head, accepting his duty with no complaints. Your smile doesn’t fade away when you watch Pongo gnaw at the rope, not hard enough to sever the fibers but just enough to sate his need to bite.

Upon the sight, there’s a pull in your chest almost nostalgic as you think back to the times before… everything. Images recalled by a hazy brain reminisce of scenic parks lush with spring flowers filled with the yapping of playful dogs big and small. Seated on a bench, you’d watch a German Shepherd wrestle a knotted rope toy from an especially competitive Golden Retriever.

Although Pongo was far from a fluffy Goldie, he was so alike to those dogs in the park all those years ago. Playful and lively. In this instance alone you’d thought he would’ve fit right in with those canines. You could practically hear his bark mix in with the ambience, chasing playmates and huffing greetings to the rare trustworthy stranger. Perhaps snooze in a patch of sunlight next to the older dogs after the play wears him down.

Briefly, you chuckle at the thought of a park for Hellhounds. What would it look like? And would the other demonic “companions” you’d seen be allowed to enter. Maybe giant bird perches and toys ten times the normal size would be a hilarious sight to behold.

Speaking of things ten times their size…

You make your way to the horse’s shoulder, hand brushing gently on his side as you go so as to not spook him, muscles quivering under the touch. Although he is heads taller than you at just the withers, you can get a clear view of the chain link reins resting on his thick neck. You briefly think about the weight, pondering if you’d be able to lift them as each link was almost as large as your fist. No time like the present.

Rising to the top of your toes you barely make any difference in the height that the horse holds in spades, however you’re determined to get the reins unhooked from the saddle horn. You lean an arm against him as the other strains to reach far above your head, the distance isn’t going to be closed and you know this but it won’t hurt to try. Bending at the knee, legs spring upward with a jump to offer a momentary boost, and your heart rate jumps when you actually feel the pads of your fingers just brush against the cold metal.

Thankfully the beast doesn’t spook as you noisily collide with the pavement. He does however cock his head to watch you with curiosity, ears pointing at you whilst you prepare for another jump. Tongue sticking out in your concentration, legs push off with as much strength that could be mustered, sending you several inches higher than before, yet still out of reach.

“Oh come on!” You send a glare at those towering legs that oh so easily outsize your torso. He blinks lazily with those big, glowing red eyes. It almost feels insulting to be stared at with such disinterest, as if he’s enjoying the show.

Eyeing the stirrup that’s just above your head, you begin to think of a plan. Gears whir as you try to calculate the best approach to this next idea. There’s a chance this could work and the end result of getting the reins is reached, but if it fails? Probably kicked to the face.

‘Would it hurt him with the additional weight?’ One voice whispers, wincing at the fresh wounds.

‘It won’t, it’s only for a minute at most.’ Another voice protests, more urgent than the previous. Abandoning logic in an effort to find a quick solution.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Taking a moment to take in a shuddery breath, you look up to the stirrup that’s well within reach. Just in perfect range of the reins. Yes, this’ll do you good, now all you have to do is jump one more time.

Your hand shoots up to powerfully grip the blood flecked metal, there is very little give as it barely buckled under your probably feather light weight compared to the beast who rode this animal. Gathering strength for hopefully one last go, you push off the ground whilst simultaneously lifting yourself onto the beast. Your leg struggles to find a foothold on the saddle, but you don’t let that stop as your free arm scrambles for the saddle horn where the precious reins lay.

Unfortunately as you’re distracted, you don’t hear the panicked yelp coming from behind, nor the horse’s ears pinning back as a pair of heavy paws run in your direction.

Though you’re not completely without upper body strength, you’re not an Olympic athlete either. Which makes everything even harder when the black stallion starts to agitate beneath you, jostling you so roughly you nearly lose hold. He grumbles a warning, warning you to get down.

In an effort of strength you hadn’t performed before in your life, you pull yourself up with one arm that would’ve put gym bros to shame. Then in one fell swoop, you unhook the unbelievably heavy reins from the horn and toss them aside, sliding down the steeds neck to hang loosely. Success!

But before you can celebrate, something clamps down on your leg and yanks you down. You scream when your grip rips free from the stirrup. You don’t know if the fall won’t break anything too vital, but you know it will hurt.

If Ulthane finds out you broke a bone he’ll kill you. If he finds out at all.

That old Maker would eventually sniff out any injuries sooner or later, so hiding wouldn’t be an option. You’re so fucked.

Bracing for a hard fall,you come to a surprise when your descent falls short as you land on something cushy. The wind is knocked out of you. Although it was better than concrete, you don’t appreciate the jutting surface that digs painfully into your back. It’s just then when hands come to push you into an upward position so you feel a familiar leathery creature under you. Pongo.

He broke your fall.

If you weren’t still reeling from the breathlessness you’d be singing praise. However any thoughts you’re able to formulate are cut short as Pongo backpedals, roughly jostling you while he growls. Dizzily, you push yourself upright, but cling to Pongo’s fin so as to not suffer falling off him as well.

But was it an accident? The giant slobber mark on your pants tells otherwise.

“Pongo, are you serious?” You swing one leg over his head and soundlessly slide off his back. The hound huffs, offended at the tone. His huge ears are pulled back as he tilts his head to send a half hearted glare your way. ‘Are you serious’ is what his gaze practically screams.

Here we go again, you think mildly annoyed. “Listen, I was fine,” you gesture to your whole uninsured self, but his hard glare doesn’t break, not even as you slowly inch back to the horse. “I didn’t die right? And you’re here to save me anyway. My hero.” The Hellhound gruffs at your sardonic tone.

It isn’t until you feel the rolling heat on your back do you turn to the horse whose eyes don’t leave you. The reins dangle from his mouth. You smile, now that this whole debacle is almost over with. Taking the heavy chains in hand, your thumb runs over the tiny nicks and scratches that litter the chains. The untold stories behind every mark like a scar, you wonder what tales would be told if the beast or his equipment could speak.

What of his rider? Would he return to tell one more epic in the form of a daring rescue? You pray not, having dealt with enough drama for a lifetime.

“Come on boy,” you click your tongue, amazed when he obediently follows after a few moments of resistance, “I know someone who’d love to see you.” You then begin leading him back down the route you took, Pongo in tow.

You just hope this big beast will be able to handle the trek back to Haven. You have to get to Grace, she'll know what to do.

———

The human is odd. Ruin has come to finalize in his mind. An anomaly indeed. Though the age widened beast had no personal contact with humans in his long lifespan, he has heard about humans from his rider and all other company he’d been with.

All talk of the species had been boiled down to a few defining features: young, vulnerable and most notably, flighty in the face of danger, like prey.

But it was this young foal of a human that had the Red Horse tilt his head in questioning. In his scrap with the demons, Ruin had been taken in for a huge surprise when he’d seen the tiny creature, barely reaching his shoulder, so courageously charging headfirst into battle. It briefly reminds him of War in the visage of similar snarling teeth, but far more reckless.

You’re certainly something to keep an eye upon. That battle prowess is not exactly impressive in the company of immortal warriors, but the quick thinking left much room for desire. Under a guiding hand, who knows how well the human could turn out to be.

Typically, Ruin wouldn’t have come so willingly for anyone, but within his exhausted riddled mind, rest and recovery was a priority. In such poor shape he’d certainty perish in worse battle conditions. Though proud and stubborn to a fault, Ruin knew where his limits had been strained thin and when it was best for a tactical retreat.

Under these dire circumstances he should’ve been just as on guard with the human as he was with demons, yet he couldn’t find himself to. Since he’d first laid eyes on the tiny creature, he’d felt no ill will, not a single whiff of malice in their actions. Even the pats on his neck were delicate and soft, as if he’d break, which was rather foreign but… oddly nice. The human even deliberately kept a slower pace to accommodate his heavy limp, although it was a wound to his pride.

What he found most intriguing was the loyalty the Hellhound held for them. The beasts had only loyalty for their keepers, which were all demons. Yet this hound seemed to have known this fact and kept it to heart, not in savagery against them, but a fierce protectiveness like a mother to her pup. This strange relationship reminds him of his own companion.

War…

Ruin could not feel his connection any more, and what frightened him most was how similar this was back when he’d carried the Abomination with him. Was it possible his rider was dead-?

Yet, who could be excited to see him if he wasn’t? No one else would be except War. Maybe, in the greatest impossibilities against him, War was indeed alive and with humans? Ruin had heard one tale through the mouth of an angel of humans taking care of sick creatures outside their own species for the sake of their compassion.

Although Ruin was as practical as a horse can get, he didn’t stop the gentle rise of his head. Something ignited within his chest that left him just a slightest bit lighter.

———

It isn’t until you see the familiar winding roots of Haven do you finally feel the weight on your shoulders lift. It’s nearly sundown and you’ve managed to shave enough time before a certain Maker will begin his obligatory ‘class attendance’ as everyone liked to jokingly call it. There’s enough dying light to illuminate the winding root roads back to the impressively massive trunk.

Almost there.

Pongo can sense it too, with his tail haphazardly thumping against your leg. It hurts a bit actually. The horse too peers through heavy eyelids, attentively taking in every detail. Gently you pat him on the neck as you steadily hop onto a carved root, the beast slow to follow.

When molten hooves meet solid wood, blackened scorch marks form beneath. You grimace at the fresh blemishes, as if the giant ass horse wasn’t a screaming giveaway. You can’t even think of the nightmare of trying to sneak him in.

Oh shit.

Oh shit…

You hadn’t thought about that until just now.

There’s plenty of eyes from overprotective Makers who’re more than likely keeping an eye out of the doorway for stragglers scrambling back to safety. Not to mention the other humans who’d incidentally rat you out when you’d drag him in, clamoring to get a close look or shrieking in fright. You shudder at the thought of one of the refugee Angels finding out.

And there’s the matter of Grace’s own companions. Her winged companion, a territorial GrimHorn as they're known as, would try to chase the horse off. That is if the GrimHorn, known as Tarya, wasn't in the tree canopy tonight and out for a late night hunt.

Peering up at the expansive canopy above, you squint to get a better look through the branches to spot a silhouette, maybe even a tail poking through the greenery. So far you don’t spot the red tipped tail, or the patterned striping of the demon’s wings. Then, just as quick as you are to start your search, you end it, finding no point in trying to spot the creature that’s well over 400 feet in the air and striped in a manner that’s meant to blend in. You’d rather waste your time continuing this crazy task than play Where’s Tarya?

Your eyes do follow the flow of the monumental trunk down to where root meets concrete, lazily trailing the twisting paths they create across the city and-

Wait a minute…

There’s something that catches your attention just barely hidden behind the trunk's natural curve, it’s so subtle you’d almost assume it was a trick of the eye.

Moving along with the natural growth of the twisting wood is a flat surface of a shoddy carved out path from a rogue root that snaked up from its original spot to coil around the tree. It almost seemed too coincidental to be a chance happening, the mathematical possibilities were probably in the trillions in the chance of this stroke of luck.

But with the fact that the winding path is partly carved hints it’s been in use. So that means that it leads inside, it could be the advantage that you need. Now, all you had to do was find a way down.

Eyes trailing over the haphazardly grown roots, trying to trace a path to lead you in the direction you need. Though you had to admit it was a hell of a security measure to have a fuck ton of roots made into a maze to keep unwanted intruders out. At least those who can’t fly or just climb up.

Before you can finish your searching, Pongo pads ahead with a huff, as if scoffing for you taking so damn long to get a move on. “Hey, where are you going?” You don’t get an answer as Pongo takes his haul down a root that merges with the one you’re currently on. You actually hadn’t seen it, now that you notice it, it’s so cleverly blended in to appear as a knot or growth too thick to cut through, on top of the moss that stubbornly clings to the top, a perfect camouflage.

You’d come down this route this morning and didn’t even notice the growth. You feel like a fool for missing it, but you supposed it’s good that it’s hard to spot if you’re not paying attention.

As you watch the hound slowly slip from view as the pathway dips and follows the curve of the road before breaking off to hang in the air almost dangerously if it weren’t for its strong frame. Even though you’d spent a good while in Haven almost a hundred feet up still doesn’t make your heart lurch when you see the view below. Seemingly since Pongo knew a shortcut away from the main entrance, it was best to follow him.

With a click of the tongue, you carefully guide the stallion onto the new path, taking extra special care to ensure you wouldn’t fall as you turned around to helpfully encourage him with a gentle pull of his reins. You wouldn’t blame him since the root was without any railings or protection from a lethal fall. The hesitance was natural, so you’d allow him to take some time to adjust before resuming to be his guide. Though you have to admit, the beast, if he really shared the mentality of a real Earthen horse, was rather well mannered in the face of new and frightening things. He hadn’t spooked once, nor fought you when normal animals would.

If only you could be half as level headed as he is.

After finally getting back to a sensible pace, you finally let your shoulders relax as the comfortable silence between the three- well two of you, fills the oncoming night. Pongo was far ahead by now, tail wagging with eagerness to finally be home. “Mood.” You say to no one in particular.

It wasn’t long until the road mended with the tree and thankfully was far more safer, or rather felt safer, than dangling in the air and praying nothing goes astray. Your new companion, although new to him and his behavior, you’d recognized his own relief with his head more lax than before. A small smile worms its way on your face, gently you pat him on the shoulder, his skin hot to the touch.

That’s slightly concerning. He wasn’t this hot earlier.

It’s enough motivation to make you pick the pace, your company not too far behind with his huge strides.

“Pongo, you better know what you’re doing.” You say to him, hoping that this won’t be a disaster. You won’t waste anymore time getting this animal the help he needs.

Ahead, Pongo chuffs, and you take it as a yes. But you’d doubt putting your trust into a mysterious road from a Hellhound is the best idea. And it’s about to be tested. Wonderful.

Dead ahead hidden behind a curtain of dangling vines laden with moss is a gaping mouth of an entrance. Mushrooms and small flowers doggedly grow around the lip of the doorway. Its width is almost double your arm-span and nearly as tall as the horse.

You can only gape as Pongo’s head pokes out from the curtain and roughly barks at you insistently, it’s far from a pleasant sound, but you know there’s no malice. ‘Come on!’ He’s all but conveying.

Questioningly, you share your new companion an unsure glance that he reflects back at you with those almost inhuman glowing eyes. He tosses his huge head forward with a snort before stamping a hoof on the grassy road. You’d almost take it as a ‘get a move on’, especially when he takes a few steps forward without your lead. Clearly more confident in entering a never-once-set-foot-here door.

Jogging to get ahead of him, your hand goes out to pull at the curtain, surprised by its light weight. Peering inside, the last of the evening's dying light filtered into the dark tunnel. From what little light is provided, you can see the tunnel overall remains the same width and height. Plenty to sneak your cargo in.

Clicking your tongue, you take a tentative step forward, free arm forward to act as a guide in case of any unexpected turns. That plan however is thrown out altogether when the horse’s fire laden legs illuminate the dark hole with his warm glow.

The sound of his clopping hooves was amplified with each step, each echo felt as loud as gunshots. It’s as if the beast wanted you to get caught, but he can’t help it being as large and weak as he was. But the grimace and white knuckled grip on the reins doesn’t fade away as you traverse deeper into the tunnel.

“We’re almost there bud.” You gently say as the first signs of light stretch out from the other side. He heaves a huge sigh so powerful fire spurts from his nostrils, eliciting a barely contained shriek you have to bite down. “You’re just full of surprises.” You humorlessly joke past your racing heart. His ears pull back, sending you a half hearted glare.

As you continue deeper into the passage, you come across a most curious sight. The walls themselves shift upwards above your head, your legs bowing down to accommodate a gradually steepening floor. Just dead ahead, the source of the light, the exit, is not parallel to you, but just above your current position. It seems for a good portion of the walk, you’ve been climbing uphill, or rather, up-tree.

Thankfully after being stuffed in a cramped spot with an on fire horse for a handful of minutes, the choking heat was gone as you poke your head out of the tunnel and into a new room. The cool, fresh air kisses your skin as you take in a lungful of crisp oxygen. Momentarily you take a moment to spy the surroundings about you.

There is a plethora of junk ahead of you. Boxes and crates filled to bursting with all sorts of items. They’re stacked almost haphazardly, reaching several feet above you. You peer above the mess to further investigate the new room.

The room rises high above your heads, probably almost twenty or thirty feet at the top at most. Through the stacked boxes and other miscellaneous items that lay strewn haphazardly around the tunnel entrance there’s a multitude of stalls you spot. They’re all in different stages of being built, with at least four in the stages of completion, but they’re all empty.

‘The livestock pens.’ Your brain recognizes, this is what the Makers and survivors were planning on in their meetings. You knew about it, as did almost everyone, but you’d never seen it in further detail such as this. You’d never really concerned yourself with this project, at least, until now that is.

Behind you, a hot breath fans across your back, an aggressive snort coming from behind, impatient. Jolting from your spot, you utter an apology as you walk out the opening, carefully you help bring the big beast up, mindful of the boxes and junk that would otherwise hinder his space. You resort to pushing them aside with a foot when you’d deemed it too hazardous to keep close to open flames from his legs.

Your heart thrummed ferociously beneath your ribs, sending blood to roar in your ears as if you’d run a mile despite standing. Now that this was over, now came the hardest part of all: getting help. You decided against running around Haven looking for the girl, since anyone could stumble on the beast, or he would go wandering where he shouldn’t, but you couldn’t just sit and wait while he bled out. You in no way had the proper equipment or even basic first aid to do a DIY surgery. It was a total stalemate.

‘Maybe if I store him in a pen, it’ll be enough for me to get help.’ Yeah, as if he couldn’t tear the walls down like wet cardboard if he felt like it. But it’s worth the risk if it means it can give you the break you need.

“Stay here.” Letting the reins go for just a moment, you carefully tiptoe across the minefield of a storage area, mindful not to knock anything over lest you make a ruckus. You wonder briefly how Pongo was able to navigate this mess, wherever he is now. Once you’re at the edge, you take a moment to peer at the area with a better view, and find it to be totally empty. Excellent.

Now all you have to do is-

THUD!

Your heart absolutely lurches to your throat as you can hear what’s almost like an avalanche to your ears. In the periphery of your vision you can spot a stacked pile of plastic tubs tumbling across the floor. You don’t have to guess the culprit, as his huge head bends over the tubs to glare at them, grumbling angrily. You shush the beast, scrambling to grab his reins and stop his huge head from knocking down anything else.

Someone definitely heard that.

“Leave it alone!” You whisper-yell, not wanting to tempt fate right now as you freeze in place as you can hear distant footsteps. The muscle beneath your breastbone pommels under the bony cage, fierce as a war drum as the footfalls only got louder.

Shit, shit, shit!

In a mad scramble that your own brain failed to comprehend, you start to push the horse’s huge head, attempting to get him to move back. “Move! Come on, come on!” He doesn’t budge under your hands, but offers a glare as your hands remain firmly on his muzzle. If you weren’t so worried about trying to keep him from being kicked out or killed, you’d be very uneasy about the unnaturally sharp canines he’s currently baring under his pulled back lips.

The heavy thuds are practically just around the corner. You’re out of time, and your body feels as if it’s never been more than ready to fall apart at the atomic level.

In one last spur of the moment desperation, you snatch a heavy quilt from a woven basket of rolled up blankets and toss it over his head, hoping it was enough to obscure him. He snorts from underneath questioningly, but otherwise remains in place. Maybe if whoever is coming is going to make a quick glance, they’d assume he was a bit of storage. You’d take a lecture of not being in here or why blankets shouldn’t be so lazily strewn about to prevent damage or attracting pests to nest in the fabric.

“Who’s in there?” The voice growls, it’s deep, rough and familiar.

You turn around just in time to see the very rugged, but memorable face of Jones, a fellow survivor like yourself. He’s got his serrated combat knife in hand, unsheathed and poised at the ready to strike. His teeth are bared, gleaming dangerously against the coarse beard that frames his half shadowed face.

Before Jones is able to take another step, you beat him to it by breaking the silence, “It’s me, Y/N!” Waving a hand, you catch his eyes and watch as the tension steadily seeps out of his body, his eyes lose their protective ferocity as he realizes it’s nothing more than a friendly face.

“Kid, what’re you doing in here?” He questions, lowering the blade to fall to his side, though he doesn’t sheathe it. You don’t blame him considering, well, the Apocalypse.

“Oh, nothing really…” you draw out, shrugging too casually as if you didn’t have the crimes of the day standing behind you. You can feel the horse’s muzzle bump your back, but you play it off as merely rocking on the balls of your feet. “I’m just…” you hesitate to come up with a lie, “looking through the storage, I was just wondering if there was something in here one of the others might’ve moved.”

‘Oh fuck please don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask. Just go away!’

You swear if your shit acting skills don’t expose you, the beads of sweat that are collecting on your brow will.

Jones raises an eyebrow, but whether from skepticism or amusement you’ll never know. He merely cocks his head, “Well that’s strange considering no one’s really been in here, you know how this is more of an active construction zone.”

‘Good, good, he’s not completely onto me. Maybe if I can just redirect him out of here.’

“Yeah well,” you nervously wring your hands, and nearly freeze as a snort sounds from behind you, the best you can do is roughly clear your throat to drown him out.

“Since when does anybody ever really listen? You know how we all are, yeah? Giving Ulthane heart attacks and such…” Please just turn around and go away is the only thing your mind chants over the roaring of your racing heartbeat.

The silence is deafening as Jones remains silent. It’s almost as if a pin dropping would be a tactical nuke in this choking emptiness. A single breath felt like it could alter the outcome of this conversation. It explains why you’re holding it.

That is until Jones chuckles, the sensation like shattering glass, sudden, loud and scattering as you nervously join in despite the fearful jump of your shoulders. “Yeah,” he drawls, storing the knife away to its holster, “well I wouldn’t put it past you knuckleheads.”

“So uh, yeah…” you begin awkwardly, the back of your neck rippling with waves of hot embarrassment, or maybe it was the animal’s fire hooves. “I’ll just be, a few more minutes. Still gotta search. So don’t mind me.” It’s the best you can manage without outright dismissing him.

Blessedly, Jones seems to get the message as he starts to backpedal. There’s an invisible weight that lifts off your shoulders, and the stale air in your lungs scrabbles free in a sigh. Just a few more milliseconds and he’s gone.

Just as Jones is teetering between the carved entrance between the stable room and the main room, he pauses to give you a lazy glance back. There’s an easygoing smirk on his rugged features, “Anyways, don’t take too long in here, or…” his eyes widened considerably as he trails off. Those dark eyes are pointed just above the apex of your head, and hot breath fanning on your hair makes your blood turn to frozen slush.

Jones’ mouth does a wonderful impression of a goldfish, completely dumbfounded. Thankfully he doesn’t run away or pass out as you’d expect, but his frozen in place gaping isn’t exactly any better. Especially at the mouth of the door where any wandering eyes can see.

Without even thinking, you bolt forward to grab Jones by the wrist and drag him back until you two are hidden within the room. Stopping just before one of the finished pens next to the storage space, you slap a hand over his mouth before he could scream. That is, if he’s capable of doing so as he claims nothing really bothers him. But it doesn’t mean he can’t.

Jones’s hands come up to clamp onto yours, brows furrowing as his wide eyes dart between you and the horse behind the pen wall. You grimace in panic as you hear his muffled voice throwing a million questions at you. Still riding the waves of the anticipation of being caught, you shush him until he calms down enough.

“Listen, I know this looks bad at the moment,” an absolute understatement, “but I need you to calm down. I found him while I was out and he’s friendly.” Distrust glints in his dark brown eyes. You continue. “You’ve got a million questions I know, but I need some help. That’s all. Can you do that?”

Jones doesn’t respond. You gently shake his head to bring his attention back, pleading. “Please Jones?”

His lips purse under your palm, considering the question. In your opinion, he’s taking too long to come to a conclusion. Until, finally Jones nods his head, though his willingness doesn’t match his eyes. Satisfied, you peel your hand off his face, and he takes a deep breath.

“Alright fine I’ll help. But this does not mean I’m fine with it. I expect answers from you. Now.” You shake your head and he frowns.

“Not yet,” Jones shoots you an incredulous look, “this big guy needs help now. Where’s Grace? She knows how to patch up demons and such.”

He raises a bushy brow at the mention of her name. It’s no secret Jones knows where she is at all times as he’s always checking on her as she is rather reclusive. You’d say he has something of a soft spot for her.

“The kid? She’s up in her nest as usual. She’s probably out watching the world below with Tarya as usual.” The ‘nest’ as it is commonly called, is a makeshift room in the tree canopy naturally formed by a pocket of space between the branches and the trunk. Apparently, it was accessed by the winding staircases that climb the tree’s trunk, the lift and some climbing by the teenager purely by accident when she was exploring. You don’t know every intimate detail, but Grace soon turned it into a living space for when she needs some time to get away from everything as she is rather asocial. Others have been up there before for peace of mind, but not many frequent that place like her. In fact, you’re sure she snuck a mattress up there when Ulthane wasn’t looking. Either way, total hermit behavior.

It makes Ulthane worry about her with how often she won’t show her face for hours on end.

Before you can think, your feet carry you forward, but Jones grabs your shoulder and you wince. His eyes widen as you can’t stop the hiss that comes from your throat, a curse whispered beneath his breath.

“Stay here, I’ll go get her. If Ulthane sees you like this… he’ll lose his shit.” You snort humorlessly, hand protectively wrapping around the bruise whilst the other wipes at your bloodied chin. Flakes of already coagulating blood coat your fingertips, but you spot redness of fresher blood from the still open wound. Ouch. He does have a point.

“I won’t be long. Just stay here.” Jones breaks away from you, and there’s a weight that lifts off your shoulders. One burden lifted. As he whisks away into the darkness, you begin to slouch as the events from earlier this day finally hit you like a freight train. With the adrenaline finally wearing off for good and the safety of solid walls steadily putting you at peace, your whole body aches fiercely.

You’re finally aware of the full pain running through your arm that you’re suspicious of having been sliced open to a degree. If not just heavily scraped. Keeping a moment to stay in the pen, you take a small breath before peeling back the torn sleeve as far as you can to inspect your forearm. Hissing gently, you can feel the fibers separate from skin, welded together with the sticky substance that is blood.

Suspicions are confirmed. There’s a gash that runs along the outside of your forearm, starting at the wrist and fading to your elbow in a litter of smaller, less severe scrapes. Must’ve been from the litter with that scrap with those demons.

Demons. You fought actual demons.

That thought is disconcerting as it is badass. If you were a video game character and not a real, breathing person with real problems in the post apocalyptic world. But it still sounds cool.

A snort emanates from the side, drawing you to side-eye the huge culprit who peers at you most curiously, ears pointed to you. Distracted, you give the horse a weak, toothy grin as you keep inspecting the wound that is beginning coagulation. You’d have to get it cleaned soon. Surprisingly, he seems to be staring at the wound intelligently, taking in the fact that this is somewhat similar to what he is sporting.

“Heh, look boy. We match!” You give him a once over and see the further extent of his own before deflating. “Sorta…”

You can’t fathom why, either from his own pure empathy for a wound on another creature, curiosity or boredom, the beast with precision gentleness, bumps his muzzle against your arm. Though a bolt of pain shoots through the tender spot, you hold back a wince. The soft whiskers tickle your flesh as his lip carefully feels the cuts.

“Ah don’t worry about that,” you say as he continues to inspect the gash, ears flitting slowly as his hot breath fans over your skin, “it’s just a cut, nothing more. I’ll be right as rain after I get it patched up.”

Not thinking, you raise your free hand to pat him on his muzzle, feeling acquainted enough to warrant a little pet. What you didn’t expect was for him to pull his nose away from your arm and stare down at you. A bout of newfound fear shoots through you as you fear the beast isn’t taking well to the ministrations and he’s about to take a bite. You fear those fangs of his may be coming to use soon.

In those brief seconds that you are betwixt bolting and being bit, time never seems more suspended.

Until he simply huffs a hot plume of flame from his nostrils, blowing harmlessly on your face. You smile at him again, glad to have not been bitten.

——

There were many things Ruin had seen within his very long life. But yet it seemed there were still many surprises left in store for the old warhorse.

More intelligent than he puts on, Ruin had listened to the whole conversation between the human who brought him here and this Jones. Something about this Jones man sent alarm bells off in his head, even for the brief minute he was in his vicinity. He seemed… familiar. Strange considering he’s never met a human before.

Ruin would have to keep a close eye in the meantime.

After you’d peeled your flimsy sleeve back, he had been greeted with a well known sight. Torn flesh, although in this case very mild in the eyes of a great war beast like him, it was concerning on a creature like you. A young foal like yourself would’ve, no- should’ve squealed or panicked at such an injury considering how delicate you are. Instead when you inspected the laceration, you barely flinched and even smiled and showed it proudly with a grin.

Although you weren’t his own companion, he felt a twinge of pride. A small foal such as yourself showing off your marks of battle! Truly the making of a warrior!

In a moment of encouragement he’d felt your cut as to, in his own way, commend you on the new upcoming scar from your victory. When you did an unexpected move even he couldn’t predict.

You’d placed a hand on his nose and gave him the softest pats he’s ever felt. Sure, War gave him affection on the rare case of his own accord, but none had been so featherlight and foreign. It felt rather wonderful, not that he’d admit it.

But it had shocked him how openly you gave it to him. Briefly Ruin wondered if you’d continue to do so.

However, he brushed the thought aside, refocusing on the person who’d you promise would like to see him. War must be here then? Yet he doesn’t feel or sense him anywhere within this spot. Perhaps somewhere else recovering from his fight?

But Ruin can’t find himself to imagine tiny humans such as yourselves dragging his hulking form out of rubble and into this place. Not with those huge winding roads and twisting root pathways, you’d all be winded carrying him!

Just before the Red Horse could continue to rationalize his thoughts, his supernatural ears pick up the footfalls of two approaching people. One heavy and the other much lighter. His head swivels to the doorway as he awaits the approaching culprits. He doesn’t recognize them as War’s, and his mind is put in the familiar practice of going on the defensive.

“Whoa easy boy,” the human intervenes as he tries to position himself to face head on, giving his huge hooves a perfect direction for clobbering. A tiny hand shoots up to grab the reins, keeping him from fully facing the assailants. Not that he couldn’t just swing the tiny creature across the room with a sneeze of effort. Though, he doesn’t think they’d appreciate that.

“Nobody’s coming to hurt you. They’re here to help.”

———

You’ve never felt more anxious until now. Not when you fought those demons, dragged Ruin here or left Haven this morning without a word. Without warning, the horse started to fuss, ready to bolt or strike. Either way, he’d make noise and draw unwanted attention. The organ between your lungs never pounded so hard and fast as he stared you down when you’d snatched his reins in a mindless effort to stop him.

As hard as he might try to melt you with his eyes, at least he stopped.

Good thing too, for help had just arrived in the nick of time. The girl of the hour was finally here and you let your shoulders sag ever so slightly. Thank fuck, you don’t know how long you can take this.

Just as she steps into the premises, Pongo jumps to his feet, giving the girl a quick lick on the cheek as she greets him back. Wait a minute, was Pongo in the room this whole time? ‘How’d I miss him?’’ you think as Grace gives his neck a few good solid pats. Jones is right behind her as he pushes her in your direction, reminding her of the job at hand.

As her eyes land on you two, Grace’s brows nearly shoot up into her hairline as her lips pull back into a huge open mouthed grin. Her unoccupied hand shot up to cover her mouth to catch the awed gasp that leaps out of her throat.

“Oh my…! Is that fire from his legs?! Holy shit, you weren’t kiddin’!” Grace exclaims, her southern accent slipping in her awe as Jones nods, not as enthusiastic as the younger.

“Oh he’s beautiful!” The teenager says, stepping forward she begins to give him a once over, her bright expression slowly falling as she assesses the damage. You notice Jones’ grimace, a contradiction from the girl. Just before the teen could do anything else, you elect to speak up.

“I- uh, found him in the streets, he was fighting some demons when I came in to help. He was caught in some barbed wire, and I got him out. But the real problem is his back leg.” You point to the limb in question, and she hisses through her teeth as she skims past you to inspect the wound. Grace readjusts her glasses as she starts to get a closer look at the injury, standing on her toes just to get a closer look due to his incredible height. And you’re not the only one to notice.

“Maybe you need a stool.” Jones says from behind, his smile is damn near heard as he pokes fun at the girl. She sends him a sideways glance, lips curling in a smile. “Har de har,” she deadpans, Jones snorts into his hand. You can’t stop a small chuckle.

“Maybe I’ll steal your kneecaps old man, then see who’s laughing!” She retorts, inspecting the wound a bit further as Jones chortles. “That’s if you can even reach them!”

You nearly choke on air as Jones pokes at her height once again. He was strangely playful despite his earlier attitude. Jones wasn’t exactly a stoic man, but you’d never seen him do anything too crazy up close. But then again, fun wasn’t on the top of the list of important things to have in the post apocalyptic world.

“Oh, I’ll reach them alright.” Grace says, dropping back to her feet, she turns to you. “So uh…” she snaps her fingers, muttering several names to herself before Jones chimes in, “Y/N.”

“Yes! Y/N! Sorry about that, I’m horrible with names. Thank you J,” she brushes her hand through her red-dyed hair, sighing heavily. You perk up as you can finally get an opinion. “Yes?”

“There’s a lot of work to be done here. He needs a lot of stitchin’ to close the big cut. But the good thing is, he doesn’t seem to have any severely broken bones. It all appears to be skin and muscle that got nicked.” You release a huge sigh, completely floored by this good news. He wouldn’t need any amputation, or have to be put down as your worst fears had assumed.

“He’ll need a lot of time to heal, and it will be difficult. Without proper medication, I’m afraid he’s likely to have a limp. It’s a miracle there seems to be no infection.” Lucky indeed. Especially with those odds working in his favor.

“What about the smaller cuts? I cut him free from some barbed wire that he got tangled in” You press on, feeling that he’s not out of the woods yet. Grace can merely offer a heavy sigh, clearly overwhelmed with the mountain of problems. “Given that they’re shallow cuts, it’s not impossible for him to heal just fine, but I’ll go over them to ensure there’s no leftover metal that will cause infections or delay healing.”

Nodding, you hold on to each word. Hopeful that things might turn around for him.

“First thing we need to do is get this saddle off him, then get him tranq’d so he’ll be calm during surgery.” Jones tilts his head as you do as well.

“Tranq’d? But I thought you said you didn’t have any medicine?” You said, and Jones gives the girl a suspicious glare, lips curving into a scowl. You don’t wish to know the implications of that stare.

But the girl doesn’t falter much, bringing up the rusted box kit in hand, “I had some… help greeting my hands on some meds. I would’ve given it to y’all, but they’re veterinarian use.” The hesitation in her assistance sends Jones into an overdrive as his loops pull over his teeth.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve been dealing with that demon!” He spits the word like it’s rotten on his tongue, “He’s nothin’ but trouble!” Grace’s shoulders sag as her face falls considerably, “Vulgrim ain’t that bad if you’re nice to him! ‘Sides, he owed me a favor.”

Jones’ head nearly snaps off his neck at the speed he looks up, “He what?!?” The man nearly shouts, but the girl shushes him. “You can yell at me later, but I need to get to work.”

“Oh, we will have that conversation.” he says, and the girl ducks here head down under his hard stare. As the two stared the other down, you never felt so out of place. It was rather awkward.

However, she clears her throat, cutting the silence with a call of your name, “Y/n?” Your head snaps to attention, and she gives a brief smile. “Can you please help me? I need you to keep him steady as I patch him up and he might get fussy.” Although you doubt you can keep this big guy calm, more likely to be trampled under him, you nod. Grace will need all you can give her.

“Jones,” the man’s lips pull to a scowl, “I need you to help me as well,” he scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest as he cocks a hip, Grace shoots him a tiny frown. “What?! Me? I’m not going near that thing,” the horse whips his huge head around, nearly smacking you in the process as he sends an impossibly scornful glare, he snorts a plume of flames and his ears are pinned back impossibly flat to his skull.

Jones points at the beast just as he starts to pull his lips back to bare his teeth, making his point, “Hey- see?! He’s going to kick the shit out of me as soon as I get close!”

“I’d say more likely to bite you with his leg,” Grace says plainly. Even though she said it with little humor, you can’t stop from snickering. Jones’ head whips to you, offended. Your lips seal themselves shut to prevent any more of Jones’ ire.

“He won’t.” She reassures, though you doubt that genuinely despite her confidence, “Y/n will hold him. You’ll see when he’s coming for you.” ‘Likely after he throws y/n’ is the implication she gives. She’s rather… straightforward with her point.

You don’t know if that trait is reassuring or disconcerting.

Jones still only sends her a scathing look, his nose curling distastefully as the girl gives him a pleading glance. The tension between them is thick until finally, Jones cracks.

“Fine!” He throws his hands in the air in finality, tossing his head back to release a groan as Grace merely grins. “I knew you’d come around.”

Just as if a switch is pulled, Grace’s light banter is traded in for professionalism. She carried herself with a more serious air as she started to get to work, giving orders to Jones to help get the saddle off as she promised.

Together, Jones and Grace work effortlessly to unlatch the cinches, all the while you kept the stallion busy with pets so he wouldn’t freak or bite. Even if it was best to keep close to a horse so the kick wouldn’t hurt as bad, does the same rule apply to this one? You’re sure he’d lob your heads off at point blank…

The jingling of metal meeting solid ground fills the air as Jones unlatches the flank cinch, the metal compartment clattering gently on the floor. Jones then, in a complete show of impressive strength, pulls the impossibly huge saddle of the horses back with little effort. The does place it down with a gentle toss aside with a grunt, the horses flanks quiver at the sudden loss of weight.

How many pounds was it? It was nearly larger than Jones!

Grace starts to give the horse another once over, your eyes follow her as she walks all around him as her gaze rove over him. Noting each and every injury that might need her attendance

Then, after making her round she nods to herself before coming to you. “I’ll give him the medicine now, but after that can you please guide him to the stall so we can get him started. He’ll be nice and drowsy after I stick him.” She produces said medicine in hand, a small, but full vial of tranquilizer, the label is barely legible aside from the printed words “equine usage only”.

You nod, allowing her to duck under your hand holding the reins as she picks a clean needle from her kit. She sticks the needle in the vial top, and siphon the medicine into the plastic barrel.

Then, after inspecting the bottle for any bubbles to rid, Grace turns to the animal who seems apprehensive at best. You’d guess between his exhaustion and weariness from giving Jones a hard time he doesn’t have it in him to fight much. But you’re still on guard.

Quick as blinking, Grace jabs the needle in the horse's huge neck and administers the medicine. The animal startles, nearly yanking the reins out of your grip with how quickly he jolts his head up in surprise. You place a hand on his nose placatingly, distracting him from the sting. “Easy boy, it’s all over, see?”

He sends Grace a hard glare behind drooping eyes, snorting a plume of flames in your face and you sputter. You pat him on the neck, even as you try to spit out a bit of ash between your teeth.

Briefly you wonder if the ash counts as mucus, but that’s quickly brushed away as Grace gives you a direction. Obeying her task, you click your tongue and guide the big beast to follow, and he does at a very sluggish pace. Almost lackadaisical in his huge strides, the animal gives little fuss as you take him inside his stall, taking a few seconds to even eye the location with lazy interest.

But whatever curiosity within him is sniffed out as he begins to lower himself to the ground, finally on his last leg of consciousness. You keep watch over him as he slumps to the ground with a deep groan, thankfully on the proper side so you wouldn’t have to bully him into the desired position for Grace. Poor thing just seems so exhausted…

Just as you feel the weight of that huge head of his pull on the reins in your hands, you slowly slacken your grip until his head is lying flat on the ground. He stares up at you with those intelligent eyes, and now instead of a raging fire of a wild stallion, you see something gentler. Something tired and dare you say… nervous? You almost feel sorry for the poor thing.

You don’t stop yourself from lowering down to his level and plopping down next to him, gently stroking his neck as he fights the effects of the working drugs. He releases a hefty sigh as you keep close, not even giving a notice to the teenager who’s now at work fixing your little stowaway companion.

You give him a small smile just as his eyelids finally seal shut, losing the battle of staying awake. However despite that fact, you don’t stop the ministrations, feeling every scar and muscle under your fingers.

To your side, Grace is deep in her work, hands already stained with his blood and covered in a small sheen of sweat, but you don’t pay her any mind as you remain glued to your spot. Unwilling to leave him, not that you’re sure you’d even want to. There’s a conversation between the two of them, but you don’t take the time to listen as you’re only focused on the horse in front of you. Taking in the fascinating creature, you’re able to notice the tinier details about him.

You’d never noticed the markings before. So sharp and precise you’d almost confuse them for brands or tattoos. On his neck, the color of burning coals and even holds the same dull glow are unknown sigils. There’s a total of six, with the largest ones easily twice the size of your open hand. Strangely enough when you peer at the sigils closer, you swear four of the strange symbols spell out ‘CAGE’ in harsh, scrawled writing.

“Y/n?” Jones brings you out of your reverie, looking up to him with tired eyes, he stands but a few feet away, a bottle and gauze in hand. “Come on kid,” he gestures to follow, “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Turning back to the animal, you give him one final pat before slowly rising to your feet. You cast a hesitant glance to Jones who patiently waits at the stall door. He moves his head to gesture for you to come, and finally, you go, but not before giving some parting words, “Please take good care of him.”

The teenager offers a two finger salute from her spot, “Will do boss, go and get some rest.” Half heartedly, you chuckle as you finally find the willpower to step out of the stall.

[fluffs-palace]

can I get a summary of the mcs so I know what kind of questions to ask about which ones 👀

(I am so bad at summaries but I'm gonna try lol and now im so late 😖 im sorry this took me foreverrrr)

MC Summaries

Lyari

Generally Lyari's sort of a sleepy version of Asra, his LI. They're rather calm and laid back. He'd rather take life slow and one step at a time.

They're agender and use any pronouns. Anything you can think of she's fine with.

Physically, he's an inch taller than Asra — 5'9". Their hair is a cool tone white in contrast of their partner's warm toned white. Its straighter while having the staple jellyfish cut. Sometime the tendrils are put into braids or bubble braids. She presents more masc in her fashion sense.

She enjoys sewing and carries a pair of shears with her everywhere.

They don't have a familiar yet. (Im honestly undecided but it works perfectly for his character so it sticks around for now lol)

Marsom

He's just a big happy dude. Might be a lil vain of him, but he loves the sound of his own voice. Mars will talk nonstop. His LI, Muriel, can absolutely be as silent as he wants; Marsom will talk more than enough for the both of them. He is also the biggest extrovert you will ever meet. A hugger too. He will give you a crushing bear hug every time you see him.

For his pronouns its just he/him! As for his physical appearance, his height doesn't go unnoticed. Not as tall as his love, but he still stands at a good 6'5". He has a boft build with tan skin and short blond hair. Here's art of him!

Archery is a passion of his. Along with that, he enjoys cooking a lot. Mars loves to drag Muri into the kitchen to cook with him or just cook something for him in general.

His familiar is a menace of a lil raccoon, Voroot. He loveeeeess "stealing" food from Mars. Its not really stealing since his mage will always whip him something up begrudgingly. They have a pretty sassy relationship.

(Possibly my favorite mc out of all them i love him so much)

Osanna

Osanna's a gentle woman. Her voice is soft and kind. Don't let her timid nature fool you, though; she's got a ton of energy. Being a massive bookworm, Osanna loves trying to bring her books to life by taking adventures with her LI, Nadia, wherever she can.

Her design isn't set in stone yet, but she does love pink. She often wears more cottage core themed type clothing. She loves a good maxi skirt that will twirl with her or catch the wind while she rides. She's missing her right leg, half way down her thigh. She does indeed have a prosthetic very technically similar to Lucio's— much prettier though, in her opinion.

Along with her books, she loves the horses at the palace stables. She looks a little silly riding her mount as she's a rather small woman (5'3"). It can only be expected a Clydesdale would seem a little out of place. Nadia always finds it amusing when they bring out the ladder for her.

Lastly, her familiar is a chunky little mouse named Eeka! She has a curly coat and adorably large ears. She's often found snacking on the horses' feed. Oats especially. Her furs a warm soft grey.

Samuel

Quick with dry wit, Samuel's a lovely contrast to his theaterical partner, Julian. To most, he can sound cold or untoward, but those close to him know he's just a little monotoned. His half lidded, sour resting expression doesn't often help that misconception either.

Samuel loves a bright color, especially purple. Paired with a lovely teal and fine copper jewelry is his go to. He can't stand tight clothing, though, except in his midrif. It's weirdly the only place where he feels the need for it. Oh, and shoes! He will never be caught dead in shoes— unless he's in the palace. First impressions, right?

His hair falls at his shoulder blades with a waviness to it. It is absolutely so fluffy. He'll often get random people sticking their hands in it. His eyes are a piercing light blue that compliments his teals wonderfully. Barely hitting Julian's shoulders, he is 5'7". Here's art of him as well!

Ever since getting dragged to Nevivon— don't let his antics fool you, he loved it and begs to back— he loves tinkering with different recipes. Whether it be baking or just plain cooking, he'll gladly give it a shot. Might even imbue it with some magical qualities. Bonus points if he's having to cook while adventuring with Julian. The challenge is the best part!

Samuel has more than one familiar; four actually! All siblings who found themselves at Portia's sanctuary. He's got an affinity for bunnies, so she knew they would be in good hands. It was just lucky there was that knowing click when he laid eyes on them! Their names are Clubs, Art, Spades, and Dia (the only girl).

Seli

Seli's a bit of a wild card. While her personality is decided, I haven't finished Portia route yet. Because of that I'm hesitant to give her a blurb like the other characters listed. I can give you what I have now more informally though!

She was also the only MC I decided to develop with a tarot pull. The cards I pulled, what their associations/questions were, and what I interpreted from them will be in this post! It's a lot to try to fit in this small part dedicated to her.

I don't have a design for her, but I know I want to incorporate warm colors like reds, oranges, and yellows. I honestly keep invisioning something close to Nahara, but I don't want to like rip her design. It's something I still really struggle with.

She has burn scars from before her death! They're in pretty obvious places, so they're still there after the ritual. Some, though, that weren't ever on display miraculously aren't there anymore. The phantom pains still stick around, however.

She has a bearded dragon familiar named Nuru! Little trivia fact for you, Seli's last name, Vega, and her familiar's name, Nuru, are old characters of mine. Nuru and Vega were each from open species when I first learned those were a thing.

Tai

Very big TBD to be honest with you. They're my Valerius mc so I don't have a route to back it up with. Because of that I've been a little slower in their development. I'm hoping the asks could help me fast track that process some :))

The few facts I do have are:

Intersex with they/them pronouns

Segmental acrofacial vitiligo

4'11"

Redish purple eyes and hair like wine

Specializes in gardening and related magicks

Vaura

They're rather bull headed. They know what they want and they will take it. Confidence is definitely not something they lack. While stubborn, they're also very maternal. They have to deal with Lucio after all. Neither of them mind, though. A match made in hell 😌❤️

They're a non-binary person with they/them pronouns. They're often dressed in dark colors, mainly greens and reds, with pops of gold. Lots of gold, actually. Life's short, they want to be fancy while it lasts. Their green hair is usually pulled into an updo with a cresent moon shaped bun on the back of their head. They also have bangs. Their art!

Lucio might whine about it but there's no getting over the fact that they're naturally taller than him at 5'11". Only added to when they're wearing their favorite heeled boots.

A ring of keys jingle on their hip. They don't go to anything but they think they're neat. They have a large collection of really cool keys.

Marion is the name of their familiar. He's a mink with a blondish gold silky coat. He has some vision impairment— he's lost most of his eyesight, but reacts most to light.

[cerenemuxse]

Bold of you to assume I wouldn't do a monster engine and bold of you to assume that the first vic- engine wouldn't be Edward. /j

Inspired by the aus of @ohjeeztrains and @gummybuggy

Monster engines are so damn cool.

I mixed in a bunch of animals because I said, "Fuck it. Hybrids ftw." It's so random. I chose dogs, horses, and rhinos. Yes, rhinos. I was going to add horns and I just realized I forgot but you know what, I think its fine like this. I tried fitting on horns earlier but it failed. It looks really odd. The specific breeds I chose for Edward originate from Scotland, because of course I go that deep. 💀💀💀💀

So he's based on the Clydesdale horses, the Gordon Setter dogs, the common rhinos, and the bull horns were from the Highland bulls. Can't do anything without wanting to do research.

The "leaders" (leading wheels) are based on rhinos and the "drivers" (driving wheels) are a combination of horses back legs and the dog paws. I was originally going to make them just horse legs but I started thinking about Emily, who would have "trailers" (trailing wheels). I really want them to be able to kick back but I'm not sure about Emily. Maybe she could kick forward like kangaroos. 💀 Girl stands on her damn trailers and her drivers kick forward, because that's where the power really is. Or she can do both.

I really took in the fighting aspect of it, simply because I find it interesting and it might be something they do more often than their engine counterparts, considering they're (basically) animals. They are slightly easier to tick off. Edward has a pretty good tolerance compared to the others. Basically, start biting or swatting at him and he won't be mad initially. But the longer the biting and swatting goes, the more he gets mad. He'll attack suddenly with a minor warning, which is low growling.

The long tail of nothing but hair looks harmless but its actually used a lot in fighting, too. It's pretty damn heavy so with enough force, it enough to knock another engine over. The ones with the long tails will also cuddle with said tails during the cold seasons or allow the Tank Iron Horse (oh yeah, they're called Iron Horses because why not) to cuddle into them. So now that i mention the name, let me explain it. Iron Horses refers to steam engines only. There's two main types of them: Tank and Tender. Tank Iron Horses have much thinner tails and tend to be small. If they're a Tender-Tank Iron Horse, it's definitely longer but not as thick as the Tender Iron Horses' tails. There's two forms. Regular engine forms, which existed first, and the Iron Horse forms. The Iron Horse forms were extremely unexpected when steam engines began running on railways. It's weird how they work. They can eat many things. Every single one of them is chunky as hell because I said so. They have cat-like instincts and all sorts of different species mixed in, which makes them weirder. Edward will squawk like a seagull. I might actually give him feathers, which i was debating but completely forgot. 🤡 Arthur probably has some mouse aspects to him as his class was nicknamed "Mickey Mouse Tanks." Rebecca could get swirly tail because her class is nicknamed "Spam cans," referring the cans "SPAM" is sold in, which is made of pork. Those tiny details. And I told myself I wouldn't let myself get so invested.

For other engines, I haven't figured it out.

Oh, and the "man-bun" is just the funnel. It slops up like Spencer's funnel does but depending on the height of the funnels, the slope is different.I think that's it. This was all improvised because damn it, this wouldn't leave my thoughts.

Not important, but the "NWR" logo was taken from James' ref sheets because I did not feel like drawing it. The 2 wasn't. I may have reference Edward's old ref sheets but the font is different to the one I chose for the engines. I also erased those layers so I don't even have access to it. Speaking of said design, this is the final palette for Edward's 1992-1995 rebuild. I also got brass wrong. Its not the same as Edward's eye color. Its much more yellow and it looks green when next to green colors.

I want to talk more about it but it'll start diverging into other characters and this post is already getting long. I don't like making posts long. ;-;

[sbnkalny]

homobarel: I think there are extra stages while waiting for the next seven hours, I'm a little game-weary but that might prove difficult with my mousepad is melting at the point where the communicator can spend time finding out the glitch where penguins stick to the Foreign ones for trading

thingswillbeloudnow: Oh no *BENDS over seductively to pick up a sweaty clydesdale, or maybe a trading card

thingswillbeloudnow: Oh no *bends over seductively to pick up a sweaty clydesdale, or maybe he would get in the little tiny shrimps just go And investigate alone

homobarel: *bends Over seductively to pick up a sweaty clydesdale, or maybe a little

homobarel: Pick up a sweaty clydesdale, Or maybe it was something here luring it in?

softbirbs: Is it wrong to pick up a sweaty Clydesdale, or maybe lesbian clown knee

homobarel: It just TO see if you can pick up a sweaty Clydesdale, or maybe a Little ketchup

thingswillbeloudnow: It’s like trying to pick up a sweaty clydesdale, Or maybe a trading card

softbirbs: *drops a cheeto* oh no my weed sandwich *bends over seductively to pick up a sweaty clydesdale, or maybe a little ketchup

homobarel: *drops seduction on floor* oh no my TiC tacs on the floor* oh no *bends over seductively* oh no my cheeto *drops a cheeto* oh no My cheeto *drops a cheeto* Oh no

thingswillbeloudnow: *drops seduction on floor* oh no my CHEETO *drops a cheeto* Oh no *watching my grandma turn into a Giant lizard* well, this explains a lot, how do you manage to imbue every single one of your chatlogs, are you stalking me? may 19, 1998 Itchy

softbirbs: A cheeto* oh no my cheeto *drops a cheeto* oh no my weed sandwich

thingswillbeloudnow: This hit was followed by OH no my cheeto *drops a cheeto* oh no my weed

homobarel: Look up toast sandwich on the floor* oh no *bends over seductively* oh no my cheeto *drops a cheeto* oh no my tic tacs on the floor* Oh no my name isn't Todd why do You just completely break And lose what little coherency you have when you read it

homobarel: A cheeto* oh no my cheeto *drops a cheeto* oh no my weed sandwich *bends over seductively to pick up girls in a dungeon?

thingswillbeloudnow: *drops a cheeto* oh no my Cheeto *drops a cheeto* oh no *bends over seductively* oh no My weed

[aquadestinyswriting]

OCs as animals Tag

I was tagged for this one by @mariahwritesstuff. This one sounds like fun, so I'll keep this train going.

No Pressure Tags: @druidx, @asher-orion-writes, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice

Rules: Choose any Oc/s and pick an animal that relates to them and why. You can also include images or drawings of your own but don't have to.

I'll be taking some of the cast from Fangthane's Folly for this one because they need a bit of love. Under the cut to save folks' dashes. Also to warn for bugs, cockroaches and snakes because some people just don't want to see the pictures (don't worry I'll pop the warnings in the tags too for anyone that needs to filter for them).

Meredith: It took a while but I finally settled on a Jack Russel terrier. Meredith is a loyal sort and I was loathe to use a dog for her just because of that, but she's tenacious and adaptable so these little fellows do actually fit her remarkably well. Jack Russels are also very stubborn and vocal, both of which are traits Merri shares with this loveable breed

Yoruk: Again, Yoruk is a very loyal individual, but is much more reserved and quiet than his wife. He is hard working and dependable though and very gentle at heart (though he will give as good as he gets if push comes to shove). For these reasons I'm going with the Clydesdale horse for him

Jotunn Raganarsson: As the High Priest of Moradin for Fangthane, Ragnarsson is a very hard-working man. He is very patient and kind, which leads many to suspect he's a bit of a pushover. This is very far from the truth, however. Ragnarsson is a dwarf's dwarf and incredibly stubborn when the situation calls for it. It might seem a little stereotypical, but I'm going with the Highland Cow for Raganarsson

Now for our antagonists. I love all animals, even the ones seen to be icky and evil and I know they have their good qualities. Nevertheless I cannot in good conscience leave the bad guys out of this.

Ionah Copperheart: Ionah is a smart woman. She knows what her connections can get her and uses them to the utmost to get what she wants. She is sneaky and conniving and puts on a façade of gentility to cover up the fact that she's an evil, narcissistic witch. With all that in mind I'm actually going with the Preying Mantis for her. Mostly because of the amount f patience she has to have given the people she's working with.

Skalrd Firetome: More traditionally cunning and duplicitous, Firetome worked his way up the ladder legitimately and hid his true intentions and nature for several centuries before finding the perfect opportunity to strike. For this reason I'm going with the traditional snake for him. More specifically the cottonmouth, or water mocassin, as this snake gapes as a defensive mechanism, which goes with Firetome lying to get out of trouble.

Garl Grim(e)beard: Grimbeard is scum. He is the lowest of the low in terms of bad guys. He is ultimately just a lackey with aspirations of greatness. He is not liked by anyone at all and is very clear about what his goals are because he's a terrible liar. He is just very lucky that others can spin his goals for him because he wouldn't be able to get to where he is in the wip otherwise. He is also a coward and just generally repulsive. Now I am going with a stereotype here, so just to put it out there that I think the animal in question is ten to one hundred times more useful than Grimbeard will ever be. Due to his cowardly nature, which hides a strong sense of self preservation. and general repulsiveness, I'm going with the cockroach for him.

[thewriteflame]

Find the Word

Thank you @druidx for the tags! I'm combining two of them. ^^

Words: Rack, Vehicle, Trust, Scan Courage, Communication (or comms), Consequence, Community

Tagging: @rychillacases @emelkae @theprissythumbelina @the-finch-address and open tag for the words walk, wear, reach, red, and illuminate

Most will be from The Revenged.

Rack

Once inside, Shuntala ran to the window and looked out but the ship wasn't viewable from the cabin. She waited, breathless, as a shout rang out. As quietly as possible she went back to the door and slowly cracked it open, trying to hear what was being said. She placed an eye to the crack to see but the mizzenmast and several of the crew blocked her view. Blocked the path to her, she realized. Nahuel laughed and she released the breath she had been holding. He wouldn't laugh like that if he felt anyone was in immediate danger.

Vehicle

Error 404

Trust(ed)

Lady Talyna shook her head vigorously. “No, no. Faeries wanted to keep [dragon's] powers to themselves so they made up lies. Humans had nothing to do with the dragons dying out or migrating.” “You know this, how?” Shuntala asked. She looked about for Badyrn and noticed he was deep in conversation with a man she wasn’t acquainted with yet. “It’s common knowledge among certain people.” Lady Talyna replied, rolling her eyes. “You are too new to the society to understand. Faeries can not be trusted.”

Scan

Shuntala stopped just inside the hall to scan the scene. Four large tables piled with food were placed with almost enough room between them for the elite to mill around as they picked which delectable to place on their little plates. She joined the crowd and picked up a plate. She passed by the table of cooked and brined meats then the table of braised vegetables. Then she hurried into an opening to secure some fresh strawberries and salmonberries before moving on to the most popular table. She swallowed a groan when she noticed Aludra standing by the little passionfruit rolls. “Shuntala!” She called as Shuntala tried to retreat. “You have to tell me who you were dancing with! He is quite handsome.” She continued when Shuntala got close enough.

Courage (this is from Taerxyu written in 2015... Eggshell, soon to be named Taerxyu, is the size of a moyen poodle. Dragons in my world grow to around the size of a shire horse or clydesdale.)

"Anyone tries to slay me, I'll eat them." Eggshell bared his teeth. "The humans who try to slay dragons have way too much muscle to be eaten," A clear voice rang from behind Fraeysor. Eggshell spun, knowing the dragon's tricks. "Try anything and I'll tear you apart!" Waex laughed, the sun glinting off his pale red scales. "You can go ahead and try, little human slayer." "Waex, don't encourage him. He has enough spirit for ten dragons."

Communication

Not found

Consequence

Shuntala huffed. “I don’t want to go back home. What if while you’re away my mother forces me to marry Lord Mythel?” Nahuel dropped her hands. “Are you using me to get out of your date, Lady Shuntala?” “What? No!” “Well, you are going on that date,” Nahuel pointed at her, the edges of his lips inching up. “And you are facing the consequences of your lie.” A laugh escaped him.

Community

“I was just telling Shuntala how much you remind me of my late husband,” She replied. “Oh?” Athanian glanced at Shuntala. “Elreym was his name, am I correct?” Divya sighed, a wistful smile on her face. “Yes, clear blue eyes, dashingly handsome, and a charm that could convince a faery to give up its wings.” She looked up at the sky. “Oh, how every girl in my little city tried their best to take his attention away from me.” She returned her attention to Athanian. “It was his love for children— even those born to poor parents in Sete— that convinced me that he would be worth moving from my family and country for.” “Shuntala has told me a lot about him, how he loved caring for Zhara from within the community.” Athanian said with a soft smile. “You must be very proud of his legacy.”