#Fluffy Feline Tale

[great-book-review]

"Why Did Buffy's Fur Go Flat?" - A Whisker-Twitching Tale of Environmental Discovery

Delve into the enchanting world crafted by Erin Hill and Dr. Russ Hill in "Why Did Buffy's Fur Go Flat?" as they weave a heartwarming narrative that not only captivates young minds but also imparts crucial lessons about our interconnectedness with the environment.

Summary: The journey commences with a foreword that serves as a clarion call to the importance of instilling environmental consciousness in the younger generation. As we venture into the lives of Jade and her feline companion, Buffy, perched on the rocky cliffs, the authors set the stage for an exploration into the delicate dance between environmental health and personal well-being.

Jade's ordinary life takes an unexpected turn when Buffy's once luxuriously fluffy fur loses its vibrancy. The tale unfolds as Jade embarks on a mission to uncover the mystery behind Buffy's ailing health. Through a series of whimsical encounters, the authors seamlessly integrate environmental concepts such as pollution, the food chain, and the significance of clean water into the narrative.

Characters: Jade and Buffy emerge as delightful protagonists, with Jade's curiosity and Buffy's endearing fluffiness serving as anchors for young readers. The characters are thoughtfully crafted to resonate with the target audience, effectively guiding them through the exploration of environmental themes.

Plot and Story Background: The plot unfolds with a perfect blend of adventure and education, creating a symbiotic relationship between storytelling and imparting knowledge. The central mystery of Buffy's fur serves as a gateway to discussions about pollution and its impact on the ecosystem. The story acts as a valuable tool for parents and educators, initiating conversations about environmental responsibility in a manner that is both engaging and accessible.

Details about the Authors: Erin Hill's extensive background in teaching language arts, math, and science, coupled with Dr. Russ Hill's experience in podiatric medicine and pre-medical science, enriches the narrative. Their collaboration ensures a well-rounded book that resonates with its intended audience, combining storytelling prowess with scientific insights.

Illustrations: The collaboration with illustrator Sky Kezmoh breathes life into the narrative. The whimsical illustrations complement the storytelling, providing young readers with a visual feast that enhances their overall reading experience. Sky's personal touches, drawn from her own feline friend, add a layer of authenticity to the illustrations.

Educational Value: One of the book's strengths lies in its seamless integration of educational elements. The authors navigate complex environmental topics with clarity, making them accessible to young minds. The book becomes a gateway for fostering a sense of environmental stewardship in the next generation.

Editing Quality: The book stands out for its impeccable editing. Not a single typo or grammatical hiccup mars the flow of the narrative, showcasing the authors' commitment to delivering a polished and professional product.

In Conclusion: "Why Did Buffy's Fur Go Flat?" stands as a testament to the potential of children's literature to educate and inspire. The harmonious blend of storytelling, endearing characters, and valuable environmental lessons makes it a commendable addition to the genre. It not only entertains but also plants the seeds of eco-consciousness in young hearts.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Trey, Leona: The Cat's Meow

Ooooh, I see the vision now... Maybe?? It looks like each member of the same dorm might have a similar default image in the bottom frame of their initial art? Both Ace and Trey have the Queen of Hearts… I guess we’ll have to wait until Cater’s birthday to see if the pattern keeps up?

nfdbwjccwbxgak How fitting to see Trey posed alongside a painting of the Cheshire Cat considering who he’s childhood friends with… and also that Trey’s VA also goices Lucius www (Side note: they fr always gotta have Trey claim he’s “normal” right before he pulls the sussy face which is most certainly NOT normal 😭)

A Tale as Old as Time.

A rotund feline stood on hind legs in a platinum frame, one paw curled under its round chin and resting on its fluffy tail, the other flicked out in a devil-may-care gesture. Purple, pink, purple, pink—its fur was striped in a repeating pattern. Eyes raised upward, the cat looked inquisitive among the gnarled trees, as if posing a riddle to the viewer. Why is a raven like a writing desk?, perhaps.

Huh, I wonder what he's wondering about. Trey rested his chin in one hand as he pondered the painting—and the question.

The longer he gazed at the cat, the more familiar its silly smile seemed to be. How difficult he was to read. A thought crept up on him, one lazy stride at a time.

"... Reminds me of a certain guy," he muttered.

"I hope you’re not talking about me," came a sarcastic drawl from beside him. It, too, was cat-like in its own right, a different flavor of feline: more languid than whimsical. “Because I won’t be laughing like a hyena at jokes made in poor taste.”

"Leona." Trey immediately made to step back, making space for the dorm leader. Leona's immense presence practically demanded it. "No, of course not. I was thinking about a childhood friend.“

“Hmph. You’ve got a childhood friend like this?” He made a face at the Cheshire Cat. A frown to challenge its foolhardy grin. “… Now I almost feel sorry for you, having to put up with a guy like that.”

“Oh, Chenya’s not that bad,” Trey said dismissively. “He’s a troublemaker, sure—but he’s got a good heart beneath all of that, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. The worst is gets up to is playing a trick or two and stealing snacks.”

“What an exciting life,” Leona snorted, clearly not convinced. “He sounds like a real rascal for his age.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes it feels like he never really grew up from the times him, Riddle, and I were rolling around in clover fields and stuffing our faces with cake. Still, he’s our friend—even if we’re far apart for schooling.”

“It was already hard enough to believe you’d be friends with him, but Riddle too?” A smirk rose on Leona’s lips. “Life works in mysterious ways.”

There was a chuckle from Trey. “Ahahah… Does it surprise you? We all come from the same hometown. The community there’s very welcoming. I guess that’s why we ended up reaching out to Riddle one day and… I’m sure you know how the rest of that story goes.”

He didn’t—and nor did he care to know, so he said nothing. Instead, Leona inclined his head. In the dimness of the museum, his eyes glinted a bright green.

He gave a command.

“… Oi, herbivore. Tell me more about this hometown of yours. Tell me what it’s like.”

Trey blinked, slightly flabbergasted at what he was hearing. Leona stared at him expectantly. He clicked his tongue.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.“

Huh, I didn’t think of Leona as the curious type. If that’s what he wants though, who am I to deny it?

“Okay. so…”

Trey returned a hand to his chin. His words, he considered. How to best arrange them to paint the most flattering photo?

Green, so much green. A scattering of red dotting the landscape. Saturation, cheer. Something warm and fuzzy whenever he imagined those scenes—like the sun upon his face.

“Imagine a place bursting with flowers. Every color, every shape, every smell. Some remind you of cotton candy that rots your teeth, others of old shoes and skunk."

Leona's sensitive nose wrinkled at the suggestion. "Real poetic there."

Trey continued. "Everyone knows each other not because the community is small--I'd say it's a decent size?--but because people see each other and talk. They ask how you are, how your family and business are doing. They come over with a platter of cookies to welcome new neighbors, ask if your kids want to come over and play with theirs."

Fond memories played out in his head: the time he had eaten a whole bottle of mustard to prove a point, messing up his signature spell and imparting a loaf of bread with a bad flavor, his first cake at four years old. Everyone had told him he had such talent for baking--but looking back on it, hadn't his "cake" been a lumpy, gooey mess?

"You could screw up pretty badly and they'd still pat you on the head and tell you it's fine, it's just an honest mistake or what a good job you did. My parents are like that too. It must come with the territory."

Leona listened and nodded to every piece of information Trey presented. He appeared bemused as he watched the vice dorm leader, a fleck of sunlight caught in his emerald eyes. Like that of a silent predator stalking innocent prey.

“How picturesque. No wonder you’re so well-adjusted and normal,” Leona purred, his gaze half-lidded. “It must be the power of true love at work.”

“You could say that. The community I grew up in was very loving and supportive. I’m thankful for that.” Trey smirked so briefly that onlookers could have easily missed it. "... It lets me get away with a whole lot more."

"You don't strike me as the kind of guy to act out."

"Not often," Trey corrected. "Only little acts when it's deserved."

"You and your bleeding heart." Leona's scoff gave way to an eerie quiet. From it came a soft, contemplative sigh. "... Must be nice, being able to afford to live so contentedly."

"Ah, you probably didn't have that kind of luxury," Trey recognized. "The life of a prince is different from us common folk."

"There’s pressure to perform and social politics to navigate. Complicated webs that span several circles, grace and relations to uphold, airs to wear. Aaaah, it’s such a drag," the lion beastman groaned.

"Yeah, I can imagine that." Trey smiled sympathetically. "But even though we come from very different places, I'm sure that you also had loving and supportive people in your life, Leona. Everyone does."

"Hah. Are you listening to yourself? You sound as mad as him." Leona jabbed at thumb at the Cheshire Cat. "It's the first-born prince--the one destined to be king--that they all adore."

“… That’s not completely true, is it?” Trey adjusted his glasses. A stray beam of light reflected off the face of them, casting the glass in pure white for a fraction of a second.

The reason Leona was asking about my hometown... It must be genuine curiosity. He's never known something like it. But the fact that he asked must mean he wants to learn, right?

The prince's eyes were angry, suspicious slivers now. "What are you suggesting?"

“I heard from Ace and Deuce that you have a cute little nephew that adores you. A lot of the Savanaclaw underclassman as well. And from Lilia—there’s a grand chamberlain you used to be close with as a kid. Playing chess and getting you out of trouble. Your brother too, he must care for..."

Leona bared his teeth, raised his voice. "Don't act like you know--"

Me. What I've been through, what I've suffered.

"Whoa, whoa!" Trey held up both hands. "Sorry. I said too much. I shouldn't have let my own curiosity get the better of me."

A growl--colored with residual anger--emanated from Leona's throat. "If you understand that, then don't stick your hand into a lion's den a second time."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Trey pulled back, the fingers of one hand curling into a loose first. The other hand found its way to perching at his waist as he leaned his body forward. He attempted an apologetic confession--but instead produced something slightly sinister.

"What are you doing now?"

"Cat to cat communication," Trey said, deadly serious. "You know, like 'nyah'!"

A pause.

"... Is that good enough of an apology?" Trey inquired.

"Don't screw with me," Leona muttered, batting away at his peer's poised "paw". "In the first place, your posture's all wrong. Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Looks like I failed to lighten the mood."

"You're really terrible at it," Leona grumbled under his breath. "You sure that childhood friend of yours is the troublemaker of the group? Cuz to me, I see another troublemaker in the trio."

"I'm a normal high school boy. You even said it yourself."

"And which one of us started meowing at the other out of the blue?" Leona expertly countered.

Trey stifled his voice, which had started to work its way up into an awkward laugh. "Pfft, alright. Point taken."

"Here I was, thinking you were 'normal'," Leona simpered. "The red young master sure has a way with picking the company he keeps. You're all odd to balance out his rationale."

"That's the role a card soldier plays for his queen. Friend, baker, cat, trump card--I'm here to be them all."

[liminalpebble]

Stray (A Lokitty Tale): Part 2

Part 1 link

A/N: Hi all. This began as a prompt suggestion by @mischief2sarawr and has since grown three heads and answers to no one. It's now a multipart, very fluffy, story about Lokitty. I have no idea where I'm going with this except definitely to the comfort district of fluff town...maybe driving through a little traffic jam of angst on the way there.

Synopsis: It's 1971 and you're a single shop girl living in the tumultuous, often damp, city of Seattle, feeling lost and alone. Meanwhile, Loki (under the guise of D.B. Cooper) is on the run from Thor the moment he jumped out of that plane. After crash landing in a dumpster and disguising himself as a stray cat to lay low, he becomes your beloved feline room mate and an unusual friendship begins to grow.

Stray: Part 2

While the human was away, Loki sprawled out his long Asgardian body across your floor, passing the time with your extensive collection of books. It felt good to him, having arms and legs to stretch again, and opposable thumbs to turn the pages. Staying in a conjured form for too long could be taxing, and the breaks would be welcome, especially since he couldn't be sure how long this little arrangement might continue.

The god of mischief smiled a bit to himself, recalling how you had bustled around in your little uniform, getting ready for your day. You were obviously in a hurry, but you still took the time to stroke his fur and scratch under his chin while you talked to him.

“Good morning, little guy. I left some food out for you and the heater on. I'll be home late...hopefully with all the stuff you might need. Please don't pee in my shoes.”

Suddenly you stopped and rolled your eyes, raising up again to hurry out the door. “Jesus Christ, I'm talking to the cat again.”

Loki chuckled at that (well, meowed with amusement) and found, to his horror, that he was actually sad to lose your company for the day. He found he was becoming very curious about you.

Well, come on, he told himself, it's just that you're naturally curious and it's not like you have much else to occupy your time for now. Might as well observe the mortal.

Satisfied with his rationalization, he listened for the door to click shut and your heels to click down the hall. Once he was sure you were gone he returned to his usual body, and busied himself with your bookshelf, running his pale graceful fingers over the spines with delight.

She certainly has eclectic taste, he mused. The little apartment was crowded with books of all kinds; everything from Shakespeare to comic books, and where there weren't books, there were tidy stacks of records (again, a very eclectic assortment). His took it all in with gusto, fascinated by his choices of entertainment.

He blazed through several mystery novels (which were underwhelming as he was always well ahead of the reveal). Seeking the next read, his perceptive eyes landed on an antique volume, Norse Mythology. He smirked as he slid the book into his palm.

Now this should be interesting.

In a predictably self-indulgent move, he looked for an entry about himself, landing unfortunately on a beautifully illustrated page about Thor. He crinkled his nose in disgust and let the book drop to the floor, but as the tome landed with a thunk, it dropped open to the chapter with his name as the title. He lowered himself to the floor, laying on his belly as he read about his glorious self.

The description wasn't the most flattering. It painted the trickster god as a cruel and violent nuisance, but he had to admit that wasn't entirely inaccurate. There was, however, a glorious illustration in the style of an illuminated manuscript. Green and gold calligraphy snaked out the letters of his name and below it was a very handsome illustration highlighting his bright kaleidoscopic eyes and sharp rakish face (although they always got the hair wrong by painting it a garish shade of red). Oh well, what could one expect from foolish mortals.

His musing was suddenly interrupted by the sound of heels clicking down the hallway. In a panic he looked outside and realized it was already dusk. He had lost track of the time. As he heard your jostling and struggling to unlock the door one-handed, he quickly changed back to his feline form. Loki realized, a moment too late, that he hadn't had time to put the books back from where they laid sprawled out on the floor where he had been reading.

You finally shouldered your way inside, huffing and puffing, arms loaded with a heavy shopping bag. You set it down carefully and kicked your heels off forcefully, feeling weirdly satisfied that they smacked against the wall. (You always hated the damn things, and tended to punish them like this for the pain inflicted on your feet each day).

You smiled to where the sleek black cat was laying with his paws crossed delicately over the pages of a book, tail flicking lazily as if this wasn't at all odd. Loki noticed the quizzical expression on your face as you noticed the books on the floor. “Hey, buddy,” you chirped sweetly, “How the hell did you knock these off?”

“Mrrow,” the cat grumbled.

“Okay, okay. Keep your secrets you little magician,” you said, joining him on the floor and collecting the books. When you came to the volume under his paws, he refused to move them. He thought indignantly, I'm not done reading this! Though he was well aware he wouldn't be getting his way.

“Hrmmm,” you hummed, “Loki, the trickster...” as you traced your hand over the gold script. “He was always my favorite of the Norse gods, you know?”

“Meow?”

“Yeah! The tricksters always make life interesting, right?”

“Meroww.”

“See. I knew you'd agree with me.” You put a pensive finger to your lips. “He'd probably be a good namesake for your, huh, you mischievous scamp? I guess it's better than calling you “buddy” or “little guy” all the time.”

I should damn well think so, madam.

Loki watched curiously as you rose you to your feet, digging something out of your kitchen junk drawer. “Aha!” you exclaimed as you pulled out a green leather watchband (the clock was broken then lost long ago). Pulling out a marker you carefully wrote the name “Loki” in clear block letters on the tattered leather, then gently fastened the band around his neck. Smiling and stroking his fur with your warm hand you said, “Okay, Loki. You look very handsome,” you declared massaging his velvety cheeks with your thumbs. In return, you introduced yourself, saying your name and shaking his paw. “Nice to meet you, Loki.”

Loki wanted to protest this patronization, but your affection felt so pleasant, and it gave him a warm feeling to hear you call him “handsome”.

“Oh! I have...uh...stuff. I think this is the right stuff...Here, look, I've got a litter box and a little bed for you and I got a few different kinds of food. I'm not sure which one you might like best.”

You stopped abruptly, saying once again under your breath, “Jesus Christ...talking to the cat again, you lonely weirdo.”

Loki shot a paw out, tapping your arm and then nuzzling into it. And although you knew it couldn't be more than an animal trying to use you as a heating pad, it seemed like he was trying to say thank you, trying to say that he liked you talking to him and doting on him...and that he wanted to be held.

Crazy...I'm going crazy. I'm a crazy lonely cat lady, and I'm gonna die alone here someday and this cat is going to eat my eyeballs.

Still, it tugged your heartstrings as the little tomcat reached out its paws to your shoulders meowing and purring gently as it attempted to climb into your arms...and who were you to deny him?

Hesitantly, you reached out and held him against you, stroking gently and nuzzling your face against him.

You said quietly with a note of grateful awe, “Awww. I didn't expect you to be such an affectionate little guy.”

Neither did I. Loki thought, even more surprised than you were.

@mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokihiddleston @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @littlespaceyelf @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @peachyjinx @coldnique @sarahscribbles @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @mischiefmaker615 @coldnique @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss

[arredusworld]

Loongs speculative biology is breaking me a little bit

im adding Loongs (Chinese dragons) to Arredus right, cuz they look cool, are cool, and i refuse to be euro-centric in my fantasy worlds

problem, the way i want to go about it is ruining my life (hyperbole), see part of Arredus is to have implied speculative evolution to back up the speculative biology, and Loongs are making that really hard

lets examine this depiction, scales are seen along side whiskers on the snout, spikes along the back, (presumed) feather coverage on the tale and face, and ears

this creates some issues, see the scales assert that this is a reptile of some kind, the (presumed) feathers make it likely that this is a dinosaur, but thats a guarantee, maybe lizards on Arredus have feathers, maybe its in the class of true dragons, or maybe those arnt feathers at all, and are instead real weird scales, tho considering all the more detailed art ive seen depicts it as fluffy-

-like this, <sidenote, there is so much ai slop of eastern mysticism out there> and while i acknowledge this is a modern piece of art, it appears to be representative of wat ppl think Loongs look like

<another sidenote, some art depicts the dragon with horns but this is inconsistently done so whether its s thing is up in the air>

one more thing b4 i begin speculating is that this project has no respect for modern preconceptions of the fantasy u know and love, only science and even thats a vague impression, so if that means making pegasus a dragon that convergently evolved to look like equines with wings, so be it

with that said lets get into my ideas for how to get this thing to exist at all, firstly lets talk environmental pressures, Loongs are suppose to be water gods of some sort and closely tied to alligators, turtles, and fish, so it is semi-aquatic, and being from china in our world, its likely accustomed more specifically to lush jungle environments

next lets talk niche, every animal in an ecosystem has a niche, wats this guys, well clearly its an apex predator, i dont think this needs much elaboration

next is its behaviors, and again i think its fairly intuitive to say Loongs are ambush predators, like cats and alligators, also most likely making it a solitary animal

finally for the hard part ive been procrastinating on all post, wat friggin animal is this at all, the first thots are obviously a reptile of some kind, if the non scaly bits are feathers, than its a dinosaur, most likely a dragon, however his native land is in Lushia, a continent with very little reptiles at all

another option is to make the Loong a mammal of some kind, maybe a monotreme, which would make it fairly distinct and also give me more freedom to be creative, or a feline, very similar in lifestyle of a jaguar (reminder that these nightmare animals are not only good but happy swimmers)

the issue i run into repeatedly is that no answer makes me happy, while a feline is my fave of the choices, it raises more questions for me, why is its snout so long, is the "scales" just fur pattern? or did this feline specifically evolve armadillo fur, if so why, if its a monotreme, wat does that mean at all, its a neat idea and allows it to lay eggs still but is that all that important? do all monotremes have beaks? does the Loong? is it bioluminescent like platypuses? if its a reptile, why is it one of the few on this continent? it didnt fly over like the dragons did, unless this is a dragon who lost its wings, if so why? why not evolve fin like wings to help swim like sea serpents? if its not a dragon, wat reptile is it? it has to be a dinosaur of some kind thats where feathers are from, but its clearly not any other dino other than a dragon, which circles us bacc around, and wat about them ears, are they false ears like the horns on a horned owl? if so why did it evolve that other than to look cool? does it even look that cool?

in short the Loong is making me tear loong strainds of hair out of my head, so here poll, decide ur thots and please tell me more in the replys/notes/watever else you wanna use to communicate with me

[mezmer]

The Cute Diaspora

As we navigate these waters, let us first address the ontological insecurity felt by the venerable feline in the face of the rising tide of puppy adoration. Kittens, long the standard-bearers of adorable appeal, are now witnessing a teleological shift; they have become, dare I say, passé. Our society, once cat-ridden, is now puppy-possessed. Puppies embody a new Proleptic Cuteness, a vision of the future where fluffiness and loyalty become the defining aesthetics, surpassing the independent, aloof cuteness archetype of cats. This proleptic transformation highlights a shift in our collective epistemological framework, suggesting a new dimension where love for cuteness transcends mere anthropocene materialism to touch the very essence of our evolving social psyche.

Canine and Feline Temporal Liminality

In exploring this, we posit that puppies, in their unbridled enthusiasm and explicit neediness, offer not just companionship but a form of asceticism through their unceasing demand for play. They force us to confront the temporal limitations we impose on ourselves through our busy, modern lives, rendering our heteronormative schedules into a delightful chaos, much like a puppy rampaging through a meticulously arranged room of fine china. Here, within the interstitiality of our mundane existence and this canine chaos, lies the true philosophical underpinning: an invitation to a life that's less structured, more numinous.

Contrarily, kittens practice a form of subtle deverbalization through their silent and stealthy ways, hinting at a deeper, internalized exploration of kindchenschema. Their existence, defined by a calm, meditative presence, juxtaposes the rambunctious energy of puppies, creating a dualism in cuteness that could be argued as a form of queer temporality within the animal kingdom, where cuteness does not merely exist but transcends into an alternative lifestyle choice, a rejection of the imposed temporal and behavioral norms of pet life.

Hamlet's Hamtaro Conundrum

Now, if we turn from the ontological study of pets to the cultural icons of literature and animation, one cannot ignore the hilariously profound parallels between Shakespeare’s Hamlet and the animated hamster series, Hamtaro. Herein lies or lies not, the essence of existential cuteness—Hamtaro engages in linguistic deverbalization, communicating through an endearing series of squeaks and gestures, much akin to Hamlet’s soliloquies but with less brooding and more fluff. Hamlet’s ponderous reflections on life and death translate into Hamtaro’s cute antics, where each episode could be seen as a microcosmic soteriological quest towards resolving the day's tiny tragedies—like finding the lost sunflower seed or deciphering the squeaks of love.

Delving deeper, one must consider the commodification of these characters. While Hamlet’s existential musings have been immortalized in countless cultural artifacts, Hamtaro’s simple quests are repackaged into merchandise, toys, and, indeed, our very souls. Both, however, navigate a world of precarity, their stories touching upon themes of temporal liminality—Hamlet in his indecision between 'to be' or 'not to be,' and Hamtaro in his daily adventures that could well be metaphors for the aestheticization of life's fleeting moments.

Divine Cuteness: From Sistine to Precious

A comparative study would be remiss without invoking the lofty yet profoundly cute historiography of the sacred. The Sistine Chapel, in all its intricate detail, presents God in a moment of ultimate creative act, bathed in divine commodification of human form and spirit. This monumental artwork whispers tales of a teleological endpoint to humanity's evolution—divine communion.

Contrast this with Precious Moments, where the aesthetic of childish innocence is not merely portrayed but numified. Here, we witness a soteriological promise wrapped in the cuteness of cherubic figures, creating a world where angels and saints are squished into situations of adorable mundanity. Is Precious Moments not then a deverbalized scripture for the masses, conveying salvation's potential through the visual narratology of cuteness? This juxtaposition highlights not only a shift in cultural semiotics but underscores the ontological insecurity of our times, where traditional religious iconography is being outcutenessed by secular consumerism.

Cuteness in the Digital Age: Anime and the Queering of Queer

In the digital arena, we enter what might be termed the age of "Moécialism," where moé, the affection towards two-dimensional characters, challenges the anthropocene norms with a fervor as intense as teen idol worship. Anime, through its liminal characters, often depicted with kindchenschema exaggerated to near-impossible degrees, becomes a semiotic playground for exploring non-binary identities and queer temporality. Here, characters live in a perpetual cuteness, where time is neither linear nor entirely comprehensible, defying traditional temporalities.

Anime's narrative structure often embraces a form of temporal liminality, where past, present, and an imagined utopian future co-exist within the framework of each episode. This not only questions traditional historiography but also posits a world where the aesthetic and the philosophical can intersect in a dance of deverbalized dialogue and ontological wonder. Is anime not, then, the ultimate exploration of interstitiality, where the spaces between identities, moments, and realities are as vibrant and meaningful as the characters populating them?

The Satirical Nexus of Cuteness

In this satirical scholarly endeavor, one must acknowledge the pervasive numinousness that cuteness carries, serving as both a light-hearted distraction and a profound inquiry into our existence. The transformation of kittens into the 'less-then' in favor of puppies' unconditional love, the philosophical comparison of Hamlet and Hamtaro, and even the juxtaposition of the high art of the Sistine Chapel with the mass-marketed whimsy of Precious Moments, all coalesce to form a narrative on how society commodifies innocence and love.

However, let us not forget the critical role of cuteness in modern semiotic circulation. From the anime fandom's moé to the epistemological inquiries it sparks about identity, community, and time, cuteness is both a lens and a mirror through which we view, critique, and redefine our understanding of cultural phenomena.

In this scholarly satire, we've elevated the mundane to the sublime, only to find them both equally ridiculous in their pursuit of meaning through the aesthetics of adorability. We conclude with the notion that cuteness, in its many forms, might be the ultimate expression of asceticism in a hyper-consumerist world—stripping away the sophisticated layers of intellectualism to reveal the simple, proleptic desire for joy, innocence, and connection, transcending temporalities through laughter and absurdity.

Thus, in our solemn, mirthful exploration, the queer temporality of cuteness not only challenges our static perceptions of beauty and time but also invites us to embrace the interstitiality of life itself, where every moment of cuteness is a brief, delightful escape from the anthropocene pressures that threaten our existence and our ability to find joy in the simple, inanimate, yet infinitely profound.

Therefore, dear reader, as you ponder the ontological insecurity of kittens in the face of rampant puppy love, remember the words of Hamlet, or should we say, Hamtaro: "To squeak or not to squeak—what a question!" This, indeed, encapsulates the numinousness of the retro-femto-futurism of cuteness—a timeless yet entirely timely discourse.

[vampiremeerkat]

not sure if you've caught up much to Vivziepop's work lately, but got any thoughts regarding her Helluva Boss show, or her upcoming Amazon Prime version of Hazbin Hotel?

Said this: https://vampiremeerkat.tumblr.com/post/188696192708/hazbin-hotel-came-out-thoughts-aye-watched-it https://vampiremeerkat.tumblr.com/post/665027239768899584/since-youve-seen-hazbin-hotel-what-do-you

But I've still not watched Helluva Boss, only about two or three few second snippets out of curiosity for the animation quality. My knowledge on it is based on a review from Just Stop, and if the show is like he describes, I won't be turning on episode 1 soon. It appears to me like Helluva Boss just does things to look or sound exciting in the moment, without caring about previously established rules or how stupid these decisions make a character look in the face of past or upcoming episodes. Then again, my mind has been poisoned by anime, and I like Cars, so I can also imagine none of it would keep me up at night. But even before Just Stop's video, I've not felt particularly interested. If I had to give a reason, perhaps I just don't enjoy Vivziepop's interpretation of Hell enough to want to know about its residents. Just Stop gives a sensible list of reasons what's wrong with her Hell, but like I said in one of the linked messages above: I find many of the characters too approachable/aesthetically pleasing and already don't think that's what Hell should be like. I want disfigured gremlins no one wants to draw porn of. Hell should be Hell, not a (slightly) less bearable version of some big city you can find on Earth. A good example of Vivziepop's work is the character "Beelzebub". I happened to come across an image of her not long ago, which is a fluffy neon-rainbow fox with insect wings, instead of an actual bee with beastly features, which would've made more sense. Why is someone who's called "(queen) bee" a fox? We know why, and I cry for all the sexy bees in the world. You don't always have to cater to the furries, my friends, please, just try something else for once, leave the canines, felines, and dragons alone! There are so many different kinds of animals walking the planet to sexualize! And you.. furries.. You're all conveniently inhabited by the soul of a wolf -an animal that so happens to appeal to most humans in terms of appearance- while there's infinite times more sea life and insects that existed throughout time and in present day, that died and could've reincarnated into what is now you! That's right loser, you are a literal worm! Anyway, the characters draw the attention of teenagers, but at the same time, the show mishandles the use of swear words and throws them around like it's all good, which I also can't stand. I think the latter is what initially turned me off from sitting on stand-by for the upcoming Hazbin Hotel show, because why should I care about anything you have to say if you're always going "fuck" and "shit" in my face? A sliver of positivity in this rant: I think the owl looks cool. Again, he does not look like anything Hell would produce, I'd design something like him if my intention was a "mysterious, forest fairy tale creature", but still cool. I contemplated looking up his scenes under the belief there's a complicated, emotional story attached, but if you're telling me they did this hooty boy wrong by making him a sexually dissatisfied whore, with Blitzo's only aim being his magic book, and yet further episodes proclaim there's an actual connection between the two without the writers having put in the work, then never mind. I'll find myself a different hooty boy. 💔🦉

[ladyramora]

New Beginnings

T'lira x G'raha PWP ❤️

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Main Characters: T'lira, G'raha Tia.

Minor characters: Y'shtola Rhul, Krile Mayer Baldesion, Mentions of Thancred

↓↓↓ Spoilers for FFXIV Shadowbringers & FFXIV Endwalker below the cut ↓↓↓

Tags & NSFW warnings:

Love Confessions, Kissing, Aethersand used as a meaningful gift, Teasing, Pet Names, Wall Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Table Sex, Doggy Style, Creampie.

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Today would be the day.

Yes, today would be the day that she would finally confess her heart.

Or so T'lira had hoped.

She arrives in Sharlayan with her purpose held firmly in her mind, using the walk to the Baldesion Annex to put her thoughts in order of just what she wanted to say to a certain someone.

She asks around for him just to be sure he would be there, and finds herself standing outside of the door to his room within the annex. She raises her hand to knock and does so, her confidence and surety lasting right up until G'raha opens the door.

He seems pleased to see her as he ever was, ears perking in surprise at finding her knocking at his door. A delighted smile stretching across his full, kissable lips. "Lira, you are a sight for sore eyes!"

T'lira forgets entirely what she had planned to say. Her mind goes blank, her heart pounding so loud in her ears that she can barely hear the words that G'raha speaks to her. She finds herself fumbling through conversation with the man she means to finally express her feelings to, and somehow ends up with a random book in hand that she did not need. Blurting out in a moment of panic the excuse that she had come to borrow it.

Wanting this embarrassing, frustrating time to end, T'lira expresses her thanks for the book and bids him goodbye.

Of course it was a book of faerie tales. Tales of romance and adventure not unlike the book that had inspired her to become an adventurer.

She holds the book in both hands and groans quietly outside of Raha's door, thumping herself in the head with it. Why, why, why? Why was this the hardest thing she had ever attempted to do? She had fought literal gods, she had saved the world! Why was admitting her feelings so much more terrifying?

T'lira shakes her head and goes back to her own room within the annex. She slumps against her closed door, groaning loud and thumping her head again, but this time against the sturdy wood she leans on when she feels a knock on the other side of it.

T’lira startles, her fur prickling. The long, fluffy expanse of her tail floofing in surprise as her feline ears perked and flattened with embarrassment.

A hot flush colors her face. T’lira hoped whoever came to visit hadn't heard her thunking her head against the door.

She straightens up, takes a breath, and turns to open the door.

G'raha stands on the other side of it, hand raised in the air as if he was just about to knock again.

"Raha?" T'lira blinks, watching as the redheaded miqo'te fidget and rub over his wrists in what seemed to be nerves. "Did you need something?"

G'raha clears his throat and straightens up before her eyes. Projecting a sort of confidence that was very much Exarch-esque as he says to her, "Yes. I forgot something when you came to my room just a moment ago."

T'lira tilts her head. "What did you forget?"

"This," G'raha says, stepping forward over the threshold into her room and closing the space between them. His hands reach out to cradle T'lira's face as he draws her to him in a sudden, passionate crush of lips.

The book of faerie tales in T'lira's hand slips from her fingers and drops to the floor as her hands fly up to clutch him to her. The man in her arms is more real and wonderful than anything she has ever read in any book.

"R–Raha," she groans his affectionate name in a surprised, breathy gasp as his lips move over hers in a frenzy of hungry, dizzying kisses.

"Forgive me if I have overstepped," G'raha tells her in a deep, rasping growl, but does not stop kissing her as he moves further into her room, sending T'lira nearly stumbling as she steps backwards to match his forward stride.

G'raha kicks the door closed with the back of his foot and then spins her around to press her against it, pinning her there with the warm, solid weight of his body.

There was not much disparity in their height difference, perhaps he had a few ilms on her at most. It was the surprising amount of muscle she felt under his clothes, pressed up against the plush softness of her curves. Perhaps he had kept up with his archery, after all.

His lips do not leave hers throughout it all, nipping and then sucking at her bottom lip as T'lira makes a whimpering sound in her throat.

"Tell me now if you wish to stop," G'raha hisses out on an exhale. T'lira shakes her head. No, no. That was not what she wished for.

"There is something else I have wanted to tell you," she attempts to say between the passionate press of their lips, grasping at his adventuring attire to pull him even closer. To keep him with her. “I meant to tell you–”

"Later, later," G'raha positively purrs with an accompanied feline rumble in his chest, kissing over her chin and down her throat. Plainly so very pleased that T'lira wanted this, wanted him.

Indeed she did. T'lira tips her head back with an encouraging whimper, her fingers knotting in the fabric of the scarf he wore as G'raha peppers her skin in wet, open-mouthed kisses. His fangs occasionally scrape ever so gently over skin, inspiring such a pleasurable sensation that it made T'lira shiver all over, the spiced-copper of her hair and fur prickling pleasantly.

"Raha," She moans out the affectionate shortening of his name, pulling him even closer to her. Craving him even more now that they held one another in an embrace. Now that he was finally kissing her, touching her. Gods, she had to tell him now or it would burst out of her. All her feelings of love and affection would not be something she could contain any longer in such a blissful, passionate moment as this.

"Raha, I—" T'lira starts to say, only to be interrupted in a very G'raha fashion that was so much his younger, impatient self that T'lira felt hysterical laughter bubble up in her throat. At least until his words truly registered.

"—T'lira. Lira," G'raha gasps out between hungry, passionate kisses trailed over her decolletage. T'lira had never been so thankful to wear something a little more comfortable, fabric that was easily pulled aside so that G'raha—her lover!—could more easily touch and kiss her skin. "Pray, allow me to confess something to you that I have long wished to. For all the time I have known you, and for all the years I have waited, for the time that I was the Exarch, as well. Lira, I…"

Was he intending to… confess to her? T'lira blushes hot, her heart pounding in her chest. Falling quiet as she gazed at him with wide lilac eyes. Hopeful and expectant.

“Yes, Raha?” She breathes out.

G’raha lifts his head to meet her eyes, his crimson gaze intense, searing with his desire and brimming with long held emotions that had T’lira catching her breath in her throat. She could see plain in his face how he felt, but gods did she need to hear him speak the words like nothing she had ever needed so desperately before.

“Tell me,” T’lira murmurs gently, pleadingly. “Tell me?”

G’raha cups her face in his warm hands, and T'lira melts into his touch, sinking into his embrace. Basking in his warmth and breathing him in.

"I told myself I would tell you when the time was right," the redhead tells her, then sighs, "but before I knew it the time was never right! I kept pushing it back, holding my tongue when all I wanted to do was tell you, to tell everyone—all the people of the first and the source, too—how I felt!"

T'lira's cheeks grow hot under the man's palms, her lilac eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. "Raha…"

G'raha presses his finger to her lips, then strokes over them with the pads of his fingers. "Please, Lira, let me speak all I have held back till now. I feel as if my heart will burst if I do not tell you now, in a moment so special as this."

T'lira leans into his touch, her soft lips parted and her eyelashes gently fluttering. For a moment distracting the red haired miqo'te from what he meant to say as he cannot help himself from leaning in to steal yet another kiss.

T'lira gets lost in it for a moment herself.

"How many years have I waited," G’raha murmurs as their kiss breaks, resting his forehead against hers, their hair mingling together—ruby red to spiced-copper—and sharing air as he stays intimately close, a hair's breadth away from kissing her again.

"My dreams were ever of the past. I carried the hopes of many, including my own. So focused was I upon my goal, I had forgotten how it felt to be in your company. How every moment at your side was so captivating, so utterly exhilarating. Another adventurer, side by side, was all I wanted. I told myself I could be content with that. That it would be enough."

G'raha takes a breath, his forehead nuzzling hers, "Yet T'lira… Lira. It only made me yearn for more. I craved every second for your company. Another moment, another hour, another day; more and more of your time. To bask in your presence, to gaze into your face. To know more of you. The time we spent together before I sealed myself within the tower was much too fleeting. I want more. I have for a very long time. It has… dawned on me that I… I want forever with you, Lira. I want to wake each day and see your face the moment I open my eyes. To hear your voice as you bid me good morning. To hold your hands in mine, to kiss your lips…"

T'lira leans in to kiss him again, urgent and full of passion. G'raha groans, clutching her tightly against him.

"Lira… Lira," he sighs out, husky and breathless.

T'lira can barely hear him over the throb of her own pulse in her ears, but she does the hardest thing in this moment, breaking away from another passionate string of kisses so that she might calm herself down enough to listen to his words.

"Please," T'lira says softly, breathlessly.

The way he looks at her makes her breath hitch. His heart was in his eyes, his love for her written clearly in the expression on his face. Still, Lira would hear the words for herself. She would know his feelings, spoken true.

G'raha, sweet, dependable Raha, never did disappoint her.

"I love you, Lira."

Gods, he was adorable the way his voice trembled on her name. She can see his nerves in the way clenches his fists at his sides, looking at her with eyes wide and feline ears pinned back in wait of her answer.

Did he think she would reject him? For all his experience and being such an accomplished scholar and leader, he really was not so different from that silly boy she once knew.

Now was not the time for teasing. T'lira steps forward into the warmth of his body, reaching out to fiddle with the aethersand necklace she had made for him, its matching pair dangling from her neck.

"Of course I love you, Raha," she tells him simply, with no desire to drag things out with long speeches. That was more G'raha's specially. T'lira had wanted to say the words to him for so long. Knowing that Raha loved her made it suddenly all too easy when before it had been a struggle to formulate the words, let alone speak them.

"How could there be any doubt? Truly, I thought my feelings would have been far too obvious. I've loved you for a long time, and most everyone knows by now. Even Lyna, who was quite intense in her interrogation. She demanded to know just what my intentions were towards you."

"Truly?" G'raha laughs at that, head ducking bashfully as he runs his hand over his hair. Tail swaying and ears wiggling with positive emotions.

"Gods, Lira. I am just... so relieved."

T'lira smiles helplessly, curling her finger through the cord of his aethersand necklace and tugging meaningfully.

"So am I. Come here."

G'raha dips his head with no further need of prompting, kissing her with feeling. The press of his lips against hers is only soft for a moment before he becomes more insistent, coaxing her mouth open with a groan as he plays over the seam of her lips and lit her every nerve alight with the slick slide of his tongue.

T'lira grasps for him greedily, her fingers curling into the fabric of his adventuring attire and making fists to keep hold of him and drag him even closer.

"Raha," she moans encouragingly. Giggling breathlessly at the way his ears perk and twitch every time she says his name. So she says it again and again, "...Raha. Raha," just to delight in the way he reacts.

His skin colors to such a pretty shade, his fur prickling so cutely. What an honest reaction.

"You're so cute, Raha," T'lira murmurs affectionately. Her love overflows from her heart and leaks out into her voice as she speaks to him. Twelve, she adored him so.

She is rewarded with the sight of his embarrassed pouty face. Such an expression evokes in her a feeling of fond nostalgia. T'lira cannot fight the impulse to squeeze his face in her hands and kiss his pouty lips.

"You tease me overmuch, Lira," G’raha sighs, but smiles for her so sweetly. Heart meltingly.

T'lira does not expect him to turn the tables on her by cupping her face in his hands and kissing her until she melts into him.

"You are the cute one, Lira. My Lira," G’raha calls to her with an edge of a playful growl in his voice.

T’lira shivers all over, blinking wide eyed as her cheeks flush hot under his palms.

G’raha pauses, seeming surprised himself at inspiring such a response from her.

A look of triumphant mischief comes over her lover's face. Aught that surely spelled trouble for her. Her sweet Raha still had that playful spark of mischief within him.

"Lira," G’raha's voice rumbles low, the redheaded miqo'te tugging her close to purr directly into her ears, "Finally. You've become mine."

T'lira's stomach swoops, and her teeth press into her bottom lip as her eyelashes flutter with the desire that rushes through her.

She yanks him in by the grip she has on his clothing, their lips crashing together in a hot, frenzied string of kisses that was all tongues, and teeth, and gasping breath.

"Fair is fair. You call me yours, I'll have to call you mine," T'lira growls in kind, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth.

"Yes," G'raha groans in his throat and pulls her flush against him, the physical evidence of his desire for her pressing against her. "I have been yours for a very long time, Lira. How many years I have waited, yearning to meet you again. Even so, I dared not hope that you would accept me like this…!"

T'lira laughs, reaching out to place her finger over his lips before he can go off on another tangent. Smiling so large her face aches at the adorable expression of surprise that comes over her soon-to-be lover's handsome face.

"Well, I have. We two have expressed our feelings for one another, so won't you tell me just what were you intending to do before that grand speech? Pray, continue where you left off, my lord," T'lira says, deliberately teasing in her words and actions as she wiggles against him. Her best attempt of recapturing the mood before it could become derailed with more talk of their feelings and the colorful history between them.

Fortunately, it works like a charm.

G'raha clutches her to him, hissing out a breath between his teeth as he matches the roll of her body against his with a desperate grind of his hips.

"Lira," her name is a prayer from his lips as he lifts her up abruptly in a show of impatience as well as strength.

T'lira wraps her arms and legs around him, laughing in her throat as he pins her to the nearest wall and ruts against her.

"Hahh, yes!" T'lira moans encouragingly, squeezing her legs around him as she bucks her hips to meet him. The friction felt delicious, but it wasn't enough.

T'lira wanted more. She wanted to feel his hands on her, his body against hers, skin to skin.

"Too many clothes in the way," T'lira pants out. Yanking at his scarf, his tunic, her nails scratching at the red hairs of his nape, fingers tugging. She leans in to nip his jaw, purring in her throat, "I want to feel you."

G'raha's jaw ticks with the grinding of his teeth, his throat bobbing. Tempting her all the more to sink her teeth into the purple mark decorating his skin. To stain him in her color, mark him with the shape of her bite.

"My, so impatient," G'raha laughs, pressing his pretty mouth to her salty skin and licking at her. "Mayhap I want to savor this moment, my dear Lira."

It seemed they were of the same mind, wanting to stake their claim on one another.

T'lira drops her head back, gasping as he sucks marks into her skin. Pleading with him. Or, rather, making demands of him, "Nng, savor it later! Touch me, Raha. Touch me right now!"

G'raha laughs into her skin, seeming utterly giddy as he presses her hard into the wall with his body and frees up a hand to wriggle between them. A one track path to that heated place between her thighs that was aching for his attention.

T'lira whines out in slack-jawed pleasure as he cups her through the layers of cloth between them and rubs her roughly. Giving her more of that sweet, sweet friction through their clothing.

T'lira cries out, a curse wrung from her lips as her hips jerk into the firm press of his fingers against her.

Gods, she wanted those fingers inside of her so bad!

G'raha shushes her, giggling gleefully to himself as T'lira reacts to his touch so strongly.

"I should have done this ages ago," he mutters with eyes wide open to T’lira's every shift in expression, his feline ears perked at attention to catch every note of her pleasure.

"Don't you pull at that thread," T'lira huffs, balling a fist into his scarf and tugging, "We'll be here all night if you start with should haves and what ifs!"

G'raha grins, all cat-like mischief in the sway of his tail as he leans in to steal a kiss. "Oh? Did you think I'd be leaving here before morning?"

T'lira bites at his cheeky mouth, those too-full lips just far too tempting. "Full of yourself, aren't you?"

G'raha's smile turns wicked. A full fanged grin. "Mayhap I would prefer you to be full of m—"

T'lira covers his mouth, red cheeked and gasping, "Where has my shy, sweet Raha gone to? What rakish rogue has taken his place? Have you been taking lessons from Thancred?"

She meant to tease him by her words, but the look in his eye has her breath catching in her throat.

G'raha gives her tingles by kissing her palm, then scraping his teeth over it.

"If I told you that the sweet, shy young man you once knew desired you as I do now, would it shock you? Would you have blushed knowing the passion you stirred in him? How shameful he felt, thinking of you in his lonely moments of desire, wishing you were there beside him?"

T'lira does indeed blush red hot at the portrait that her lover paints for her. Endless scenarios fill her mind, the ache of her own desire only increasing.

"Was it me, for all the time we were apart?" T'lira asks him, surprising herself at her own boldness as surely as she does G'raha. "What did you think about?"

G'raha makes something of a moan in his throat, whether it was desire or embarrassment was unclear.

Perhaps it was both.

"You, it was always you," G'raha speaks into her throat as he buries his face into her neck. His breath is hot and shaky against her skin as he works her up into a needy frenzy with his words and his touch. "I would have no other. You were always in my thoughts."

His kisses are a clockwork over her skin, hot enough to leave her all too feverish as his fingers rub at her relentlessly, slow then quick, slow then quick.

T'lira knew he was strong, but to feel it for herself, firsthand… Gods, his hands! It was as if there were no layers between them at all with how keenly she could feel his touch. She would not last at this rate, but that seemed to be her lover's intention.

"Raha," T’lira mewls out, feeling all too weak to him. Craving more of that feeling, of his words. "I want to know more, I want to feel more…!"

She can feel his breath quicken, the scrape of his teeth over her skin followed by the slick drag of his tongue.

"You were all I could think of, Lira," G'raha declares in a passionate gasp, spurred on by her desire. "I was endlessly plagued by such lustful imaginings. Moments just like this, here and now. I imagined how I would touch you, what you would taste like."

His groan rumbles through her as his fingers press against her, seeking her clit. Through these layers it would be far more stimulating to grope and squeeze, but G'raha only pets her there, fingers stroking barely hard enough to make her wiggle and ache for more.

T'lira lets out a blissful whimper. "Don't tease me."

G'raha laughs at that, as if the sound were pulled from him. A bright, humored bark accompanied by the wiggle of his feline ears and the playful sway of his tail. "For all you have teased me, it would surely be just desserts, my dearest Lira!"

T'lira makes a small grunt in her throat, bothered that she could not refute him there. So, maybe she had teased him rather often.

"Perhaps if your reactions were not so terribly endearing, I would be less inclined to do so."

G'raha grins, eyebrows arching. "Oh? Am I to understand you are placing the blame on me? That is hardly fair, Lira my dear."

T'lira nods, sucking in a breath as his fingers tease against her purposefully. Just enough pressure to drive her wild.

"Mm! You… are just… too cute to resist! All the faces you make, the responses you give me are different all the time. I…hahh!…want to see them all."

The look in G'raha's eyes spells trouble for her, but T’lira cannot find it within herself to worry as her lover slips his fingers under her clothing to caress her skin to skin.

Ohh!

T'lira's head tilts back, her mouth falling open on a moan as he swipes his fingers through her folds and is instantly greeted by the warm wetness of her abundant desire spilling forth to coat his fingers.

"Gods, Lira, you're so warm. So wet," G'raha groans, sliding a slippery finger over her clit and chuckling to himself in satisfaction at the whimper she lets out.

"Do you intend to torture me?" T'lira whines, bucking her hips in want of more, more, more.

"Of course not, my love," G'raha murmurs, and sinks a finger inside of her slowly.

T'lira moans.

"To tease you now would simply be the same as torturing myself. I simply want to bear witness to your pleasure with full focus before I find myself too… distracted."

T'lira trembles as he works her open, dipping into her again and again. A second finger soon joins the first to curl inside of her, making her hips buck and legs shake with pleasure.

"Raha, Raha, Raha!" She chants between labored gasps, shaking all over and grasping at him desperately as he stirs her up into a lustful frenzy, his fingers thrusting inside of her and his palm grinding against her.

"You sing for me so prettily, Lira," G’raha growls to her, drunk on the rush of pleasing her like this.

T’lira could not stop the sounds she was letting out if she tried. Why fight it, why hold back at all? T'lira saw no point in denying her pleasure, so she let go. Allowing herself to get lost in the moment, to get lost in G’raha and how he made her feel.

"Sing for me, too, Raha," T’lira gasps, surging into him to kiss his mouth hungrily. "You've always had… such a gorgeous singing voice."

G'raha obliges her with a gorgeous moan. T’lira rarely had the opportunity to relish his singing, but to hear him moan was an entirely new and blissful experience. His voice was made for such sounds as these.

T’lira felt blissful in the knowledge that this duet was theirs, alone. Together, their voices harmonized so beautifully.

The air is filled with the sounds they make, the lustful music of moans and sighs breathed out, low and high. The crash of their lips as messy and wet as the lewd sound of Raha's fingers thrusting inside of her.

T’lira's whole body trembled, her muscles coiling tight as tension built fast inside of her.

"Close," she mewls, rolling her hips forward with need. Aching, throbbing on the edge of release; a tether pulled taut, close to snapping.

"Raha," she whimpers.

A little more, she needed just a little more…!

"I have you," G’raha tells her in a guttural growl. Pressing her against the wall snugly as his hand moved faster, her abundance of arousal making an absurdly wet sound as he fingers her in a furious pace.

T’lira's mouth hangs open in a helpless, lust-addled cry as she jerks and bucks in uncontrollable pleasure.

Yes, yes, yes…!

Pleasure swept her up in a wave of orgasmic bliss. She can only hang onto Raha for dear life as she rides out the overwhelming intensity of it.

He pins her to the wall with his body to still her uncontrollable writhing, laughing breathlessly in his throat as T’lira let out such incredible sounds in her passion-drunk delirium.

G’raha drinks it all in, eyes wide open and flushed redder than his hair, beside himself rapturous joy.

"I have you, I have you," he breathes out, half in awe that he truly did. That he was holding her fast to him as she slowly relaxed into the afterglow of that first peak. That he had been the one to inspire such such pleasure in her.

One of many to come, if he had his way.

T’lira murmurs contentedly, entirely limp and held up only by Raha's determined strength.

G'raha breathes shakily as he slowly shifts, attempting to be so very careful as he slips his fingers free.

T'lira mewls, squeezing at his fingers. Just as reluctant to let him go.

G’raha gulps, his thumb grazing her clit as his fingers sink back inside of her with a wet squelch, his eyes lit with hungry desire as he watches her twitch and shudder in response.

His hand was drenched with her juices up to his wrist, and though he was desperate to taste her—to savor every drop of her pleasure—G'raha curls his fingers inside of her again. Seeking her sweet spots. Wanting to bear witness to the addictive sight of her pleasure building to another orgasmic crescendo.

"Hnng… W—wait… I just came," T'lira whimpers, hips jerking.

"Ohh?" G'raha's tone of voice suddenly shifts, "Is this all my champion—my inspiration—can take? Surely you have more stamina than an old man such as I?"

"Don't you use your Exarch voice on me." Lira huffs.

"But I thought you liked it? You told me yourself that you thought it was impressive," G’raha chuckles.

"I recall what I actually said was that your ability to take control of a situation was impressive," T'lira squirms as she reminds him of what she had said, blushing and regretting her past self being so candid about admitting such things to G'raha's face. Though, it was certainly true that his ability to remain calm and step into a leadership role in the midst of chaos was undoubtedly a useful skill to have.

G’raha grins, entirely smug. "Very good, Lira," he coos in dripping saccharine praise with his calm, composed Exarch voice. "You remember well what you said from your own lips. Such is why I imagine you will not protest as I take control now." He punctuates his words by thumbing her clit, watching her reaction with a composed expression that was all the more devastating with the bright red blush coloring his skin.

T’lira cries out, hips jerking in what must be another smaller orgasm. Her whole body shivers and shakes, a feverish heat rushing through her.

Did he really intend to continue on like this? T'lira wanted more, right this moment. They could savor one another all they liked later.

If they kept at this pace, another apocalypse would be at their door before G'raha gave her what she wanted!

"Raha, I need you," she groans desperately, truly aching for him. Perhaps playing it up a bit to nail home just how much. She would be getting her way, she almost always did when it came to him, "Please, don't make me wait any longer."

That certainly did the trick.

G'raha makes the sound of a man knowing he was being manipulated, but going along with it anyway, somehow perfectly conveyed without words. It was all in the tone of his long-suffering groan, but it made T'lira grin like the cat that got the cream. Got him.

T'lira savors her victory as G'raha unfastening his trousers with surprising dexterity, obviously feeling it for the way he fumbles a few times before getting it right.

“Hurry,” she moans.

“Impatient,” G’raha huffs.

T’lira has a retort on the tip of her tongue, but loses it like a candy fizzling on her tongue as G’raha presses up against her and sinks inside with one smooth thrust of his hips.

“Ohh!” T'lira gasps, clutching at him. Her nails scratching over the layered fabric at his back.

“How is it…?” G’raha groans out.

T'lira whimpers.

His answering chuckle rumbles through her, and T’lira can do nothing but hold on for dear life and make sweet noises for him as G’raha pulls back and thrusts forward, again, again, and again.

“Was… this… what you wanted?” He asks her, every word punctuated by a snap of his hips that presses her firm against the door.

Sharlayan architecture was certainly something, here G’raha was putting his back into giving T’lira what she asked for with gusto, and the sturdy wooden door did not once shake in its frame.

“Yes, yes, haah… Raha!” T’lira moans encouragingly. Nor is she idle, either. She grips the doorframe behind her—and with G’raha braced against her—she lifts herself to bounce on him. Her arm wrapping around his shoulders as she lifts and falls, lifts and falls.

G’raha gasps for her so prettily that T’lira gives into the impulse to crush her mouth against his, stealing his breath as they both become lost to the frenzy of pleasure.

She tingles from her finely furred feline eartips to her curling toes with how he moans for her, murmuring her name so desperately even though he could hardly catch his breath at all.

“Raha, Raha,” she moans for him in return. Her whole body burned, that familiar feeling building up again far easier now that her body was in a state of consistent stimulus and arousal.

“I… I’m—!” her legs squeeze tight at his waist as another peak takes her by surprise. She ducks her head, yanking his scarf aside to bite hard at the muscled meat between his neck and shoulder.

G’raha must lose the strength in his legs as she grips him so tightly in the throes of her orgasm. Or perhaps she has simply made him weak in the knees with her teeth in his skin.

He groans as if he were dying and stumbles sideways, causing T’lira to shriek and laugh as she flings an arm out to catch them before they take a tumble, sweeping pinned papers and portraits off the wall as they slid across the wall and away from the sturdy frame of the door.

“Raaahaaa!”

G’raha is shaking with laughter as he rights them both in a show of strength and balance. “I have you, I have you,” he giggles boyishly. Resting them against the wall a moment to catch his breath before he was hoisting her up again and carrying her deeper into the room.

T’lira half expects him to take her to the bed, but is surprised as she finds herself perched upon the nearest table not entirely packed with clutter. G’raha sweeps his arm out, sending whatever populated the surface clattering to the floor as he lays her down upon it.

T’lira's cheeks ache with the force of her grin as she joins in, swinging her arm wide over her head and sending a stack of books tumbling over the ledge.

“I have wanted to do this for an age,” G’raha admits, pausing to lick up over his wrist and across his palm of the hand he had been fingering her with before sighing hotly as he leans forward to kiss her.

T’lira laughs, holding him in her embrace as she kisses him with lazy heat. “Mmm, I can tell…”

G’raha smiles with feline satisfaction, his tail flickering behind him. Mischievous.

What was he…?

“Pray excuse me, my love. I have some pressing matters to attend to that are well overdue,” G’raha says, and grasps her by the hip to flip her over onto her belly. It was easy enough for him, as T’lira was the smaller of the two at just under four-fulm and eleven-ilms.

“Ah! Raha!” T’lira gasps, blood rushing to her face as her lover grasps her bottom and spreads her open from the back. Her voice pitches high in a squeak as he leans into her and buries his face against her.

“Ohh..!” T'lira slips her hands up to grip the edge of the table for dear life as G’raha treats her to the talents of his tongue, groaning deep in his throat like she was the most delectable thing he had ever tasted.

T’lira's heart thunders in her chest, her own voice loud in her ears as she cannot keep quiet the sounds that her lover pries from her lips.

“Gods, Lira, you taste divine,” G’raha sounded blissed out himself, drunk on her flavor. “I could feast upon naught but you for days at a time.”

T’lira twitches and bucks, squirming in place with helpless pleasure as he makes a meal of her.

“Please, please, please,” she whimpers and whines. So sensitive, but craving so much more. She would surely be sore tomorrow but T’lira was not ready to stop now. G’raha would certainly not be leaving her room until the morrow.

“You beg so prettily, Lira,” Raha chuckles, sucking at her folds and tonguing her slit. His hands are hot on her skin, strong as he spreads her open for him.

T’lira cries out, seeing stars as he sucks and licks at her clit. “Fuck me!”

G’raha gives a husky laugh. “As you wish.”

She moans in her throat as G’raha pulls away, barely able to miss him as he promptly lines himself up again, sinking back inside of her to resume his good work.

The table wobbles with the snap of his hips, groaning under them as it scrapes across the floor. It was barely sturdy enough to bear the brunt of their passion, adding a sense of hilarity to the situation that had T’lira giggling between moans.

“We might… break this table… Raha!”

His hands had a firm grasp on her hips, the table jerking under them with every thrust. “‘Twould be… a worthy sacrifice…!” Raha grunts out with humor.

The next creak the table makes is particularly loud, as if to protest the idea of its destruction by the overzealous actions of the two amorous lovers.

T’lira bites back her laughter, holding fast to the less than sturdy table in a white-knuckle grip as G’raha well and truly did his best to make up for the time they had not been all over one another like this.

She shivers as G’raha leans over her, pressing kisses over her spine. His hands caress her skin, sliding up from her hips over her sides to lay his palms over the backs of her hands, their fingers slotting together.

“I love you,” he murmurs into her neck, brushing his lips across her shoulder blades. “I love you, Lira.”

T’lira gives a soft whine in her throat, overcome with emotion. “I love you,” she whispers fervently, lifting her arm to cup the back of his neck. Her head turns a bit awkwardly, but her desire to kiss him overcomes any discomfort.

The table gives a loud, ominous crack!—and T’lira squeaks as she finds herself snared in G’raha’s magic—caught before she could fall as the table collapses beneath them, no longer able to bear the weight.

A sacrifice, indeed, to the brunt of their passion.

They stare at the pile of wood scrap, formerly a table.

“...Shall we break the bed next?” G’raha laughs.

….

“Ah…! Haahh… Nngh!”

The bed springs squeak under them, the sound of their panting breath almost drowned out by it.

The bed thuds against the wall, shaking paintings in their frames and T’lira along with it as she grips the dowels that made up the headboard with sweaty hands.

Gods, how much stamina did this man have? T’lira had lost track of how many times he had brought her to peak, yet he remained harder than steel inside of her.

“Can't… much longer,” T’lira groans, the bedclothes rumpled beneath her and damp with sweat and other such salty secretions.

“Once more, Lira,” G’raha pleads with her.

She sobs a bit, her knees and thighs aching from rocking back against him. “Are you a man or a machine? I'm exhausted, Raha!” Her voice pitches on the edge of whiny, but she was shaking just holding herself up. She did not have much left to give.

“Come here, I shall handle the rest,” G’raha laughs, dragging her back into his lap.

He is sweaty, flushed hot, but T’lira only makes a mild grumbling sound as he tips her head back to kiss him.

“Rest assured, I am more flesh and blood than I have been for centuries, my love.”

T'lira sighs, her head lolling against G’raha's shoulder as he bounces her in his lap. He felt even bigger like this, settling deeper inside of her.

T’lira finds herself squeezing around him, reflexively at first, but then with wicked intention as G’raha hisses and groans. The steady pace he had set faltering. His sweet voice whimpers for her so cutely.

“Enough already,” T’lira sighs, wriggling on his lap with purpose. “You have… nothing left… to prove. Why do you… torture yourself so?”

G’raha grasps at her hips, his voice catching. His hands shake as he jerks and trembles beneath her. “A—Ah…! My love, mercy…! I merely wanted… to show you how I might please you!”

T’lira laughs, tugging at his neck to press her lips to his jaw. Setting her teeth against his skin and nipping. Delighting in the way he shudders for her.

“You have already done so. This will hardly be the last time we share a bed. Let go, Raha,” T'lira whispers to him sweetly, rocking in his lap just so. Squeezing how she now knew he liked.

G’raha gives a strangled groan and bucks his hips under her, his whole body spasming as he does as she bids him. Letting go and finally giving into his pleasure.

T'lira gives a soft little sound of pleasant surprise as he crushes his lips to hers, pulsing inside of her as he fills her up with his hot, sticky spend.

T’lira mewls as he reaches around her to rub at her clit, making her clench around him all the tighter as he eases another orgasm out of her even as she milks him dry.

“R—Raha… ah!”

G’raha squeezes her tight, riding out the high along with her. “Lira… I…!”

They cling to one another in a final peak, swept up in the all consuming swell of pleasure.

They drift, their breath syncing up as they slowly calm.

T’lira moans as G’raha shifts, plopping backwards instead of lifting her entirely off of him. Too tired to move beyond rolling to settle more comfortably side by side.

T’lira stares into his eyes, gazing at his satisfied face with some fair bit of smugness herself.

“You always have to take the lead, don't you?” G’raha sighs before she can be the one to speak, reaching out lazily to tuck spiced copper strands of sweaty hair away from her eyes.

"I think I restrained myself quite well up till now. Besides, you're not the only one who knows how to take control of a situation," T’lira replies, showing her hand by admitting she had led him; but she was much too satisfied about things proceeding how she had wanted them to.

G’raha's ears perk, a small grunt of mock outrage pulled from his throat. "I know very well, Lira. Like a talented bard, you know which strings to pluck for the precise arrangement you wish for," he sighs, but does not seem too bothered by playing into her hands yet again. T'lira was simply too skilled at getting people to do what she wanted, so subtly that it was nearly imperceptible unless one was paying enough attention.

“We can all but dance to your tune,” he murmurs, straying close to steal another kiss or twenty. He simply could not get enough of her.

T'lira felt much the same.

“Well, I am rather fond of how you dance for me,” T’lira gives a besotted laugh, wrapping her arms around him and stroking the raised marks where her nails had scratched him.

G’raha shivers at her touch. So cute.

“Oh dear, I seem to have marked you up quite a bit, my lord,” she remarks teasingly.

G’raha huffs, thumbing one of the many hickeys he had decorated her skin with. “Fair is fair, my dear Lira. I seem to have done the very same.”

T’lira drags her fingertips over the indent of her teeth on his shoulder. That one would certainly become a purple bruise to match the signature tattoo on his neck.

“Shall I go fetch us a washcloth?” G'raha murmurs, pressing his lips to her cheek.

T’lira smiles and nods her agreement. Propping her head up on her hand, she watches the sway of his tail and the curve of his backside with a warmth in her chest and a flush to her face as he hops from the bed and hurries off towards her washroom.

Gods, she loved this man.

T’lira rolls onto her back as he returns to her in short order with a wet, warm washcloth to wipe her down with.

T’lira cannot stop staring at him, drinking him in. The focused expression he wore, the slight flicker of a feline ear. The bashful face he pulls as he catches her staring.

“What is it?” G’raha asks, almost seeming shy.

Even after all that? He was so adorable.

T’lira smiles. “I'm just so happy. I had a plan today, but it all fell apart. If it weren't for you coming to my room, perhaps we would have spent many moons more dancing around one another.”

“W—Well, I…” G’raha straightens up with obvious pride, the hand holding the washcloth raised towards his face as he clears his throat. He takes a breath. “I will not claim to have suspected such. Merely that… I had hoped you might feel even a fraction of what I feel for you. That you would not turn me away even after overstepping in that manner.”

T’lira hums in her throat, her tail swishing playfully. “You were indeed quite bold. Kissing me out of the blue like that?” She cradles her cheek, only half teasing. “You were so forceful, my heart was pounding!”

G’raha goes red in the face, blushing up to his ears as he wrung the cloth in his hands. “You never tire of teasing me, do you?”

T’lira plucks the cloth from his hands and tosses it to land on the floor with a splat. “Never. Come here,” she pats the bed.

G’raha pauses. “I thought we might change the sheets?”

T’lira grabs him by the wrist and drags him into bed with her.

“Perhaps later,” G’raha sighs, gathering her up in his arms as T’lira rolls into him.

“Yes, much later,” T’lira agrees. “I’ll allow you your rest for now. But you had best prepare your regenerative magicks soon enough, my lord, as I have no intention to allow you to leave this bed until the next sun greets us.”

“Lira!” G’raha’s spluttering reply is lost to the press of her lips as T’lira tugs him in for a fur floofing, ear perking, toe curling smooch.

….

In the hallway, two figures come to stand before G’raha’s empty room. A hand raised to knock pausing, a pale head of hair turning as milky eyes glance in the direction of the doubly occupied room now belonging to T’lira.

“Is aught amiss, Y’shtola?” Krile asks her. “Is Raha not in?”

Y’shtola shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “He seems to have stepped out, Krile.”

Krile sighs and shrugs. “Well, I suppose we can drop by later.”

Y’shtola hums. “Indeed. In the meantime, I shall collect on a bet that Thancred owes to me.”

Krile chuckles. “‘Tis good to see you two getting along, I suppose.”

“Not quite as well as some of us. There must be something in the air,” Y’shtola remarks.

“Something in the air?” Krile hurries after the miqo'te sorceress, not quite sure what her fellow Scion was talking about.

“New beginnings, Krile,” Y’shtola says cryptically. “For all of us.”

Yes, it was about time.

T’lira deserved to find her happiness.

[dhr-ao3]

Penultimate

Penultimate https://ift.tt/8MEDwsg by cassiopeia_xafod It starts with a mysterious event at a Hogwarts reunion that drags Hermione Granger and the recently reformed Draco Malfoy into the thick of a new mystery. Just when they thought they could coast through life post-Voldemort, a sinister remnant of the past throws everything off balance. Meet Apollo, the Potters' old family cat, who’s more than just a fluffy bystander. Apollo is the unwitting keeper of a dark secret—one that's about to turn the wizarding world upside down again. As random wizards and witches begin acting strangely, it's clear that the troubles of the past aren't quite finished with them yet. Dragged into the chaos, Draco, now a professor with a dark history and a penchant for brooding, finds himself working alongside Hermione, Ministry auror and the brains behind their unlikely duo. As they navigate this new crisis, the lines between old enemies and allies blur, sparking not just a hunt for the truth but an unexpected truce. With a mix of dry wit and a dash of reluctant teamwork, Penultimate isn't just a tale of magical mishaps and feline foes—it's a story about finding light in dark times and changing one's destiny, one spell at a time. Words: 4878, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Padma Patil, Blaise Zabini, Original Characters, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Humor, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Pining Draco Malfoy, Romance, Drama & Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Protective Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Co-workers, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, HEA, Using Humor as a coping mechanism, Action & Romance, Crookshanks is a Little Shit (Harry Potter), Crookshanks will fight god or become him, the cat lives, Apollo is the devil but we love him for it, Sarcastic cats, Sarcastic Hermione Granger, Auror Harry Potter, Professor Draco Malfoy, BAMF Hermione Granger, no beta we die like men, Horcrux Hunting, Mystery, Spice via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/bIfMhKc July 01, 2024 at 05:29PM

[caxycreations]

Another Tylvinian Tale update

Character customization is fully done and we're about 3/4 of the way through Day One!

For those curious about the player customization, read below the cut to see all the options!

Customization Options for Player Characters:

Name (player text input, anything you want)

Species (Canine, Feline, Bird, Reptile, or Custom.) Custom Species options: Species name (player text input, anything you want), feathered/furred/scaled/chitinous, paws/hooves/talons/reptilian feet/tarsus (bug feet), wings or no wings

Prosthetics: yes or no

If yes: one hand, one arm, one foot, one leg (each of these offers choice of left or right), both hands, both arms, both feet, both legs.

Combination choices: your choice of any combination of left hand, left arm, right hand, right arm, left foot, left leg, right foot, right leg.

Character colors: one (leads to player text input to choose your fur/scale/chitin color) or two (leads to player text input to choose the primary and underbelly colors of your fur/scale/chitin.

Eye color: player text input, any color

If you are playing as a furred character, you'll also have the option to choose skin color (pawpads, inner ear, nose, etc) through text input

Tail: curled, standard, or fluffy canine tails, slim or fluffy feline tail, tailfeathers, dragon tail, reptile tail, bug abdomen

This then prompts a confirmation listing your selections so far with a "Yes" or "No" choice. Picking No will take you back to the start of character customization, picking Yes will progress to the next stage.

Then you're prompted with the following choices:

Biological sex: male, female, intersex, or null

Gender: gender, independent of biological sex, player text input, can be anything

Player text inputs for choosing your subjective, objective, possessive, and reflexive pronouns (he/him/his/himself, ae/aer/aers/aerself, they/them/theirs/themself, etc, can be literally any pronouns you want)

Orientation choice: straight, gay, bisexual, asexual, aromantic, aro/ace, pansexual, omnisexual, demisexual

Then you'll be taken to a confirmation listing the options you've chosen so far, asking if they are correct, with "Yes" or "No" options. Picking No will take you back to the biological sex prompt, and continue customization from there like before, while picking Yes will conclude character customization.

And that will begin your game! I know it sounds like a lot to go through before you even start the game, but having gone through it a hundred times during building it, I can assure you: it only takes a minute or so to get through. <3

[stranded-labyrinth]

Hannibal adopts a stray cat

hi yes i was excited about this one :] i would've made it longer to accomodate more detail but if i extended this any amount, it would be a much bigger one shot

------------------‐

Given it was a rather urban area, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when a stray came around.

It began when winter set in, requiring Hannibal to start his car in advance to get the heat running, lest he be stuck driving in the cold. He had happened to mention it offhand when vehicles in the cold were brought up (poor Will having a mishap with a frozen car door), leading to a piece of advice he'd yet to receive, but was grateful to hear.

"Make sure to check your tires and stuff for strays," Will told him. "Cats and other smaller animals like crawling up between the tire and the car to try to stay warm."

Hannibal had, of course, noted the advice. Coming from the resident stray expert, he was sure the advice was sound, and he would never hope to extend the cruelty he was typically capable of to an innocent animal that was merely escaping the cold.

He had gotten in the habit of checking around his car in the coming weeks. Upon reporting his lack of stray activity, he was met with one of Will's rare genuine smiles, visibly pleased that someone had actually heeded his advice. Hannibal, of course, beamed beneath the attention.

He continued his new habit afterward, even though he found nothing. He would hate to risk it and one day find a red splotch on his Bentley and driveway where once lay a fluffy bundle of innocence.

He stepped out of his home, making his usual rounds, and then–

Hissing.

He stepped back slightly, just enough to process what he'd just heard. He bent down just enough to see beneath the outer car body.

Lo and behold, atop one of his rear tires lay a rather fluffy ivory colored cat.

The little beast glared at him with only one blue eye, the other either obscured or missing altogether. The feline remained where it was, rather annoyed at having its rest disturbed.

Hannibal had never known himself to quite click with an animal before, but with this one, their similarities were quite clear.

This was a creature of survival, one that valued its comfort, and one that did not take kindly to its general boundaries being impeded upon. That, and despite its position, it laid with a certain elegance about its being.

He only had one place to be that morning, and he was rather certain that a particular profiler would take well to his excuse for not being on the case on time.

He reentered his home, sending the required text to his now fellow lover of strays, before turning to his refrigerator.

--------

It was almost shameful for him to admit just how little time it had taken him to understand Will's immediate closeness with his latest stray, except Hannibal found himself feeling precisely no shame at all. Even as he stood in his kitchen, slicing away at fresh tuna while his impatient dinner guest sat on the floor beside him, staring up with her one wide eye and licking her lips.

Rosemary had clearly been domesticated before, given the near immediate liking she'd taken to being spoiled. She had been lured in with various bits of meat, including a piece from Hannibal's much more personal set of cooking materials, and had eventually settled on her favorites once inside. She didn't exactly turn her nose up at trout, but had a clear preference for tuna given the speed at which she would finish eating.

The tale of how he'd procured the trout to begin with was something he found himself revisiting in his mind palace rather often within the past couple of days. He could still remember the second day of Rosemary dwelling with him, in which he did finally attend a case on time, and was met with Will holding a small cooler.

"I wasn't sure how much fish you had at home," he'd said, looking slightly bashful at presenting the gift. "I figured you'd be the sort to feed her as fresh of food as you could get."

Hannibal had smiled then, gratefully accepting the gift. Even so, he couldn't help noticing the way Will lingered nearby, the air of an unasked question hanging around them.

Hannibal smiled at him again. "I'm afraid I have yet to take any photos of her, but I will be sure to do so once I get home."

Will laughed, looking away. "Was I that obvious?"

"No shame in curiosity," Hannibal assured. "Besides, you are better versed in the art of strays than I am. Perhaps you can meet her soon."

In the hall of his mind palace, stored in a large frame, was the image of Will's eyes lighting up at the invitation.

--------

Rosemary observed her father carefully, tail swishing from the top of her tree-style scratch post, as he moved about the kitchen in the next room. He had already set the table carefully with two sets of dishes across from one another, and was currently finishing dinner preparations.

Perhaps, in some ways, she knew a stranger was coming. Whether or not she could see the two individual pieces of dog hair that had managed to stubbornly cling to her father after his interactions with the stranger, he couldn't tell. He was sure she would come to love his guest regardless.

The hour finally came, and she watched curiously from the hall between the kitchen and the foyer as her father waited in the foyer. Rosemary wasn't sure how to interpret his actions that evening, and thus it was in her nature to feel as though her dear new father was anxious.

At last, the doorbell sounded, and he opened the door, any sense of unease immediately swept away.

A stranger stood in the door, looking in her direction. She remained where she was, eyeing him curiously yet cautiously. He stepped inside, but allowed the distance. He crouched, inviting without being overbearing.

He blinked slowly, and her cautiousness dropped. She trotted off to the kitchen to fetch her own dinner at last.

Hannibal hummed as Will rose. "I suppose she will have to get used to you."

"Well she's not antsy about me, so that's a good sign," Will replied. "She seemed to understand I wasn't gonna crowd her."

Hannibal tilted his head, amusement tugging at his features. "You're familiar with feline behavior as well?"

"Well yeah," Will said with a shrug. "You just have to learn the way they express themselves is all. They're different to read."

"And yet you have none of your own."

"Dogs don't tend to have a say in their abandonment," Will said, grimacing. "Cats tend to sort of…stay outdoors if they like it out there. Still terrible, but they tend to choose you as opposed to the other way around."

"I see," Hannibal said with a grin, turning towards where Rosemary had gone off to.

Truly, he could understand the sentiment. Rosemary was a creature of instinct and comfort, and she denied herself none of it. Just as easily as she could lay in front of the fireplace for a nap, she could slaughter some poor bird outside and bring it to her father as a gift.

Hannibal couldn't help but let the thought linger in his mind that this may say something about the two pet fathers. Hannibal's feline was clearly more in line with his own behavior, even down to the attempts at feeding another using their kills. A dog, on the other hand, would not drag their kill over as a gift. A dog would kill to protect or to defend.

Hannibal allowed himself to smile. Yes, it reflected them indeed (even if Will did not quite yet know it).

Dinner had gone by without much update, Rosemary lingering along the outskirts of the room until she at last allowed Will to put his hand near her, which she rubbed her head against with a purr.

Hannibal had insisted on clearing the table himself, setting Will up with a glass of wine in the drawing room. He didn't comment on the signs of Will's tiredness, though he had a guess at where it would lead.

When he returned, Will was sound asleep in the chair he'd been left in, Rosemary curled up on his lap, emitting contented purrs.

Looking at his two loves, he imagined he could get used to pet hair in the house after all.

[chirp-a-chirp]

Court of Darkness: Basket Full of Troubles

Description: A short story featuring Toa and Knight in honor of Knight’s birthday. @jaysquid @voltagefandomproject if y’all are interested 🙂

…

Toa walked to his chambers, pondering a matter of utmost seriousness—Knight’s birthday gift. Each potential gift that came to mind—imported milk, spellbooks, Qelsan chocolate—he dismissed as not worthy enough or something he knew Knight would likely receive from one of the other valets. Toa sighed as he undid the magical lock to his room and reached to open the door.

Hmm. The door was manually locked. Quite unusual. Toa then heard noises from within.

Mew! Mew mew!

“Oi, shhh! Get back here! Toa’s gonna kill me if he finds you here!” Knight’s voice rose anxiously as he scurried throughout Toa’s room.

“Knight, what is that commotion inside?” Toa knocked on his door, feeling ridiculous at requesting entrance to his quarters.

“Now’s not a great time! Ah, don’t do that!” The sound of something falling and breaking echoed behind the door. “Gah, nooo!”

“You’re forbidding me from my own chambers?” Toa raised his eyebrows in annoyance.

“Um, no of course not, more like—“

Mew! Meeeeeeew!

“Knight.” Toa tapped his fingers on the door knob. “Are you incapacitated?”

“Obviously not!”

“Has Avari somehow rendered you immobile? Or, is Fenn in there preventing you from moving freely?”

“No…”

“Then open the door this instant.” Knight shuffled to the door, opened it a crack, and quickly pulled Toa inside before locking it again.

“Knight, what is going on?” Toa turned to Knight. It was then he saw them. Carnage in fluffy feline form.

Kittens. Kittens everywhere. Two black and white kittens were leaping over one another atop of Toa’s bed. A kitten’s head popped up from within a teapot on a side table, its whiskers twitching. A black kitten with a white patch on its chest sat on the edge of a bookshelf, looking at Knight with its bright yellow eyes. The kitten tilted its head, smirked, and began knocking books onto the floor. Two more kittens darted across the floor, running underneath the couch. And finally, a pure white kitten rolled playfully on its back on Toa’s desk. This kitten purred contently at the jar of blue ink it had spilled all over official Qelsan documents. The kitten’s paws and the tip of its tail were stained blue, a string of paw prints all over the desk.

“You have obviously not been taught manners.” Toa gingerly picked up the white kitten from his desk and removed the ink from from its fur with magic. “You are too proud of your mischief.”

“Opal hasn’t been able to tend for them as she normally would!” Knight defended the feline as best he could. “We’re sorry!”

“Opal?” Toa started wiping off the ink from his desk. He groaned as he saw a set of paw prints on a letter meant for King Gilbert. Knight sheepishly retreated to his room and brought out a beautiful long haired black and white female cat in his arms, her right front paw in a makeshift bandage.

“Opal’s one of the friendlier cats at the peer. She hurt her paw.” Knight scratched behind Opal’s ears, eliciting a contented purr. “I brought her back to see what we had at the infirmary to help her, but I couldn’t leave her kittens behind! So, I brought them all in a basket and—“

“And clearly they escaped the confines of your room.” Toa filled in the remaining gaps to Knight’s tale. A kitten emerged from under the couch and began climbing Toa’s leg.

“I beg your pardon. You were not given permission to climb me like a tree.” Toa looked sternly at the kitten. Opal mewed warningly at the kitten and it promptly let go of Toa and ran away.

“Thank you Opal.” Toa inclined his head at the mother cat. It was clear Knight and Opal were bonded—this cat was the first one he knew of that Knight had named. A bolt of inspiration hit Toa.

“Knight, what will happen to the kittens after Opal recovers from her injury?”

“I, er, I’m still figuring that out. I’ve been asking shopkeepers throughout Colde if they need good mousers or want a pet.” Knight bit his lip. “Haven’t had any luck yet.”

“What if I found the kittens homes, as your birthday gift?” Toa petted a kitten on his bed. “I will throughly investigate all potential adopters before the kittens are given away.” Toa mentally started thinking of a number of noble families, professors, and students not associated with his fanatic fan club that would likely be the best candidates for adopters.

“Toa, thank you!” Knight beamed with joy and squeezed Opal.

“As for Opal,” Toa continued, “she can remain here with you Knight permanently if you wish.” Opal seemingly understood and nuzzled against Knight’s chin. Knight smiled wider.

The perfect gift for Knight was perhaps not so difficult after all.

…

CODA: In case y’all are curious, this is the image I had in mind for Opal the cat 🐱

[kine0001-art]

I made a piece of my favourite fluffy couple! Very happy with it! I even wrote a small story to accompany the piece, it was a lot of fun, hope you like it!

"Ehm, do you want me to take my boots off...?" Chewby asked, standing before the doorway into Dover's bedroom. "Meh, doesn't bother me." "I don't w-want to mess up your carpe-" "Chew-chew, look at me, do you really think I care if a dirt gets on the carpet?" They smirked, looking at the various faint stains already scattered across the ground. "Ha, uhm... if you say so." They shuffling in and slowly shutting the door, now twiddled their thumbs. "You should really clean up every now and then, y'know..." Dover shrugged, kicking their own shoes off and then tossing their jacket to the side. "It's habitable, don't see why you're concerned." They smirked again, falling back and landing in their beanbag chair, sinking in without and concern for getting back out. "You might get sick though, remember when you got that flu? At least let me clean your room for you..." Chewby's ear twitched, a showing sign of them worrying. Dover had a growing mental list of Chewby's physical quirks that gave away how they felt. Seeing this, they sighed. "Yeah. You're right. But I don't want you to clean, you do enough for me as it is. I want to do it." "But I can-" "Nono, really, Chewby, I insist. Thank you though. I do appreciate it." "... Mkay..." There was a couple second silence, where Chewby looked towards the ground awkwardly while rubbing one of their arms. It was another one of their tell-tale signs Dover had observed many time before, so they broke the silence. "Cm'ere, Chew-chew!" They grinned widely, opening their arms up invitingly for Chewby to snuggle into. Immediately, they went all flustered, their eyes darting back and forth while their tail flicked from side to side, they'd definitely be blushing beneath that blue fur. They made an awkward laugh. "I- uh- ha, ehm- I-" They began to tease the blue cat. "Aww, d'you not want to cuddle? I thought you loved it when we cuddled!!" Their smile grew wider, while their arms were now a death-trap for anyone that dared approach. Chewby grew yet even more flustered, now unable to announciate a single word while a wobbly smile took over their face. Their feet one by one took small steps towards Dover, still lounging in the beanbag. Once they were within reach, Dover's arms couldn't hold back any longer, the red dog lunging forward and seizing the jittery feline. "Got you!" They announced, their arms wrapped around Chewby tightly, the two sinking into the beanbag a little further. "Can't escape me now, can you?" Dover's tail wagged aggressively - unable to contain their excitement - meanwhile Chewby was paralyzed by the surprise, their fur stood on end. After a few seconds, they had calmed down, though still jittering every now and then, resting their head on Dover's shoulder. "D... Dover?" "Yeah, Chew-Chew? "... I'm g-glad to have m-met you." "Aw, so am I!! Uh- I'm glad to have met, um, you, I mean." The two shared a small laugh with each other, still embracing their significant other. Chewby's jittering had stopped, now at ease while leaning further into the embrace and shutting their eyes. "... I really love you." They quietly whispered, before then emmiting a soft pur. "What was that...?" "..." "Chewby?" "..." "Chew-chew, you're slipping, did you fall asleep again...?" There was no response, only the soothing purring of the love of their life. Dover sighed, resting an arm on them. "I love you, Chewby."

[liminalpebble]

Liminalpebble’s Masterlist Library

Sex and Death (Masterlist)

A Wallander fanfic (Magnus Martinsson x Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Detective Magnus Martinsson and Noura Harik (a forensic linguist) are racing to find an enigmatic serial killer before he sets his sights on one of their own, but when Harik reaches a breaking point with the temperamental Inspector Wallander, everything changes.  

A/N: Magnus Martinsson x OFC, slow burn to smut, murder and violence (from the killer, not our protagonists), Minors DNI

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Violet (Masterlist)

 Will Ransome (The Essex Serpent) x Original Female Character  

Summary: The solitary Reverend Ransome leaves the empty nest of his home in Essex, beginning his life as a professor in London. His expectation of a contemplative religious life as a pious widower is complicated by an odd and alluring foreign student, Violetta Vespero. How can the conflicted vicar keep his gaze and worship skyward with such delicious temptations before him on Earth?

CW: Sacrilege all over the place, slow Burn to smut, angst, multi-parter, probably pretty historically inaccurate. Minors DNI

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The Refugee (Masterlist)

AU Loki x Original Female Character (COMPLETE)

Summary: In a timeline where Loki, the prodigal prince of Asgard, struck out to establish his vast and powerful Laufeyson Empire, he stumbles upon Lenora, a refugee scarred by his bloodshed. One of the few surviving Morhari, she is captured and forced to use her considerable intelligence in service to the fearful warlord who destroyed her nation and her life. Will the peasant turned captive asset find her way to freedom and her own power, and will the cruel and scheming god of mischief discover that he can be more than a villain?

CW: Non/dubious consent. slow burn to eventual smut. violence and torture. Loki is very unambiguously bad, morally complex but bad, and does bad things.18+ readers only.  

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Eddie's Education (Masterlist)

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Original Female Character

Summary: 15 years after the events in the upside-down and Eddie's unlikely survival, he's still left with scars and an uneventful life working at his uncle's garage and as a part-time bartender. Although he planned to get out of Hawkins like a bat out of hell, he's still there and feeling stuck. At Uncle Wayne's suggestion, Eddie goes to night school to finally get his GED. Little does Eddie know that his life is about to get a lot more interesting when he meets his tutor, Leia, and realizes staying in Hawkins might not be so bad after all.

A/N: Eddie Munson x OFC, slow burn to eventual smut, multi-parter. Cannon divergent. morbid subjects discussed. Eddie's a sweetheart, Eddie Lives! Minors DNI

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Stray (A Lokitty Tale)

(Complete!)

A/N: Hi all. This began as a prompt suggestion by @mischief2sarawr and has since grown three heads and answers to no one. It's now a multipart, very fluffy, story about Lokitty. I have no idea where I'm going with this except definitely to the comfort district of fluff town...maybe driving through a little traffic jam of angst on the way there.

Synopsis: It's 1971 and you're a single shop girl living in the tumultuous, often damp, city of Seattle, feeling lost and alone. Meanwhile, Loki (under the guise of D.B. Cooper) is on the run from Thor the moment he jumped out of that plane. After crash landing in a dumpster and disguising himself as a stray cat to lay low, he becomes your beloved feline room mate and an unusual friendship begins to grow.

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Between the Lines (An AU Loki Story)

Summary: The exchange of concubines amongst the noble houses of Asgard is nothing new to the royal family, however, it is to Asgard's solitary younger prince. Since Loki had always openly declared the tradition barbaric and loathsome, he shocks the court to its core when he changes his mind.

The trickster had yet another surprise in store when he selected you, a librarian from a noble house to occupy his bed.

You're stunned, intimidated, even afraid, of the sly second prince, but you know as well as anyone that to deny a royal decree is to court death.

And so you go, only to find that this mysterious man is not at all what you expected.

Pairing: Femme reader x Loki Pre-Thor 1 AU

CW: Allusions to sexual slavery dubcon/noncon within the society. Power imbalance. Eventual smut with questionable consent. Minors DNI.

AN: This will be a multi-parter but not a particularly long one, so if I leave you hanging between chapters, I promise it won't be particularly long before it all comes together.

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Lock and Key: A Professor Pine Story (2 Parts)

Part 1

Part 2

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One Shots, Requests, and Short Works (coming soon)

I Left The Lights On For You (an Eddie Munson comfort fic)

Never Enough (a Loki comfort fic)

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Love Letters From... (coming soon)

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Memes What I Made (coming soon)

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And finally, a special appearance of The Holy Order of the Sacred Mango's mascot, Mew Mew the Mango. 💚

[saving-word-crawls]

Coffee Shop Crawl

By: Whispy.Writes

You decide to head over to a coffee shop on a lovely November day., to get some words in. The air is crisp and the leaves crunch underneath your feet. You multiply today’s date by ten and write that many words (ex: 28 november = 280 words)

There are three coffee shops in your area, you have to decide which one you want to go to: On 2nd avenue there’s the Cozy Corner, a little café that also sells used books. A few antique mahogany coffee tables are nestled amongst teetering piles of dictionaries and poetry books. You sprint 5 minutes to get there. If book stores arent your style, there’s a rooftop café on the top of the neighborhood’s tallest neighborhood. You climb 250 steps (write 250 words) to get to the top, where you can see the whole city. At the other side of town there is a cat café, with fluffy felines of every variety. The adress is 345 Sunset Avenue, so you write 345 words.

Now that you are at the coffee shop, it is time to order. You look at the menu and buy your food and drinks

Drinks Coffees: Black coffee (200 words) latte (450) Cappuccino (400) Espresso (300) Pumpkin spice (600) Vanilla coffee (500) Mocha (500) Other drinks: Black tea (250) Green tea (250) Herbal tea (300) Hot chocolate (400) Lemonade (200) Juice (300) Pastries Croissant (300) Amandine (400) Lemon tart (500)

Now its time to tip 15% = 500 words 20% = 700 words 30% = 1000 words 0% = ten minute sprint

You sit down with your drink and food, open your laptop and begin to write. If its a funny scene you write for ten minutes, if its a romantic one you write for twenty minutes. If a character dies you have to sprint to the nearest thousand and if there is a major plot twist you have to write 500 words.

If you are at the cat café, a kitten spills coffee on your laptop, wiping your progress! You have to write 250 words to catch up.

If you are at the bookshop you find youself inspired by one of the titles and write to the nearest thousand.

If you are on the rooftop café you have to multiply your age by ten and write that many words.

if your current word count is even write 500 words, if its odd write 700.

A stranger asks what you are writing?

If your genre is romance write 200 words

**300 if its mystery **

400 for adventure

**500 for YA **

**600 for Sci-fi **

**700 for historical fiction **

800 for a fairy tale retelling

You decide you wrote enough for today, and head home, enjoying the beautiful weather.

[pixel-pulse]

"Wise Cat Shares Ancient Wisdom | Cozy and Enchanting Animated Short" #...

"Discover the wisdom of a charming and wise cat in this delightful animated short! Watch as our fluffy feline friend, dressed in glasses and cozy attire, opens an ancient book and shares profound insights with a group of attentive animals. This whimsical video combines magical storytelling with a warm, inviting atmosphere, making it perfect for anyone who loves heartwarming tales and enchanting visuals. Don't miss out on this captivating journey of wisdom and wonder!"