#I have two wild dog/painted dog ocs
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"You okay if I go after him?" (Hatari)
RWBY Sentence Starters | Accepting!
A young adult wild dog had come bounding in and stolen the gazelle leg Hatari had been gnawing on, running away with it faster than the three-legged hyena could keep up with, and Hatari had ended up tripping up and falling in the chase, twisting his foreleg in a painful position. Now he could only lay on the ground, waiting for his leg to stop throbbing, and he turned his gaze to the young prince.
“‘m fine, kid, but y’ need t’ be careful, yeah?” He shook his head. “Dunno where ‘is pack might be, but if y’ wanna go after ‘im, jus’ watch your back. Y’ gotta run the second there’s trouble, don’t stick ‘round and fight ‘em. Got that?” Was he going to try his best to follow after the cub to keep him safe as soon as he could stand? Absolutely, but right now, his leg was definitely aching too much to stand.
“Curse m’ missin’ paw…” He murmured to himself. If he wasn’t missing a front paw, spraining one wouldn’t be such a big deal. He’d be able to limp along on the other one, but… With only three legs, that wasn’t exactly possible.
#;; inquiry for a dream (asks)#;; been dragged through the mud (hatari)#it’s gonna be time for Simba to meet Tabasamu!!#I have two wild dog/painted dog ocs#I have Kuiba who’s a teenager#and Tabasamu who’s an adult#tabasamu is a lot more recent of a muse than kuiba
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Tagged by @teacakes1799 thankyoouuu for tagging! :D
3 ships
Ahuska and Thirteen, if it isn't obvious, occupies 95% of my brain at the moment, even if they're more of a 'two idiots discovering responsibility shirking soulmates in one another' kind of ship who are pushing every possible boundary before facing the inevitable fact that their lives are on opposite sides of Imperial design in a very very incompatible way, I love it and I can't stand it. Stop it. They weren't designed to have chemistry with one another by daaaammmn if it's not going to be the death of me
Ahuska and EVERYONE ELSE that she has a (romantic) relationship or friendship or rivalry with I am so very into all of them, special shout outs to Crow (of course, OG storyline one true love and the ship that got me out of the biggest creative funk of my life), to her little Blakk fox who has been the driving force behind sooo much incredible storytime, and to Fynta who I definitely imagine as one of those souls she keeps bumping into in every universe, for better or for worse.
Special shout-out to Jak (mine) and Wylluf (NPC turned PC written by my husband) for THE best slowly built tabletop character relationship I've ever had the joy of experiencing.
First Ship
All my little novice early RP days many many years ago were in the Lion King fandom because, duh, animals are the best and animal stories are what I grew up on- thing is, I was always very much more into the animals-being-animals, natural history, group dynamics, melodrama made out of natural disasters and territory disputes etc, than into actual romantic plots a la Simba and Nala or Todd and Vixey etc etc. The first actual -couple- I can think of where I really got into the personal relationship side of things was with a pair of painted dogs I wrote with one of my oldest ever RP buddies. Mine was the bad boy who got exiled from the pack (I think he killed another dog? For good reason but nobody believed him?) and hers was the sweet girl who... followed him? Ran into him years later? My gosh, I barely remember a detail of the actual story but I remember that period of writing VERY VERY fondly.
Last Song
Spotify tells me it's Ed Sheeran's Celestial. Stupid pokemon song getting me all emotional every time, how dare. Stupid song that's all too easy to daydream about OCs with, how dare.
Currently Reading
I've promised to loan my copy of 'The Little Prince' to somebody but I've realised I absolutely must re-read it before I do, it's one of those books that I am convinced every person needs to read at least once. So I'm partway into that, but it won't take me long. I have quite a stack of books that I'm eager to get into and no idea what I'm going to pick next. (Teacakes, you've made me remember how badly I want to re-acquaint myself with Tamora Pierce, I adored the Wild Magic books when I was in school!)
Last Film
At the cinema? The Fall Guy. Wonderful. So much fun. I'd see it again. Actual last film watched (streaming at home) - X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Aaahahahaha knowing what I know about the universe now vs when that movie first came out, I can now 100% see why so many of my friends were so mad about it
Currently Craving
Lychees. Man what I'd give for a giant bowl of fresh lychees right at this moment.
Non obligational tags go to: @askshivanulegacy @saph-y @queen-scribbles @keldae @mimabeann @tearlessrain
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OC Game and Music Monday
Tagged by @josephseedismyfather for this OC game and will be doing my FC5 Deputy OC Silva Omar. Tagged by no one for the Music Monday one.
Rules for OC Game: Bold what is true and tag 15 people.
OC Game below:
APPEARANCE
i'm over 5'5' // i wear glasses/contacts // i have blonde hair // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair // i have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // i sunburn easily // i have freckles // i paint my nails // i typically wear makeup // i don't often smile // i am pleased with how i look // i prefer nike to adidas // i wear baseball bats backwards
HOBBIES AND TALENTS
i play a sport // i can play an instrument // i am artistic // i know more than one language // i have won a trophy in some sort of competition // i can cook or bake without a recipe // i know how to swim // i enjoy writing // i can do origami // i prefer movies to tv shows // i can execute a perfect somersault (sometimes)// i enjoy singing // i could survive in the wild on my own // i have read a new book series this year // i enjoy spending time with friends // i travel during school or work breaks // i can do a handstand (no she fucking can't)
RELATIONSHIP
i have been in a relationship // i have been single for over a year (a lot longer than that for Silva) // i have a crush // i have a best friend i have known for ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends // i have made an online friend // i met up with someone i have met online
AESTHETICS
i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sun rise // i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like // i listen to music to fall asleep // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bon fire // i pay close attention to colours // i find mystery in the ocean // i enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season
MISCELLANEOUS
i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // i am the mom friend // i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities // i enjoy mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed (she has one she sometimes brings out and uses) // i am multiracial // i am a redhead // i own at least three dogs 🐶 (Technically only one when she gets Boomer)
And here's a song to describe the relationship of Silva and her (disowned) adoptive padre, Paul Yellowjack:
youtube
"Tryna wash away all the blood I've spilled This lust is a burden that we both share Two sinners can't atone from a lone prayer Souls tied, intertwined by pride and guilt
There's darkness in the distance From the way that I've been livin' But I know I can't resist it
Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time You and I drink the poison from the same vine Oh I love it and I hate it at the same time Hidin' all our sins from the daylight From the daylight, runnin' from the daylight From the daylight, runnin' from the daylight Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time
Tellin' myself it's the last time Can you spare any mercy that you might find If I'm down on my knees again? Deep down, way down, Lord, I try Try to follow your light, but it's nighttime Please don't leave me in the end
There's darkness in the distance I'm beggin' for forgiveness (ooh) But I know I might resist it, oh!"
Tagging: @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @shallow-gravy @poisonedtruth @voidika @chazz-anova @cassietrn @direwombat @josephslittledeputy @inafieldofdaisies @wrathfulrook @vampireninjabunnies-blog @g0dspeeed @strangefable and @henbased + anyone else who wishes to join in on the fun.
#far cry the silver chronicles#far cry 5#oc: silva omar#oc: paul yellowjack#music monday#oc game#Youtube
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Making me wanna clanmew my troll ocs for fun. Especially since soldier purrbeasts canonly exist to trolls
you're all mean to me. You are al soooo mean to Mr. Bonefall and his cringefail tastes.
Anyway here's the color words they'd associate with each caste, in Base Clanmew terms. Words that already existed will be in italics (So we don't add them to the lexicon twice)
Maroon = Owanb Dark red. The color of wounds and coagulating blood, the bright red of scarlet seen in yew and thin blood is Rey.
Copper = Yaryen This is the word being used for Copperwing, it's an orange-brown color that could be translated as Bronze too.
Yellow = Aween Dandelion-yellow specifically, not golden, Rreen, which is orange-yellow. This is the color of wild mustard, a type of plant, as well.
Gray = Grrim I made a new word for gray to round-out the shades of Gray they have in Clanmew. Ssoen is silver (lightest gray), Shub is standard gray (lighter), Urrn (dark-gray) is an overcast gray, and lastly, Grrim is the darkest gray you can get before hitting a shade of black.
Chartreuse = Rrech Sickly yellow-green, the type seen in unhealthy leaves and such
Verdant/Lush = Lolol Dark, rich green. Much darker and less bright than Holro green.
Blue = Lupar This is a part of the spectrum that gets dicey. Blue is actually pretty rare in nature, besides a clear sky...... in England, which makes it even rarer. The main source of blue paint is from a plant called Woad.
Dark Blue = Lubro Specifically, this means blue-black. The color of the night sky, and of shiny corvids like ravens. Again, blue is a rare color in Clanmew, with only two unique words that describe its shades.
Purple = Palifuh Comes from a contraction of color (paliu) + Yeifuh (Sweet Violet). A rare color, mostly describing some flowers and sunsets.
Pink = Beka The bright pink color seen on the elephant hawkmoth, apple blossoms, and so on. At this point we're in colors better described as pink because Clanmew has so many fewer words for types of purple!
Blush = Powliu This comes from a contraction of trout + color, but describes the color of uncooked fish meat generally. RiverClan can be quite adamant that if you cook the color out of the meat, you have RUINED it. It's a VERY light pink, almost white. I've chosen to make its translation 'blush,' because cats don't blush otherwise and this allows the color to be used in names! Fuschia is also, notably, a plant that is in the area... but only in towns. As a bonus;
Fuschia = Meyfoope A SkyClan-dialect exclusive! This is a VERY popular plant in suburbs, growing in large bushes. SkyClan cats find it very strange and interesting, and call it "(dog) violet-bell." This isn't a color, but it does translate a word directly for your purposes.
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yuanji notes:
i really hated the idea of making yuanji have a 100% awful childhood and hating her family. in the og water margin even though sun erniang and her husband are lowkey terrible people for the murders, they're a happy couple. the other characters just didn't really gaf about their morality for plot armour reasons and i wanted to carry that absurd positivity into the sun family. they just work 👍
yuanji is kind of (very) spoiled because they really wanted a child but couldn't conceive and she's a blessing and everything they ever wished for etc. etc. yuanji's biggest weakness is her paranoia, she consistently thought that she had been abandoned when they separated. (the idea that 'they wanted her but didn't need her')
it didn't matter where the meat came from and it didn't matter if the food was 'authentic'. the customers were paying for a fantasy in the first place.
i wanted to do cannibalism that was not too serious or intimate it was just awful irreverent and mass produced. the sun family doesn't actually eat people. its the people they sell to that eat people. and in a sense the people they sell to are buying a human product in the first place, in an almost touristy way.
yuanji's 'real' past life before her adoption involved some sort of medical education. when she was found she had just poisoned the crew of a cargo ship with tetrodotoxin a few days earlier before hiding in a barrel.
i was tossing around the idea that she was related to a doctor oc i had who also lived in the late 1800s. but this wasn't a serious plot thing just a detail for fun
in the initial stages the only two characters i had in mind were ripper and yuanji (this was back when it wasn't serious and i just wanted to do a one page action comic with unga bunga blood and violence). because cyanide is both a poison and a part of the prussian blue molecule i thought it would be fitting to make her outfit blue since they're involved in poison and painting respectively
i'll do a drawing of this later but the game had an animal theme
bane's obvious deer-hunter prey-predator reversal situation.
jack is a boar. this was the weakest one, but yuanji would refer to her families victims as pigs, given pigs potential proclivity for cannibalism despite their perceived domesticity paralleling the unwitting cannibalism of their customers.
yuanji is often compared to a wolf. both in the idiomatic term 'white eyed wolf' (ungrateful person, referring to her wondering if she should give up searching for her family), and as a 'wolf in sheeps clothing' (hiding her past as a thief and murderer during her stay at the manor).
andrew was a sheepdog. this was mostly a reference to his tumultuous dynamic with yuanji as a wolf in sheeps clothing, first seeing her as pure and innocent and later developing a scathing hatred when he finds out about her past. there was also the detail that despite him and yuanji both aiding morally dubious people, yuanji did it of free will and andrew did it out of necessity - paralleled by the domestic dog and the wild wolf.
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If your main 10 OCs were Pokémon gym leaders, what would their gyms be?
Okay, well considering most of them already have an elemental magic “type” to them, but I’ll be creative here. Also please note the Unova region was my first and is still my favourite so most Pokémon used are from there. They live in a neighbouring region just NorthEast of Unova where most Pokémon spill over, and there are overlapping Pokémon from other regions.
Easily enough, Rex and Ted would share a gym and it would be the fire-type gym. They’re the Fire Twins, after all. Assuming their gym would be the first one, then you’d have to fight them both at once. To travel the gym, one would have to press switches to turn off the flamethrowers that block your path. There would be three other gym trainers, each with a Pansear. Rex’s line-up would be Charmeleon, Ponyta and a Lillipup. Ted’s line-up would be Houndour, Darumaka and also a Lillipup. (They got the Lillipups together, it’s their starters)
The second gym would be Hami’s. Her specialty is rock and ground types. In order to travel her gym you’ll need to have rock smash HM, and there would only be two other trainers, one with a Sandshrew, the other with two Roggenrola. The gym is a cave-like maze, and every so often, wild Zubats and Woobats show up, although they’re very low-level so they aren’t too hard to get past. Hami’s line-up would be Boldore, Sandile, and of course her very first Pokémon, her beloved Sandslash.
After Hami’s gym you would travel North to where it’s icy and cold, to Ivy’s gym. Her specialty is ice Pokémon, but it’s also dog-like Pokémon. Her gym would be an ice-rink, of course, but each trainer within has a Herdier and a Cubchoo. There are three levels and each level has two trainers to battle, except for the one right before Ivy. He has a Vanillite and two Spheals. Ivy herself has an Alolan Ninetails that she got as her first Pokémon when she used to live in Alola. Her other pokemon is a female Absol.
Fourth would be two towns that are so close together, their gyms are right next to each other, each one on the outskirts of their own town. They are called Earth and Sky, and you have to defeat Earth before you can fight Sky. The gyms belong to Tweet and Elsa respectively of course. Tweet’s team are all grass types of course. In his gym, you have to climb the green vines to go up a level, and slide down the blue vines. There are ten other trainers in his gym with various grass Pokémon. Tweet’s team is his beloved Servine, a Simisage, and two Budew that he nicknamed Buddy and Pal.
Elsa’s gym you can only take one after you prove to her you’re ready. Assuming it’s a regular Pokémon game, you do that after a run-in with the Team that kidnaps Ducky and her Caterpie. After you help Elsa and Tweet save Ducky and Caterpie, Elsa let’s you challenge her gym. Elsa’s gym is a flying type gym, and has paintings of various bird Pokémon all over the place. Elsa travels the world painting different bird Pokémon of each region. Each painting is done by her. Some of the paintings have a hidden door to the next room. You have to choose the right painting that answers riddles you’re given. Behind each correct door is a trainer with the Pokémon on the painting you just passed through. Elsa’s team is her two Unfezant, one female one male, a Swanna, and her darling Noctowl.
Sixth gym leader is Kyle Wu. His element is usually weather, but that doesn’t really match up well to Pokémon types (except flying, but that was easily Elsa’s), so I give him the electric gym. His gym would be a huge chasm that you have to step on the right clouds to pass. Step on the wrong cloud and it will poof, sending you falling to the safety net below, where you have to take an elevator back to the start. I’m not sure what the clouds would be, like how you know the right from the wrong ones but there would probably be like a puzzle or something. Anyway, Kyle Wu’s line up would be an Emolga, a Zebstrika, a Luxray and a Manectric.
The seventh gym would be Victoria’s. She would be a dark type leader I feel. Her gym would not have any other trainers, and it would be in a haunted mansion where wild dark and ghost type Pokémon would be. You’d have to follow a maze of clues to find seven switches that will open doors for you. The last switch opens a door to Victoria. Her lineup would be a Scrafty, a Liepard, Zoroark, and an Umbreon. Her gym would also be located outside of town, down a long grassy road, so trainers should pack lots of potions.
The eighth gym is Damien’s and he would be, surprise surprise, a dragon gym leader. It’s either that or fire, and fire has been claimed. Damien’s gym would be a dark building lit only by fire torches on the walls. Ace trainers will be hanging around with various Axew and other dragon types. The building has no special tricks besides that. Damien would be sitting upon a throne when you arrive to fight him. His Pokémon team are a Haxorus, Hydreigon, Garchomp, Dragonair and a Salamence.
Ming COULD be the champion, but to humour you, if she had her own gym it would be Normal Type or Water Type, and she would have the very first gym because as much as she has powerful Pokémon, she also loves to care for the little ones and raise them and give them love. Ming prefers to travel anyway and switch her Pokémon each in turn, and wouldn’t be happy as a gym leader. She has beaten all the others though.
Anyway, that’s the line-up.
The Champion is Sky.
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So I'm going to do Comfortember 2023. In the hopes that it might batter down the writers block one sentence at a time! As you know, I'm usually a reeeeeally slooooow writer, so it probably won't be everyday, just teeny snippets when the prompts appeal, and not so carefully (obsessively, endlessly) edited, so apologies in advance for any typos and generally crappy writing!
I don't have much time during the week, so this is the first four prompts, and they're all for Steve (Clark) and Alice (OC) of This rockstar life:
1. Safe
“I can’t explain it, it just feels so… safe when he holds me. I mean, I know it shouldn’t, he’s the most unstable person I know! But I feel... understood. And protected; those scrawny arms wrap round me and it’s like the rest of the world can’t get me, you know? I’ve never had that before. Not ever, not even as a kid. I hope I can be that for him too, he really is the most precious thing to me.”
2. Sweater weather
As Alice descends the stairs in search of coffee, she notices the temperature dropping precipitously as she reaches the ground floor. It’s always warmer in her study up on the second floor than it is downstairs, unless they’ve got the fire lit, but it is particularly chilly today. Poking her head around the livingroom door, she spots her boyfriend kneeling by the back wall with a paintbrush in his hand. One of the many projects Steve had started since his ‘retirement’, redecorating the front room had actually stuck. To everyone’s surprise as he had previously shown little interest in home decor, he had decided to do most of the work himself and had discovered that he found sanding and painting soothing. With the repetitive actions calming his restless mind, he occasionally caught himself spontaneously humming new melodies that he then had to stop and scrawl down on the margins of the newspaper sheets that covered the wooden floor.
“Why is it so cold in here?”
“Mmm?” He looks up and smiles at the interruption, “Oh, I had to open the windows because of the paint fumes. Skirting boards, so that’s gloss, which stinks.”
He stands up, wiping at a splotch of white on his thumb with a rag, as Alice makes her way across the room, dodging the paint cans and discarded rollers, to inspect this latest stage of the process. This wall is painted rusty red - chosen to look good with the classic gold-toned flamed maple Les Pauls he’s going to hang on it - and he’s neatly taped the edges with masking tape before starting on the woodwork (amazing what you can learn from a visit to the DIY section of the library).
“Ooh very professional.” She looks around the rest of the room, “It’s looking good. You must be nearly done?”
“Two more walls of this, then I’ve got to do the windows, which’ll be fiddly. But yeah, that’s the last bits. Oh, and whatever we want to do with the floor I suppose.”
She turns back to face him and her appraising eyes light on the oversized ratty-looking sweater he’s wearing, “Where did you get that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before?”
He looks down, “Err, dunno, I just found it behind the sofa in my studio. Maybe someone left it here? Oh well, it’s mine now.”
“It’s huge, you could fit both of us in there!”
To demonstrate her point, she lifts the hem and wriggles up inside; there’s plenty of room in the body, but the neck is too tightly knit for her to get her head through.
“Help, I’m stuck!” she giggles as Steve wraps his arms around her.
“I feel like a kangaroo!” he laughs, squeezing tight.
3. Leaves Changing
Steve arrives in the café where Alice has been waiting for him (her tolerance for grotty basement record shops running out way before his) in a flurry, the door slamming shut behind him. He makes his way over to her corner table, shaking himself like a dog.
“Wow, it is wild out there! Real flying farmhouse weather!”
The wind has whipped his hair into a crazy bird’s nest and, as he sits down and starts to check that the rain hasn’t got to his precious LPs, Alice reaches over and picks a bright orange beech leaf out of the tangle of blond.
4. Warmth
Alice squeaked as the hand on her waist slipped under her jacket, “Why are your hands always so cold?”
“Cold hands, warm heart, my Grum always used to say.”
“Cold hands, should wear his damn gloves, my gran would say!”
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Day 13 ~ The Wolf
Prompt: Size Difference.
Pairing: Werewolf!Corinthian × Alistair Moreau (M!OC)
Word Count: 4.8k+
CW: Anal fingering, anal sex, breeding kink, cumflation, knotting, monster-fucking, outdoor sex, rimming, throat-fucking.
A/N: Xav told me we get wolf!Corin and I still have no context without reading The Dreaming from 1996 but whatever. Werewolf!Corin × Alistair in like a kind of fairytale AU, I guess? IDK just read it, man.
The woods are quiet and still.
Alistair, adorned in a crimson cloak that billows softly, makes his way through the forest's darkened labyrinth. The twisted branches cast eerie shadows, painting the path ahead with foreboding strokes. His steps are cautious and the scent of earth and moss fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of wildflowers.
Yet, despite the solitude, a prickling sensation creeps up his spine. He senses it, an unshakeable certainty that he's not alone. The sensation of being watched, observed by unseen eyes, lingers like a spectral touch. Alistair's gaze darts to the shadows, searching for any sign of movement. He clutches the edges of his crimson cloak, its fabric a shield. Every rustle, every distant sound, sends a tremor of unease through him.
His steps become deliberate, measured. He's keenly aware of the eerie beauty that surrounds him, the way moonlight filters through the autumn leaves, casting a silvery glow on the forest floor. The night seems to hold its breath, waiting. Waiting...
Something moves through the trees beside him but it's too quick to catch sight of. And then it happens again, a flash of shadow followed by silence. Alistair freezes in a clearing, his breath caught in his throat.
"H-Hello?" His voice echoes through the stillness, a plea. The woods fall silent. His fingernails dig into the fabric of his cloak, leaving half-moon indents.
Then, with ethereal grace, a huge wolf leaps from the thicket, blocking Alistair's path. It's fur is silvery-white in the moonlight, teeth bared, maw dripping. Alistair trembles at the beast's magnificence, its raw power. A wild thing, untamed and beautifully terrifying. But Alistair is rooted in place, his feet like lead. He watches as the wolf approaches, each step slow and purposeful. Its gait is feral and Alistair's heartbeat stutters. "Stay back!" He yelps but his words are hollow. As he gets closer, he notices the wolf's eyes...or lack thereof. In the sockets of the wolf's eyes, there are two more rows of teeth, sharp and glistening. Alistair swallows, his throat dry. This can't be real.
"Are you lost, little lamb?" The wolf asks and the man shakes his head. He knows these woods, he's walked them before, and yet he doesn't know of this creature. Of this beast. "What brings you here?" The wolf continues and Alistair opens his mouth to speak but no words come out.
The wolf circles him, movements fluid, until they're facing one another once again. Run. The word's meaning is clear. Run. Flee. Survive. But Alistair is entranced by the wolf's unearthly beauty, its fierce intensity. It's voice is silk, low and smooth, and Alistair feels the need to touch, to feel. He reaches out to touch the silken fur but the beast snaps it's jaws, barely missing his fingers, and Alistair recoils. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to pet strange dogs? Especially ones that could swallow you whole?" The wolf growls, lips curled. Alistair trembles despite the heat flooding his cheeks.
There's a kind of teasing to the beast's voice, an almost human kind of amusement, a lustful kind of hunger. Alistair licks his dry lips, gaze darting to the wolf's maw. Run. The word echoes through his mind, a warning. "You can still run home, little lamb. Though...it may be more fun if you stayed." The wolf purrs, tongue darting over its teeth. Alistair shudders, his cock betraying him and twitching with interest at the wolf's words. Run. But Alistair ignores the warning, captivated by the beast's beauty and teasing charm.
And then, without warning, the wolf pounces. It's teeth sink into Alistair's crimson cloak, pulling him to the forest floor with a quick jerk of its head. Alistair gasps, pinned beneath the wolf's weight on his chest. He squirms and the beast nips at the curve of his neck before laving over it with his tongue. Hot breath fans across the man's skin, his skin prickling.
"You taste delicious... Skin so pink, flush with blood...and your heart's racing..." The wolf purrs, laving his tongue over the hollow of Alistair's throat, tasting the cold sweat pricking his skin. Run. But the word holds no meaning as the beast's teeth graze his pulse point and the man lets out a shaky breath. "I bet you taste even better inside." The wolf murmurs, tongue trailing lower, until the man's clothes hinder its exploration. Alistair moans, arousal spiking. Run. No, Alistair doesn't want to run anymore. He wants... He needs...
The beast's maw drips, its jaws wet, all three of them. Alistair lifts his hand to the beast's muzzle and the wolf turns it's head, nipping the fingertips and lapping at the palm, coating it in thick saliva. Alistair shudders at the beast's...affection. Run. Too late, too late.
The beast's jaws find the collar of Alistair's shirt and the sound of ripping fabric echoes through the trees. Slowly, the wolf tears strips of cloth from the man's body, revealing plains of sweet, pale, delicate flesh. The beast trills appreciatively. "Sweet, soft, pink... Aren't I lucky?" It purrs, nuzzling Alistair's chest as it makes it's way down.
The chill of the air makes the man's nipples stiffen, the flesh tender and hard. The wolf lowers himself, snuffling gently at the skin. Alistair arches instinctively and the beast gently takes a nipple between its teeth, giving an almost experimental tug. The man whimpers, his cock beginning to harden from the wolf's playful ministrations. It's tongue is hot and wet, dancing over the skin, swirling in languid circles, as Alistair's fingers dig into the soil. Run. Impossible.
With a satisfied growl, the wolf pulls away, admiring the man's disheveled form. The cloak lies beneath him, a crimson, velvet sheet protecting him from the forest floor. Alistair trembles, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his heated skin. Empty sockets, filled with teeth, glance down at his crotch, eying the way the button-fly is straining, the outline of the man's erection clear. "Mmnn... So eager already?" The wolf purrs and Alistair's stomach clenches with shame. "Would you like me to keep going, little lamb? Would you like me to swallow you whole?" The beast growls, it's jaws dripping. Run. No, not anymore.
Without waiting for an answer, the wolf tears open the button-fly, sending buttons scattering through the grass. The pants are shredded like the shirt, scraps of rough-spun material cast to the dirt. The man's cock is free, flushed and wet, and the beast purrs happily. Pre-cum beads from the slit, the drop oozing tantalisingly down the length. The beast glances up at Alistair before letting its tongue loll out, breath panting. It licks a wet stripe along the underside, scooping the salty-sweet fluid onto the flat of its tongue. Alistair shudders, his balls full and aching. The wolf laps at the head, slurping hungrily, as the man writhes beneath it. Thick saliva coats Alistair's cock, hot and sticky, as the beast teases the slit. But then it pulls away and the man looks down at it, chest heaving.
"Why... Wh-Why'd you stop?" He asks shakily and the wolf grins.
"Well, you don't want me to catch you on my teeth, do you?" The beast purrs and Alistair cocks his head, confused.
The wolf slinks away slowly, back to the thicket, and Alistair sits up.
"Wait, I—" He calls and the beast chuckles, a low, breathy sound, filled with danger and promise.
"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry, little lamb. I just don't think you want to see what happens next." He steps behind a curtain of bushes and shrubs and Alistair waits.
Suddenly, there's a loud crunch that echoes through the trees. A murder of crows flap from the treetops, cawing menacingly. The grinding and snapping of bones, blood dripping on the dirt, fills Alistair's ears and a cold dread creeps through him. Run. Oh, God, he should have run.
Low grunts and groans weave through the trees and Alistair spies the wolf in the bushes, writhing, bloodied, mangled. The man gasps as shock tightens around his ribcage, leaving him frozen in place. It's no longer a wolf. No... Now a man...
A blonde figure rises from the bushes, skin pale yet drenched in blood. Its face is obscured, shadowy, the moonlight unable to touch it. Alistair trembles when it steps forward and he catches a glimpse of the man's eyes. Eyes, no... Mouths. Empty sockets, filled with sharp fangs. And then the figure grins. He's gorgeous; his body slim and bare, limbs long but corded with muscle, chest flat, belly soft with a dusting of light, fluffy hair leading over his navel. Below the line of the beast's hips is hidden by leaves and twigs, a work of art.
"W-Who are you?" Alistair breathes and the beast laughs, voice melodic, lips pink and kissable soft.
"Didn't you hear? I'm the big bad wolf." He purrs, stepping closer, a playful swagger in his stride. He steps out from behind the thicket and Alistair can't help but let his eyes wander. His thighs are strong, soft, pale and Alistair so wants to touch them, like marble columns in the moonlight. His eyes drop lower and, God, the size of him... The beast's cock is dark red and scattered with thick veins, knotted at the base, bulbous and full. Alistair swallows, a wave of heat pooling in his abdomen.
The beast saunters over to Alistair, a lustful, dangerous kind of hunger in his empty sockets. It kneels between the man's legs, blood-stained hands palming at the pale flesh of Alistair's thighs, leaving crimson handprints along the skin. Alistair trembles at his unnatural warmth, the heat radiating off the blonde's body, as the scent of copper floods his senses. The wolf hungers, leaning down to trail it's tongue along the man's cock, making him shudder with fear and delight.
"Such a pretty body you have. And such a gorgeous dick, hm?" It purrs, sliding onto it's stomach, breath hot along Alistair's dick. "Are you ready, little lamb?"
Slowly, the blonde takes the head of Alistair's cock into his mouth, working his way down until the shaft disappears, swallowed down to the root, swallowed whole. Alistair moans, pleasure sparking as the beast hollows it's cheeks, tongue expertly laving at the underside. He tangles his fingers in the beast's silken hair, guiding the wolf's head as he sucks greedily. The man's cock throbs and the beast moans, jaws slick with saliva and blood. He's so deep and the wolf's mouth is so hot... Alistair shudders, climax building quickly. He moans out, fingernails digging into the cloak, as the blonde swallows down thick shots of pre-cum. It's so much, too much, and the man's orgasm builds, pressure coiling tightly. He's close already, so fucking close...
And then he pulls away, sinking a little further down, pressing slow appreciative kisses to Alistair's tight, heavy balls. The beast hums, tonguing each sac, suckling gently. Alistair squirms. He needs to cum, fuck, it's all so good... He whimpers and the beast looks up at him, lips curling.
"Something wrong, lamb?" He purrs.
"P-Please..." He gasps and the wolf trills, pleased.
"You taste delicious, so sweet..." He groans, tongue trailing lower, past Alistair's perineum, to lap at his tight, pink hole. The wolf purrs, a bloody hand curling around the redhead's cock, tongue laving over his hole, as Alistair trembles. "So clean and untouched. I bet no one's ever touched you here, have they, lamb?" The beast asks and Alistair shakes his head, cheeks flushed. A virgin... This night keeps getting better and better...
The wolf slicks his fingers with saliva, stroking Alistair's hole in slow circles. Meanwhile, the beast looks up at him, occasionally laying kisses to the base of Alistair's cock. The wolf presses a finger against Alistair's entrance, gentle and slow, and the man tenses. "Shhh... Relax, little lamb. Let the wolf in..." He purrs, voice laced with charm and Alistair relaxes best he can.
The wolf's fingertip breaches the tight ring of muscle and Alistair lets out a shaky breath, the sensation strange but good. Slowly, the beast sinks the single finger deeper, letting it curl as Alistair's muscles grow accustomed to the new feeling. To make the whole experience go a little smoother, the beast takes the redhead's cock into his mouth again, licking at the bundle of nerves on the underside of the head. Alistair trembles, pleasure pulsing through him. Fuck, yes... That single finger curls against his insides, searching for the spot, as the wolf takes Alistair down to the root again, pre-cum and drool pooling at the base of his cock, dripping over his balls and making them glisten. Deeper, the blonde needs to reach deeper.
The beast adds a second finger, Alistair's hole growing looser, more relaxed, and the wolf purrs softly as his fingertips glide over the slick, sensitive walls. There... He finds it. Alistair jolts, a spark of pure bliss shooting through him. He cries out, voice echoing in the trees, the pleasure intense, and the blonde grins around Alistair's cock before he pulls away. "Ahh... There it is." He presses his fingers against the redhead's prostate, watching how he writhes and whines. Beautiful. Alistair clutches the crimson cloak beneath him, knuckles white, as the beast massages the bundle of nerves. Pleasure builds quickly and the redhead's cock throbs, the wolf's fingers milking him so perfectly... "Do you like that, lamb?" He purrs and Alistair nods weakly, his hips jerking. The pain of the stretch is overshadowed by the pleasure, especially when the beast takes him in again, mouth sinfully hot.
There's two fingers, then there's three, then four... Alistair begins to lose count. He feels so full, so stretched, so open... His hole feels so sore but so good, each press of the beast's fingers stroking that sweet, delicious spot inside him. Pressure coils tightly, the wolf sucking him so well, fingers buried so deep, and the redhead's orgasm builds. Yes, yes, yes... He's so close, so close...
And then, the beast stops, fingers slipping from Alistair's loosened rim. He gets up onto his knees, watching the way the redhead whines, his hole empty and aching. "Don't worry, lamb... I'll fill you soon enough." The blonde purrs, blood-stained fingers wrapping around his own monstrous cock. Alistair shudders. Yes. "But first...a favour..."
The beast moves with an almost feline grace, moving to kneel behind Alistair's head, his cock bobbing just shy of the redhead's mouth.
"What do you need?" Alistair asks, as if it isn't obvious.
"I need you to open that pretty mouth for me, lamb. I'm going to fill that sweet throat of yours." The wolf growls and Alistair shudders again. He should be terrified; he'll never be able to fit all that in his throat — not without dying, surely — but he doesn't care. He needs it.
Alistair parts his lips, opening his jaw wide, as the beast guides his red, knotted cock into the redhead's waiting mouth. "That's it, lamb... Such a good boy..." The wolf trills, Alistair's throat stretching obscenely. Inch by inch, the beast slides his cock along the redhead's tongue and into his throat. The blonde can feel the way Alistair's throat tenses when he gags, the muscles in his stomach contracting, his thighs flexing, and the wolf groans. Fuck. Alistair gags again, throat squeezing the beast's cock, and the blonde trills. "Mmmn... Perfect..." He murmurs, bloodied fingers weaving into the man's crimson hair, holding his head steady.
As Alistair's lips reach the swell of his knot, the wolf stops, enjoying the feeling of every pulse, every throb around his cock. Alistair gags again, stomach churning, and the beast moans, fingers tightening in the man's hair. Slowly, the wolf draws his hips back, withdrawing his cock until only the tip is left, and Alistair gasps, lungs filling with air. But the blonde pushes back in again, the redhead gagging beautifully, throat a vice around the beast's massive length. The wolf works up a steady rhythm, thrusting into Alistair's tight, eager throat. Saliva wells in the empty sockets of his eyes, dripping down his cheeks as he loses himself in the heat of the redhead's throat.
Meanwhile, Alistair strokes his own neglected cock, pleasure pulsing through him. More. He can't get enough, each gag coaxing thick shots of pre-cum over his fingers. It's not enough, he needs more, he needs more. The beast picks up the pace as his orgasm builds. Empty sockets, filled rows and rows of teeth, flutter shut, a guttural groan rising from his throat. "Ohh, fuck... Little lamb, yes..." He pants, blood-stained nails digging into Alistair scalp, tugging the crimson locks. The beast watches the way Alistair's palm quickens on his cock, his chest heaving, and the blonde trills. So eager... The wolf's thrusts become erratic, pleasure spiking, as his climax builds. Empty sockets, filled rows and rows of teeth, fly open, gaze focused on the redhead's body, flushed and wanting. "Just a little more..." He growls, hips rolling. Close, so close. Alistair gags again, stomach convulsing, and the beast moans deeply. Yes, yes, yes...
With one final, rough thrust, the blonde's knot slips past the man's lips, tying his throat. "H-Hahh... There... Ohh, that's perfect..." He groans, watching the way Alistair's jaws are pried open by his knot, throat pulsing as he swallows down shot after shot of thick, hot cum. The beast shudders, pleasure spiking as Alistair swallows. Fuck, there's so much, the redhead's belly aching, as the wolf's cum pools in his stomach. There's so much, Alistair's belly has to swell to accommodate for the sheer volume. Full... He's so full. Alistair strokes his cock feverishly, pleasure pulsing through him, and his cock throbs. With a muffled moan, the redhead cums, his belly distending slightly, adding to the pressure, as cum coats his fingers, his palm, his chest. The wolf empties himself into Alistair's belly, his knot slowly beginning to deflate...
Finally, the beast pulls his softening cock from Alistair's swollen throat, pearly strings of saliva and spend connecting the man's lips to the wolf's tip. The redhead gasps, chest heaving, his throat sore and aching. The wolf sits back, gaze hungry, as it admires the man's disheveled form. Pale flesh is covered in bloody handprints, his belly round and swollen, thighs shaking. "Mmnn... Well done, little lamb..." The beast purrs, slinking to sit between Alistair's trembling legs.
Bloodied fingers palming at the man's stuffed belly, the blonde nuzzles the tender flesh appreciatively. Oh, but he looks so good, all full to bursting as he is. There's a new kind of affection that befalls the wolf, a warmth in his touch, in his kisses.
"You'd do well carrying my pups, little lamb." He murmurs, tongue trailing along Alistair's hip, tasting the salty-sweet sheen of sweat pricking the redhead's skin. "Would you like that? Carrying my litter?" The beast purrs and Alistair shudders, another thick shot of cum oozing from his spent cock. Yes, more than anything. "You have the perfect body for it, lamb... Soft, plush, fertile..." The blonde purrs, nuzzling Alistair's belly again.
Suddenly, the beast grabs ahold of the redhead's thighs, hauling him up to get a good look at his hole, stretched and needy. Alistair trembles, his hole aching, empty. "I bet you'd be a perfect mother... Warm, safe, full." The wolf trills, parting the man's thighs, exposing him even further. Empty sockets, filled with teeth, study the man's loose rim, the sensitive, pink flesh twitching. "So pretty... And all for me." He growls, cock twitching again, knot swelling. "Do you want my pups, little lamb?" He asks and Alistair reaches down with shaking hands, spreading himself open for the wolf — insides pink and slick, throbbing, welcoming, waiting — and, if that isn't an invitation, the beast doesn't know what is.
The blonde leans down, tongue laving at Alistair's rim. The redhead whines.
"I need... N-No, I need your..." He pants out but the wolf presses on, tongue dipping into Alistair's loosened hole. Empty sockets glance up, gaze studying the way the man's body writhes, desperate and aching.
"My...?" The beast prompts, tonguing at the man's insides, the taste of warm flesh flooding his senses. Alistair shudders.
"Y-Your cock. I need your cock... Please, please, please—" He whimpers and the blonde grins.
"So soft-spoken..." The wolf purrs. "Don't worry, you'll get my cock, little lamb... But first..." He laps eagerly at Alistair's insides, the redhead shuddering, clenching. Yes, yes, the wolf needs to stretch him open, soften him up, make him wet. "We don't want this to hurt, do we?" He drawls, tongue exploring Alistair's insides, teasing his prostate, reaching deep. Alistair trembles, his cock hard and aching again, dribbling pre-cum. God, yes...
Eventually, he's relaxed and gaping, his hole ready and eager to be filled. The blonde purrs, nuzzling Alistair's thighs as he just thinks about filling his guts with copious loads of hot, thick semen. The redhead's cheeks are pink and flush, his belly round and full, chest heaving. His hole twitches, the pink, sensitive flesh wet and glistening, ready.
Yes, the wolf is a lucky beast...
"You ready, little lamb?" The beast coos, positioning the head of his cock at Alistair's rim. He should be worried. How is that going to fit? It's going to hurt, isn't it? He'll be torn right open. But, strangely enough, Alistair couldn't care less. He's still thinking about being stuffed full of the wolf's pups, fat and heavy in his belly. Yes, he's so ready...
The beast breaches Alistair's rim and the redhead lets out a shaky breath, the blonde's girth stretching him so fucking good. "Easy now..." The wolf coos, fingers digging into the man's pale thighs, as he presses deeper. "You're so tight... F-Fuck... Even after all that..." The stretch is everything; pleasure, pain, ecstasy. Alistair claws at the crimson cloak beneath him, body adjusting to the beast's size. Empty sockets, filled with rows of teeth, study the way Alistair's rim grows accustomed to his dick, the ring of muscle stretching deliciously.
"Ohh, God...!" Alistair's throat is red-raw and his voice is hoarse as he lets out a broken sob. The wolf inches inside him, surrounded by the sweet heat of his body, desperate and throbbing.
"There... Almost there..." The beast murmurs, praising the redhead's body, admiring. Alistair trembles, hole swollen, the blonde's girth huge. "Relax... You're doing so well... Think about how big you'll be, all swollen and heavy with my litter..." The wolf coos and Alistair moans, shivers sparking across every nerve ending. Yes. He can imagine it; his belly round and heavy, chest swollen, nipples puffy and tender. Fuck, it's too much...
Finally, the top of the beast's knot nestles snugly against Alistair's rim and the blonde is completely buried inside. The redhead gasps, his body stretched to the limit. The wolf purrs, fingers massaging soothing circles into the pale flesh of the redhead's inner thighs, as the man's muscles relax, adjusting. Slowly, the beast draws his hips back, his cock dragging deliciously along the redhead's slick, sensitive walls, rubbing against his prostate in a slow, torturous drag. Pleasure spikes and Alistair whines, the sensation intense.
"H-Hahh... God, y-yes..." He sobs and the wolf growls, watching how his monstrous cock stretches Alistair's body obscenely. And then the blonde drives his hips forward again, his knot pressing against the man's rim. Empty sockets, dripping with saliva, watch the redhead's body. His stomach is already bloated with cum, skin pale, pink flesh flushed, as the beast's cock fills him perfectly. Yes, Alistair would make the perfect mother for his litter. It's such a shame the only thing the two can do is fantasise. The wolf builds a steady rhythm, drawing his hips back before driving them forward again.
"Look at you, lamb... So full already... And you're taking my cock so well." The blonde purrs and Alistair so wants to kiss him, to taste the metallic tang of copper on his soft, pink tongue. He whines, reaching down to place his hand on the wolf's own, gazing up at him longingly. "What do you want?" The beast asks, his voice soft.
"Kiss me... P-Please, kiss me." Alistair pleads and the wolf trills, leaning down to press his lips to the redhead's own. His fingers tangle in the soft, silken locks of the beast's blonde, silken hair. The wolf kisses Alistair hungrily, his tongue mapping the redhead's bruised, battered throat, as the man below him moans. The beast picks up the pace, fucking into the redhead messily, as pleasure builds quickly. Empty sockets, filled rows and rows of teeth, flutter shut, lips slotting perfectly against Alistair's own. The redhead wraps his legs around the blonde's waist, his thighs slick with sweat and blood, pulling the wolf deeper. Yes, closer, fuck, he needs him closer.
The beast pistons his hips, Alistair's rim growing looser, the man's hole pulsing and throbbing around his cock. His gaze focuses on the way Alistair's belly stretches, already heavy and full with spend. It won't take much longer until the wolf cums again, his climax building. He angles his hips, cock driving directly into the redhead's prostate, and the man's grip tightens in the blonde's hair as he sobs.
The beast leans down slightly, gently nuzzling Alistair's throat. He smells so sweet, so submissive and fertile... The wolf laves his tongue over the man's pulse point, Alistair shuddering, before sinking his teeth into the flesh. Mine. Alistair tenses, pleasure spiking, and the blonde laps at the fresh wound, the taste of copper flooding his senses. The man below him is his now, his to fuck and fill and breed...
The wolf groans, lips stained red, Alistair's blood pricking his tongue. Yes, mark him, claim him. The beast's thrusts become erratic, kisses turning messy and frenzied, as pleasure coils tightly in his abdomen. The wolf gently palms at Alistair's belly, the flesh soft and pliant and pale.
"There, you feel it...? Feel how deep I am...?" The beast growls against the redhead's ear, making him whimper weakly. "Feel how full you are already...?" Alistair nods weakly, pleasure pulsing through him. He studies the curve of Alistair's bloated stomach, the beast's knot nudging his rim with each rough, unforgiving thrust. The blonde purrs, hips driving forwards. Close... He's so close.
"P-Please..." Alistair whimpers and the wolf looks down at him, a wild kind of hunger in his empty sockets. "Fill me... I need...need your cum... C-Cum inside me, please." He sobs and the beast growls. Who is he to deny his little, lost lamb anything?
With one final, deep thrust, the blonde's knot pops inside Alistair's loosened rim, tying their bodies together, as the wolf cums. Shot after shot of thick, hot spend flood Alistair's insides, his belly stretching, growing, and the redhead sobs, following soon behind. Thanks to the knot, every drop stays inside the man's shaking body, belly growing full and heavy. The beast groans, emptying himself completely. There's so much inside him, so much he's giving.
"... Fuck, little lamb... Look at you..." The beast purrs, gazing appreciatively at Alistair's stomach. Round and heavy and so, so beautiful. Empty sockets, dripping obsessively, glance up at the redhead's flushed, fucked-out expression, gentle fingers pressing at the stretch of his stomach, admiring the way his seed sloshes inside him. "God, you'd carry my litter so well... What a pity. I suppose I'll just have to keep you regardless." He murmurs and Alistair whines, exhausted, full and satisfied.
As the beast's knot starts to deflate, his softening cock slips from the red head's body. His rim is red and abused and his stomach rumbles, unable to hold so much. Cum floods from his hole in thick, milky streams, coating his ass and thighs, soaking the velvet beneath them. Blackened sockets watch Alistair's insides shudder and clench, his rim raw and puffy. Yes, the wolf has done such a good job...
He leans down, lapping eagerly at Alistair's used, slicked hole. Thick of semen coats the beast's tongue, filling his mouth, as Alistair shivers. "You did so well, little lamb..." The wolf murmurs between kitten-licks, cleaning up the redhead's insides. Alistair moans weakly. Yes, praise him, adore him.
Not long after the beast pulls out, Alistair falls asleep, his body exhausted in the wake of their tryst. The wolf cleans him up best he can, wrapping the redhead in his soiled, muddied cloak and picking him up, his head nuzzled sleepily into the beast's throat. Dark sockets gaze down at the man, pressed so close to his heart. Fate sure is a funny thing, the blonde thinks as he carries his unexpected mate through the woods to his den.
The Corinthian lays the redhead down, swaddled in his cloak. Soft snores fill the wolf's modest den and he smiles, affection warm and kind in his empty sockets. The Corinthian leans down, placing a gentle kiss to Alistair's throat, the claiming bite-mark red and sore, before curling up beside him. Yes, fate sure is a funny thing indeed...
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I read an awful lot of xenofiction, of various degrees of obscurity, most of which don't have a lot of fanfic to their name. Thoughts:
- The Plague Dogs. Book's about two dogs who escape from a medical testing lab in Lake Country and join up with a Geordie fox to become wild animals and kill sheep to live. And the whole time, they're still arguing about belief in God and the goodness of Man and how much they wish their Masters were there. And the government is trying to kill them to cover their tracks, so it tells everyone they have the plague. Jara and Ket would have a field day with the world it paints. Some OC gets trapped in dog morph and has to communicate these realities while the yeerks pursue any reports of talking dogs. I don't know, man, it's so depressing, it's perfect!
- Guardians of Ga'Hoole. Canonically, the owl knights in a war with nazi owls led by a demon witch queen exist in a world after the extinction of humans - the "others" who built stone temples, made oil paintings, had no feathers, and whom the nazi owls force the owlets to sleep in crypts of human bones. There are fifty methods of brainwashing and molding the mind to your will. Ax would be astonished by their libraries. Four giant mythological beings end up in your world, accompanied by a great diurnal predator and an alien vegetarian who doesn't believe in magic? Actual warriors versus knights whose strategies are often affected by "I saw the future in a dream?" Digger and Cassie going for midnight flights and debating the meaning of existence. Twilight teaching Rachel how to rap. Tobias going native in a world designed for birds and getting a whole suit of armor, but always feeling out of place for his size and his diurnality. Sure, they've managed to basically farm rodents on a scale where one island can sustain an entire fortress of predators, and invent a whole cuisine! They're geniuses! And yet, he's constantly awake when his new friends are asleep and vice versa and he's just as lonely as ever. Meanwhile, the humans are starving for want of food that's big without being sentient and have a time clock towards getting home... Doesn't this just write itself?
- Animalish series I can't believe I haven't seen crossover fanfic with, given their size: Redwall, Narnia, Lonely Werewolf Girl, Shiver. Imagine Ax feeling depressed Reepicheep is a more honorable Andalite than him. Imagine Cassie debating the ethics of curing werewolves with meningitis. Imagine how Tobias feels in a world where all the good guys are delicious, tiny mice - and how Ax reacts to Redwall cuisine in mouse morph.
- Finally... a crossover I talked about writing, but never did, because I wasn't afraid of the Fandom, I was afraid of the antifandom. All the people who know the story only on a surface level:
Cassie debates the ethics of killing her new friend's stepdad: security liability Humbert Humbert.
Anyone who's ever read Lolita knows that its best feature is the comedy from being narrated by an internet libertarian: "I am on trial for murder. I am explaining how I am the good guy for killing the other guy. To do this, I must heretofore thusly tell the story of how I married someone to lust after her daughter and then took an orphaned twelve-year-old around the country on a sexual road trip - now now! I believe you're starting to think mayhap that I may be the bad guy, this sounds 'gross!' But have you considered this: I am very intelligent! Here, have some facts and logic, you're being hysterical."
On a cursory reading of the plot, it sounds like it's justifying him. But that's because it's being told by a comically unreliable narrator who quotes French poetry, parodies Catullus, stretches the truth whenever he gets bored - and the universe is constantly conspiring to make him blameless in comically convenient ways, he assures you! The car crash just happened! It saved me the trouble of murdering my wife, as you saw me plan out ways to do, because I'm the good guy currently on trial for murder, but I'm still totally blameless! You can't trust a word of this guy.
Imagine a megamorphs where he's the villain narrator. It'd be the funniest book in the series. Inverse Visser One where it's the yeerk yelling at the host how much he sucks? Maybe. Cassie morphed as Illim? Imagine her trying to process those memories as he experienced them and still trying to retain her faith in the goodness of Man at heart.
I didn't write it, but the idea is free.
Is there any Animorphs crossover you really think someone should write?
I'd vote for Animorphs and Star Wars. I'm not nearly expert enough on the lore (and far too afraid of the fandom) to tackle that one myself, but I think it could be super cool if someone was willing to take it on.
#animorphs#animorphs fanfic#animorphs crossover#star wars#star wars crossover#plague dogs#lonely werewolf girl#shiver#maggie stiefvater#redwall#guardians of ga'hoole#narnia#reepicheep#lolita#vladimir nabokov#humbert humbert#seriously you guys it's the funniest book ever written EVEN IF it's uncomfortable for you personally#it isn't one of the bestselling books ever written because the readership is prurient#he has internet libertarian brainworms even before the internet#it's the second funniest novel of the fifties - but unlike Atlas Shrugged it was funny on purpose#this is even funnier to compare those two because as a kid Ayn Rand's best friend was Vladimir Nabokov's little sister Olga#She had playdates at the Nabokov family mansion#they definitely met#but they never met after they both moved to America and became novelists#History is wild#And aside from Anthem there isn't an Ayn Rand book that the Animorphs would find anything to do in#Although Visser Three trying to take over Taggart Transcontinental would be amusing#you can't get funnier than the book that names its villains Tinky and Cuffy and Balph
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horse creatures i made for my fallout ocs to have lol.. id under read more because it will be a long one
[ image one id ; drawings of two large sheep-like creatures standing at a side view. they have sloping snouts, long ears, short fluffy tails, and long thick legs ending in cloven hooves. one has short fur and blue eyes. the other has long, fluffy wool across its entire body that obscures its eyes and tapers off into short fur mid-way down its legs. they are both a rich brown with splashes of a slightly pink off-white color. they have pink noses. one is labeled 'fresh shed', and the other is labeled 'fully grown wool'.
there is text around them that reads;
Bucksteeds — strong, large, mutated sheep. or goats. or horses. nobody is totally sure! but, they're used as pack animals, mounts, and livestock all the same. wild and domesticated bucksteeds can be extremely dangerous due to size and aggression, but they're easily trained if they're raised in captivity.
due to such heavy numbers of livestock animals before the war, bucksteeds aren't a rarity in the wasteland. there are several regional variants and differences even in single populations.
despite their appearance and what they came from, bucksteeds are omnivores that can and will hunt other animals, but tend to only attack humans if they feel threatened.
6-9 feet fully grown. this is an average; they can be larger or smaller depending on the area and the amount of radiation they've been exposed to over time.
bucksteeds shed naturally in the spring after growing their wool out over winter to keep warm. end id for image one. ]
[ image two id ; two drawings of the same large sheep-like creatures. on the left is a headshot of a sideview of the creature facing to the right. the creature is snarling, showing its yellow sharp dog-like teeth. it has short fluffy wool in a golden color. its snout and ears taper into a dull dark brown. it has a dark brown nose eye wide brown eyes.
on the right is a full body drawing of one of the creatures standing on all fours at a 3/4 view and looking off screen to the right. it has large ram-like horns that curl around its ears and have several curly spikes that protrude at odd angles along the length. the creature has short fluffy wool in a light cream color, with large white spots along its body, including one that covers most of its face. its horns and hooves are both a dark, dull yellow. it has pale blue eyes and a pink nose.
text surrounds the drawings in a similar fashion to before, reading;
oftentimes, bucksteeds are mistaken for prey animals. in reality, they are predators, and can and will kill. even just one can be extremely dangerous to an average person.
bucks can and will run in packs, and this can often be extremely dangerous to settlements given their territorial nature.
bucksteeds can, in some areas, grow large, oversized, dangerous horns. not only can these be a hazard to others, but to the animals themselves. it's a common practice to grind these down for the bucks and their owners' safety.
wool, hides, and horns can go for high prices if the quality is good. although the wool and hides can be dyed, some colors are more sought after than others. horns cannot be colored without paint, so certain colors are extremely valuable. end id for image 2. ]
#my art#fallout#idk#worldbuilding#?#fallout new vegas#fallout 4#art#fanart#digital art#very self indulgent#wanted one of my ocs to have a horse creature
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WHAT A KILLER
BO’S S/O REVEALING THEY ARE ALSO A SLASHER (Vincent is also kind of in this)
TW: blood, gore, killing, swearing (that’s inevitable with Bo)
THIS has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS and idk why I'm so iffy on posting it but hopefully you guys in enjoy this! It's different from a lot of what I write and I do like it, it's just specific lol.. Also the s/o in this, was the bare bones of what Amaria (my oc) started as... hope you enjoy 🔪💕
MASTERLIST
Bloodcurdling screams could be heard through the normally silent town of Ambrose as dusk fell. Crimson painted the skies and the asphalt, almost mirroring each other in perfection. Crows calling for the wasted souls Bo obliterated and Vincent could not fix.
Shuttering at the sounds heard you could not sit there on the old couch any longer, just playing with your fingers trying to push down the urges you felt deep down. They beckoned you like the crows did for flesh. You tried so hard to hide this side but it was only a matter of time you knew, the demon had to rear it’s head eventually if you really wanted to stay in Ambrose forever, and you did. You found the man of your twisted dreams here.
Before you were held in Ambrose against your will; well in the beginning it was against your will but that quickly faded and you fell madly in love with your kidnapper and the town he held so close; you were a drifter. A wanderer of gypsy’s blood. Never managing to hold in one place for more than 6 months, the only time you had a home was when you were growing up, but having a disgusting home life you left at 16. Fleeing home and trying to run from your growing desires you instead made a treaty with your urges, running towards them, allowing them to show when you were safe and comfortable.
Bo never knew, all these months as you played the part of his defenceless little housewife it was growing harder to tell him. Of course you wanted to tell him but you were scared of him not trusting you, and terrified of what he would do to you; pretty ironic when you considered doing the same things to him.
Casually you would throw a joke out there about killing someone or dreaming of snapping someone's neck, however they weren’t jokes to you. It was your wicked reality. Bo was none the wiser, but Vincent, in his quiet embers saw something beyond your delicate eyes, something he saw within himself perhaps. He started to believe your jokes and comments, carefully watching you. Wondering if for once there was a different kind of evil in the town, or if he was becoming the hunted instead of the hunter.
Climbing the stairs and reaching the bedroom you paused, pulling in a large breath and exhaling, closing your eyes. You sank to your knees against the hardwood, pulling a long black, locked plastic box from under the bed, methodically you played with the lock and swung the top open. Placing your eyes upon the weapon your body tensed but your soul relaxed, a sick war inside your head divided.
Running your hands along the cold metal of the black blade, you felt home once again, blood could almost be felt on your hands and screams faded in your ears. Hunger grew. A deep pleasure surged through you.
It was your 18 inch steel black machete; with ridges menacingly flaunting themselves across the top, like a dragon’s spine. The grip you had customized to fit your hand perfectly, needing it to act like an extension of you. It was adorned proudly with a thin rope of bright red fabric tied around the end of the handle, ripped from your first victim’s shirt, it’s tails would drift gracefully in the wind juxtaposing the damage the weapon could do.
Shaky hands picked up the weapon and it seamlessly melting into your grip, your eyes darkened as you rose from the floor, feeling your demons begin to yip and howl like a pack of starving wild dogs ready to feed. Giving yourself another deep breath in and out you kicked the box back under the bed and started down the stairs and out the front door with purpose.
The hot sticky Louisiana air hit you, flowing in your hair and the tail of fabric on your machete. Screams begin to reach you in swells, coming closer flooding you like the rising tides as a younger woman was running towards you. Under the dim streetlights she could not see what you held, for the black blade melted into the shadows perfectly, as intended. To her you were hope, a way out of her hell, maybe you could help her. The poor thing could not have been more wrong in her panic-stricken judgements.
You could smell her blood pouring from her injuries Bo inflicted and her desperate cries, it was all too much to you, it was just like blood in the water to a shark, your twisted instincts began to take over. Eyes darkened on the prey that was heedlessly bounding towards you and with one swipe, that was it. Blood was spilt. You had killed again and it felt so damn right. Looking down basking in the sight, she was slit ear to ear, the gash threatening to show the tips of the vertebrae at the back of her neck. The demons were lurching beside you pushing you forward for more. More blood. More affliction.
Studying the surroundings, Bo was nowhere to be found, unusual for him to let his prey escape his hunt. It was quiet now as you walked on down the street, yellow fluorescents guided your path, and the homes were just barren shapes acting as blinders leading you onward for the man you dreaded seeing at this moment, the demons couldn’t care less about your emotions or feelings, they just carried your body to more gore.
Rounding the corner, the gas station lights gave up a tangled mess on the ground. Two men were wrestling for some sort of weapon that glinted in the lights above them. Cursing yells, threats and grunts spilled out of both of them, one more than the other of course. Bo always had a mouth on him and no one could ever shut him up, it made you smirk as you approached, but suddenly there was a sharp yell and the stranger was on top of Bo. The man had his back to you and just had eyes for the greasy mechanic, beating him with the weapon you could now see was a wrench. You could feel a burning anger rise from your core and Bo’s howls were just fuel to the fire.
Steadily making your way up to the two wrecks of people, now standing behind the stranger you forced your long rigid blade through the core of the man, impaling him right under the sternum. Loud clanging of metal rang through the street as the man dropped the wrench as his body went limp, heaving over the weapon within him. With your boot you carefully directed the corpse off your machete and on the asphalt next to Bo, leaving your face sprayed with red from the spine of the blade.
Your eyes met with saucer wide baby blues causing you to let out a silent breathy laugh licking your lips of blood, sickly savouring the unusual copper. Bo laid on the ground a moment longer just taking in for sure what he saw from his precious angel. Just as you were about to speak but Bo beat you to it.
“I FUCKIN’ KNEW IT!” he gloated hysterically, leaving you more than a little shocked. “I KNEW IT!” Bo got to his feet and almost looked like he was going to do a little dance, you just stood there in the streetlight beginning to laugh, relived but worried as if he had hit his head or something. It was never a dull moment with Bo that’s for sure.
“Are you ok? like seriously, your beginning to scare me” you puzzled as he sauntered his way up to you cocky as ever.
“I’m fuckin’ fantastic... I knew there was something in you” he held you against his chest and put his head on yours “something awful behind those beautiful eyes, my little angel of death” you laughed against him as he kissed your crown, then pulled away looking you dead in the eyes. “Why did you think I kept you around all these months? you made me wait a while... and you know how much I hate waitin”
The words burned in your skull, was that really the only reason? Bo was still unpredictable to you in ways, especially with his dark side. Maybe he was just going to kill you now, maybe he didn’t love you, it could’ve just been the wicked charm he carried effortlessly.
Something came alive in his blue eyes, scaring you slightly but trying to play it off when you cupped his strong jaw, breathing slowly.
“People are my specialty baby” he drawled, then pulled you roughly into a kiss. Sweat, oil, cigarettes, and blood coated the kiss leaving you breathless as he often did.
Bo was right, people were his perfected craft; charming, seducing, lying, playing up the sob story about him and Vincent being in foster care after both parents died. Hell, he could speak French Cajun so he could be more versatile, and charm his way out of any situation in any part of Louisiana. Bo always knew everything you were feeling even before you said it, now that you think back on it.
“Bo? you still love me?” you hesitating in your question not sure if you wanted the answer.
This caught his attention as his jaw tensed and eyes hardened “What would make you think I don’t?... sure I would’ve liked to know earlier, sure, but this just makes you better,” he looked you up and down like a predator before coming close to your ear and purring “and hotter.” You yelped as you were suddenly tossed over his shoulder and carried down to the basement of the garage.
Fidgeting with the lock for a moment he swung the door open and placed you in his chair. “Oh, Sinclair there is a special place in hell for us, and I will meet you there” you laughed as Bo climbed on top of you, clashing his lips against yours, hungry and lustful.
#my writing#horror#slasher#slashers#bo sinclair x reader#bo sinclair#house of wax 2005#vincent sinclair#imagine#slasher x s/o#slasher fanfiction#slasher fandom#x you
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AFTERTASTE PART SIX
Pairing: Archie Andrews X Short!Reader
Genre: fluff and some angst
Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.
Song: Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer
Warnings: a high probability for swearing
Words: 1.7K
MASTERLIST
feedback is always appreciated
"LEONARDO, MICHELANGELO!" An eleven year old Y/N Robins called from her porch door, impatiently tapping a food bowl against the wooden frame she leant against. Behind her, the sun was setting and painted the sky a gorgeous array of pinks and oranges, sweeping together like watercolours. She looked out on the street impatiently, finding its sleeping state both calming and unnerving. Elm Street was never noisy, but after three years of living there, the girl had realised it wasn't a place of silence either.
And she was completely right. A distant, yet soft, meow grew ever closer, finally appearing around the side of a bush. Y/N grinned, affectionately calling out for the birman to go find his dinner, "C'mere Angelo, that's it boy!"
He trotted past her up into the house where his found his dinner waiting.
"Leo!" Her small voice called out as loud as it could into the cool evening air. He had wandered off earlier that same day to enjoy the Riverdale summer heat elsewhere, and the Robins family didn't think anything of it. Just as her mouth opened to call out the name again, Vegas came barrelling out from the door of the Andrews household, across the street to her side with Mary and Archie following.
The Andrews matriarch noticed the empty food bowl, "Is everything alright, Y/N/N?" She asked in her usual professional voice, but the girl knew from experience how much love and warmth it really held. Elodie told her about Leonardo's disappearance and how it wasn't uncommon in this kind of weather, but he could be getting a bit hungry.
Mary handed the dog leash to her son and sent him a secret wink, "Why don't you two walk Vegas together and see if you can find him?"
Excitement had been bubbling through the small town of Riverdale for weeks now anticipating the big Fourth of July celebrations ahead of them. Y/N Robins had planned on keeping up with her old tradition of sleeping in until late afternoon, then rolling out of bed in time to catch the fireworks with her friends. But with with the drunkenly asking Archie to be her boyfriend, which was not something she remembered a few hours later, her plans for this year were flipped on their head. So she found herself getting dressed to go talk things out with her supposedly best friend in a quiet spot next to sweet water river.
With her hair half tied up, and a black denim jacket over her shoulders, Y/N left through the door in her bedroom, and waited on the edge of the pavement until she heard a door across the street open and quietly shut. Any butterflies fluttering in her stomach all but disappeared as Archie turned around and smiled into the early morning sun towards her. It had been three days since they had last seen each other, since the girl confessed she didn't really know what she wanted in the space between them.
He jogged over road, asphalt kicking up under his new Nike trainers, and immediately engulfed Y/N's small frame into his own. The two teenagers walked all the way to the edge of Sweetwater River in the silvery silence of early birds and rustling leaves, their hands every now and again grazing each other and lacing together.
"So," The Andrews boy sighed as he lay against the warm grass, watching as she sat next to him and propped her head up on his chest, "what's going on in that head of yours?"
"Leo!" Y/N's melodic voice rang out across the long stretch of stream. Crystal clear water you could see the smoothness of the rocks which lay underneath if you peaked your head over the bank enough. For some unknown reason, the young cat would always find his way towards some kind of water, even back in Phoenix.
"Hello?" Archie bopped the girl on the tip of her nose as she returned back to reality, evidently not hearing what he'd just asked by the puzzled look her face adorned.
She hummed and gave him her full attention, allowing him to rephrase his previous words. In the back of her mind, Y/N knew exactly what she wanted- to leave high school and go on endless adventures with the boy her head lay upon. She wanted an easy life, away from the eerie little town she called home- to decorate her own house with pictures of smiles and candid memories. But most of all, in that perfect moment, she wanted herself to let go and fall in love with her childhood best friend.
After finding Prince Charming and finding out he was really the one from Shrek and not Cinderella, her faith in true love was shaken at the age of sixteen.
"I'm scared of you hurting me, or doing anything that could possibly hurt you, Arch." Y/N's voice faltered at her blunt honesty, "I meant everything I said, but I don't think I'm over what happened with Chuck last year."
"Tiger," Archie interrupted her thoughts, sitting up slightly leaning back on one hand and using the other to cup her face, "I can't promise we won't ever hurt each other even just a little bit, but whatever happens, we'll learn and grown from it together. I don't think I'll ever fully understand how much that bastard hurt you. But, nothing in this world that's worth having comes easy, life is scary and I'll go through all of the shitty parts twenty three hours a day, if it means I get just one with you smiling up at me."
Half an hour of roaming up and down the river bank had passed before a twisting, nauseous feeling took over the pit of Y/N's stomach. She and her family adored their two fluffy boys, her dad would never admit it but they all heard the little 'goodnights' he'd whisper as he made his way up to bed finally. Though with her parents still working, and Y/S/N desperately needing to finish an assignment due tomorrow, the youngest Robins was the only one able to attend this search and rescue mission.
"What if he's -"
Vegas rubbed his nose against her shin in comfort.
"Y/N/N," A twelve year old Archie cut her off in his usual caring voice, "don't even let your mind go there. He's a little ninja cat he's probably off catching frogs or something."
He grabbed her hand, squeezing it in comfort and heading towards an unexplored area of the forest line. Truth be told, he was meant to be doing English homework with Betty Cooper right about now, but that had slipped his mind as soon as Y/N Robins adorably wonky smile found him across the road.
"Leo!" Y/N's sweet voice called out.
"Leonardo?" Archie followed with Vegas by his side.
"That's the sweetest thing I think I've ever heard." The girl admitted shyly, hiding her rose dusted cheeks by bringing Archie into a tight hug, her head resting in the crook of his neck while her long y/h/c hair tickled his face. It smelt of strawberries and mint in the morning breeze.
"Y/N/N, can I ask you something?" His voice sounded nervous, but as she looked up and nodded, his face held a smirk, "Will you stay my girlfriend?"
She answered with a small kiss, staring into his eyes innocently as her fingers traced his back under his thin t-shirt, about to lift the material from his body. But life had a funny way of throwing challenges their way, making them run before they could walk.
"I think I see him!" Archie handed the leash to his best friend, seeing a patch of grey in between the auburn autumn leaves. Vegas barked and tried to follow after his human, but Y/N managed to stop the Labrador from bounding away by distracting him with ear rubs. Wild growls and hisses could be heard as Archie wrestled the feisty long haired cat into his hoodie clad arms. Then Leonardo hissed so madly, the young boy almost dropped him, "Yep, definitely Leo."
Y/N ran over as fast as she could, dropping the lead as soon as she saw his pumpkin eyes and bare teeth, clearly not a fan of Archie. She grinned widely with glee and got to her tippy toes to kiss Archie's cheek. "You're a life saver!"
As soon as the fluffy animal felt Y/N's little hands rubbing his chin as she took him from the boy's arms, he switched into a completely different cat and started purring.
A gunshot sounded through the open clearing, and before a high pitched scream could escape from Y/N's mouth, Archie saw the terror in her eyes and pulled the petite girl behind him. He scaled the area, unable to see anything but birds fleeing from the unusual noise.
"We need to get out of here." The boy's gravely voice whispered with urgency, picking her up without hesitation and running until his lungs burnt and his trainers once again hit the comfort of tarmac.
"What the fuck was that?" Y/N screeched, her inquisitiveness telling to turn back, but thankfully common sense won that battle. She and Archie found themselves back on the pavement of Elm Street before they knew it.
"Y/N, we didn't see anything, it could've been a car backfiring a street away for all we know." Archie tried to rationalise, but in all honesty he was stuck to his core with dread.
"Right, or someone was just murdered and we could've been next on some psychopaths hit list." Y/N's dark mind shone through as she blurted out her inner monologue. The boy didn't have any words of wisdom, instead he lead her to his front door and brought her into his body. They stayed in their own little world for what could have been hours, thankful they had each other and not allowing themselves to think about what secrets Riverdale was really hiding under it's pretty exterior.
Nothing ever happened in the town with 'pep'.
Betty Cooper awoke early that Saturday morning, ready to get any assignments out of the way to enjoy the weekend ahead. She opened her curtains and tied her hair up into a ponytail, but as she looked out of her window at the beautiful blue skies, she watched in shock at the surprising scene unfolding in front of her. Y/N Robins up on her tippy toes, with Archie Andrews' hands wrapped around her waist as they kissed intensely in what the two thought was privacy.
PART SEVEN
wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x
#fanfic#fanfiction#riverdale masterlist#riverdale fluff#riverdale smut#archie andrews#archie andrews smut#archie x reader#archie riverdale#archie imagine#archie fluff#archie andrews x reader
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Late Night Thoughts
Word Count: 2,956 Rating: E Ship: Kiyomi/Madara/Tobirama Characters: Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama, Fujihara Kiyomi (OC) Genre: Smut ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ It was late- far too late for any civilian to be walking about alone at night. The streets were empty, save for the lone shinobi rushing home from a mission, or leaving in the dead of night to attend to a mission passed down from their kage. The occasional stray dog or cat would dart across the street and into an alleyway, chasing after it’s prey. Quiet; calm- one could even venture to say it was peaceful, though that word was nearly taboo to speak within a shinobi village. To speak of peace is to bring the omen of war to the border.
And no one wanted a war, not now.
A sigh slipped past ruby painted lips as Fujihara Kiyomi settled against the railing of the balcony. The hotel was nice- then again, she’d expect nothing less of the Hokage. Tomorrow, she’d meet with Hashirama to decide whether or not Konoha could offer a decent trade route through the Land of Fire- something that was debated quite a lot. Kiri needed the wood; Konoha needed the iron ore that Kiri had within it’s mountains. These negotiations were tiring, but she was good at her job. She’d always been good at negotiating- her life, others lives.
It was fun- dangerous, but fun.
Her gaze drifted from the horizon to the streets, watching as the Hokage finally left his office, his little retinue in tow. Uzumaki Mito- a beautiful woman with a terrifying beast that lived within. She was fierce, respected, a terror on the field. Senju Tobirama- his younger brother who managed to master all five elements; he was handsome, but cold. Smart, too. And at the back, Uchiha Madara, who laughed at something Hashirama had said. Now that was a man- the long hair, the prowess both on and off of the field, the reputation alone was terrifying, but the man himself? Not as terrifying, not off of the field.
One could even say he was handsome.
She watched like a wraith in the shadows as they passed beneath her balcony before rounding a corner, Madara going left, the Senju clan going right. If she squinted, she could see the Uchiha clan compound from her room. How peculiar- then again, all of the clans here were spread out.
No one was close to one another. Smart; clans needed their space, lest they begin to feud over land once more.
But the Uchiha Clan, from what she had gathered in her three weeks of being here, were treated differently- as if they had created some sort of awful creature and were now being shunned for it. It made her skin crawl in an unpleasant sort of way.
Konoha could act as if it were high and mighty, better than the other nations because it looks like it has its act together, but scrape away the surface layer of varnish, and you see the painting for what it truly is. This village was no different from Kiri- and time would certainly tell the truth of that.
She gathered herself, slipping back into her rooms and closing the doors behind her, drawing the sheer curtains. The moonlight spilled softly through the thin fabric, illuminating the room in a gentle silver light. Konoha summers were different from Kiri summers; the air was neither dry nor wet. A strange mixture of the two that left her night robe clinging to her skin like it was trying to become one with her. Disgusting. She felt restless; sleep would not come, not yet. Her mind was clouded with a hundred different thoughts; it made tension rise in her neck. She could go to the Onsen, but given the late hour, it would be difficult to get in.
Scowling, she all but flopped onto her bed, groaning into the mattress. If Jushiro were here, he'd already have her pinned to the mattress, fucking her until she was sobbing. And then he'd clean up and go to his own room, because they slept separately. Their marriage was not one of love- they did love one another, but not in any form of romanticism.
But that wasn't what she wanted- not what she craved. Sure, she wanted to be pinned down and made to sob- she always enjoyed that. She enjoyed many different things. But she wanted more than just one quick round. She wanted to be taken, to be held, to be used until she forgot her own name. Now THAT would put her to sleep without issue.
Rolling over, she studied the ceiling for a moment. It wasn't as if she didn't come prepared- she did! In many senses of the word! She wouldn’t dare go to the Entertainment District that Konoha had up and working- no, she couldn’t be seen there. It would ruin her reputation. She could henge, but fucking with a henge on never felt the same- too detached, not truly her skin.
Nimble fingers worked on the knot of her robe, making quick work of it before she peeled the robe from her form, a pleased noise escaping as the slightly cooled air of the bedroom graced her skin at long last. No bindings wrapped around her chest, her breasts free. She ached- her ribs ached as her hands reached up, rubbing over the slowly fading red marks of her bindings. She couldn’t wait to return home, where she did not have to bind beneath the layers of her formal robes. But for now, she couldn’t walk around unbound- that would be a touch too distracting.
And she had already caught the Hokage looking at her chest.
Hashirama was a handsome man, she’d give him that. But not her type- something about him made her squirm, and not in a pleasant way. How his gaze lingered a touch too long, how his smiles never reached his eyes. Snake, that’s what he was. A snake hiding beneath a bouquet of roses.
She leaned down, taking hold of her rucksack, and tugged it up onto the bed. She knew she’d be here for an extended period- and like hell she’d be stuck here without bringing along some entertainment. And teas- those were necessary to aid with the pains that came with her cycle.
Her hand took hold of a bottle first, cool to the touch as she pulled it out. It was clear, filled with a clear liquid that was thicker than water, yet not a solid. She set it aside for a moment- that would be necessary soon. Her nose scrunched as impatience settled in- where was it? Oh! Her lips spread into a grin as she took hold of the phallic shape, tugging the toy free. Perfect!
Excitement coursed through her veins as she settled onto the bed, propping herself up with the pillows the hotel provided. Now- she wasn’t wet enough to not bother with any foreplay, sadly. But foreplay always had been her forte- both for herself and her partners. Working people up is what she did best, after all.
Eyes closing, she allowed herself to relax, breathing deeply for a moment before her hands raised, slowly trailing along her sides. An image swam into view of calloused hands larger than her own and dark hair, a pair of gentle lips caressing her throat. Her head tilted back, a soft sigh pulled free as a hand massaged her breast, giving gentle squeezes. Sensitive- much more than normal. Perhaps from wearing the bindings too tightly- or if her cycle was close… She’d need to check later, but for now, it was not her hand squeezing her breasts but another’s.
“Yes,” she whispered, hips shifting thighs spreading for the phantom. A hand slipped down, dragging nails across her left thigh, drawing free a gasp from her lips, her back arching up and into the phantom lips she pictured closing around a nipple. A different hand was on her thigh, one belonging to another man- one with hair the color of starlight and eyes the shade of blood. “Please- don’t tease…” She whined, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.
The hand on her breast crept upwards, pausing at her throat to squeeze- to test the waters. It had her thighs squeezing shut, hips shifting, breath quickening. She could hear his chuckle in her ear as the hand lifted to her mouth, two fingers slipping inside, pressing down against her tongue. "Be a good girl for us, Kiyomi," Madara murmured against the shell of her ear. A keen, high in her throat, filled the room as her thighs rubbed against one another, hoping to gain some friction.
"No, no," the swat to her thigh nearly startled her out of her fantasy, but she quickly slipped back in. "Did I say you could move?" Tobirama asked, his gaze hard as her legs spread once more.
“No, sir,” she breathed, though her fantasy quickly stills at the sound of footsteps outside of her room. She held her breath, gaze trained on the ceiling as she listened- someone returning to their room down the hall. The door opens, then clicks shut. Silence in the hall once more. Her breath leaves her in a rush as she shakes her head. She’s a grown woman, and yet she still jumps the moment she fears getting caught being intimate with herself.
How amusing.
Her gaze drifts, studying the vague shapes in the dark room. A desk- oh. Oh-
Her mind runs wild with that thought. Both of those men have their own desk- hell, she has a desk back in Kiri that has certainly seen plenty of things during its use. Her eyes slip shut once again, dark lashes casting soft shadows against the apples of her cheeks as her fantasy comes back to the forefront of her mind.
Madara, his front pressed to her back, his hands wandering across her skin, grabbing handfuls. "Look at this- you're already wet for us," he crooned, rocking his hips forward to press against her. Hard- oh, Gods, he was hard as a rock. It draws a moan out of her lips as her hand dips down, slipping beneath the dark, lace fabric of her underwear. Her fingers were hesitant at first before confidence took hold, picturing not her own hand but rather his. How the fingers would dip low, spreading her lips to fully feel how wet she had grown. "My, my, what have we here?" He’d ask as his middle finger teased at her entrance.
"Someone's excited," Tobirama would murmur, watching from his desk, leaning back in his chair. So casual, even though his yukata was open, baring his chest- and giving her the smallest peak of what lay below. "So needy already."
“Just for you two,” Kiyomi whispered into the air of the bedroom, lost in her fantasy as her fingers slipped in, curling upwards. The feeling had her toes curling, a keen rising high in her throat. “Madara-” she whined, voice wavering as her hips rolled into her touch.
Oh, his fingers would be larger than her own, thicker- the hands of a shinobi. “There, there!” She gasped as her fingers curled, pulling backwards before pushing forwards once more. He’d be cruel like this, she imagined, teasing and taunting her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Pressing against that one spot, his thumb against her clit, rubbing tight circles as Tobirama watched from his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. Unimpressed, he’d be- but his ruby gaze would be growing hazy, especially as Madara would reach up to cup one of her breasts through her kimono. “Don’t- Madara, please, don’t stop!”
Wet, so very wet, her hips raised off of the bed as she cried out, a hand against her chest. “There! Right- right there! Yes!” Madara would be grinning against her shoulder, gaze trained on Tobirama across from them as she jolted, knees threatening to give out from the harsh pleasure.
"Should I let her cum?" He would ask, watching as Tobirama’s gaze darkened. Predatory.
"Not yet." Tobirama would respond, leaning forward to reach out, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen into her flushed face. "I want her to cry. I want to see how she looks with her makeup ruined."
“No, no, no,” she pleaded, whining as the fingers left her. Empty- she felt so empty suddenly, her lip jutting out in a pout. “I was so close, don’t do this!”
"Do what, little snake?" Tobirama asked as Madara chuckled, reaching down to undo his trousers. No armor- none of them were wearing any. Too much in the way for hands to touch. And oh, she would love to be able to touch- from the few instances in which she’d been close enough to Madara, she’d felt how solid he was. How sturdy, how much those robes hid the muscles that laid beneath. And Tobirama- she’d gotten a good feel after being tripped by one of the elder council members, causing her to fall against him. He was solid, too- taller than Madara, a touch more lithe, but still solid.
What she wouldn’t give to be stuck between those two…
“Oh- oh!” She had to slap a hand over her mouth as her middle finger worked over her clit quickly, her breaths coming in harsh pants. “Good, good, good,” she whispered, brows furrowing, toes curling as the pleasure built higher, higher, higher-
Her hand withdrew, leaving her teetering on the edge before backing away. So close, so very close. “Tobirama,” she whispered as a hand raised to settle around her throat. In her mind, it was his- large, strong, squeezing as he loomed over her. “Fuck me, please- please-” her voice bordered on a sob before she reached out, taking hold of the bottle of lube. She made quick work of slicking the toy up, of ripping off her underwear and tossing them aside, of spreading her legs and settling a pillow beneath the small of her back.
“Oh-” she squeaked as the toy pushed in slowly, her brow furrowing at the slight sting of stretch. It was larger than her husband, that much was certain- the length almost the same as his. But oh, how good it felt as it sank in. “Yes,” came the soft sigh as it bottomed out, settled deep within.
"So tight," Madara would groan, his brows drawn inward, panting softly. He’d have laid her out on the desk, her head resting at the edge, giving her the perfect view of Tobirama’s face. "Should feel how tight she is, Tobi. Gripping my cock..." his voice trails off as he leans down, pressing kiss after lingering kiss to her throat, letting her get used to the stretch.
Her gaze settles upon ruby hues, watching how his gaze trails across her and Madara’s joined forms. His hand reaches down, cupping himself. She could reach down and help him out if her hands weren’t captured in Madara’s own. His lips part as he begins to stroke the same moment Madara begins to move.
“Oh- oh, yes, Gods, yes,” she gasps, eyes widening at the slow, deep thrusts. The drag against her inner walls is wonderful, creating sparks that cause her to jolt. “Madara- Madara, please, faster,” she begs, but her gaze doesn’t leave Tobirama’s. “Fuck me faster, Madara!”
The growl she gets in response is one she swears is real, rumbling against her ear as she moves the toy faster in her cunt, not bothering to hide her sounds any longer. If she were a more innocent woman, she’d be embarrassed by how wet she was- how she could hear it with each movement of the toy. But she wasn’t innocent, hadn’t been in many years, and god, did it feel good. “Ah! Yes- yes, Tobira-Mada-ah!” She cried out, hips rutting down against the toy. “Please, please, please-”
"Please what, little snake?" Tobirama murmured as Madara moaned against her throat, getting lost in the pleasure himself. "Use your words, pet."
“Wanna cum!” She keens, back arching. “Please, lemme cum, lemme cum, please, please-”
"Gonna be a good girl and cum for us?" Madara whispered against the shell of her ear. "Gonna cum on cock like a good girl? Let me fill you up?" He asked, hand slipping between them to toy with her clit.
She whines, biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. Tobirama would have laughed at that- oh, she could see it so clearly, how he would have reached up to pull her lip free, to swipe at the blood before leaning down for a kiss- how he would groan into the kiss, his own fist moving faster.
“Close, close- gonna cum, gonna-” Her voice catches in her throat as she tips over the edge, back arching, mouth dropping open into a silent scream. Her hand doesn’t stop despite how jerky the movements have become. “Don’t stop, don’t sto-ah-ah!” Kiyomi gasps, hand finally stilling as the aftershocks begin to subside. After a moment, she pulls the toy out and all but tosses it aside.
Her hands drop to her sides, a laugh trickling free as she shakes her head. “What a shame,” she murmured, voice hoarse. A shame it was only her imagination and not the real thing. She rolls onto her side, nose scrunching up at the wet little puddle she’d left on the bed. That could be fixed later.
For now, a hot shower sounded lovely. She rose and stretched with cat-like grace, her hands high above her head. She slipped into the en suite bathroom, door closing behind her. Not once had she noticed how the temperature had cooled, how the curtains had begun to dance with the light summer breeze.
Old window latches were oh so tricky, after all.
#not safe m&ms#tobirama senju#madara uchiha#tobimada#tobirama x oc#madara x oc#naruto fanfiction#naruto smut#madara smut#tobirama smut#m's oc: kiyomi fujihara#m's scribbles
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only the black rose (chapter 5)
pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)
warnings: talks of parental abandonment, off-scene injury, drug use (legal!), fluff, and me waxing poetic about one of my favourite books. and more fluff.
words: 3.1k
summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.
author’s note: this one wrote itself. i expected to take longer with it cause of this. this is the start of the Chaos seen in the 1975 North American tour, so hold onto your hats and enjoy! congrats! you’ve unlocked layla’s tragic backstory! unbeta’d as always, and here’s the link to the playlist :)
masterlist
playlist
chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
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Soon enough, the band make their way home, basking in the golden glow of a couple of excellent shows. It’s only a matter of days until the start of the North American tour, and the excitement is palpable. The boys find themselves at the studio, running through some last-minute tour details, accompanied by a certain brunette firecracker, who sits reading comfortably in the lobby.
Layla, sitting on a luxurious couch just outside of the meeting room, is drowning in a hardcover book, consuming every word at a ravenous pace. The sound of pages flipping periodically is accompanied by the light din of voices detailing the upcoming tour. Lost in the story in front of her, she is surprised when she hears a person clearing their throat, seemingly right in front of her. Looking up, she spots the secretary of Swan Song Records, a woman with glasses and long brown hair ran through with gray, pinned up in a low bun. Light freckles dusted her cheeks. Judging by the crow’s feet at the corners of her hazel eyes, the secretary had to have been older than Layla, perhaps around 50, though her bright smile gave the impression of youth.
“Sorry to interrupt, Miss… I just couldn’t help but notice the book you were reading. I don’t see many fans of the classics around here, especially ones so young.”
Recovering from the shock of being ripped out of the hypnotising story she was wrapped up in, Layla gestures to the seat next to her. With a bright smile, the secretary smoothes down her pencil skirt, and sits down.
“My mother was a literature buff, and it seems she’s passed that down to me! My name’s Layla. You’re Evelyn, right?”
“Y-Yes, I am! How do you…”
“Well, I had to put a name to the lovely secretary that gives me a smile whenever I see her. Makes my day, if I’m being honest.”
“You’re too sweet, darling,” Evelyn says, lips turning up warmly, eyes dancing with joy. “If I may, what are your thoughts on the book? It’s a personal favourite of mine, and it’s always nice to hear new opinions.”
“Well,” Layla starts, lighting up as she speaks. “Wilde’s language paints such a beautiful, vivid picture, and the characters are so interesting, even if they aren’t morally likeable, most of the time. They make mistakes… Many mistakes… but we sympathize with them.”
At this, Layla cups her hand around her mouth, whispering to Evelyn mischievously, as if what she was about to say was the world’s most important secret.
“It’s a favourite of mine too.”
The two women laugh, Evelyn’s hand falling across Layla’s arm, a comforting, grounding weight. Evelyn, with a warm smile gracing her face, crow’s feet as prominent as ever, sends a pang of longing into Layla’s heart. Not for love, but for her old life. Her friends worried out of their minds over her disappearance; her mother, left alone not once, but twice. Her father had left when she was a child, and it had been her and her mother ever since. Layla learned to put up walls, so that she’d never be hurt like that again. They all leave in the end. It’s better that way. Better not to get attached. Better not to get hurt.
“That’s a lovely interpretation, Layla. You know,” Evelyn says, interrupting Layla’s train of thought. “For someone so young, you have an old soul. Wise beyond your years, for sure.”
“You have no idea…”
“Well, I must get to work, darling,” Evelyn claps her hands together, and stands up, resting a hand on Layla’s arm once more. “I’d love to chat again, though. Such refreshing opinions from such a young woman. I’ll let you get back to your book.”
“I would love to! We’ll make plans soon, I promise. Have a wonderful day, Evelyn!” With that, Layla opens the novel, and is taken once again by the current of the story. Minutes pass, until Layla is interrupted once more, this time by a soft press of lips against the crown of her head.
“Everything alright, Layla?”
“Of course, Jim,” Layla says, reaching out to grasp Jimmy’s hand in return. “How did the meeting go?”
“Well, you were right outside the door, I’m surprised you didn’t eavesdrop,” He takes a seat beside her, and reaches down to tap at the book still nestled in Layla’s hand, her finger keeping the page. “You were too engrossed in this, I bet. What are you reading anyways?”
Layla lifts the book to show the cover, which is a slightly worn navy blue, with golden accents in the form of small droplets. In metallic lettering, read ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’.
“Oscar Wilde, hey? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a lover of the classics.”
“I spent my teenage years with Austen and Dickens, after all.”
“I didn’t think you were that old.”
Layla rolls her eyes, a fond look upon her features. Smiling at the man in front of her, she puts a hand to his cheek.
“Yeah, I’m a real cradle-robber.”
“Just make sure my mum doesn’t hear about this relationship: she’ll have a fit.”
“I’ll be careful, angel,” Layla laughs, putting a pensive finger to her chin. “Hey, Jimmy? Do you have a good relationship with your parents?” Jimmy smiles wide at the question and nods, dark curls bobbing at the movement. He absentmindedly takes Layla’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb in soft circles across her wrist.
“My parents… They’ve always been very supportive of me in every way, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to find a way to thank them,” Jimmy squeezes her hand briefly, meeting her eyes. “You know, I bet they’d love you.”
“Do you really think so?” Layla’s cheeks grow warm, and her lips tilt upwards in a smile that is uncharacteristically shy.
“Of course I do, petal,” Jimmy says, pushing a fallen lock of hair behind Layla’s ear, his touch featherlight. “How about you? What are your parents like?”
“Well… My dad… He left us when I was young, so it’s been me and my mom ever since,” This is marked with a moment of silence, and Layla’s eyes meet her shoes, pointedly not looking at Jimmy. “My mom’s probably the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I truly can’t thank her enough for everything she’s done for me. She’s my best friend.”
The silence continues, until Layla feels a calloused finger at her jaw, lifting her chin. Finally flicking her eyes up to gaze at the guitarist, she’s shocked by the concern and sadness she sees in those emerald green eyes.
“Petal, I…”
“Jim, it’s fine. It—”
“It’s not fine, Layla. It’s not. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that. Either of you.” Jimmy pulls her into a tight hug, long arms wrapping around her, making her feel safe. They stay like this for what feels like hours, breaking apart slowly.
“Jimmy, I… Thank you.”
“Of course. Now, how about you read me some of that book of yours?”
Layla laughs brightly, albeit a little watery, and smiles at Jimmy, eyes shining with gratitude. Shuffling, she positions herself in his lap, legs hanging off the end of the couch as his arm comes to rest across her back, holding her steady against his chest. She opens the book, dog-earing the corner of the page she was reading, before flipping back to the start.
“Petal, as much as I like this, I thought we were gonna take it slow? I don’t think public places are the best idea to… Well…”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy,” Layla says, smirk gracing her face as she speaks. “You just make a very comfortable chair.”
Jimmy’s laugh is music to her ears, and she presses a light kiss to his cheek. Focusing on the book in her hand, she begins to read:
“The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.”
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‘Was it all true? Had the portrait really changed? Or had it been simply his own imagination that had made him see a look of evil where there had been a look of joy?’
The next day had arrived, and Layla sits at her kitchen table, enraptured once again by the writings of Oscar Wilde. The words on the page enchant her, and she has no desire to put the novel down anytime soon. She’d have to tell Evelyn all about it, the next time she sees her.
‘Surely a painted canvas could not alter? The thing was absurd. It would serve as a tale to tell Basil some day. It would make him smile. And, yet, how vivid was his recollection—’
A shrill ringing pulls her out of the carefully crafted narrative of Dorian Gray. Layla huffs, annoyed at the intrusion, and moves to pick up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Layla! Hi, good to hear from you, hope you’re having a great day so far! Lovely weather we’re having, hey?” The slightly nasal voice of one Robert Plant, crackles through the phone, and Layla sighs at his exuberance.
“Robert, hey. What is it?”
“Uh… Please don’t freak out. It’s really not that bad, and everyone is… mostly… fine?”
“Rob—”
This is followed by a noise in the background, a sort of crackle, as if Robert had shifted the phone to his other hand. Layla can hear the way his breath picks up, the way panic seeps into his voice. “Just a heads up that we’ll be at your place in about… 10 minutes! See you then!”
“What is going on? I was reading, I’m really not in the mood for—”
Another crackle, and a sigh from Robert’s end of the line. Layla runs a hand through her hair, biting her lip in an attempt to quell the panic rising in her throat.
“Promise me you won’t freak out, little dove.”
Layla exhales sharply through her nose, unimpressed at the plea of the man on the other line. Coiling the telephone cord around her finger to calm her nerves, she responds.
“Fine, I’m not gonna freak out. Now, tell me what happened.”
“Well… Um… Jimmy, well, he kinda… got his… finger slammed in a train door?”
“...”
“Layla? Are you still there?”
“How?!”
“I told you not to freak out…”
“Robert!” Layla exclaims, concern painted clearly on her flushed face.
“Okay, okay, he told us he was holding the door open for someone on the way to Swan Song, and well… You know the rest.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
Another sigh sounds from the other line, and Layla waits in anticipation for his response, growing anxious with each passing moment. Finally, she hears the man’s response, and deflates with relief, sinking into the chair beside her.
“He should be fine. Like I said before, we’re gonna come get you right away. He’ll be okay, Layla.”
“Okay…Robert?”
“Yes, little dove?
“Thank you.”
“Of course,” Robert chuckles lightly, bringing a smile to Layla’s face, the undercurrent of anxiety still coursing through her. She thinks it will stay that way, until she sees Jimmy, makes sure he’s okay. “We’ll be there in 10 minutes. Sit tight, Layla.”
Layla sits at the kitchen table, biting her thumbnail, mind elsewhere, until she hears the telltale sound of a car pulling up, engine cutting out. Flying out the door, She spots Jonesy in the driver’s seat, Bonzo next to him, with Robert in the back. Opening the door, she sits next to the blond, and he gazes over at her, putting a hand to her shoulder. Sympathy flashes across his face as he takes in the shocked look Layla’s sporting.
“He’ll be okay, Layla. He will.”
“Robert, I… Jonesy, please, just drive?”
“Right.”
The engine rumbles to life, and they’re off, no doubt speeding to whatever hospital Jimmy’s holed up in. Layla lets her thoughts drift to Jimmy. She wonders how he’s doing, if he’s in any pain, if they’re treating him well. She’s distracted enough that she barely feels Robert’s hand, warm and comforting, on her knee. Layla is snapped out of her thoughts by a particularly sharp turn, and she looks up at Robert, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Rob… What if he’s… not okay? It was his finger. That means that he might not be able to play, if it’s bad enough,” She stammers, eyes frantic in their search of the blond’s face. “His guitar is his life, and—”
“Layla, calm down. It’ll be okay. It won’t do us any good to think like that.” Robert leans over, throwing his arm around her shoulder as best he could in the cramped car. To his surprise, she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Layla unconsciously brings a hand up to bite her thumbnail, and catching the action, Robert places his hand on hers, pushing it back down to rest in her lap. They stay that way until the car rolls to a stop in the hospital parking lot. Layla lifts her head from Robert’s shoulder with breakneck speed, scrambling out of the car.
“Layla, wait!” Jonesy calls out, running after the woman, who dashes through the door. Robert and Bonzo catch up, just as Layla reaches the front desk, panting from exertion. The nurse on shift looks at her, eyes wide, shocked at the display.
“Excuse me, love,” Bonzo says, tucking Layla under his arm as he speaks to the nurse. “We’re looking for James Page? He was brought in for a fractured finger, I believe?”
“...Yes, right. What is your relationship with the patient?”
“We’re his bandmates, we can call our manager if you need proof. Please, we just need to see if he’s okay.”
The nurse eyes the group dubiously, and grabs the chart sitting next to her, looking through it. Glancing at the group again, she points behind them, to a room packed with seats, posters and pamphlets lining the walls.
“It seems that Mr. Page is still with the doctor getting X-rayed, so I’m going to need you to take a seat in the waiting area. Give that manager of yours a call, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”
“Thank you, love.” Bonzo says, as he herds the group over to the soft, patterned armchairs, plopping down with a sigh. Jonesy excuses himself to make a phone call to Peter, the others left waiting for news that won’t come fast enough.
Jimmy has to be okay. He has to.
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“For James Page?” The nurse’s voice rings out across the waiting area, and the group shoot up from their seats, stiff backs groaning in protest. “Follow me.”
The nurse leads them through a labyrinth of hallways, stopping finally at a room with a large 164 pasted on the closed door. Through the window looking into the room, Layla spots Jimmy asleep under the covers, his hands atop the sheets, resting on his stomach. He looks peaceful, she thinks, like he’s devoid of pain. If she couldn’t see the injured hand at all, she’d have thought he was perfectly fine.
The group finally walk into the room, the sharp smell of antiseptic burning their nostrils. Hearing the click of the door opening, Jimmy opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. His irises are almost black, and he sends them a dopey smile, a giggle bursting out.
“Hey, guys. Fancy seeing you all here.” Jimmy slurs, laughing harder now, as though he had told the most hilarious joke in the world. The boys join in, amused by the antics of their guitarist. Layla hangs back, staring at Jimmy, concern clear on her face. She had spotted the injured finger on the way in, which was already bruised a deep purple, the fingernail completely blackened.
“They give you the good stuff, Pagey?”
“You know it, Jonesy.” Jimmy shoots the bassist a sloppy wink, and the group erupts into soft laughter once more. Taking a dazed glance around the room, the raven-haired man pouts, completely endearing in his drugged state. “Hey… where’s Layla?”
Peter, who had been standing next to the bed, moves aside, and glassy green met warm brown. The guitarist smiles softly, relaxing back into the pillows. He sticks out his uninjured hand, and she walks closer to take it. Never lessening her grip, Layla threads the fingers of her free hand through Jimmy’s messy curls, and looks down at him fondly.
“How’re you doing, champ?”
“Good, now that you’re here. I would kiss you right now… if I wasn’t seeing two of you.”
“They must have him on the really good stuff…” Layla throws over her shoulder, looking back at the injured guitarist. He’s looking up at her with unabashed affection, and she can’t help but blush at the adoration in his gaze.
“Sorry to interrupt,” comes from the open doorway, as Jimmy’s doctor steps through. “I’m Dr. Vane, I treated James when he came in. If you’d kindly step out for a moment, I’d like to go over his prognosis.”
The boys file out of the room, and Layla goes to follow, stopped in her tracks by Jimmy tugging her back towards him with a whimper. She gives in, sinking back down in the chair at his bedside.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Jimmy. I was so scared when Robert called. I thought...”
“I’m glad you’re here, petal. Now, come into bed with me. I want to see you better.” Jimmy mutters, scooting over to make room for her to fit in the small hospital bed. Layla laughs, nodding, and crawls in beside him, careful not to hurt him. She turns on her side, her hand landing in his hair again. Jimmy looks up at her, pupils still dilated, and presses a quick peck on her lips, giggling anew.
“You’re so beautiful. Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful? ‘Cause you are.” He insists, slurred speech returning in full force, his eyes fluttering closed.
“Go to sleep, Jimmy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He hums softy in response and a few seconds later, Jimmy’s breathing evens out. He’s dead to the world. Through the door left ajar, Layla can hear snippets of the conversation with the doctor.
“... Fractured the tip of his finger… At least a month.”
“Will he be able to play anytime soon?” That was Peter, voice soft with worry for the frail man in the hospital bed.
“He should rest… Not good to put too much strain on it… Keeping him here until the anaesthetic wears off.”
Tuning them out, Layla looks down at the man sleeping beside her. His hair is matted on one side of his head, and he snores louder than he’d ever admit, but he looks peaceful. He’s not in any pain, and that’s enough for Layla. She drifts off, as the sound of footsteps against the floor draw near. Her tired eyes open to slits, and she sees a shadow with dark, shoulder-length and a beard. It must be Bonzo, she thinks. The last thing Layla hears before succumbing to the exhaustion that plagues her, is the drummer’s soothing voice, hushed to a whisper.
“Let them sleep.”
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taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 (let me know if you want to be added!)
#only the black rose#led zeppelin#jimmy page#jimmy page fanfiction#jimmy page fanfic#led zeppelin fanfic#classic rock fanfic#jimmy x oc
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some windclan notes from “i’ll believe the wind is calling me”
hnng windclan has weird amounts of info for the time between tallstar's revenge and fire and ice.
so...here's what i've done. (subject to change as needed — a few spoiler-type things are not noted.)
this is also kind of very much just a huge dump of my thoughts.
ashkit and morningkit are born a few months before deadfoot's warrior ceremony. they become apprentices before he's had his first season of being a warrior.
i've massaged the timeline best i can to put them as close to deadfoot in age as i can. i could probably push it earlier, but we know wrenflight is a season younger than deadfoot, so my choices were age gap between ashfoot and deadfoot or making wrenflight have kits really young, and i don't like either option, but i'd prefer the age gap.
so ashpaw and deadfoot start spending time together when she's a second season apprentice.
tallstar becomes leader a bit earlier than in canon, and he makes mistmouse his first deputy. (she used to be a tunneler and he wants to heal the rift in the clan.)
deadfoot mentors mudpaw — we don't have a ton of choices for canon windclan cats and i'd rather not create ocs just to kill them off if i can avoid it.
mistmouse retires just before the events of into the wild, when deadfoot takes over.
this is a canon change, because deadfoot is supposed to be deputy in bluestar's prophecy, but...he's still an apprentice when that book starts. and i've stared at the canon timeline trying to figure out where heatherstar dies and it's technically possible to make it work given how much time bsp covers, but...yeah no. it's not working out.
i'm poaching some worldbuilding from solacefruit, whom i must insist you read. notably, the general concept of hymns and fasting.
the fasting thing does not come up in ibtwicm (at least so far), but i didn't want them to have the same call as thunderclan (for reasons i'm getting to), so i gave them the call "let all cats old enough to fast..."
hymns are also a thing, although they don't rhyme. they're all technically part of one hymn, but there are different parts, and at somewhat even intervals, they'll have a hymn singing day where they sing part or all of the great hymn
courtship often starts with two cats singing a hymn together (deadfoot sings "the gorse in the wind" with ashpaw about a moon before her warrior ceremony. this is a duet, but it's not strongly associated with courtship. they have another singing day after she's been a warrior for a few moons, and they sing "the heather and earth," which is explicitly a courtship hymn.)
some hymn fragments...
Should the thunder of paws grow loud, the hare — being wiser than the rabbit, Catches on and runs, and we watch its wake.
"the hare"
In what good company have I set down roots, That even through snow fall I flower.
"the gorse in the wind" (the gorse)
i've interpretted deadfoot's foot as a varient of clubfoot and it's called "dead paw" (although hawkheart lies to hopkit and says it's called "hawk paw.")
he can put weight on it, but it's painful, and it's shorter than his other leg. it twists in, so if you imagine holding your palm as close to your wrist as you can.
when he gets it cut, he loses basically all of his flexibility in it. this is a mixed bag: on one hand, he has a good amount of nerve damage, so he can put weight on it for longer (as long as he's careful about it, because otherwise he'll fuck up his whole leg), but he also loses any chance of being able to use it effectively.
he can't really use its claws, so he has to basically get them clipped/bitten/filed off every moon or so.
his whole front leg is actually slightly twisted. that part of it isn't noticable, not unless you're examining it really closely, but even if he could untwist his paw, his leg would still be slightly stiffer.
windclan's hunting stragies are based on african wild dogs (african hunting dogs, african painted dogs, etc). why? because i wanted to.
to catch rabbits effectively, they use three cat teams: a flusher, a runner, and a catcher.
the flusher startles the rabbits, the runner chases them down, and the catcher, well, makes the pounce. they can run all three positions, but they usually excel at one. in hunting patrols, this allows them to trade off. you take 1-2 flusher, 3-4 runners, and 2-3 catchers, and you're an effeticve team.
(yes, that is kind of a big hunting patrol, but unlike thunderclan, they don't need to send many patrols. they can send out maybe two a day and be effective. and you have multiple runs going at any given time.)
obviously cats can and do catch rabbits alone, but this is more efficient and less exhausting.
deadfoot and talltail are both chasers. mentors and apprentices aren't necessarily matched, they just happened that way. onewhisker is a flusher, mudclaw and ashfoot are catchers, and i haven't decided for any other windclan cats yet.
deadpaw and talltail have to adjust every fighting move for him. y'all don't give him enough credit, with only one paw, he has to be able to balance on two legs for every forepaw rake.
he's equally effective once he gets the hang off it, and in a battle, he can use his other leg kind of like a club or pin, but it's really not anything exciting.
it's his left leg that's twisted, but i will 100% forget that, so i avoid saying which one it is.
#q#mine#txt#19th#April#2021#April 19th 2021#ibtwicm#windclan#essay#culture#warriors culture#warriors lore#warriors worldbuilding
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FOR TEH OC ASK: 29, 33, 42, 48, 49, 54 AND 56 for both connie and grace 👀👀 (im expecting the essay on my desk before the day's over)
you really said all of them huh.
29. What was childhood like?
Connie Lonely. An apartment that smells like smoke. Was it because her aunt liked to smoke or because the train passed just outside? She can't remember. A constantly noisy city, even at night. Music in the most unexpected places. Bare feet on cobblestone. Her thirteenth birthday celebrated by climbing onto the roof of the Râleur and watching the sunrise. A poetry book in her pocket, completely useless but thumbed through a million times nonetheless. Half of it is in french. It was the first thing she stole. Running for her life, but laughing while doing so. The alleycats have started to recognize her face. She's not supposed to be here. She's not supposed to be here at all.
Grace Wild. Loud, fast music. A hundred faces in the darkness. Bright lights. She watches from beneath the stands, breath caught in her throat as a woman flies through the air, catching the trapeze at the last second. Thundering applause. Will they clap for her one day? The mixed smell of melted sugar and sweaty animals. Shouting. Colourful fabric. Painted faces. Soft fur under her hand. A new city every weekend. Endless countryside in the in-between. Horses as tall as buildings pulling their wagons. One of the camp dogs howl, and wolves answer somwhere in the forest. Always traveling. Doing cartwheels in the grass. Sunkissed skin. Why would she ever stop?
(rest under cut because uuuhhh long af post)
33. How have they changed over time?
Grace Already answered that one here.
Connie Oh boy, where to begin? Im sad i dont have any pictures from my early days of playing because like...oof. It's safe to say she's changed a lot. Her first name was Christina if i remember correctly and she didnt have much of a personality or story tbh. It wasn't until i started posting things on here and keep up a bit more with the rdo community that she became more of a character. At first, she was a bounty hunter because im basic af, and then i had a somewhat coherent storyline in my head mixing the missions in-game with my own ideas and it's somewhere around there she changes into Constance (with the last name Bates, later changing to James), and then i change my mind again and go all-in on the moonshining, thinking maybe she lived in that orchard outside saint denis and her aunt was a supplier of Maggie's, and then that has slowly evolved into the present-day Connie.
42. What's the dumbest thing your character's done?
Connie ...piss off Angelo Bronte? I'd say that's a pretty bad one.
Grace Idk honestly. She keeps her head cool most of the time and doesn't do a lot of reckless things, so nothing big. Probably something clumsy.
48. What was their lowest point? What was their highest point?
Connie Low: Drifting after escaping Saint Denis, alone and unsure where to go. Everyone she knows is either dead or wants her dead. High: uuhhhh probably pulling off a heist of some sort? shortly before aforementioned low point. dont ask me the specifics please im still working it out in my head
Grace Low: Her traveling company disbanding (i havent decided if something happens to them or if they simply decide to part ways yet) High: Not sure?? Im sorryyyy :'(
49. What are some themes tied to your character's story?
Connie Already answered here.
Grace Listen, this is really hard because she's so underdeveloped still. Ask me again in two weeks and this answer is going to have changed drastically. I'd say family and identity, as well as community and forgiveness. Grace felt like her traveling company was her family, and felt very abandoned when she was left alone after so many years together. These were people she grew up with, and she can't really accept that they didn't feel the same, or that they could forget her that easily.
54. What does your character want, and what does your character need?
Connie She wants revenge. She knows it's unrealistic and she'd be dead before even trying so it's not something she'd pursue, but the sense that she failed her friends and that revenge would somehow set it right always nags at her (survivor’s guilt? never heard of her). What she needs is to learn to trust other people, and accept that she can't do everything on her own.
Grace She wants answers, and part of her mind is always occupied thinking of where they could be found. She needs to accept that there are things that will always be outside her control, and find out who she is on her own.
56. What's your overall goal with this character? Will they get a happy ending or will they succumb to their faults?
Connie Honestly? As much as i wanna say she gets a happy ending (because she's my baby and i love this little murder gremlin with my whole ass heart bro) i could totally see her just straight up dying in the end. Picked a fight she couldnt win. She isn't the kind of person to decide that she's done, so at this point im not even sure what a happy ending would mean for her.
Grace See, i could see Grace surviving. I have no idea exactly how her happy ending would look either, but she's much more likely to settle down somewhere and say that enough is enough, no more running.
For now they're both just little cowboys that live in my head rent free though :)
#23:45 bitch i did it#first time i handed something in on time in like.. six months lmao#also i say rent free like connie would pay rent if i asked her#she would not#grace would tho#oc: grace abernathy#oc: constance james#ask meme#long post
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