#SWyogs

[illumwriting]

rythian sleeps.

the muted voices of his new travel companions fade, blend, then shift into a swirl that drags him into dreams. lilts turn scottish, masculine, and the scent in his nose becomes wooden and inky.

he stumbles his way through doors until he mercifully finds himself on a stool, hears the click-click-click of a lever from behind him.

the tv above the bar winks at him.

he jolts awake, and in the wafting cover of the flower fields, he swears he smells a black lotus.

[illumwriting]

happy valentine's day!! from ur local ridges (valley--cat and me <3)

redraw of an old ghostingart post! transparent version attached under cut for u to color in the lines urself ^.^

[illumwriting]

In the Valley

secret santa for @outtasolutions87 rythna enemies to lovers with a hint of meddling from ridge :) T rating, no warnings, 2881 words. Crossposted to A03

Preview: Rythian is on him in a flash, knocking him down into the soft dirt and crushing the seedlings. Lalna finds his arms firmly pinned under Rythian's knees, and Rythian's raised hand simmers with a magic that Lalna knows the pain of all too well.

After Blackrock, Rythian and Lalna refused to even speak to each other. Frustrating for Ridgedog, who needed them both to at minimum take a look at the proposed modifications to the next world. He realized he wasn't entirely sure when the whole thing had spiraled from friendly rivalry to actually enemies, but Zoeya's missing arm and her desire to sit this round out probably had a lot to do with it.

Ridge looks over the plans for the new world, and sighs, dragging his hand through his hair that ruffles and then slips right back into place. He considers for a moment longer, then a wry smile forms as he slides the marker for Lalna's landing spot next to Rythian's.

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

"No." Rythian says as soon as they both step out of their Yoglabs provided pods onto the fresh soil. He glares at Lalna firmly, crosses his arms, and stands his ground. "I will not work with you."

Lalna huffs as he fully frees himself and his labcoat, and pointedly rolls his eyes. "You think I did this?"

Rythian remains statuesque. "I would not put it past you."

"Well, I bloody didn't, alright?" Lalna's voice is snappy, and he waves a hand at the hills that rise around them and trap them in this valley. He reaches back into his pod, pulling out his pack and slinging it across one shoulder. "You can walk away too, y'know." There's a note of teasing under the hardness as he begins to walk away, drawing up short as he clears the view block of the pods. "Goddamn it." He swears, loud enough to for Rythian to hear. 

Rythian laughs sharply, smug in the fact he'd noticed first, the way the hills were more than that- high enough to take multiple days to climb, and perfectly ringing them with no easy way out. In the valley itself sat enough resources to eventually break the mountains down to size- trees and animals- but not enough for two men to each build their own way out- not without doubling the work for both. 

Lalna gazes up, considering. He certainly didn't want to appear weak to Rythian, nor did he want to share the supplies in his bag- trinkets left over from the previous world to give him a leg up on any trouble. He moves with as much determination as he can manage, keeping his back to Rythian as he approaches a tree and makes quick work of tearing the materials from it, speeding through the first steps to a pickaxe, and taking his crafting table with him to the nearest outcropping of stone. He hears Rythian's exhale behind him, exaggerated by the mask, and notes the soft footsteps that pause at their landing site then travel in the opposite direction. "Stubborn." Lalna mutters as he drives wood into rock, as if he too is not guilty of it.

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

The days pass slowly, with their efforts focused on themselves. Sparse gardens, and animals lost to creatures of the night, enough to dent their efforts of reproduction. Not even luck favors them. A lack of drops leaving them with seeds and the barest amount of iron. When they catch each other's gaze for a moment, the unspoken distain passes between them and they quickly turn away before it can change. The thoughts that drift through their heads of lending a helping hand are quashed under the internal reminders of the bad blood between them, and the resentment that the other must hold for them.

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Ridge grows impatient. He watches Rythian and Lalna tiptoe around each other, rather than inciting anything. He knows they need to clash to resolve anything, so he tips his hand a little, reaching down into the world when they are both asleep, setting a band of pillagers on their meager farms and causing destruction and chaos.

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

"Rythian!!" There's a furious pounding at his door, and the mage rouses himself with a groan, then squints as he realizes the cabin is still dark. His senses quickly come back to him, the softest purple tint entering the corners of his vision as he rises and hears too the sound of rowdy violence from outside. He throws on his armor, kept close to his cot, and cross the space to the entrance with a few long strides. The hinges of the door suffer as he pulls it open, and glares out into the night at the sight before him. 

Pillagers- from where? how?- he pushes the rationalizations aside to focus- are tugging their animals away, the farms trampled over and the licking orange of small fires threaten both his cabin and Lalna's. Lalna has stepped away, back to the wall as he yells with frustration and aims a weapon into the crowd. 

A beam of green sears into flesh, and Rythian only half-flinches from the sound and flash, before Lalna sees him and gestures violently with his free hand at the destruction.

Rythian finds himself nodding instinctively, reaching just back inside the door to take his sword from it's hiding place. Enderbane went where he did, and it seemed Lalna was the same. The blast had caught the attention of the mob, and they were quickly approaching the two men. Rythian grits his teeth, and goes to work.

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

The light is creeping into their valley as they survey the damage. Lalna's cabin was long gone, along with his animals. Rythian had fared better, in that his cabin still stood and a few more spots of farm lay untrampled. The animals that escaped death had run from the noise, and would need to be rounded up. 

"We're being fucked with." Lalna snarls, as he kicks aside a charred beam and fishes out some dishes from under it, pitching a broken bowl too far gone to be saved hard against the nearest pile where it shatters further. He makes a further sound of anger, and then whirls to Rythian, stood there silently and callous. "Say something! What are we gonna do now!"

Rythian laughs, softly, shrugs at Lalna. "We? This is your problem."

"I warned you!"

"You dragged me into your fight."

"THEY WERE TRYING TO BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN!" Lalna's voice raises, a redness creeping up his neck to his cheeks. Then his shoulders sag, the exhaustion of the night showing through. "But fine. Have it your way. I save your ass, and you can leave me out here to starve." 

Rythian rolls his eyes at the exaggeration, but his crossed arms give a little in their tightness, and he turns on his heel sharply before Lalna sees the hint of honest amusement. "I guess you can have some food." He begins to leave, and allows himself a smile as he hears Lalna jog to keep up. "Some." he adds, and the spark of joy curls in his chest when Lalna's gait falters at it. 

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

They're getting on alright. Expanding the cabin has helped ease the feeling of nearly stepping on each other's toes. Each feels more comfortable going to bed at night with a distrust of the man nearest him, rather than a worry of the clearly manipulated outdoors. The cliche runs through Rythian's mind more than once- about keeping your enemies closer.

Breakfasts are stiff, Lalna's griping about his lack of coffee and jam for his bread grinding against Rythian's uncaring sensibilities. Often Rythian finds himself driven out of his own kitchen to eat in the outside, too half-asleep to muster the energy to force Lalna to shut up. 

By lunchtime, enough work has been done that Lalna is just eager to dig in, and Rythian finds that the silence is pleasant, especially when Lalna sheds his labcoat and rolls up the cuffs of his jeans in the heat of the day, leaving himself more exposed. 

By dinner, they talk. Short discussions, but talking nonetheless. Mostly about the world, the goals they're working towards in order to facilitate their exit from the valley. And Ridge. How they'd like to knock him down a peg for this, the obvious meddling that he'd done to clearly get back at them for not helping him set up the world. They carefully avoid straying into conversations about the past.

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

Outside the valley, reclining in his manor, watching his inhabitants bond over the campfire, Ridge smirks.

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 It goes south one afternoon. They had worked through their normal lunch period, and found themselves both at the same end of the garden, hunched over in the way that both their backs would complain about it that night. 

Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the comfortable routine they'd slipped into that had softened Lalna. He reaches out to tap Rythian's arm.

Rythian is on him in a flash, knocking him down into the soft dirt and crushing the seedlings. Lalna finds his arms firmly pinned under Rythian's knees, and Rythian's raised hand simmers with a magic that Lalna knows the pain of all too well.

"Woah, woah!" Lalna holds his hands loose and open, eyes wide, a loopy grin of adrenaline. "Food. We gotta eat."

Rythian seems frozen, the look on his face one of a man ready to go to war. He is full of fury and weariness. 

"Food." He repeats, and the magic in his hand starts to simmer down, but the weight of him is still heavy on Lalna. "You touched me... for food."

Lalna sighs. "To get your attention."

Rythian's hand lowers, but he leans foward and digs his knees in deeper. "You should know better, Lalna." The anger doesn't bite as hard as intended.

"I'm sorry you can't handle a normal interaction." Lalna tries to shift his hips and legs, and winces as he feels more plants snap under him. "You're fucking up the garden."

Rythian scoffs, and pulls off suddenly, removing all points of contact between them. "You're not normal." He snarls, and disappears around the corner.

"Fuck." Lalna mumbles to himself and pushes himself up out of the dirt, tries to follow, but finds that Rythian has made himself scarce.

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

He does his best to repair it. The garden, the fragility of the space between them. He takes his breakfasts quietly, but even then Rythian stiffly exits. 

So he makes himself withdrawn and invisible, eats quickly and leaves the kitchen empty for Rythian's use. He works his schedule around Rythian's, giving the other man room to breathe without his guard up. 

Until Rythian confronts him over it. "You're avoiding me."

Lalna tenses, hunching his shoulders up around his ears as Rythian blocks him in the hallway and doesn't let him pass. "It's called giving you space."

"Coward." 

"Politeness!" Lalna snaps back, and drums his fingers against his leg. "What do you want, a fight?"

Rythian's pause is more than enough.

"Fine." Lalna growls, and fullbody shoves Rythian into the wall, clamping his mechanical hand around Rythian's wrist to yank it above his head and pin it.

Rythian's breath leaves him sharply, and he tries to drive his knee into Lalna, but Lalna has already pressed them chest to chest. "This what you wanted?" Lalna says into Rythian's ear as their other hands wrestle for control.

There's a familar hiss from Rythian, one that makes Lalna's spine tingle as the mask struggles to contain the way his jaw unhinges.

Rythian gains an upper hand, slamming them against the other side of the hall as he twists his free hand up into the labcoat and slides Lalna up the wall to hold him on tiptoe at eye level. 

"Years." Rythian snarls, and the masks slips from his nose, down over his cheeks and Lalna is treated to the sight of his maw, purple and jagged as ever. "You ruin my life and think you can play nice?"

"It's a new world!" Lalna struggles, digging his mechanical fingers into Rythian's skin until it threatens to split. "Get over it!"

Rythian bites him. Searing pain lances through his shoulder, and his fingers spasm, draw blood, and then go limp as his human hand beats against Rythian's back. The snarl from Rythian's throat rattles out in a wet sound and into Lalna's skin, unrestrained rage and suppressed emotions pouring out.

"You-" Lalna spits, cutting himself short of a swear, and electrocutes Rythian until he's dropped, and then slides down the wall to cover the wound with with a sharp inhale.

Rythian stumbles back, wiping his mouth clean and yanking the mask up. His eyes are thin slits, but the anger has subsided, and he almost looks sheepish for the outburst.

"We... didn't choose to stay here." Lalna says through harsh breaths, as the healing in the world conveniently starts to kick in, stitching him up like nothing happened. 

"Yeah." Rythian acknowledges, dropping down to sit across from Lalna and glancing down the hallway at the ability to exit the situation slipping away.

"We get out of here and we make Ridge regret fucking with us." Lalna holds his hand out across the gap between them. "Then we go our separate ways."

Rythian considers it. A common enemy would do them both some good, a place to direct the frustrations that had been built up from being trapped.

He takes the offer.

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

They make short work of the problem after that. It turns out they'd both smuggled more than their preferred weapon in, and with the starter supplies between them, Lalna gets the foundation for power and processing laid. 

And as they found themselves lingering over meals together, even when the planning was done, neither of them mentioned it. When the nights dipped into painful cold and Lalna shoved their beds together, insisting in the science behind body heat, Rythian only protested enough to get an extra blanket in the arrangement.

Their goal drew nearer with each pickaxe saved up, the food cooked and preserved for the trek.

They're almost sorry to leave the cabin behind in the end. It had become homely, their living habits dropping into sync with each other as their knowledge of the other took over. 

They board it up as if they might come back to it, but release the animals. The mountains seem much less daunting with companionship, and they scale up and over them.

They sleep huddled together in sleeping bags, back to back to ease the creeping feeling of defensiveness that threatened to creep in the closer they got to confronting Ridge.

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

Ridge had turned off his monitors, preferring to let them take him by surprise. He'd enjoyed watching them working together, the fruits of his mild meddling. Of course, taking the focus of their ire was a bonus. He waited patiently in the entry of his tower, politely grounded.

He senses their approach before he hears them. They are equally polite enough to try the door, and finding it unlocked, do not break anything. The shared discontent they direct at him is delicious, and he greets them with an easy cocked grin. "Ah, gentlemen. What can I do for you?"

Rythian's head nods ever so slightly, and Ridge feels the swirl of power approach him as Lalna levels his laser at Ridge. 

"You know what you did." Lalna speaks for them first, ever the chattier one.

Ridge gives them an easy shrug. "Was the landing site not to your liking?"

Rythian scoffs, and Ridge is shoved backwards against the wall with a push of forceful magic. Lalna's laser hums up to full power, his finger on the trigger.

"Hey, no need to get rough!" Ridge's grin slips from ignorance to smarmy. "You're getting on rather well with each other."

"Just shoot him." Rythian says dryly and Lalna's grin splits his face wide as he burns a rather large hole in Ridge's chest, and relishes the yelp he gets from the demi-god. 

"Worst thank you ever." Ridge is poking at the hole around his perfectly cauterized clothes and questioningly human form. "Get out of my manor before I toss you around like rag dolls."

"Let's go." Rythian withdraws his grip, and Lalna flips Ridgedog off before following after Rythian. They let the door slam behind them, and Ridge allows himself a small smirk of a job well done.

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

"Hey!" Lalna jogs to catch up with Rythian, and Rythian half turns his head to acknowledge his presence. "So.. what do we do now?"

"I do not know." Rythian's tone is still dry, but there's a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. "Go build another lab, preferably with no nuclear options this time."

"But..." Lalna swallows down the last remnants of his pride and strikes into the same pace as Rythian. "We could redo the valley. Ridge did a crap job."

"You want to go back there?"

Lalna shrugs. "My machines are there. You had a not-half bad start into whatever magic you're doing."

Rythian finds the softness of optimism on Lalna's face endearing. The gnawing thoughts of their past inflictions on each other still lurked, but the days together had filed them down to fangless whispers.

"On one condition."

The optimisim blooms into hopefulness, and Rythian has to look away before the pang in his chest turns into fondness. "We get you jam and coffee."

He can hear the genuine smile on Lalna's face. "Sure. And I'll expand the garden for you."

They head home.

[illumwriting]

Words: 4,643. Explict. Tags: Omorashi, Piss Kink, Watersports, Werewolves, Rutting, Masturbation, References to Off-Screen Characters, There is minimal fishing but they totally caught at least one, Beer Preview: He earns an eyebrow raise for that, Ridge drawing one leg up out of the water to rest his head on his knee in a vague mirror to Prince's position. The other one still swings idly as he looks at Prince with his own glint in his eyes. "That is a woefully vague statement there, my friend~" He says, voice lilting as a small laugh accompanies it, "You said so yourself that this is a broad topic, care to clarify?"

Prince, to his credit, doesn't flush or waver under Ridgedog's gaze. Just admires the water that rolls down his bare lower leg and the way Ridge looks so at ease right now. "There's two sides to it. I'd suggest if you wanna understand your partner's desires more, we start with somethin' more familiar to you...." He hums through slightly parted lips as he recalls. "Desperation, right?"

"So, watersports."

Prince chokes on his beer, coughing as he wipes his mouth with the cuff of his flannel. He looks over at Ridge, who is relaxing against nothing at all. His feet in the water that laps at the edge of the dock, just like Prince’s are. 

"Yeah?" Prince's tail wags, just a bit, but it's fine. Ridgedog had known it was the full moon when he came over. "What’cha want to know?"

With a grin only a little sheepish, and his fingers drumming on the glass that holds the same beer Prince had- one carefully brewed on his farm in large batches- Ridge continues, "Yeah, some of my friends are apparently into this, and they keep saying I might like it. I'm not sure I agree with them. But, uh, what's it like?"

Prince's paw makes ripples in the water, "Depends on what’cha doin' with it." He sits there, considers for a moment, before settling on the most likely thing, "Let me guess, they want you to piss on 'em?"

The flush gives him away, and Ridge glances to the side before looking back. "Yeah, it's... it's a degradation thing for one of them, at least. Probably both, if I'm honest. And I just... I just know part of the reason they want me to do it is... y'know." He gestures up to the latter half of his nameplate, "Just feels... reductive to me, I guess?" His voice edges into something resembling lighthearted sarcasm. "Oh boy! I'm a dog, so I gotta piss on things to mark my territory, yay!!" 

"Have ya told your partners that?" Prince tries not to outright laugh before responding, but ah, those two. Ridgedog had talked about them before, a pair of blonde-haired freaks that were outright obsessed with him. "Maybe they're bein' clouded with lust and not realizin' they're being that way. If they're wantin' you to do it, y'know, from a place of assertion and ownership, then they're not even thinkin' about the other side." Prince sighs, "But I getcha. I get clients all the time who just want that big, hunky werewolf from their A-B-O novels- I ain't got a problem playin' to that, but it gets real tirin'."

Ridge’s eyebrows furrow and he smacks his free hand over his face and groans. "Fuck- I haven't.” He glances over to Prince, “Sorry, not you, it’s a recurring thing that I just assume other people have the same knowledge as I do sometimes. So if I knew it felt reductive, clearly they knew it too." 

Prince shrugs, probably more laissez-faire than he should be with his next remark. "Immortality. Happens. Do they just want that, or is there more?"

Ridgedog's flush deepens, and he makes a quiet, airy half-growl sort of sound as he glances to the side. "Well, they said... said they'd like it if I... took control of their ability to relieve themselves. I’ve thought about it, and it’s not that I wouldn't like it! I guess I just…” He thinks about it for a moment further now, and something in his voice changes, “Kinda don't get the point? I suppose it's different for mortals, though."

"Well, yeah." Prince sips at his drink, taps a claw against the glass pointedly, "It's an urge you get, something that's just part of being alive. Makin' that into a case of powerplay is only natural. Feels good, too." 

The quiet of the woods and lake sits for a second, and then Prince grins. "You wanna find out?"

Ridge startles from his thoughts, backtracks to the last thing Prince knew he was thinking. His mouth opens, closes. He fidgets in place. "I’m, yeah, I'm curious." He admits, shifts how he's leaning to look better at Prince, "It's just-"

Prince waves a hand at him. "If ya didn't have the latter half of your nameplate, would ya still have the same qualms about meetin' your partners' desires to be pissed on?" 

"Ugh, yeah. I think I would. It's just, not something I want to do, y'know?" Ridge leans back a little, glancing down at his own crotch for nothing more than contemplation, and frowns slightly. "Probably doesn't help that the first one to ask me fuckin'- I said no, he dropped to his goddamn knees and started begging. And I think the rest of that... interaction started getting him off about as much as me actually doing it would've. It was weird." He sighs, tipping his head back and fixing Prince with something of a weary look. "Plus, I give them a lot. One of them- sweet little freak- can convince me into just about anything. Still a good few things I've put my foot down on, but I go out of my comfort zone for her already!" Ridge's hand reaches for a cravat that's not there, instead settling for winding the strings of his shirt between his fingers. "Other one, I've known him for longer, it’s a complicated relationship that you know I don’t wanna get into- but I know what he likes, and I like a lot of it too. So, I'll play to that... ugh-" He groans again, kicks his feet in the water, and scratches out the rest of his explanation, "Immortality."

"Yup," Prince drawls, "and the woes of a man who is naturally dominant, and good at it." Teasing aside, he runs his tongue along his teeth in thought, wetting his lips before speaking. "So, a glutton for punishment and denial, paired with someone who wants the world and more- and they both want this fetish from you despite your no?" He laughs, deep from his chest, "My friend, forget the complications of emotions and relationships for a moment- that's just two subs who are over the moon for you and can't see farther than their own desires, like I said! …And I don't mean to make light of it, of course. Repeatedly pressurin' a dom into somethin' does not a good relationship make." He shifts too, shores up his back against the post of the dock and pulls one leg out of the water to rest his elbow on. "So, it's just the act of pissin' on 'em you don't care for? Or the fetish as a broad whole?"

"God they're… They certainly have an infatuation with me, that's for sure. Both of them get turned on by my damn laugh sometimes, even." There's a slight grin on Ridgedog's face, and he scoffs. It's an amused and appreciative noise- he clearly doesn't mind that. Then he shrugs, "Nah, I can certainly see aspects of the thing as a broad whole. Like, you already know I like to make people break for me. Make them give up or give in, get that desperate. I'm sure you can imagine how that would translate nicely to some things we just discussed. I just- I just don't want to piss on them!" Ridge half-gestures into the air with his glass for that last sentence, before untangling his fingers from his shirt strings and taking another sip of his drink with a laugh. 

"Then don't!" Prince laughs out in return, "Make 'em play by your rules. It’s your right, even if they're gonna to be dramatic about it." He shifts a bit at Ridge's words about what he likes- not overtly horny or even making it the other man’s problem, just a small shift to maintain his comfort as his body is inclined to agree with Ridge and his observations. Prince raises an eyebrow, curious, "Unless you're seriously considerin' their request to revisit it."

"Oh, they're gonna be sooooooo dramatic about it~!" Ridge grins, swinging his feet in the water again as he imagines his two little weirdos whining and pleading with him and looking oh-so-sad about it. "They're cute little bastards- and I'm only really thinking about it because one of them brought it up again recently to ask me to reconsider. I think she made the other one talk about it, and it intrigued her. I'm still gonna say no, but it's been floating around the fringes of my mind. I got that killer sense of curiosity, y'know? Can't leave well enough alone, so that request ain't leaving me alone even if I know my answer."

"Wait, wait-" Prince holds up his hand, "I wanna make sure I'm gettin' their proposal right here. Miss 'I wanna see your dick' is askin' you on behalf of him after forcin' him to tell her about... him begging you to do it and getting told no?"  He snickers and shakes his fluffy head. "You've got a comedy act there."

"NO, IT'S WORSE THAN THAT, I THINK SHE ACTUALLY WANTS IT WITH HERSELF NOW TOO!!" The heightened voice is a mere exaggeration of both the emotion behind his words and his body language as he giggles. "But yeah, and it's pretty goddamn funny if I think about it from an outside perspective."

"Fuckin' shit, man." Prince lets out one of his signature woofing-laughs, airy and deep. It takes him a moment to get through it, and when he fixes Ridgedog with his gaze again, there's genuine curiosity there. "So, what about it makes it keep floating in your head?"

"Hm, well," Ridge makes an effort to lessen his giggling so he can speak, and it's moderately effective, "It's kinda funny to me that it’s even a thing they want. No offense meant to you, of course. And I guess I'm also curious if one of them especially would actually like it in practice. She has a habit of not realizing what she's asking for until she gets it." He looks back at Prince, and sticks his tongue out at him, ever silly. "Why do you ask?"

Prince gives an easy shrug at the ‘no offense’, a silent 'none taken', and laughs a little again at the idea of Ridge's funny girl getting a real surprise when she experiences it. He runs his tongue over his teeth, wets his lips again, and gives Ridgedog a wry smile. "Oh, y'know. Wonderin' if the big guy wants my professional assistance with satin' that curiosity."

He earns an eyebrow raise for that, Ridge drawing one leg up out of the water to rest his head on his knee in a vague mirror to Prince's position. The other one still swings idly as he looks at Prince with his own glint in his eyes. "That is a woefully vague statement there, my friend~" He says, voice lilting as a small laugh accompanies it, "You said so yourself that this is a broad topic, care to clarify?"

Prince, to his credit, doesn't flush or waver under Ridgedog's gaze. Just admires the water that rolls down his bare lower leg and the way Ridge looks so at ease right now. "There's two sides to it. I'd suggest if you wanna understand your partner's desires more, we start with somethin' more familiar to you...."  He hums through slightly parted lips as he recalls. "Desperation, right?"

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It's the day after, and one just as fine for fishing as the last was. Something about summer just made it easy, to idle away on the dock with a rod and home-brewed beers and lazy conversation. Getting up late, well after 10am, well-rested after the long night of instincts running their course. 

Today was just a little different than most. An hour, then two, then three. Ridgedog's drinks have piled up to their normal amount, and he shifts on the wood of the dock; a growing discomfort in his every action.  "Uh, be right back." He eventually says, somewhat stiffly. He makes sure his fishing rod is secure, then hops up, his feet leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him as he heads for the woods. There's only a touch of a misstep, bravely hidden.

Prince acknowledges him with a nod of his head, and once Ridge's back is turned, he grins, rolling his shoulders. The scent of Ridge wafts to him easily, and he waits until the sound of walking is gone, and the scent is almost faint. "Comin' for ya." Prince growls to himself, securing his own rod and following his nose. 

He knows Ridge's hands are fast, so he moves quickly. It's funny, what he finds. Ridgedog has his back to him. His belt buckle already undone, fingers on his fly, and legs trembling with the unfamiliar need he’s allowed himself to feel as he tries to work out a suitable and appropriate spot to relieve himself. 

"Hey." Prince lets Ridge know he's there, a courtesy even though he knows Ridgedog could scent him coming just as easily. He gets in front, between Ridge and the tree, and brings his hand up to Ridge's jawline.

"I- I need to- c'monnnnn" Ridge starts, the latter half of his sentence disappearing into a whine as his hands fall to his sides. He glances away and then back to Prince, nervous. Ridge is nowhere near tipsy, but the feeling and urge is one he's kept turned off for ages. It only takes a moment more, and it's with a sagging huff that he lets his legs give way into the patch of leaf litter and soft soil. "Fuck, Rudi-" He whines, the edge of uncertainty clear. 

Rudi, amused and thrilled at the dropping of his professional nickname, lets him take his time, the hand on Ridge's jaw nothing more than kind reassurance and steadying, a direction of Ridgedog's face upwards so that Rudi can study the expressions he makes. "Go ahead, big guy." The permission he doesn't need, given in the form of gentle praise.

Ridgedog's look of need is plain. He squirms, hands drifting over his thighs, legs spread. Unsure how to start. Rudi nudges his boot up against the curve of Ridge's crotch, just under. A push. Prince is just helping, as Ridge makes a series of sounds, slightly confused, slightly pleasured, slightly embarrassed- his cheeks reddening and the start of a wibbly frown entering his expression. "C'mon, I- I don't need help..." Ridge says in a firm half-whisper. The blush firmly settles over his cheeks and his eyebrows twist, as his hands similarly settle on quivering thighs, gripping slightly into the fabric of his pants, and he doesn't push Prince away.

When Ridge's sounds even into a whine, Prince lets his face go with a last slide of his thumb over Ridge's facial hair, to let him focus. The tree’s near enough behind him, so Prince steadies himself on it with one arm as he adjusts his boot to press down over Ridge's cock instead. A firm and solid downward movement that also pressures his belt buckle into that sweet spot over his bladder... well, assuming he'd copied human anatomy that is. 

Ridge had, and he makes a punched out sound in response, pressing his face against Prince's leg and bringing his hands up off his thighs to hold on. Rudi smiles, presses a little harder, feels Ridge's hips twitch in the new combination of his need to piss and the stirring of his cock to hardness. "Fuck-" Ridgedog breathes again, before shakily whining his way into an obscene sound of relief as his bladder finally begins to relax.

Ridge raises himself up against the boot in his lap, not meaning to, as he feels the warmth soak his pants and a different kind of heat coil in to replace the fullness. He digs his nails into Prince's jeans and through them to skin like a knife into butter, an easy tell that Ridge was focused on this. Enough to forget his own strength a bit. He whimpers pitifully, the shaking in his legs easing as the near-painful ache fades into a steady stream of liquid.

Prince keeps his hands off Ridgedog now, palming at his own crotch as he watches the man kneeling before him work his way through the experience, relishing in the whimpers and panting coming from Ridgedog as his hips start to rock. It's impressive, how long Ridge had managed to put this off. How much drink he had consumed before deciding it was too much, and impressive even more how much there was- spreading out and soaking his trousers well outside of where Prince's boot was. There’s steam faintly rising from around his foot, and Prince feels his cock twitch as he takes notice of Ridge's piss being abnormally hot, just like the rest of his bodily fluids. "Good job." He growls lowly, and Ridgedog's face is so, so reddened as he pants out "F-fuck you-" in response, so sweetly embarrassed by this basal, mortal urge. 

Prince chuckles, shifts his boot again to better facilitate Ridgedog's rutting against it, and growls at the feeling of Ridge's nails sliding down his leg. Ridge is trying to pull Prince closer to rut harder- and Prince’s noise is matched by Ridge's own soft snarl. It’s funny, Ridge isn't even that worked up yet, just embarrassed and a bit frustrated as he feels himself get hard from it. But he'd agreed to let his curiosity get the better of him, so he follows through, pushing the side of his face against Prince's thigh and panting. There's a soft huff of amusement from him as he feels Prince having to brace himself against tree more firmly from how strong Ridge is, but that feeling quickly replaced by another wash of arousal. 

Prince pauses and shifts his hand from himself onto Ridge's hot cheek. He strokes it gently, "C'mon, big guy. There's still another reward to be had." 

Ridgedog growls again, more meaningless fronting as he tries to ignore the very obvious and starting-to-cool wet feeling on his crotch. "Rudi-" He whines out, plaintiveness taking hold, in time with the rock of his hips. The heat from his arousal makes it bearable, the shame he feels making it twist tighter. It was embarrassing, how easily the flow of relief from relieving himself had slid into the want to come. And how good it had all felt.

"Doin' real good, Ridge-" Rudi, his fellow wolf friend, Rudi, not the dom for hire, Prince, reassures him from above, strokes his thumb across Ridge's cheek, "Real good." There's no hiding how turned on he sounds, and Ridge appreciates it. 

Through his half-lidded eyes, Ridgedog can see how Rudi is admiring the way he is, desperate and needy. Can see the clear outline of Rudi's hard cock, so politely ignored to focus on giving Ridge the best experience possible. He lets out another high-pitched whimper and pushes his face harder into Rudi's leg, squeezing his eyes shut as his mouth trembles into a wiggly line of frustration. Ridge keeps squeezing and digging his nails in as he ruts with all the shameful need that had washed over him as soon as his cock had been touched by Rudi’s boot. 

Above him, Rudi just admires, runs his thumb along Ridge's jawline. Just rewarding the guy for opening himself up to this. His cock aches to be touched, but right now, the show takes precedent over simple pleasures. Ridgedog is wonderfully handsome, his fluffy hair going askew as he huffs, pants, and whines his way towards orgasm. The shame is keeping him from letting himself tip over, though, and Rudi catches him slowing when he’s getting close. He lets Ridge do it twice, before he growls softly and tightens his grip on Ridge's jaw as he notices his shoulders start to shake once again. Ridgedog's coal-black eyes snap up to him, full of want. His hips are still trying to pull back in his self-induced edging. Rudi pushes his boot down firmly and Ridge whimpers, nails biting deep into Rudi's leg. "Not like you, leavin' somethin' half done."

"Don't- don't wanna, is'stupid-" Is what Ridgedog pants out, pushing his hips forward against Rudi's boot in spite of his protests, the force of it pushes Rudi back against the tree. Ridge's thighs have begun to quiver again. 

"It's feelin’ good." Rudi chuckles just a little, as Ridge pushes hard enough that the bark of the tree Prince is leaning on bites into his arm and leaves a rough scrape. He has to sink his own nails into it to keep from being knocked off-balance, "Nothin' stupid about that, I think." And gods above, he's being so selfish right now, wanting to see Ridge finish like this, damp and shaking, rutting up into the tread of his boot.

"M'mmnn'm-" Ridge's face scrunches again, and his lip trembles as he nods in agreement, noses against Rudi's thigh and mumbles nothing, all tinged with how badly he needs to come. 

Rudi presses. Ridge gasps and drags his nails down Rudi's leg again from where they'd drifted up. Rudi growls in the back of his throat at the feeling, and the sound from above him is enough to make the damn break. Ridgedog makes an almost-cry noise as he feels himself add another layer of stains to his pants and briefs. But God, it feels good. He shudders, turns his face out of Rudi's hand to press the front of it fully against his leg, somewhat hiding from him. Rudi can see how flushed he still is though- even his ears are red. His hips keep rocking as he rides it out, and Rudi's firm hand is at the nape of his neck, encouraging it.

As Ridge pants and twitches his hips with the last of his orgasm, one thought is on repeat through his mind. "Don't look at me..." He says quietly, muffled, ashamed, as his words come back to him. 

Rudi chuckles, "N' miss the show?" He pets the back of Ridgedog's head, just once, and Ridge can hear the satisfaction in Rudi's voice. It warms him on the inside, that he'd done it... done it well, even. The praise is accompanied by the shift of Rudi's body above him, gently pushing off the tree to attend to his own cock. Ridge lets himself breathe for a moment, the soft sounds of Rudi's low grunts filling the space and reassuring Ridgedog with the familiarity of them. 

"Shit, was that from me too?" Ridge has finally looked up, and there's a long scrape on the arm that Rudi is currently palming at himself with. He wiggles, wondering if Rudi will let him up.

"Yup!" Rudi's grin is toothy and sharp, and his hand shifts back around to Ridge's jaw, trying to dig only a little of his claw in as Ridgedog tries to squirm out from under his boot. "Hold up there, big guy." He says, and he's clearly admiring the mess beneath his boot as he strokes himself. 

Ridge leans into it, rests his chin against Rudi's leg and lets himself sigh almost fondly. His hands take to wandering over the gashes he'd left in Rudi's leg, up to his ass and back down again. The flush is retreating, his embarrassment fading to a lazy curiosity and amusement as he avoids looking at himself, knowing that it would only bring back the shame. He can't help the wiggling though, and he quickly notices that at each squirm he does, Rudi's cock twitches and his movements get more frantic. 

"Oh, that was so good, that was really fucking great, what a fuckin’ treat, yeah-" Rudi is muttering, and Ridge's grin is slow and syrupy as Rudi's dirty talk spills out of him and his voice gets breathy and snarly. He feels Rudi's thigh tense beneath his grasp, and he returns the earlier favor by holding Rudi up as he starts to shake. 

"Easy there, bud...." Ridge has one hand on his waist, the other, unable to resist, feeling up his thigh still, and Rudi's face flushes as he comes. Ridge's gentle teasing tone and the sight and feel of the other man below him accentuates the closeness, especially as Ridgedog turns his head slightly to look at how Rudi is frantically palming himself through two layers of fabric.

"T-Thanks-" Rudi's nostrils flare, a sign he's taking in all the scents more than normal- the musky scents of piss and come, of warm sunlight, of the smell of something otherworldly and yet just as wolfy as himself.

"Ridgedog..." Rudi groans, growls the end of it. His hand slips from Ridge's face to grip his shoulder with a strength that on anyone else would break skin just as easily as Ridge had done to Rudi. Ridgedog chuckles in response- yeah, he feels bad for scratching his skin and leaving gashes in his jeans, but it still amuses him how Rudi can't even dent him.

"Wanna piss on you." Rudi mumbles suddenly, unbidden, and Ridge's mouth flattens into a thin line.

"Do not." He growls, soft and low. He knows Rudi's just talking to himself, but it's a gut reaction.

"Fuck, s-sorry, handsome." Rudi is quick to breathe out the apology, and Ridgedog accepts it just as quickly. 

"Thanks!" Ridge is grinning again. Rudi's cock had twitched at his tone, and Ridge makes note of that- they'd flirted in that direction a few times, so maybe he'd follow up on that... later. 

For now, Rudi is leaning over him- onto him, really, and working his hand over himself in a way that seems like it would just be easier to undo his pants instead. But Rudi is an odd guy, and Ridge knows there's something about the constraining pressure that Rudi enjoys... and maybe the pressure of his pants was more than just pressure, maybe it's a reminder that he's only allowed to come, nothing else. Maybe later that night, Ridge will catch him fidgeting, put two and two together and make Rudi mess himself in a different way, chide him in that low tone for what he's done and-

Prince's mind is easily full of fantasies about this, the cloying smell of Ridgedog's dampness heavy beneath him. He groans, ruts harder into his own hand, grips Ridge's shoulder tight and finally finishes, held up by Ridge's hands as his knees buckle and he doubles in on himself. Ridge's hands are all over him, gripping him, supporting him, on his inner thigh and his waist and there's the softest chuckle as Rudi looks right into the lopsided, amused, grinning face of Ridgedog and growls through his orgasm. 

Even as he's huffing through the aftershocks, the glowy haze still on him, Rudi removes his boot from Ridge and steadies himself on two legs again. "Thanks for humorin' me."

"Course." Ridge leans back, and then groans in slight frustration as he looks down and sees how large of a mess he's made, and how dry it was by now- harder to clean out, even with his magic. He feels his cheeks start to heat up again at the sight, and he quickly has to look up. Rudi is still leaned against the tree. Then he’s sliding down it to sit across from Ridge with his knees up. "Hey~" Ridge says when Rudi is at eye level with him. And it's with a slight lick of his lips, a grin, a laugh and a very obvious look over Ridge's now uncovered lower half that Rudi replies, "Hey!"

Ridgedog taps at his own thigh, attempting a cleaning spell that barely scratches the surface of what he’s done, and sigh-groans in annoyance. "Dammit, been too long..." He reaches forward, determined to at least heal up the damage he'd done to Rudi.

Rudi lets him, letting out a long sigh as the soothing magic sinks in, tipping his head back against the tree. "Figured we'd make a mess. You can wash em' at the house and borrow my stuff til' - OH."

Ridge is stripping his pants- well, his entire lower half’s worth of clothing off. "Huh? Oh, I'm fine like this. We can go back to fishing!"

Rudi half-rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Works for me."

[illumwriting]

Undesirable // Untouchable Posted on AO3 with bonus notes ^.^ https://archiveofourown.org/works/57971263

Tumblr is horrid and hates certain words now! So!

Warnings/Tags: Rape/Non-Con, Mutilation, Mind Break, fem!Parvis, Anal Sex, depictions of self-harm via blood magic, Magic Used For Sex, Blood Magic, Waterboarding but using blood Word Count: 5,924

Excerpt:

Those thoughts usually came when she was in the altar room after filling up her orb, light-headed from the lack of blood, and swearing she could feel the residuals of Ridge's presence there. She would slump against the altar, breathe in deep the iron tang and catch a whiff of Ridge, a molten lava lake, the heat on a summer day. Push herself up onto the edge of it, teetering on the rim of the bowl that was full of her life. She'd clutch her knife with whitened knuckles, pretending Ridge's firm grip was there as she rested it against her throat, slid her free and tacky with crimson hand down her jeans and into her cunt. She rocked up against her hand, heel pressed firm to her clit as she gasped, the soft bite of the blade keeping her just lucid enough to stay sitting and not tip backwards into the altar. There was no way it would do anything but soak her in blood if she did fall, but it always felt like there was a yawning chasm behind her like this, ready to swallow her up.

Like Ridge might.

[illumwriting]

Secret Santa for @the-home-of-innovation <3 Their Ridge with a blackrock-era Ravs! Companion ficlet below the cut.

Preview: "Ridgedog!" Ravs' voice fills the bar from wall to window and makes Ridgedog feel like he's a piece falling into a gorgeous puzzle. There's the tap of glass to wood, the enticing rattle of ice that lures Ridge into his seat, his coat spread out behind him.

Ridge didn't visit Blackrock often. Mostly because it's main two inhabitants had a strained history with him. Today, though, he touches down in front of his favorite reason to descend into the world. Checks himself over once, not because he has to, but because he wants to look impeccable for his unaware host.

Well, not at all unaware. He likes to fancy the bartender a mere mortal per the man's self styling, but Ridge had taken one look at him and seen through to his illager heritage and the innate ties to the foundation of a world that came with it. Ridge pictures him now, wiping off the bar countertop, pulling down Ridge's favorite whiskey from the high shelf already. It was, perhaps, nice to be expected. Still, when he pushes open the weighty wooden double door with the flourish they deserve, Ravs still acts surprised. Looks up from the stroke of his cloth over bartop and flashes his teeth in a delighted grin that every patron is treated to.

"Ridgedog!" Ravs' voice fills the bar from wall to window and makes Ridgedog feel like he's a piece falling into a gorgeous puzzle. There's the tap of glass to wood, the enticing rattle of ice that lures Ridge into his seat, his coat spread out behind him.

"Ravs." Ridgedog returns the sentiment, the curl of his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. They silently appraise each other as Ravs neatly pours and nudges the glass closer to Ridge, who takes it in hand and drains half of it, not quickly, but with intention. It's honey dark and almost divine. Ridge can taste every moment Ravs spent crafting it. The care put into it from creation to now is almost overwhelmingly sweet, but Ravs tempers it with his being, oaky sturdiness and firm warmth that takes a moment to seep in.

Ridge sets the glass down with a heavy satisfaction. There's a half-expectant look on Ravs' face. Ridge teases him, takes a moment of silence more and licks his lips in thought. Ravs is patient, not even a raised eyebrow- unwilling to influence his patron's opinion. "It's….." Ridge takes a more measured sip, lets it loll on his tongue for a moment longer. "very you."

Ravs' laugh is rich as the whiskey. "Which part?"

It's not something Ravs actually expects Ridge to be able describe back to him. The flirting is thick in the implications that Ravs lets linger between them as he produces the bottle for Ridge's inspection and their fingers idle together.

Ridge hums, and there's a flash of his teeth as he smiles more fully. "You've been aging this for a while."

"You don't turn up often." A gentle dig, but there's only fondness behind it. Ridge acquiesces, returns the bottle with slight hesitation and settles his hand back around his glass guiltily.

"The time makes it better though." Ravs winks at him, and is rewarded with the lightest dusting of pink under Ridge's freckles.

The ice broken, they take to chatting- Ridge likes to talk with his hands and Ravs likes to keep his busy.

Ridge is not a one bottle drinker, and Ravs knows this, makes his stock for Ridge in batches. By the third bottle, Ridge has let himself get comfortable.

"No ice this time." Ridge says, and Ravs gets a clean glass, pouring into it behind the bar. He glances up as he does, and takes pause. Ridge is bathed in the sunlight. It filters through into the dark wood of the bar through the windows on the wall and doors, and tries to takes it's natural course along the floor. But Ridge has snatched it up, and it clings to him instead. Ravs smile must quirk, because Ridge's flush from drinking and conversating deepens and he grins at Ravs.

"What is it?" There's a little tilt to Ridge's head, innocently inquisitive in an honest way.

"You're…" Ravs puts his elbow on the bar, the drink an afterthought now to both of them. He draws his gaze up Ridge's form, lingering, and enjoys the way that Ridge's smile is loose, easy, and turns a little sheepish as Ridge realizes that he must being doing something uniquely supernatural. From this angle, Ridge seems to be the source of the light itself, the gathered rays a soft halo around him. "radiant."

Ridge can only grin stupidly at Ravs, and the glow brightens, making everything else in the building pale in comparison to him.

[illumwriting]

working on getting this Guys face down yknow how it be

[illumwriting]

pray to whichever God forgives your sins, cause this is when the bad guy wins.

[illumwriting]

i am firing a warning shot/placing down a lit beacon depending on who you are. fic tomorrow. explict smut. non con. mutilation. yogs genderbend. ridge in it of course. it's ~5700 words.

[illumwriting]

not.

yogtober, day 5. voice. ridgedog. mention of lalna. a self reflection on being isolated. SFW. 385 words.

-------------------------------------------------------------------- -You're not human.-

Ridgedog has heard those words a thousand and one times. He's heard them in countless tones and contexts- from fear to adoration, from confusion to accusations. They've been used to try to hurt, to praise, and to beg. Those words had always come from sources that he could just ignore. Nothing that would make him question himself- after all, he agreed. He wasn't human. Ridge understood these words too, that it was just mortals expressing their discontent at him.

But when Lalna levels a shaky finger at Ridge and his immaculate, immortal body? Shaking because Lalna's mechanics are failing and his other arm is limp and bloody at his side, and in equally unsteady voice says: "You're -just- a demi-god, not human."

Ridge feels something… break inside of him. And he finds himself fleeing from the confrontation by teleporting away without another word. Sinks down to the ground and puts a hand to the side of his head, curls the fingers of his other one deep into the dirt. Surely, he shouldn't be this affected by what a mortal did. He's above them, right?

But Ridge never /wanted/ to be. He wanted to be a companion, a friend. And he can never forget what they, mortals, do to him. What ideas they have, what desires he invokes. Can never forget the imposing image and feeling of Lalna over him with a scalpel in gloved hand, as fear and paralysis held Ridgedog down while Lalna cut into him. Every time Lalna cocks his head at him, takes a certain -interested- tone, Ridge feels that scalpel slicing down and into his skin all over again in perfect, vivid detail.

He shudders. Just a demi-god. Supposedly unfeeling, right? Immune to everything mortals are vulnerable to, including trauma. Their minds as unmarred as their flesh. Right?

That's what Lalna thinks.

And Ridgedog is alone because of it. Because his best friend had been driven mad with the desire to know how Ridge worked, thanks to that damn red matter bomb. To hunt down an explanation for that fleeting, -burning- spark that had been momentarily placed in Lalna’s chest to fix it. Because no-one cared about what anything they did to him might make him feel. Because apologies were to be made to humans.

Not to demi-gods.

[illumwriting]

dog and snake (and ram)

yogtober day 3, magic. ridgedog, davechaos, mentions of kirindave. early era of transition between chaosville and yogscast- canon based. no shipping. one demi-god visits an equally powerful being to complain about a new player on his server. SFW. 525 words. Preview: "Right. Kirin! Kirindave, actually. Hah! Funny that you're both /Daves/, isn't it." A pretty good recovery, if he did say so. Treats himself to a wide grin for it.

Taking trips to visit other's worlds wasn't hard, as long as you had the right address. Ridgedog does, and he doesn't need an admin watch to travel there.

So it's with frustration that he finds himself having to rap on the metaphysical wall of Davechaos' homeworld. "Dave?" He calls out. It's cold here in the void between places, even for someone made of light. "Ugh. C'mon, dude! Let me in!" Another hard rap of his knuckles on the translucent-blue thing keeping him from entering. Below, he can see a vast expanse of land, the one loosely inhabited by Dave's small group of friends.

He's drawing back a boot to kick at the barrier, when Dave shimmers into view on the other side of it.

"Oh- uh!" Ridgedog suddenly acts like he had been kicking up both legs at the knees to float in one of his characteristic silly poses, and folds his arms behind his back, "Hi!!"

Dave simply stares at him.

"I- uhhhh-" Ridge is grasping at straws. He knew why he had come here. But like always, in the moment of pressure, it slips from him and makes him seem foolish and absentminded. "Right. Kirin! Kirindave, actually. Hah! Funny that you're both /Daves/, isn't it." A pretty good recovery, if he did say so. Treats himself to a wide grin for it. "Can I come in?"

Dave shakes his head.

"It's -important-," Ridge presses, "He says he's from your world, while he meddles with mine."

"Oh, does he now." Dave seems at least mildly interested in that, and he pulls up an invisible chair in the air that he then sits on backwards, legs straddling the back and arms folded across the top.

"Yes." Ridgedog tries to keep the irritation from his voice. He feels like Dave is looking at him like the animals he catches and keeps, a feral creature behind glass. "It's causing… problems."

"Be specific." "He's bringing strange magic in. Something else also followed him from this world, and it's not good, whatever it is. My worlds are destabilizing faster, my players are becoming more reckless from interacting with him, and now he's saying he can add a whole new freakin’ dimension to the place."

"And?"

"And what, Dave??? He's /your/ player! There are rules, you know that damn well-"

Ridge's rising, angry tone of voice is cut off as Dave stands smoothly, approaches the barrier, and looks Ridgedog over from toe to head, smiling thinly at him.

"Ridgedog."

Ridge realizes he's flared up golden-bright all over, and there are black cracks visible on his cheeks. He growls in the back of his throat, wills himself to simmer down, and the glow dims slightly.

"You appear to be having more than just simple ‘problems’. Kirindave is slowly wresting control from you, isn't he?"

"Yeah." Ridge grits out.

"He was never mine. I removed him from my world after he harmed another player irreparably. I suggest you do the same."

Davechaos tips his hat to Ridge, the only sign of respect so far, and vanishes leaving Ridgedog in the cold void with burning questions, and an entirely new sense of unease.

[illumwriting]

when men will be no more

prompt from anon: i was thinking about maybe dave sees kd's mortal shell all busted up? :0 

Words: 768, no warnings. Hugely inspired by Prayer in C. Give it a listen! 

"Hello?" Dave gave a sharp rap on the door of Kirin's home for the fifth time. He glanced up at the midday sun and frowned. Kirin should have been home, especially since his note had said Dave could swing around for his supplies around lunch. A loud groan from inside and the shuffle of feet had Dave raising his eyebrow. The door creaked open and Kirin poked his head out, a slight grimace  of pain tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Dave-" Dave stared. Kirin's tan skin was split open along his temples, teal spilling from the fissures across his cheeks like blood. Aqua crystalline nubs were nestled in Kirin's unruly hair, and Dave felt static coming off of Kirin in waves. "I'm just here for my stuff-" Dave started. He had known Kirin was inhuman, but had only once before come face to face with anything but the other worldbuilder's intact human shell. In this state, Kirin could be volatile and prone to violence. "I'll get it." Kirin said quickly, wincing as something crackled and the whites of his eyes flashed black. "Thanks." Dave muttered to the closed door that had been slammed in his face.

The door cracked back open, and a faint glow was visible off off Kirin's face. "Here." Kirin thrusted the small bundle of Dave's tools tied off neatly in teal string at him, the package thudding against Dave's chest. "Bye." Kirin mumbled to the floor, and tried to close the door. Dave shoved his foot in the way and got a glare from Kirin. "Kirin-" Dave started and Kirin flinched, digging his nails into the wood of the door. "Leave." Kirin pressed the door against Dave's shoe, not looking up. "I'm busy." "Busy what, dying?" Dave shot back and Kirin snarled, then winced as the action split the human facade open at the corners of his mouth. "Busy." Kirin repeated as if that will make Dave leave. "Stuff." "You know I can help." Dave slotted half his body between the door and the frame, peering past the troubling glow of Kirin's skin into the dark interior of Kirin's home. Kirin's nails sank into the wood of the door as Kirin tensed up. "I didn't ask for your help." "You need it." Dave pointed out as he exchanged the bundle of tools in his inventory for a bottle of thick green liquid. The door gave a groan of protest as Kirin pulled his nails from the wood and ignored the splinters pricking him. "How much?" Dave stepped inside the rest of the way and locked the door behind him. The glow from Kirin was more than enough to see by. "Free, this time." "That's what you said last time." Kirin pointed out, but snatched the bottle from Dave's hand, careful not to let his claw-nails scratch Dave. "The world is dying." Dave told Kirin as he pryed the cork from the bottle and guzzled the contents down. "So?" Kirin muttered as he licked his lips clean of the last dregs of the syrupy potion. "Thought that was your job, not mine." "It's both of ours." Dave held  his hand out and Kirin obediently gave back the empty bottle. It disappeared into the void of Dave's inventory. "Me, the inhabiants, you, the land itself." Dave fixed Kirin with a dark stare, the flickerings of something acient and etheral making Kirin shudder. "Don't think they'd forgive you." Dave hissed, and Kirin swallowed hard with a small bob of his head. The glow faded as Kirin's shell was stitched back together, but the teal trails still marred his face in a scar-like way. "I know." Kirin muttered. "I'll tend to it tomorrow." Dave smiled, showing off his sharp canines. "See you then, Kirin." His tone was upbeat and jovial, but it didn't reflect in his eyes. "Don't waste any more time." He warned as he unlocked the door and vanished out into the blinding light of day. Kirin can't relax even when the darkness settles around him again, no longer a comforting blanket but a reminder that slithered around his shoulders. "Sorry." He muttered to the closed door, running his fingers over the deep gouges.

                                                            FIN.

[illumwriting]

death deals in life

sorry this is so late! I had to think about it a bit.

Here's your garbage court+lying interactions. <3

“Move the fuck over.” Smith grumbles as they huddle on the concrete step that lines the walls of the underground. Hooves pound on the asphalt above their heads.

  “Shhh!” Trott hisses and tries to extract his elbow from Smith’s. “We’re almost there, keeping moving.”

  “Guys?” Sips says, and they all look at him. He points down the tunnel in the direction they came from, where something is definitely moving.

  “Oh fuck no.” Smith groans and leaps across the flowing sewage and lands barely on the thin strip on the other side. He pops his head into the side tunnel and nods to to Trott, who jump across as well. Ross picks up Sips in a bridal carry and bites his lip in concentration as he leaps across. His foot catches on the edge of the step and he teeters until Trott grips his arm firmly and steadies him with a quiet “oh no you don’t, sunshine.”

  The group skitters down the side tunnel, the last leg between them and the very edge of the city pipe system, where they reside. Trott just hopes it’s enough to stay Kirin’s horde of hungry fae.

  The pounding hooves have followed them the whole time they’ve been down here, and they keeps seeing shadowy figures behind them. Smith really hopes it’s fae following them.

  They feel themselves pass into their territory before they see the way the pipe splits before them, the sewage running off into another pipe when it should by all practical means be running down the giant cliff they’re standing on.

  “It’s a well.” Sips breathes from his vantage point in Ross’s arms as he cranes his neck to peer up towards the top. The walls are lined with thick moss, and slowly, they realize the pounding of hooves has stopped.

  “Oh thank the fucking gods.” Smith breathes and leans against the wall, feeling at home in the damp and cold place.

  “Smith, shut up.” Trott snaps, and everyone goes very quiet.

  There’s a steady dripping sound, and it’s getting louder.

  Ross takes a step back, into the sewers and suddenly the stamping shakes the ground above their heads, fae howling for blood. Sips pales and Ross quickly presses back in close to Trott and Smith.

  “Oh, you are quite the rude little things.” The voice is disembodied and Ross sets Sips down in the center of him and the others, their backs to Sips and keeping him protected in the center of them. Sips makes a noise of protest as he finds himself ankle deep in water, but is ignored as the voice laughs.

  “What do you think you can gain from me? Protection? They are out there, just waiting for an excuse to break in here. And you just gave them one.” The voice sounds angry and they shift closer to Sips. Ross hefts his bat instinctively.

  “We have an offer.” Trott calls loudly into the darkness. Sips makes a yell from behind them and they spin to see a small figure holding Sips casually by his throat. Their one visible eye glints in the dim light with a strange wetness and they grin.

  “Make it fast.” The well-witch says and squeezes Sips’ throat lightly.

  “Territory. We offer you access to our territory and to everything we know about horned shitlord.” Trott babbles, watching worriedly as Sips grasps at the well-witch’s clawed hand.

  “I know everything about him already.” The well-witch grins wider and digs the tip of their nails into Sips’ neck. “But territory… that sounds interesting.” They fix their gaze on Smith and Smith shudders and his hand shoots to his pocket, squeezing his keys tightly. “Give me access to the river.”

  Smith opens his mouth to protest, but Sips makes a strangled noise as the nails break flesh and Smith changes his mind. “Deal! Fucking deal, just give Sips back!”

  “Done.” The well-witch grins and a shimmering band of light blue winds itself around Smith’s head like a thin bridle as they shove Sips into Ross’s arms. Sips gasps for air and snarls a curse against Ross’s chest.

  “And for our safety?” Trott insists and the well-witch appraises him, narrowing their gaze and pressing their lips together.

  “You are asking for a life-debt.” The well-witch points out, and Trott crosses his arms. “I am. For their safety.”

  The well-witch grins, tilting their head to the side. “Such loyalty. Swear you will never turn on me and come at my call, and your safety from Kirin is guaranteed.”

  “All of us?” Ross pipes up, and the well-witch nods.

  “One selkie is useless, regardless of the debt.”

  Trott bares his teeth at that but he kneels in front of the well-witch. “We will come at your call and never turn on you, well-witch.” He says slowly, repeating the words precisely. The others kneel beside him, heads bowed.

The well-witch looks them all over as the bands of light blue circle around the garbage court’s throats. “Call me Lying.” They say and tug Ross to his feet, grinning. “This will be fun.”

[illumwriting]

strangers will eat you, baby

got this idea a few nights ago- it’s non-mortal sips.

warnings for kidnapping, mentions of cannibalism.

merry fucking christmas.

Smith has deemed to make the dirt roads that run through the forest just outside of town and veer off towards the river his haunt of the month, and so when it comes time for the Garbage Court to pick a king, that’s where they go.

  It’s late Saturday afternoon and the city is alive with the thrum of parties starting, teenagers on the internet, and people running errands before night falls. They trail a pretty girl in a sweatshirt for a few blocks at Ross’s request, but Trott and Smith deem her uninteresting.

  “Come on, mate, can’t we just go to my normal spot?” Smith groans as Trott points him down yet another back alley that is clearly empty.

  “For once, I agree with Smith.” Ross pipes up from the backseat. “If only because I want to get out of this car sooner. I think I’m sitting in jizz.”

  “Probably are.” Trott muses, and shrugs. “Alright. Fine. But I pick the guy.”

  “Deal.” Smith says, and floors it out of the city.

  Smith loops down to the river and back, passing up a few rowdy teenagers and another girl before Trott raises an eyebrow and points. “Him.”

  There’s a guy, his thumb out and no bags in sight. He’s wearing ratty blue jeans that hang low on his hips and varsity jacket that Trott doesn’t recognize over a white undershirt. His baseball cap is filthy, a dark blue thing smudged with dirt. He’s got a sleepy smile with just a hint of teeth to match his sleepy eyes.

  Smith swerves over and Trott rolls his window down. The guy looks Trott up and down in the way that Smith looked at his victims, and Trott grins back, all white teeth.

  “Need a ride?” Smith unlocks the car as Trott speaks and the guy looks the car over before pulling the back door open and sliding in next to Ross without a word.

  Ross blinks and shifts away from the new comer into the corner of the backseat. He smells thickly of cigarette smoke and dirt. Ross coughs, and the stranger looks over at him as Smith starts the car up again.

  “Swanky ride.” The guy settles back in his spot, and Ross relaxes a little. The guys has a nice voice, but his lips barely move. Weird.

  “Thanks, mate.” Smith presses on the gas a little harder, enjoying the freedom of the roads outside the city before he has to deal with traffic.

  “Got a name, sunshine?” Trott leans around from the passenger seat.

  “Yeah, and it’s not sunshine, sweetheart.” The guy shoots back, and Trott barks out a grating laugh.

  “Cute.”

  “Hi cute, I’m Sips.”

  Trott grinds his teeth together as he hears the snickers of Ross and Smith, which he quickly silences with a punch to Smith’s arm and a glare at Ross.

  Sips tips the brim of his hat up. His eyes are grey- Trott didn’t know mortals could have that color. Curious. “Hey, stop here.” Sips says.

  “What?” Trott narrows his eyes. They’re in the middle of the forest thanks to Smith’s shitty driving, at least another 20 minutes outside the city.

  “I gotta piss.” Sips says cooly.

  “We’re not stopping.” Trott says, and turn back around, ending the conversation.

  There’s the sound of a zipper going down.

  “Uh.” says Ross.

  “I’m gonna piss in your car.” Sips mumbles.

“What- hell no-” Smith growls and slams on the break, causing Trott to hit his head on the roof. Trott snarls at Smith, and Smith throws his hands up off the steering wheel.

  “Trott, he’s gonna piss in the car.” Ross says, rather urgently. He’s pretty sure he saw a dick.

  “Then get him out of my car!” Smith yells and Trott resists the urge to strangle everyone around him.

  “Yes, Ross. Take him outside, watch him. Knock him out if he tries to run.” Trott grinds out, glaring daggers at Smith, who keeps his hands up in surrender.

  Ross reaches up front past Smith and pops the locks, shoving the smug looking Sips outside into the forest.

  “Alright, hurry up.” Ross grumbles and watches the breath he doesn’t need to take puff into the cold air.

  “Sure.” Sips says. He doesn’t bother to turn his back to Ross, and Ross makes a face, glancing away.

  Something snaps and Ross quickly looks back, ready to jump the mortal who thought he could run away.

  “Shit.” Ross says.

  Sips is definitely not mortal. He’s got antlers to match Kirin’s coming from the top of his head, his clothes hanging baggy on his now bony and emaciated form.

  “Shit.” Ross says again as he notices the lack of lips and the yellowed teeth in Sips’ smile.

  “Man, I got lucky-” Sips starts, before Ross drops his glamour and lashes his barbed tail. “Well, shitttt.” Sips drawls, and raises his hands- warped into bloody claw-like appendages.

  Ross hears Trott and Smith tumble out of the car behind him and flank him, Trott pressing Ross’s bat into his hands. “What the fuck?” Smith demands.

  “Wendigo.” Trott murmurs, and Sips laughs.

  “10 points to Trotty-boy.” Sips keeps his hands raised when Ross snarls at him.

  “That’s just a spook story.” Smith says. “I bet he’s a fucked up fae.”

  Ross isn’t sure what a wendigo is, but Sips isn’t fae. Ross knows fae. “Do we keep him?” He asks, holding the bat at ready if Trott answers in the negative.

  Trott and Sips stare at each other, Sips’s lipless mouth gaping in a mock smile and Trott looking very unimpressed.  “You shift, or is it a glamour?” Trott asks.

  “Shift.” Sips answers and drops his hands, shifting back as part of his response. He shoves his hands in his jean pockets.

  “We’ll keep him for the night. See where this goes.” Trott says, and Ross lets his bat drop to swing by his side. Smith wanders closer to Sips, circling him.

  “I’m a wendigo, asshole.” Sips snaps when Smith reaches out if to prod at him. “I’ll fucking eat that finger.”

  “Don’t touch him, mate.” Trott warns.

  Smith sulks. “Wendigos aren’t real. That’s just a story for explaining fucked up mortals.”

  “Kelpies are made up to explain drowning.” Sips shoot back and Smith laughs.

  “I like him. Having a freaky cannibal around could be fun to scare off the horned shitlord.” Smith jerks a thumb towards his car. “C’mon. Let’s go before we miss our own party.”

  -----

ayooo. put the notes down here since they’re long.  here’s my resource for wendigos, as well as the picture I tried to base Sips' wendigo form off of.

  I picked a wendigo for a couple reasons. They mainly were known to live up in Canada, and are highly associated with greed/gluttony, something Sips and the garbage court are associated with too. plus they eat people, and that's an awesome counter to the fae king Kirin, who also happens to eat people.

  I changed the lore tiny bit to allow Sips to shift back to what we can assume what his human form before he became a wendigo. Sort of like Smith, but Smith wasn’t ever actually a human.

Why/how did Sips turn into a wendigo? Well, that’s up to you.

[illumwriting]

tastes like {victory}

so sparx confirmed that they were thinking of kirin eating the garbage court in their initial post about the hunt. and i couldn’t just leave something delicious as that alone. Continuation of my previous hunt fic in which Everyone Dies. massive warnings for gore.

Kirin pounces on Trott as soon as he wheezes his last breath, pulling his sword from Trott’s chest and using his sharp claws to tug the split flesh apart and exposing the white bone and the warm heart that’s leaking blood. Kirin grins and the fae around him shift impatiently, hungry.

  Kirin snaps the ribs with ease, tossing them to the side where the fae dogs snap them up and set to gnawing on them. Kirin cuts the vessels that connect the heart to the rest of Trott’s body and cradles the organ in his hand, pulling it out of the body and frowning slightly at the mess that runs down his forearm and clings to the thick hair on his forearm.

  “Take it.” Kirin stand and steps away from Trott, watching the fae snarl and claw at each other as they descend on the body and rip it to bits, a fae ripping an arm off and near managing to get away with it all for themself until they are set upon by a pack of ravenous fae.

  Kirin bites into Trott’s heart and lets the blood dribble down his chin and into the sand.

  --------------

  Ross is not quite what Kirin hoped, all stone and mostly worthless gems, aside from the few Honeydew had given him. Kirin bends down and swipes up some of the dust with his fingers and sniffs it. It smells of seawater and fresh tarmac. He licks it and makes a face at the gritty texture, swallowing it down and smacking his lips.

  He lets the fae loot what they like from the rubble and watches them stuff their pockets with worthless chips of stone for victory trophies.

  Yeah, disappointing.

  ------------------

  Smith and Sips make the whole hunt worth it. Sips dies easy, but Kirin had to admit he was impressed by the mortal’s attempt to wound him. Glancing at the bullet lying in the grass, Kirin knows if the iron slug had hit home, he would be in serious condition.

  He looks between the two bodies, trying to decide who to eat first. Smith’s heart would be much more potent, being full of magic, but Kirin hadn’t eaten the heart of a court king in so long and he craved that wood-like taste, no matter if it was sullied by mortal flesh.

  But Smith was bound to grow colder sooner. Kirin crouches on the slightly damp grass in front of Smith’s slumped form, and is surprised to hear a rattling breath. He slides a hand into Smith’s soaking hair and wrenches Smith’s head back, leaning in to bite gently at Smith’s neck. Smith groans under the bite and Kirin laughs against his throat, licking the salty beads of sweat up.

  “Still alive, then?” Kirin murmurs and feels Smith convulse, knows that Smith is but a minute from death.

  “Fu-  u-” Smith manages and cries out as Kirin’s sharp teeth sink into his neck and rip, enough to tear the skin away and Kirin chews and swallows, licking his lips. Everything about Smith is salty and wet, the way Kirin likes it. Smith’s eyes have rolled back and he’s sobbing, afraid and in pain.

  Kirin loves it. He blows air on the exposed throat and nibbles at the hanging flaps of skin as Smith chokes above him and curses Kirin in garbled words.

  “You’re wasting your breath.” Kirin says mildly as he swallows down a bit of flesh and then mouths at Smith’s collarbone, licking it clean of blood.

  Smith shakes. “Well-witch.” He mumbles, and goes limp. Kirin tsks.

  “Really, couldn’t even let me finish your throat? How rude.” There’s a burst of jeering laughter from the fae who hover over Sips’ body, desperately wanting to rip him apart as they had Trott. Kirin doesn’t laugh. The name of the well-witch has been uttered in this place one time too many, and the pools of water that collect around Smith’s body only unsettle Kirin more.

  He pulls Smith’s chest apart with less finesse than he had Trott, not even bothering to toss the bones aside, just ripping the heart out and tearing into it, swallowing the briny thing down with a new sense of urgency and letting an errant piece of rib crunch between his teeth. He leaves the body for the fae and they swarm, fighting and bickering behind him as he pulls Sips’ chest open.

  Kirin is more careful this time, snapping the bones and setting them aside in a pile. He cuts the vessels and lifts the still-warm heart out, running his fingers lightly over the surface as he finds a nearby rock and sits. Carefully, he portions the heart up, eating each morsel and rolling it around in his mouth like a fine wine and idly watches his own court feast on the Garbage Court’s remains.

Really, he was going to have to make this more of a habit.

[illumwriting]

xoxoxo

for sparx, since i killed ross twice and i sorta feel bad about it. also, i need to practice writing fluff more. short references to will/ross.

Ross knocks on the door to Kirin’s shop, and Kirin looks up from the counter. “William!” He calls into the kitchen behind him and motions for Ross to come in as there’s a clatter of dishes and Will power-slides out into the main hallway in his socks and pajamas and all but tackles Ross while Kirin smiles and goes back to reading.

“Ross!” Will hugs the gargoyle tightly, breathing in the dust and musk smell.

Ross laughs. “Good to see you too. And yes, Smith is still pissed he couldn’t come, Trott is still trying to make forcefields a thing and oh- Sips sends his regards, Kirin.”

Kirin looks up from his book and nods, slightly wary. “Oh dear.” He says and closes the book when Ross manages to get out of Will’s hug long enough to pull a small package from his jacket pocket.

“I promise it’s not used cigarettes this time.” Ross says and Kirin rolls his eyes, taking the package.

“I was hoping you’d say ‘it’s not a love note’, but I guess I can’t win them all.”

Will keeps his arm slung around Ross’s waist and nestles into the familiar curve of Ross’s side as Kirin unties the ratty string and opens the package.

It’s a little bobblehead of what supposedly had once been a famous baseball player, but has been meticulously painted over to resemble Sips winking from beneath the brim of his cap.

“Oh have mercy on my soul.” Kirin mutters, watching Sips’ head bob merrily when he sets the statue down to read the note, and Will sputters and snorts as he tries not to laugh.

It’s a longer note this time around, and Kirin glances at Will and Ross, who’s faces are contorted as they try not to break down into laughter. “Get out of here, you two.” Kirin says and Ross chortles loudly and picks Will up, carrying him back to the kitchen where they dissolve into loud hooting laughter.

Kirin smiles and settles back in his chair.

hey buddy

got you something real great to remember me by on cold winter nights lololol B)

anyways, figured it was time i sat down and thanked you properly for the new haunts. my boys love the place, and we’ll fix it up real good, don’t you worry bout that. i still can’t believe my kind built an actual dump on top of old fae grounds. was just a stroke of luck on our part that it was right by the river. smith’s having a blast cleaning it out, but he’s also really pissed about the river being polluted in the first place.

tell nano smith’s got her explosion powder recipe all fixed up and to expect it sent back by the end of the month. ross won’t say it, but he took some hard hits the other day from some falling debris out here and he’s got a big ass crack. like. literally. make him go see honeydew, or get will to take him. only thing trott wants is some underwater plants or something, he just said “plants that will clean the water, you fucking idiot” and then left to yell at smith, so, yeah. send some of whatever you think is best back with ross. ross has got the money for it, so just ask him for it.

hope you aren’t regretting not being more clear on what i was supposed to send as tribute each month cause there’s plenty more where that came from, old man ;)

lol

anyways have fun babysitting ross for a week and make sure he and will don’t have weird babies, i dont want to have to pay child support for a tiny electrical rock monster

xoxoxoxo

sips