#Yes he can grow the moth wings

[kit-williams]

Warhammer 40k & D&D au

Just a quick 20 minute adventure into the feywild Morty Initial post!

Mortarions time spent with his brothers was as one could assume, him being a stick in the mud and an asshole. Forced to actually bond and enjoy their company. (how awful)

Also the fact that Mortarion despises magic/psykers and suddenly he was in a land drenched in magic. Even the lowest person could somehow conjour... call upon a god... become a mighty hero... even the most melee focused combatants somehow could pull magic out of their willpower. Somehow gaining a second wind mid battle sometimes healing their wounds too. Imbibing some sort of magical potion... he hated it all so much

His notable part of the AU is what happened after he left their company... he fucking fell into the feywild

Mortarion could not escape extraplanar hellscapes

And this one was made of pure magic

He was in literal hell

But he met his wife not long after he started wandering the hellscape

A princess of the Spring court a majestic dryad

Well he met the source... his dryad wife was a "clipping", she calls herself honeysuckle but Mortarion calls her honey.

Basically the main body had rooted herself and would occasionally clip off hyper-emotive portions of herself and its how honeysuckle came into being. She was a compassionate and loving clipping and was moved by Mortarions plight

His plight being him hissing like a pissed off cat caught in a vine net that was threatening to strangle him

The great princess of spring allowed a portion of herself to travel with Mortarion but at some point during their travels he ran out of toxins and he felt like he couldn't breathe. When honeysuckle tried to help him he tried killing her as he was scared. He was in some xenos infested warp soaked hellscape all alone.

She could shapeshift into vines and solidified around his arms and kissed him forcing air into his lungs, thorns pricked him and she sucked up the poisons of his home. Out of his collar where the poison flowed from bloomed flowers that emitted the same toxic air but just less.

Mortarion sat there with a convulsing and twitching honeysuckle as she removed most of the poison from his system but made it so he could breathe a bit.

She was fine afterward and the two traveled more. It felt like he was in the feywilds for years and yet by the time he would leave it had only been a couple of days.

He grew closer to honeysuckle during the years

in fact for Mortarion 100 years passed in the feywilds when in reality only 100 days had passed in the rest of the world

When he left he was married to honeysuckle by that time and had done a great deed to make him an unofficial prince though the unseelie court has expressed their interest in him.

Both the Seelie and Unseelie court deal with the minor corruption of nurgle that trickles into the realm and both rulers of the courts found it hilariously funny that the once demon prince of Nurgle was capable of true love.

Yeah Mortarion was stuck in the feywilds until he could feel true love. Its how he go his therapy. But Honeysuckle helps him with his daddy issues.

But he was finally able to leave the feywilds and boy was he pissed that his 100 years away turned out to be 100 days and he forced his brothers to all come back together to meet his (Trad) Dryad wife and let him rant about the past 100 years.

They fey blessed him with magic and powers; he was less pissed about the magic; and so Mortarion was something more. Though his new powers were insect and life focused though the more he used the powers in quick succession the more he would temporarily look like an elf.

He and Honeysuckle have a daughter named Lily.

The biggest thing for Mortarion in this AU is he is free from the toxic "love" of nurgle and the utterly toxic idea of family. Having a healthier one abet slightly twisted fey wise but still better than nurgle.

Due to his exposure to the feywilds he can slightly shapeshift its more so he can grow wings when he wants and when he's pissed he takes on more of a wasp like appearance with loud buzzing.

When he is playful he gets a more bumblebee appearance with body fuzz included

When he does shift it's normally a moth, his wings are a mixture of an Hercules moth in just body size to wing size and a lunar moth in coloration and shape. And yes he does sprout fuzzy antennae

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

🦅❤️Boyfriend!Hawks❤️🦅

GIF by koi-feathers

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who met you at a Pro Hero gala last spring. He saw you from across the room and felt drawn to you like a moth to flame. He practically begged his agency team to introduce the two of you.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who accidentally spilled his drink on you, yet still managed to capture your attention for the rest of the evening. He offered to pay for your gown to be dry cleaned, as long as you gave him your number in exchange.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who texts you the morning after the gala to plan your first date together. He's dying to try a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop in your neighborhood. Maybe the two of you could grab a bite and then you can show him your favorite dessert spot?

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who is a not-so-secret foodie. Who loves to talk through taste and ingredients and mouthfeel and who absolutely lives for anything chocolate.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who walks you home with a light hand on your lower back. Who kisses you softly on the cheek before he takes off into the night, his fierce wings glinting in the bright moonlight. Your face burns where his lips brushed your skin.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who prefers when you take initiative in planning dates. He loves when you surprise him with an activity he's never done before - a pottery class downtown, a new nightclub after work, a dessert themed escape room. He loves to get to know you in all sorts of new venues and situations.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who asks you to be exclusive after two months of dates and dinners and quick cheek kisses. He gifts you a bar of his favorite chocolate and asks cheekily if he can finally call himself your boyfriend (everyone at his agency has been referring to you as his girlfriend since the night you met). When you say yes, he finally kisses you satisfyingly slow and deep, his hands cradling your face.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who you quickly learn grew up touch-starved. He didn't grow up with physical affection or hugging, so he's addicted to any small gesture of physical intimacy you give. You find the physical side of your relationship needs to develop very slowly and cautiously - Keigo can easily become overwhelmed and overstimulated since he's not used to being touched by other people. You don't mind one bit - he's worth the wait. He learns how to set boundaries and slowly opens up about his difficult childhood and training.

He loves when you:

Walk by him at an event and possessively rest a hand on his shoulder.

Rest a hand on his muscular chest when taking press photos or selfies.

Card your fingers through his thick hair. (This makes him absolutely melt into your touch!)

Press a quick kiss to his cheek or to the corner of his mouth

Slowly wrap him up in an embrace after a long day of patrols, meetings and press events.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who is a a constant flirt. He has so much rizz in public, but in private he's all mush and emotional intimacy.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who loves bragging about you at work. Who babbles about your hobbies and your cute outfits and your favorite movies to the likes of Endeavor, Best Jeanist and Mirko. They're all thrilled for him, but they find his bragging annoying as all hell.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who revels in seeing you wear his clothes. He loves seeing how small you look in his oversized hoodies. You once put on his hero costume as a joke and he nearly passed out as his heart welled up with affection for you. You look so adorable in his flight suit and visor - he just can't stand it.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who enjoys developing your physical relationship and relishes in every new thing he learns about your body and what makes you feel good. Luckily for you - he's a great student and a quick learner.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who struggles to become good at kissing. The prolonged physical contact makes him uncomfortable at first, but he's determined to figure out the ways you like to be kissed. And you're more than happy to help him learn.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who is a little possessive and likes to give you hickies to remind you that you're his. As he becomes more comfortable with you physically, he longs to make you his in any way he can. He loves to leave tiny love bites along your shoulder - reveling in the way he can make you shudder when he sinks sparkling teeth softly into delicate skin.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who plans a scavenger hunt for your 1 year anniversary. Don't worry - there is a flight component that requires him to wrap his arms around you and to use Fierce Wings to give you both a birds-eye view of the city.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who has an infectious, flirtatious grin. You can't help but laugh when you see that cheshire cat smile spread across his face over dinner or out and about with friends or on a long walk through the park.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who feels that he is perfectly suited for the role of boyfriend, since taking care of others is one of his favorite things.

🔴Boyfriend!Hawks who loves you as you are, and who can't wait to build a life and to grow with you.

[kaiju-krew]

So I know this is like, a month late (forgot to ask when you posted the pic lol), but what's up with Labra? He got like a backstory, lore, or something like that? I'm curious and wanna know more abt him.

drew him again :3c

UHMMM yes i am lore building for him........ i haven't decided everything yet but i know i want him to be a distant cousin species of goji's. everyone's fangoji lore is different but i def imagine him as a part of my personal monsterverse au rather than existing in his own world with no friends haha loser

putting a cut here so i dont spam people's feeds lmao

likeeee for comparison it's probably similar to Crocodylia encompassing crocodiles, alligators, and gharials?? labra is in a similar niche to zilla for me. goji is the largest/apex species of the gojiran order, whereas zilla & labra are smaller and occupy a different niche. Big bruiser lion vs. carcal or lynx type thing.

my hc is that the vast majority of labra's species (pre-mutation art is what they looked like) was wiped out when ghido got into hollow earth. which is also the same time he wiped out most of the divine moths and a couple other species :''(

it ended with ghido iced but it fucked up the hollow earth ecosystem for a while and led to a lot more radiation leakage since he tore the place up real bad. labra was Almost Dead and ended up hibernating to recover by a radiation vent, but he'd laid down in feldspar vein that kinda grew to cover him and turned to labradorite and idk magic radiation nonsense it fused with him and caused him to grow/mutate.

the ghido massacre also caused battra to hibernate/mutate too so it's a Big Event in my silly au world. most of the kaiju that are clearly a result of mutation fuckery (biollante, kessho too) may be related to it as well but i haven't fully fleshed it out yet. it would mostly be based around goji's hyper-regeneration doing the thing where like.. if a big enough chunk of him gets lobbed off and has access to energy it mutates and tries to regenerate and causes a fucked up clone siblings thing idk omg ok i'm in tangent city good god sorry i was supposed to be talking about my gay son

ANYWAYSSSSSS for more general hc/character stuff: >labra is genuinely terrified of ghido and even gets freaked out when he hears wing beats without warning. (mosu beats rodan's ass bcuz he divebombs labra for fun sometimes) >he lives on monster island and ventures down to hollow earth sometimes, but he won't return to his old home because it just reminds him everyone else of his species is gone. (he isn't even his own species anymore bcuz of the mutation. so they're basically extinct.) >he loves swimming and sometimes just lays in the shallows to absorb sunlight. stretches out like a lazy ass cat. cat boy behaviour >he's loyal to goji and doesn't start shit with humans unless they attack first. even then he does his best to steer clear. >mothra likes his dorsal plates and talks with him sometimes (Moth Therapy) they can bond over ghido hating it's a good time >he has a mutually bitch-bother dynamic with rodan where rodan bothers the shit outta him until he manages to grab that turkey and idk sits on him or something. but if rodan really pisses him off he doesn't mind actually throwing hands because he knows goji won't care if he puts the bird in it's place. >he also likes angy, zilla, and bio a lot too.

there's more but i'll stop there for nowwwww

tldr: big gay lizard is traumatized but doing ok ig

[rory-multifandom-mess]

New (not really) Murder Drones Au!

This AU is called the Mercy Drones AU, created by my lovely boyfriend who gave me permission to share this to Tumblr! I helped with some of the concepts and the name!

Basically, while the humans were testing stuff out with Solver, they also made the "Mercy" program, an anti-virus for Solver. With episode 7 and the introduction of the patch, we kind of made it one in the same. anyway

The Mercy program is the result of the patch warping the solver mutation's genes/coding and essentially "purifying" it. Instead of bat wings, Mercy Drones have moth-like wings made of solar panels that sprout from their backs. Instead of mouths at the end of their tails, they have a strange, claw-like hand at the end of their tail. Nothing they "gain" from this mutation is organic. When they go full-Mercy mode, their 'screens' turn purely the color of their LEDs. These drones thrive in the sunlight

Wing shapes aren't always the same and can be based off of any moth species.

Within this AU, Thad has the Mercy Mutation, along with Alice and Lizzy (though hers is Dormant and has remained dormant thus far.) Lizzy and Thad got it from their late mom Izzy, who was once a zombie drone alongside Nori, Yeva, and Alice. (Thad's wings are based off of Luna moth wings, Lizzy's would be based off of Maple (or pink lemonade) moth wings)

The thought of this AU came up because I was losing my fucking mind over how much wasted potential Thad had, mostly focusing on episode 2. He got grabbed by Solver, and while All of the other worker drones it grabbed died immediately, he didn't, and it even acted scared when he threatened it and I was screaming about how it made no sense and there had to be more to Thad because of this.

In the au, this interaction with Solver activated his Mercy programming, fighting off Solver's influence. Soon after this, he did the ol "transformation" thing (see image), and it was during Episode 4 that he finally learned how to use the abilities the Mercy programming used. He wasn't in the bus, bro had to cling to the top of it as they went home.

In this au, Solver not only sent the DD's to Copper-9 to kill the drones but also to hunt down any Mercy Drones who were left there to neutralize the only threat to it's ultimate goal

I never got around to fully coloring this, but the outer "rim" of the wings are silver, and the inside of the wings are dark green, which looks more like a bright mint green in the sun. The inside wing colors change depending on the drone (For example, it would be dark brown in the dark and orange in the light for Alice)

When Mercy Drones are depraved of exposure to sunlight for long (and I mean long) periods of time, they grow sluggish, tired, and weak. For this reason, when Alice realized she would never see the sun again, she permanently removed her wings.

Some abilities include- - Drawing sun rays collected by their wings to create light daggers - Magnetizing their fingertips - Can create other things (from shields to drone repairs) out of their harvested energy

If you have any questions, my ask box is open!! (Extra doodles are under the cut)

The transformation is incredibly painful, hense the pool of oil in front of Thad here. He threw up because the pain was so agonizing.

The ending of Episode 4

Me? Planning on writing both of these and posting them on AO3? Noooo (yes. yes I am. stay tuned)

[smgsyndicate]

Mountain X Dewdrop Fic

Wordcount: no clue

Plot based off this pic and thank you to @bloodysyren for the idea of using the quote! Sorry if this is bad I rushed it because I had an idea and needed it DONE

No TWs, just light angst comfort

With the coming of December, winter comes barreling along with it. The cool breezes quickly turn to chills, humans and ghouls a-like bundling up. Mountain wakes slowly, stretching wide with a small yawn. His body quivers with a shiver, the warmth of his blankets leaving him as he sits up and prepares for the day.

As one of the fluffier ghouls, his fur makes it easier to drag himself out of bed. He wonders if Dew will need dragged out, his water element always making him so- ... Right. A dreadful sigh leaves the drummer. Dewdrop changed elements. He forgot.

The element change wasn't necessarily bad, but a natural slow growing rift between the earth ghoul and ex-bassist left him hesitant to talk with him. Shaking out the cold from his body one more time, he pulls on a dark green hoodie with a frog on it, a gift from a fan at one of the rituals.

The earth ghoul slowly makes his way to the kitchen, intent on getting some sort of hot drink into his body before going around the abbey and lighting the fire places. He doesn't have to, it's not a chore assigned to him. He simply wants to.

Mountain half-notices the fact he's not freezing his tail off, but the sleepy part of his brain doesn't realize. He makes his hot tea, humming Cirice under his breath to keep himself awake while it brews, before heading out to the common room to start on the fires.

He passes by some of the rooms, noticing the lit kindle already burning. The drummer's brow furrows, continuing onto his destination. Upon seeing more, he smiles and sees that it's already done everywhere.

With a new mission of laying around doing nothing until the others awaken, Mountain walks to the sofa in the living room of the ghoul wing. He hopes to see Ifrit and snuggle up for some warmth while he's at it, assuming the kind fire ghoul lit everything.

His mouth twitches to a frown upon seeing the unlit fire in the living room. As he grows near, he sees a figure sitting slumped in front of the fireplace. ".. Dewdrop?"

Dewdrop never takes his eyes away from the smouldered wood, implying he did light it at some point. He hums vaguely in acknowledgement. "Dew... What're you doing?"

The guitarist sits up a bit straighter, not making eye contact with the earth ghoul. "Could ask the same to you. Aren't you cold? I know I would've been." Mountain winces at the reminder of the old Dew.

".. Yes. I'll admit, I am quite cold. I usually light the fires in the morning then go find Ifrit to snuggle up with." He mentions with a slight amusement at the fact his band mate is a living heater. He pauses, biting his lip as he debates his next words.

"I know you're not the one I'm looking for but... I'm so cold and a fire is a fire." He mumbles, moving closer to sit by Dewdrop. Mountain can feel the heat radiating from him already, drawing him closer like a moth to a flame.

Dew chuckles humourously, a hurt, wounded sound. "A burnt child loves the fire. After all the pain it causes, the moth goes back to the light and the child for the flame."

His eyes drift over to the singed patch of fur on Mountains arm, a small accident when Dew first transitioned. He couldn't control his element and actually nicked Mountain. Despite the many reassurances that he didn't feel it and it didn't go past the fur, Dewdrop never forgave himself. Fire is just destruction, after all.

Mountain sighs, sighing dramatically. "Oh no, it looks like I won't have a snuggle buddy... No one to wear my hoodies. Oh! And there's no one to lay on top of me. Sigh. .. SIGH." Dew can't help the surprised laugh bubbling out of his mouth from the drummer's antics.

Of course his band mate knew everything he loved. He couldn't help but wag his tail and look at Mountain with fake annoyance, amusement evident. "Oh shut up you big tree, get over here."

The fire ghoul launches at the taller one, knocking him over with a playful growl. Mountain lets out a surprised chirp, laughing as he just wraps his arms around his attacker and nuzzles against the top of his head, purring despite the shorter one's protests.

"Awe, you do love me! Now light the fire so we can actually go cuddle." Dewdrop sighs but listens, setting the wood ablaze before nuzzling into Mountains chest. "You said weighted blanket time, now you have to carry me."

Mountain sighs. "Fair enough. Come on princess, up you go." He stands up with Dew in his arms, a slight struggle but not all that bad. Hes silent as he walks before quietly whispering, "I missed you my firelily."

Dewdrop's breath hitches, eyes watering slightly. He and Mountain haven't talked this much since the transition and slight burn. The modified nickname of water lily to fire lily makes him clutch the earth ghoul closer, heart heavy with emotion.

"I missed you too, my terra."

[tunabesimpin]

Im determined to make a Yuu~ just a rough draft rn, but i think shes very cute

Below the cut are just some ideas im havign for her~ subject to change as i prepare an official ref UvU alot of rambling yes yes

some details on her personalitY! ^v^ -Shes very reactive! she has shoujo energy fr fr lolol -peculiar interest in insects more specifically lepidopterans (moths butterflies and similar winged inscects) She enjoys watching the life cycles of them -she even has a small garden she grows at ramshackle to house caterpillars -shes anxious of her chubby body, but wont try to resist her favorite foods (shes not keen on dieting but does prefer to maintain her current weight) -Before coming to twisted wonderland she was a part of the gardening club of her high school -She likes to layer her clothes even during the summer (its quite refreshing feeling actually) -Two beauty marks on her face one under her left eye and on the right side of her lips -Shes a very kind person having a strong sense of morals and justice -At confrontation she is very timid, but will attempt to stand up for herself (she looks like a kicked puppy-) -She is surprisingly not very air headed. She has tabs on everything in a personal notebook and very keen at figuring out situations quickly -While she loves her caterpillars she sees them more as specimen -Grim is her baby though and she pampers him as such -She had an older brother and a younger brother and a small group of friends in her world; often they looked up to her for advice or comforting -She enjoys hobbies like stargazing, cleaning/ organizing, writing, and science experiments -in NRC she joins the science club and gets along with Trey a lot, reminding her of her older brother -She spoils ortho as if he's her younger brother -She is quick tempered with Ace and Deuce, often scolding them -When she first met Malleus she was terrified (quite literally trembling in her boots), but she does grow accustomed to him -CANT STAND FLOYD; She is all about personal space and he clearly doesn't have any. -She is 166 cm tall -She misses her brothers dearly

ANyways thats all i can think of for now thx for listenin <3

[captain-mj]

Can we get a 3rd part of hunter au, but with ghost x soap x roach....

Hell yeah! This is technically part 4 but I got the ask before I posted the last one. Btw, after I do all the ships (I think all I have left is this one and PriceGraves? If I'm missing one, just ask!) I might do a second part for Korangi since Horangi did kinda leave

Ghost hated that he had been dragged into this. Hunting a Hawk Moth was not something that he had been planning when he woke up that day.

So when he was snatched up in a trap, it was just another part of an already bad day. A rope tied around his ankle and thrust him into the air. Two people, he didn't really get a good look at them, moved around him. Based on their soft footsteps, they were most likely winged.

“Where is our friend?”

Ghost stared at them. He luckily knew their language or this would get really, really awkward. "Your friend?" Did they mean the Hawk Moth? If those idiots found him and didn't tell him, leaving him to wander these woods alone...

"No. Blue Butterfly." They came into view. One of them had antennae and bug wings while the other had large yellow moth wings. The two of them made quite a pair. One of them had a slightly funny hair cut, shaved on the sides, but it could grow on him.

"Nope. Haven't seen him."

"We also have a Maple Moth missing. Know anything about her?"

"Nada. Haven't seen or heard anything."

The one with Roach wings made weird little motions with his hand. Some sort of non verbal communication because the other one quickly nodded. "My name is Soap. This is Roach."

Ghost took note of the fact that Soap gave his real name, but clearly only gave Roach's species. He was starting to feel lightheaded from being upside down. "Look, I don't know your friends. Just let me down already, yeah?"

Soap and Roach made motions again. Ghost couldn't understand any of it. They had a rudimentary version, but it mostly just consisted of orders, not intricate conversation. He found it fascinating.

"There was a few of your... kind around. Why? What are you doing here?"

Ghost hummed. "Looking for my friend's lover. They disappeared and we're trying to make sure they're okay." One of them reached up and tried to tug off his mask. He panicked, trying to cover his face. His whole body flushed. "Don't do that!"

"No. Tell me what I need to know."

"I don't know where your friends are!" Ghost snapped at him.

He bared his teeth at him and Soap blushed. Good, be scared.

"He's kinda hot." Soap mumbled to Roach who nodded in agreement. Ghost flushed.

"I am not hot."

"Yeah, you are." Soap smiled. "And rather big." He poked at Ghost who finally managed to kick the rope to try to release himself.

"Let me fucking down."

Soap patted him down. "Making sure you don't have any weapons."

Ghost grumbled. He didn't want to shove them around. Their wings looked so delicate. He was worried he'd hurt them somehow and other than be mildly annoying, they hadn't done anything worth hurting them for.

Soap hummed. "Do the swirls go everywhere?"

Ghost frowned. "What?"

"The swirls. Do they cover all of your skin?"

Ghost blushed. "They're fractals. And yes."

Roach looked intrigued and his hands reached up to follow the swirl up Ghost's skin but Soap interrupted.

"Tell us where our friends are!"

"Fine. Chances are my friends took them."

"Why?"

"As prizes." Ghost shrugged. "They're probably happy, don't worry."

Soap looked shocked. "What?? Prizes? You can't just do that! What if we took you as a prize?"

Ghost hummed. "Look, you two are very attractive, but I don't think it would work." There was a bit of silence as Soap and Roach put it together. They exchanged glances.

"I mean... why not?"

Ghost glared. "Well for one, you two are jerks. You took my mask. Also, do you want to be my prizes?"

"Well, no! But I'm a little insulted by the fact that you don't want us." Soap crossed his arms and it seemed like he was teasing him.

Ghost hummed. "What do you want here?"

"For you to take us to your place so we can find our friends and save them."

Roach started to sign to Soap who blushed. It was a cute look on him.

"What's he saying?"

"Nothing."

Roach hit Soap's arm before motioning to Ghost's pants. Ghost blinked at him.

"He's clearly saying something. Rather rude of you to not tell me."

Roach made a motion to Ghost as if to say "Exactly". He reached up and started to trace more of the fractals and Ghost froze, not expecting them to touch him. Roach started to gently trace all of them, looking very eager.

Soap frowned. "He was suggesting we take you as a prize."

Ghost laughed before realizing they were serious. "Wait." He was still hanging upside down so he couldn't really do anything. To be fair, he didn't really want to do anything. Soap hummed.

"I am... a little curious." He reached up and slipped some of Ghost's gear off. Roach immediately leaned up and kissed a few of the fractals, ignoring that Ghost growled at him.

They ended up tying Ghost's hands before cutting the ropes to let him down. Soap pushed him against the tree and Roach started to undo the laces to Ghost's gear. They started to trace and scratch at his skin and Ghost groaned, pressing into them.

Ghost couldn't lie, they were so pretty. Also, their hands were so soft.

Roach sank to his knees and pulled his cock out of his gear.

Soap hummed. "Proportional." Ghost hissed at him and Soap leaned in, kissing at his throat. He moved to expose his throat, feeling Roach's hands on his dick.

"Take it back. You two would be good prizes."

"After this, you can take us home and we can free our friends. We'll make it worth your while."

Ghost hummed. "Gonna take more than a handjob to be worth my while."

Soap's tongue ran along his pulse and he tried to get a reaction, but Ghost wouldn't give it to him. "Fine. What if we ride you? Would that convince you?"

Roach ran his tongue along his cock, trying to wet it.

"Maybe. You two gonna take turns? Bet you'll look really pretty for me." Ghost purred at him.

"Fine. Get on the ground." Soap grumbled, looking shy.

Ghost laid on the ground and straightened out. Roach immediately straddled him, looking down at him. He leaned down and put his hands on his stomach, feeling the muscle underneath.

"Love, you might need to prep yourself." Ghost pointed out and Roach shrugged and sank down. He felt slick and Ghost realized he must've been prepping himself while he was focused on Soap. "Fucking hell you're tight."

Roach grinned and he had a blush over his cheeks. He started to roll his hips and clenched, whimpering suddenly. Ghost's mouth went dry and all of his focus was on the tiny waist that currently had a small bump in it. Ghost snapped the binds holding his wrists and grabbed Roach's hips, thrusting up gently. Roach moaned silently and looked away, so flustered Ghost could barely make out his freckles. He half expected for Soap to try to restrain him again, but instead, he kissed Roach, running his hands over him. His hand ended up between Ghost's on his stomach. He gently pressed down and both of them groaned, surprised by the sudden increase in pressure.

Ghost pulled one of Roach's hands to him, kissing all over his knuckles. Soap whispered praise to Roach while he tried to bounce up and down on Ghost. The three of them ended up falling into a rhythm before Ghost just moved Roach himself, watching him grab on to Soap and put more of his body on display to Ghost's gaze. He started to tear up but he was happily rolling his hips, clearly enjoying himself. Roach let out a little gasp and his body arched as Ghost hit something.

Ghost groaned and reveled in the tight, warm feeling. Roach clenched every time he pulled out, as if trying to drag him back into his body. He suddenly moved forward to press his face into Ghost's neck, body arching. Ghost started to thrust up into him harder, slamming into the one spot over and over again. Roach started to quietly whine, mouth opening silently. Ghost lifted up his mask to sloppily make out with him, feeling Roach immediately kiss back.

They came at close to the same time and Ghost immediately hugged him close.

Soap leaned down and tapped at Ghost's chin so he'd look up. "You get me when you get them back."

"Aye. I can do that.

[undermounts]

bite the hand - chapter 2: open palm, beckoning

pairing: Astarion/The Dark Urge

summary: Astarion helps her hide the body. Romance ensues.

preview:

“You’ve got an interesting hand of cards, darling,” Astarion purrs, looking up at her demurely. Damn him, it’s so hard to think when he’s looking at her like that and petting her hand. “I only want to help you play them well.”

Irileth’s mortification only grows as he slides one hand beneath her wrist, fingers splayed across the underside of her forearm, and lifts it to his mouth.

Yes, here is Astarion, kissing her palm, gazing up at her through his long white lashes with those piercing red eyes. It is not an image she will soon forget.

Check it out on AO3

The Archdruid Halsin is gone. Nettie doesn’t have a cure.

The mood between Irileth’s companions has thinned considerably in between the time they encountered the goblins at the gate of the Druid’s Grove and learned from Nettie that their best hope of a tadpole cure is missing, likely captured by the goblin warband. Or worse, if Sazza is any indication of the hospitality they can expect. (‘The Absolute’ll have yer head!’ )

But at least they’ve picked up the Blade of Frontiers. Whatever that means.

Irileth’s moth-tattered brain draws a blank at the moniker when Wyll introduces himself, brandishing his rapier with a suave flourish that the tiefling children seemed to love, so she only offers him a sheepish smile. Astarion laughs.

“Oh, good!” he sneers, putting his hands on his hips. “Another hero.”

“Well, I try to be. That’s the best any of us can do.” Wyll smiles modestly and oh, Irileth likes him instantly. She is relieved when he agrees to join their quest to remove the tadpole, so long as they help with his devil hunt in return. Advocatus diaboli.

Wyll seems so good. Heroic. If there is anyone Irileth can now turn to when her moral compass needs a nudge, it will be him. And should she lose the run of herself, well, maybe the Blade can keep her in check.

So when one of the tiefling children tells Wyll that Mirkon is missing, last seen heading through the Emerald Grove and toward the beach, well. It seems like the right thing to do, to follow the guiding light that is Wyll, charging for the shore.

They are ambushed by harpies.

There are four of them, perched on pillars of rock that punctuate the aquamarine waters of the cove and the surrounding cliffside. All winged, clawed, and clad in clattering bone armor, they sing and screech with beauty and horror in equal measure at the party’s arrival. 

Mirkon is charmed when they find him, slowly wading into the surf, with a dreamlike expression. Shadowheart must haul him bodily over her shoulder to carry him, protesting, up the path to safety, while Wyll targets a harpy singing on the cliffside, his rapier pulsing with a dark green miasma. Astarion takes point on a nearby pillar of rock, his longbow drawn to cover Shadowheart’s retreat. Irileth sets herself on the two nearest harpies, dancing around them with all of a rogue’s grace, her body near vibrating with delectation at the very thought of the things she wants to do to the abominable creatures.

It is the first time they have all fought together, and the harpies are far more vicious and cunning than goblins or bandits. Yet, the fight goes unexpectedly well, up until the point that Astarion, too, is lured by the harpy’s song.

Irileth reaches him, up to her waist in the crystalline water, only a moment too late as Astarion cries out, his voice pain-riddled. She catches him as he stumbles back and the air is charged with the scent of metal. Dark red blood seeps from gashes that start at Astarion’s shoulder and disappear beneath the water, half obscured by his torn clothing.

(Blue satin, red crushed velvet, his doublet is the finest thing Irileth has ever touched, and oh! There: hand-stitched embroidery, made of red thread so dark, it nearly disappears into the blue panels. You wouldn’t notice it unless you knew where to look, and the shade of it doesn’t quite match the velvet. He did it himself. )

Astarion is still swearing and hissing in pain when Irileth drags him away from the harpy, just as its claws rake through empty air for another strike. Allowing the water to carry most of his weight, she pushes him a few feet behind her, back toward the shore. 

Then, she turns, and—gods, it is almost too easy. Astarion called Irileth a punisher last night, and though she rejected the idea, she knows he is right.

She has the harpy on its knees in the water within seconds, its hamstrings slashed, freshwater churning red. It thrashes against her, wailing—how can a creature that sang so wondrously only moments before sound like that? She should end it, quickly, before the damned thing can open its mouth again, but she hesitates. 

For a moment, Irileth is nearly overcome with the desire to drag this little display out, to slowly pull on its wings until tendons snap like harp strings. But then Irileth looks up and there is Astarion, free of the charm, and face distorted with vengeful fury.

“I’ll skin you alive, you foul wretch!”

He is a sight to behold, dripping water and blood. He belongs in a portrait like one of paintings they recovered in the bandit’s den, The Red Prince or Marcus Miles. Red eyes piercing, sodden silver hair curling over his brow and sparkling like so many stars, Irileth revels in the vision. So much so that it is with a near giddy haste that she pulls her blades free of the harpy’s massacred wings, plants her boot in its back, and shoves it toward Astarion.

Let him have his way.

Afterward, they sit on the beach, recovering. Now that they have a moment to breathe, Irileth realizes that the whole scene truly is rather idyllic: great red pillars of rock, sparkling waves, and lush blooms of greenery. And scattered across the dazzling vista are the broken bodies of the four harpies, a few smoking from Wyll’s magic.

Shadowheart is crouched beside Astarion, murmuring under her breath as his wounds close beneath her hands. They had been brutal: deep and jagged grooves that crossed from shoulder to ribs. His beautiful doublet hangs in tatters, torn pieces of golden thread glittering in the sunlight. Beyond repair.

“We’ve known Wyll for ten bloody minutes,” he grouses, glaring towards where the Blade sits perched on a nearby boulder, wiping at Mirkon’s skinned knee. “And we are already risking our lives.”

“Calm yourself, Astarion,” Wyll replies good-naturedly and—ah, Wrong move, Wyll—that only seems to incense Astarion more. “We did a good thing.”

“‘Calm myself?’” Astarion snaps, sniffing haughtily. “Surely you’re joking. You weren’t the one who was lured out into the ocean to be feasted upon by a bunch of overgrown birds.”

Irileth has mostly composed herself by now, her vile appetite sufficiently waned. Her brief wash in the cove cleared away most of the viscera and has cooled her down some, but adrenaline still races through her; she can feel the pleasant after-effects of the battle, shimmering through her marrow. (How sweetly her daggers sang! Flesh rending, bones cracking! Those wings, she wanted to pluck them off, one by one.)

“Perhaps we ought to let them rest up for a while,” Wyll says, rising to his feet with a pointed look toward Irileth. After giving only a brief nod to Astarion and Shadowheart, he begins the return trek up the dirt path, toward the heart of the Grove. “Come along, Mirkon.”

Mirkon scoots off his rock with a little shuffle, then holds his hand out toward Irileth. It is so small, Irileth observes, barely the size of her palm. She can imagine the adorable force it will have, struggling against her grip, if she were to hold him down beneath the waves.

Gods above and hells below, what is wrong with her?

She feels heavy with the weight of her sinful thoughts and, for an irrational moment, fears the others heard her vile musings through an unwitting tadpole connection. A second more and she half expects one of Shadowheart’s radiant bolts of energy to strike her in the back.

But when nothing happens, Irileth does her best to offer Mirkon her friendliest smile and gently presses her hand against his back, urging him forward until he runs ahead to cling to Wyll’s fingertips instead. Together, they guide Mirkon back to the other children, where he bids them to seek out Mol in the Dragon’s Lair should they ever need any help.

“The ‘Dragon’s Lair,’” Wyll echoes, amused, as they watch Mirkon run off. “I remember being young like that. Finding magic in the small things, dreaming of adventure. Did you have such fantasies?”

Irileth likes the cadence of Wyll’s voice, like everything he says is part of a fairytale, where there are only lessons and happy endings. Where nothing hurts.

“I don’t remember my childhood,” Irileth admits, and it feels easy to confess this to him. Maybe, she thinks naively, if she tells Wyll, nothing bad can happen. “I don’t remember anything, actually. From before the nautiloid ship.”

“Truly?” Wyll’s brows raise. His surprise is sincere. “What about the abduction?”

Irileth shakes her head. “Not even that. My first memory is of waking up in my pod, once the ship was already under siege.”

“Ah. I can see how that troubles you,” Wyll replies sympathetically. Then he reaches out and clasps her arm with a gentle squeeze. Irileth flinches. “But worry not, my friend. I have a feeling that our journey is only just beginning to unfold. We face much in the days ahead, and perhaps along the way, we can find you some answers.”

Wyll retreats with a comforting pat, though Irileth tries not to deflate at his response. Without knowing, she had sort of… hoped (how odd!) that Wyll might have a cure for her perverted affliction. Fool.

“Which reminds me,” Wyll says, and Irileth has to resist the impulse to sigh. How many times has she heard something like that in the last few days? “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Yes?” Irileth tries to keep the weariness out of her voice.

Wyll laughs, resting his palm over the hilt of his rapier. “I know that look. You’re spread thin and far too preoccupied. But I promise this will be worth your time.” Wyll pauses, glancing at the tieflings that surround them, still training with wooden swords under Asharak’s instruction. “But not here. Let’s find somewhere more private.”

Wyll has insisted that they find his devil quarry—this Karlach —no later than the day after tomorrow. He learned from Zevlor’s scouts that there have been sightings of scorch marks and fire-razed campsites along the Risen Road.

“It is a noble cause and well worth your while,” Wyll beseeched Irileth, fist held over his heart. “Karlach is dangerous. She brings death and chaos everywhere she goes. It would be unconscionable to let her roam free along the Coast! I promise you, once she is dealt with, I am all yours.” Then, after she already agreed,  he added earnestly, “You’ve got a good soul, I can tell.”

If only he knew.

That was nearly an hour ago. Now, Irileth stands alone on the outskirts of the Grove, not far from the beach where they fought the harpies. Wyll has gone off to gather his things from within the Hollow, and Astarion and Shadowheart are supposedly in search of some new armor to replace the shredded doublet. Gale and Lae’zel are still further inside somewhere, bartering with—or intimidating, in Lae’zel’s case—the tieflings for supplies. In a short while, they will reconvene near the entrance of the Grove, then make camp by the river. 

Irileth is secretly glad to have a break from all of the others. All of this, it’s exhausting. And overwhelming. And terrifying.  

The parasite in her head frightens Irileth far more than she has thus far been able to admit. It has been benign the last few days, but how long will this truce last? Ceremorphosis—Gale has painted a rather vivid picture of the gruesome transformation, and even she finds it too dreadful for her taste. And then, there are the tieflings in the Grove. Halsin. Wyll. So many people, suddenly, who need help, her help, and how can she help anyone when—

And there. The thing she is most afraid of. How is she supposed to help anyone when she is little more than a beast? A hot-blooded killer, a mangled monster. Sometimes, when the battle-lust swells and the violent urge grows, the sound of her heart is less a beat than the pound of a war drum of blood.

She needs to get a hold of herself, immediately. If she doesn’t, they will cast her out, her companions. And with good reason! For who can sleep well knowing they might receive a knife in the back with no justification beyond her barbaric satisfaction? 

But there is more to it than that. Beyond any sense of self preservation, she doesn’t want to hurt the people who have helped her. Call it loyalty, morality, or whatever bits of goodness she has picked up over the last few days. She refuses to bite the hand that feeds her.

Loathsome creature. She doesn’t want to be like this.

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking for you.”

Irileth jolts, snapping out of her spiraling thoughts, to find Astarion leaning against one of the moss-covered pillars that surround the Emerald Grove. He watches her expectantly, already clad in his new leather armor, ruined doublet nowhere to be seen. He looks much better than he did down at the beach (even if she did like the sight of him, vicious, snarling, and coated in blood). Just beyond, the druids stand watch around their sacred idol.

“Have you now?” Irileth replies in what she hopes is an even tone. The last thing she needs is Astarion picking and prodding at her for all of her dirty little secrets.

“Of course I have.” The smile he gives her is slight and daring. “You’re the only person in this entire place that is even worth the time.”

And, damn her. Irileth knows Astarion is flattering her because that is just what he does, the flirt, but she feels her cheeks warm.

“Really?” Irileth arches a brow, doubtful. “I thought you would still be angry with me, for following Wyll to the harpies.”

“Oh, I absolutely am,” he replies, eyes narrowing, and Irileth can tell that he truly means that, even as he’s being so saccharine with her. His expression twists. “Charmed by a bloody harpy. No control over my mind, my body!” He pauses for a long moment to take a deep breath. “It is not an experience I would relish happening again.”

Irileth says nothing, for at this moment, Astarion looks so discomforted, and his expression is so at odds with his usual cool veneer and unflappable savoir faire. From this, she knows that his grievances with her today are very much real. 

“It was an utterly brainless thing to do, putting ourselves at risk like that with a man we’d just met. But,” Astarion adds, collecting himself, and his smile gleams once more, “I suppose, just this once, I can forgive you.” 

Could he? Doesn’t really seem the type.

“And what would your forgiveness cost me, exactly?”

“Ah, so shrewd, my sweet, dagger happy friend,” Astarion sighs, clasping his hands together. “It won’t cost you a thing. All I ask is that next time you want to race headfirst to the rescue?” He walks his middle and forefinger finger through the air. “You at least consult the rest of us first. Namely me.”

“I didn’t ask you to follow me, Astarion,” Irileth frowns, folding her arms. “Or Shadowheart, for that matter. You both followed Wyll and I down to the beach.”

“Yes, darling, that is rather the point, ” he bites out, momentarily exasperated. “Like it or not, you’ve apparently become our de facto leader. Making poisonous deals with that healer, playing liaison for the tieflings, recruiting bleeding hearts every which way we turn. Something happens to you and our growing, tadpoled little warband falls apart without direction. Remember our discussion about power?” In the midst of his tirade, his gaze suddenly snaps with rapt attention to her hand, to the offended finger.

Irileth curls her fingers inward, hiding them in the crook of her arms. “One of the others can lead, then, if you are unhappy with my choices.”

Astarion makes a quick tutting noise, shaking his head. 

“Let’s not be rash now. No one’s unhappy, at least not yet ,” he coos at her, despite all evidence to the contrary. He takes a few measured steps forward across the mossy earth until the tips of their boots nearly touch. “Gale will lecture us all to death before we get anything done. The only thing Lae’zel and Shadowheart like less than each other is working with other people, and Wyll? Ha! Don’t get me started on Wyll. He’d have us running all over the bloody Coast hunting his devil and any other fiends until we all sprout tentacles and kill each other.”

Irileth raises her brows. He’s certainly formed a lot of opinions, reducing everyone down to a few choice qualities. She doesn’t miss that his own analysis of himself is conveniently absent. “And what about you?”

“Me?” Astarion laughs like she’s the one being ridiculous, not him, with his fluttering lashes and seductive smiles in the middle of a gods damned illithid invasion. “I much prefer to work in the shadows. So you see, you’re our best option. So long as you can be made to reason, of course.”

“Is that what you’re doing now? Working from the shadows to get me to do what you want?”

“I wouldn’t presume,” Astarion replies in a voice that tells Irileth he absolutely would. “This is just some friendly advice.” 

Then, with an elegant gesture, he plucks Irileth’s hand from within the folds of her arms and holds it between both of his. Startled, she tries to pull away but Astarion holds fast, pressing his thumbs into the meat of her palm in a gentle massage. It feels—gods, it feels nice, and Irileth tries not to preen under his practiced touch. 

Oh, she truly is so ridiculous! Drawn as she is to the feel of his skin against hers, cool and soft beneath the callouses.

“You’ve got an interesting hand of cards, darling,” Astarion purrs, looking up at her demurely. Damn him, it’s so hard to think when he’s looking at her like that and petting her hand. “I only want to help you play them well.”

Irileth’s mortification only grows as he slides one hand beneath her wrist, fingers splayed across the underside of her forearm, and lifts it to his mouth.

Yes, here is Astarion, kissing her palm, gazing up at her through his long white lashes with those piercing red eyes. It is not an image she will soon forget.

He releases her slowly, dragging the fingertips of one hand from her forearm all the way to her knuckles and caressing her thumb with the other. Irileth’s breath is tremulous as she releases it, and Astarion smirks, knowing all too well the effect he has.

With no small amount of effort, she clears her throat and stares Astarion down with a look that she hopes is stern, or at least not embarrassingly flustered. 

“Fine,” Irileth says, and oh good, at least she isn’t swooning. She yanks her hand back. “No more harpies.”

Astarion sighs, overly dramatic and practically exuding sarcasm. “Thank you. ”

“And. I promise not to race into any more rescues without consulting the others, if there’s time.” She adds this last bit pointedly when Astarion’s expression grows too smug for her liking. “But if there is something I can do to help, I will do it. You can choose to follow or not.”

This seems a good rule, and honestly, like a little bit of a commitment now that she’s said it out loud. Irileth hadn’t planned to get involved in the affairs of the tieflings and the Grove, but gods, there are just too many issues that will fester if left unattended for long. If they’re going to be running around the wilderness, searching for goblins, supplies, and signs of a githyanki crèche for Lae’zel’s zaith’isk, then they might as well solve a few problems along the way. 

Maybe, Irileth thinks, if she keeps herself busy helping, she won’t feel so inclined to hurt. 

“Eugh. You aren’t even a godsdamned paladin,” Astarion mumbles, lip curling up. “But alright . I suppose that will do for now. Bloody do-gooders.”

“Next time, Astarion,” Irileth flaps her hand at him in dismissal, stepping away, “I would prefer it if you just tell me what you want. You don’t have to touch me to get something.”

“Oh, but I do so like touching you.” His smile is salacious, insouciant. “Trust me, darling, I am quite willing.”

She cannot believe him. Such a honeyed tongue he has. 

He’s dangling bait in front of her, begging her to bite. He is such a flirt, Astarion, but Irileth doesn’t know how to play gently yet. So instead, she gestures toward him. “I see you’ve got some new armor.”

Astarion’s face slackens, confused. Then disappointment steals over his features for but a moment and he looks down at the new leather armor he adorns.

“This? Oh, yes,” he hums, picking at the edge of his collar. “A paltry gift from that tiefling at the forge. Apparently, rescuing that little urchin at the beach garnered us some good will. Now, if they could just give me a pile of gold…”

Astarion trails off with a sigh of longing and closes his eyes, tilting his head back toward the sky. The sun is descending toward the horizon but its radiance plays softly in Astarion’s hair, gilting the fine lines of his brow bone. Irileth’s stomach clenches.

“I’m sorry about your other clothes. Your doublet, I mean,” Irileth says, thinking of the dangling golden threads, the careful stitches he’d made along the back. “I know that you…” 

That he what? Irileth doesn’t know anything about him. (Oh, what’s to tell? I’m a magistrate back in Baldur’s Gate. It’s all rather tedious.)

“You took good care of them,” she says instead, clearing her throat. 

Astarion looks at her blankly for a moment, then laughs, loud and harsh. “Oh, you sweet, silly thing. What do I care about a pair of old clothes?” He says this with a sniff, as if he finds the very idea of sentiment to be distasteful.  “I tell you, once we reach a spot of actual civilization, I’m going to buy my own things, not some out-of-season—ahem. Well. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, now.”

Indeed.

Delightful as this has been (not at all) Irileth has the feeling that they should regroup with the others before Astarion can start swindling her into any bad ideas by whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She is just about to suggest as much when she hears something… odd on the wind. A discordant sound that just rises over the rustling grass and distant waves.

“Do you… Do you hear that?” Irileth asks, turning about. “It sounds like—”

“Like a dying cat,” Astarion answers coolly and Irileth ignores him.

Someone nearby is playing the lute. Or rather, plucking pitifully at it, and crying.

“Oh gods, you know you don’t have to investigate every little cry for help, yes?” Astarion’s sigh is long suffering as he follows Irileth around the peninsula to a crumbling stone veranda. “We just talked about this. Literally seconds ago.

A blue-skinned tiefling woman is perched on a slab of stone, dressed in the brightest assortment of colors Irileth has ever seen. There is a lute in the bard’s lap, which she strums haltingly as she sings in a wavering voice.

“Dance upon the stars tonight. Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will change—no. Become—ugh.”

Another dissonant strum. Even the surrounding wildlife, birds and squirrels, squabble their discontent at the sound. The tiefling berates herself, shaking her head vigorously.

Despite herself (and Astarion’s clear disapproval), Irileth is intrigued by this display. It is another opportunity, she figures, to, if not help, then at least soothe.

“Gods above, end me now. I can’t listen to more singing, not today,” Astarion mutters underneath his breath and Irileth steps forward before he can upset the woman further. 

The tiefling is sweet, and miraculously, Irileth seems to aid in easing her sorrow, coaxing her and her verses along, bit by bit, until the entire song spills forth. Listening to the music, she feels, for the first time in days, at peace (for the first time ever, in this life). Perhaps, Astarion was right, maybe she was a bard, before the nautiloid. But the moment Irileth thinks that, she knows it is incorrect. She feels with some inexplicable certainty that in her past life, she despised music. 

Irileth is fairly sure that Astarion is glaring at her the entire time, but she can hardly bring herself to mind. She is flying high today. Despite their misfortune with their tadpole solution, she has kept her iniquitous thoughts (mostly) on a leash and has been less than a nuisance to the tieflings: Arabella, Arka, Mirkon, and now this.

“Thank you,” the bard tells Irileth through a few stray tears when the song is complete, a beautiful eulogy to her fallen mentor. “I… I needed this.”

And then she pulls Irileth to her, the bells of her blazer tinkling softly. Irileth stiffens (Skin too tight, her bones cry their unease. It… frightens her some, the encompassing touch of another). But after a moment, she relaxes into the embrace, carefully placing one hand on the back of the woman’s shoulder. 

Astarion looks on with a bored expression, cleaning beneath his nails with the tip of his knife.

“I’m sorry,” the bard says when she leans away, her orange eyes gleaming. She is so lovely, so innocent. Her voice reminds Irileth of the autumncrocus flowers that are scattered about the Grove, pale purple leaves tinged with yellow (the excerpt from a book on herbs: Legend says the first crocus was created by Lathander, the Morninglord, which is why this delicate flower is always found stretching its petals toward the sun.) “I didn’t even get your name.”

“Oh, Irileth. My name is Irileth.”

“Irileth. It is so good to meet you. Ordained, I think! It must be. Like the beginning of a beautiful story.” The woman smiles brightly and clasps Irileth’s hands tightly and with great warmth.

“I’m Alfira.”

That night, Irileth dreams the sky is raining blood. She dances, naked, beneath the crimson drops.

[lilystargazerwhite]

I’ve mentioned him so many times but here he finally is lol!

Name: Chiharuo Yoritomo (頼朝 千春お, real name Prìomhadail) his Japanese name, while meaning “Thousand years of spring” can also be a homophonic sound to “父” or father, playing on his role as a father of spring.

Species: currently Aos sí (irish oak turned spriggan then ascended to Greater winged fairy Aos sí)

Ability: to control growth (成長を制御する程度の能力)

Age: between 45,000-5,000 years old. This mf was chilling with cave men. Physical form is around 60.

Chiharuo is the god of spring, childhood and fertility, residing in a long forgotten and overgrown shrine deep in nameless hill. He’s spent his years in gensokyo attempting to rescue children left there, but is not always successful. He’s a sweet old man, having his own sort of orphanage at the shrine. Most of his children are fae, but rarely he will taken in a human or yokai child.

Did I make Lily a whole family cause I love her so much? Yes, and here’s her dad. I like to think she gets so excited for spring because it means he will come out of hibernation.

Chiharuo’s born race I guess you could say would he that of a Cro-magon (early European, dating around 50,000+ years ago), which are no longer around obviously. If he had a default true form, it would look like a caveman made out of wood.

His current incarnation form is a male Asian, but in the past have ranged in race and gender. Here are some alt looks for him

His wings are based on the Lunar moth. They are often under his kimono.

His eyes are always closed.

Excerpt from my fae document (that tumblr won’t let me fucking paste:

Theme: 優しい春の父~ first utterance (gentle spring father) this one isn’t entirely done yet but this is what I have.

He has a list of spell cards I’m overjoyed to share

Chiharuo spell cards:

Curious case, mr.button (reverse growth, makes things smaller or younger or whatever) name: the curious case of Benjamin button

A hundred seconds till midnight ( growth, makes things bigger or older) name: the doomsday clock

And the tree was happy ( grows a giant tree that has bullets as petals which fall quickly before it reverts back into a seed ) name: the giving tree

The maiden and the selkie ( summons fae to fight for him for a bit, mainly lesser winged fairies) name: from Heather dale love herrr

The much talked of Metamorphosis ( takes moth form, which the eyes on his wings stare intensely refracting light through them) name: a fucking rob zombie song.

Appalachian fiction dreaming ( causes cell overgrowth, like a cancer. Can be very pretty but deadly of course, heavily based on the growth from the movie Annihilation ) name: Appalachian mountains and 2 things I’ve heard people say before .

Flowers never bend with the rainfall (opens his eyes ) name: Simon and Garfunkel

Anyway that’s him. He’s my beloved. I have many other drawings of him so here’s that

[ghidorahsrealm]

So... hasn’t taken me a while, before I wanted to redesign Daevas. I thought she looked rather bland and not much like the hybrid of a Queen and Devil, so instead of two heads, I’ll be giving her five total and revamping her head design so that she has two sets of split jaws on each head (which is going to be an absolute pain to draw each head).

Additionally, I’m going to give them the cobra hoods I gave to my new Ghidorah design, plus give them a sort of hierarchy of horns - the two outer most heads will have smaller, more ‘stump’ like horns, and progressing to the middle head is where they are the biggest and sharpest. 

As for their limbs, I decided to revamp the inner chest limbs so that they’re bigger and more so used for stabilizing Dae, as she has a lot of front weight going on. Might make them bigger so that they’re like the outer set of limbs for better support. Her wings are being changed too to be more ragged - it bothered the hell out of me how I made the wings too streamlined, as I want to lean more heavily towards Ghidorah’s heritage than Mothra’s with this daughter. That’s pretty much it for Dae, as for the moth next to her, that’s actually a new character I’m slowly working on.

Titanus Askifro is the son of Mothra and Battra.

Askifro, I imagine, has a very posh way of speaking, almost like a Victorian style. He doesn’t enjoy short-conversations, so he’s typically advise to have something you can talk extensively about, preferably something he also enjoys - which, admittedly, isn’t a lot. He has a relatively stable relationship with both Mothra and Battra, but tends to prefer his father rather than mother. 

he’s actually the older half-brother to Dae, as Mothra first landed with Battra before reaching out to Nii (there’s a whole poly relationship going on that I’ll maybe explain later). Dae never got to meet her older half-sibling, but honestly? Askifro and Dae would surprisingly get along - she understands and respects Aski’s knowledge of things, and is actually a little upset at not meeting him sooner. Something about his presence soothes her immensely, and she feels genuinely safe around him. 

Aski doesn’t mind having Dae around, but finds it daunting to be the older sibling. He doesn’t have any trauma really, so it’s hard for him to exactly feel that connection with his younger sister - very much a advice rather than comfort guy too, but tbh his advice is just “kill your enemies and wear their skeletons as trophies” which Dae just responds with “please no”

very knowledgeable on kaiju biology, and is a pristine collector of their bodies if a kaiju is too pass. very careful, very precise. if its a fresh death, he’d likely eat the corpse then drag the remains elsewhere, or if it’s just the bones or a rotting corpse, he’d clean the flesh off of the bones and carve whatever he wants out of them

fucking hates Goji tbh, but keeps it veeeeeeeeeery close to himself. he’s not a big confronter, preferring to keep all of his secrets and opinions to himself rather than tell anyone, including his parents. WHICH REMINDS ME, SHIN AND ASKI

god, he didn’t expect her to be so blunt and outright rude towards him. he didn’t really find her intimidating though, just... kinda annoying. the most he’d do is just bap her on the head (Dae doesn’t do anything about it bc shes admittedly a little spooked of Aski despite the fucking power and height difference) and try to teach her proper manners, which Shin doesn’t actually need, she’s just being a dick

she does warm up to him after a while though, and so Aski watches over his little siblings with a lot of care, actually. HOWEVER, he definitely doesn’t want to get involved in Dae’s rivalry with Apoc. that’s a disaster in itself and while yes he cares for Dae, it’s her fight, he literally has no connection to them so he doesn’t care, plus he can probably get bodied if he got caught in the crossfire 

random thought time, after getting to know each other, Shin grows comfortable enough to gossip to Aski about stuff with the other kaiju, and he listens, hiding the smile as he hears all the tales. OH and if they were in their human form, they’d definitely braid each other’s hair and go out to get their nails done, Aski doesn’t give a fuck 

one last thing, with Aski and Dae, they have a something similar to what Goji and Mothra had - Aski sacrificing himself to give Dae power, then Dae goes absolutely ham. that is all

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Forty-One

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material (Unprotected Sex is a Major No No), Panic Attacks (Desire Mind Fuckery), Morpheus Gets Proper MAD (And Goes A Little Overboard), Reader Is A Glutton For Punishment.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~4.1k

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You were surprised to wake up with Morpheus still in bed with you. You had hoped that he was would stay for at the very least, a few hours to get proper rest, but you hadn’t anticipated him staying the entire night, and then waking up with him. Did Endless sleep? Did they dream? Either way Morpheus was seemingly passed out against your chest, right where you had wanted him last night, with a strong hold on your naked body. You looked back down at the mop of black hair resting against your chest and moved your fingers back through the strands.

Looking beyond the fluttering drapes of your bed, you saw that Morpheus had been correct when he had said that the realm would return to normal by morning. The sun was just staring to rise over the mountains in the distance. It was like that noxious thunderstorm had never happened… and yet the rain had brought the flora to life. Your mind drifted to your dead garden. Poor Mervyn most likely had been staring at it for the past week, wondering if he should touch it or not. The dead plants and broken path had to be dreadful to look at. The fountain worse…

The first chance you had you were going to head down to the north garden and bring it back to life.

You hadn’t realized your fingers had ceased their combing until Morpheus moved his head and nudged your still hand like a cat demanding attention. That was not far from the truth. Sharp blue eyes opened and stared at you expectantly, then with question. You gazed down at Morpheus and raised an eyebrow in challenge as you brushed several black strands from his forehead.

“You know I’m right,” You quietly murmured, now running your fingers along his forehead. “You are quite like a cat. Very particular.”

“A cat?” He repeated, his eyebrows rising in turn. You smiled in agreement and combed your fingers through his hair once more.

“A very beautiful cat,” You added, your smiling growing. You dropped your fingers to trace his cheek bone while gazing into his eyes. “With the most incredibly blue eyes I have ever seen. At times I swear I can see stars in them.” Morpheus returned your gaze for a few more moments before rising onto his hands and looming over you, his face hovering close to yours. You stared at each other for a few moments more. Then he was leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. A flurry of sensations erupted from your belly and spread a warmth of love throughout your body. Blooming like a flower under the sun, you cradled his face in hand and happily returned his early morning kiss that you could feel all the way to your toes.

“You are a very dangerous creature, my dream,” Morpheus spoke, his forehead coming to rest against yours. You softly chuckled and brushed your thumb across his cheek once more.

“Yes? Do tell me all the reasons why the great and majestic Dream of the Endless deems little Y/N Burgess as a very dangerous creature…” You softly returned, not being able to resist the light hearted quip. Morpheus made you feel like a candle flame beckoning a moth, irresistible though it burned fragile wings until all that was left was a heart to bare. Morpheus was able to bring out the best in you. He was the only one that could.

“Y/N Burgess has captured the heart of an Endless, and that heart is hers to do what she bids and wills.” Your heart fluttered rapidly in your chest and licks of flames started to claw at the walls of your veins.

“And she has given hers to Dream of the Endless for safe keeping.” You replied breathless. “We shall keep each other safe, shall we?”

“Until the end of eternity,” Morpheus promised, his words sending a ripple of assurance that was all consuming. That warmth that had spread through your body now burned with unadulterated happiness. You lifted your chin, your nose brushing against his as your lips brushed against each other ever so slightly. “If you think you can manage my siblings and their never ending curiosity about my personal life.”

His words were like a bucket of ice cold water being dumped on your body. All warmth and happiness vanished, leaving your body feeling cold and hollow, empty, afraid. The fear that had surged into your veins was unstoppable, it was like a rogue wave crashing and surging without restrain. Destroying every little happiness in its path. You gasped in fear, a tremble ripping its way up your spine until you were consumed. Morpheus was gripping your cheeks and trying to draw you out of the cloud of oppressive despair. He called your name. Once. Twice. Three times, even. Nothing could break the lock that held you captive to terror. Your eyes burned as hot tears welled in your lashes. Then you started fighting against the hands trying to sooth your agitated state. You were close to thrashing against those hands.

“Y/N, my dream,” Morpheus called one last time, holding you as close as he possibly could. His eyes glowed silver. Yours burned just the same. “Just breathe, please,” You were hyperventilating as tears slipped down your cheeks. Lips trembling, you sucked in air while your eyes remained captivated by his. “That’s it.”

“I—“ You choked out, trying to spit out the words you had held in secret for weeks. You had to tell him now. You had to. “Morpheus I—“ His fingers brushed against your lips, he wanted you to focus on your breathing… but you couldn’t hold onto this secret that seemed to cut deeper into your flesh the longer you held it. “I remember.” Confusion hit him for a few moments as you continued to suck in air like it was the only thing keeping you alive. You still found it difficult to breathe with all emotions welling up in your heaving chest. Several more streaks of hot tears ran down your cheeks and Morpheus wiped them away.

“What do you remember, my dream?” Morpheus probed gently, his eyes searching your wide and frantic ones. You squeezed them shut, not being able to bare holding his gaze when you had betrayed him like that. No. Your mind whispered. You didn’t betray him, Desire did. But it still felt as raw as if you had been the one to step on up and kiss Desire. Like you had wanted to kiss them. You hadn’t, but why did your heart feel as thought it did?

“Desire,” You whimpered out, your heart sinking in your chest while feeling as if needles were stabbing at it over and over until it was an unrecognizable organ struggling to beat within your chest. Rippling rage exploded from Morpheus and you cowered back against the sheets, trying to protect yourself from the fury and wrath coming from him. It tapered back when Morpheus realized that you were cowering, whimpering, a mess. His hands were never anything but soft against your wet cheeks.

“Y/N, what did they do?” Morpheus asked, reaching to cradle your body against his. He was barely controlling his rage and concentrating on sending you waves of calming energy that wrapped around your soul in a soothing hug.

“That night you pulled me from the bath, Desire wanted to talk,” You said in a dead whisper. “They—“ Your voice cracked. “They want me to themselves, tried to manipulate me into staying and— and—“ You felt breathless again. “and when you were tugging me back they kissed me.” You started stumbling for words, your voice at a wail. “I— it’s all my fault and I should have— Why couldn’t I—“

 It was hard to breathe again and a fresh set of tears gathered in your eyes. Despair was twitching into your heart, stabbing at it viciously until it was all you could think about. Morpheus blocked his fury and rage from you this time, but you doubt you would have felt it through all the agonizing pain ripping into your chest. Writhing in place, your hands scratched at your chest, your nails trying their best to claw out the mangled organ causing so much pain and anguish. You wanted to scream. You would scream. But Morpheus was moving before you could let out the piercing note. Your back was pressed back against your bedsheets and Morpheus was swallowing that scream aggressively. One of his hands ripped your nails away from your chest, leaving behind claw marks, and the other gripped your throat, fingers sliding up until they were just beneath your chin. Control. He was reigning in your out of control emotions.

Harsh kisses that nipped and tugged at your lips until you were limp, pliable mess, very quickly drove off the agonizing feelings until all you could think about was the mouth that hungrily roaming every millimeter of your lips. Then Morpheus moved onto mouthing at the corners of your lips, and then your cheeks, to your neck… his lips were everywhere. Whispers of his power ran over your skin and wrapped around your body like possessive vines. Morpheus’s anger was still palpable, but you were starting to see through it. He wasn’t mad at you, he was enraged at Desire. Your mind was comforted but that seed of doubt still poisoned your mind.

“You’re mine, Y/N, only mine,” Morpheus growled darkly against your neck, teeth raking over your fluttering pulse. “It is I who watched over you, who placed a part of myself within you, who shared my power. Me.” Your chin was angled back down so you could stare wide-eyed into blazing silver eyes. Possession burned through rage. Mine. Mine. Mine. His mouth sharpened into a deadly snarl and frozen in place like a deer caught beneath predatory gaze, all you could hear was your heart trying to run out of your chest. “You are not to share.”

Hands gripped your body harshly, pushing and pulling your flesh. At the mercy of what Morpheus wanted, you stayed locked up in bright mercury eyes as your thighs were spread apart once more. Then his cock was sinking back into your more than sore cunt, going even deeper than he had before. Your back arched as the oxygen was stolen from your chest. Nails digging into the soft sheets you were pressed against, thoughts of breathing left your mind as Morpheus dragged your chin upwards and your lips mashed together once more. How was this Dream when he was everything you Desired? There was nothing gentle about the way he was making love to you. No, this wasn’t making love, it was just fucking. You didn’t have the mind to complain, you were too wrapped up in ecstasy to care how Morpheus was pleasuring you.

The swollen folds of your cunt easily took in every thrust he gave you, clinging tightly despite being overloaded with electric pleasure that had long since made your mind swim. You wrapped your legs over his waist and reached up to slip your arms beneath his to hold him closer to you as you arched into the kiss, biting back for a change. A growl rumbled in Morpheus’s chest and you simply dug your nails into the taut muscles stretched over his shoulder blades, having not one care anymore. You just wanted more. Morpheus broke the rapid kiss and dived down to the skin of your breast, sinking his teeth into the flesh until there would be marks. That only heightened the pleasure racing through your veins and rippling through your cunt. A moan brewed deep in your throat and the next thrust set to rattle your body, you met with a twist of your hips. Teeth released your breast and with a feral sound and with molten mercury eyes burning their way into your soul, his face leaned down to the point where black locks brushed your cheeks.

“Is that how you wish for me?” Morpheus’s voice was low and guttural. “Primitive? To give in to my darkest desires to have you all to myself?” His voice deepened with every word, and your walls clenched his cock in delight. Anything. You would take anything for your heart to know you were his. You would carve his name on the battered organ if you could. A tortured moan traveled up your spine when his cock hit a spot within your cunt that made an explosion of pleasure erupt. Your threw your head back, trying not to let lightheadedness from being over sensitized take over. Morpheus’s hand slipped around your throat, and then to the back of your neck, forcing your gaze back to his. “Tell me, my dream,” He spoke, his nose brushing against yours. “You think yourself to be strong enough to handle me? Shall I indulge in the likes of which I crave?”

You were a glutton for punishment and his words only spurred your own desires on. So with swollen and bitten lips parting in a tremble, you gave him your strained, whisper soft response:

“I dare you to try and break me, dream lord.”

The entire room shuddered at your challenge, waves of power rippling at the beautifully carved furniture and disturbing the gossamer fabric framing the windows and doors. Perhaps you had pushed him one word too far, but then the flood of desire, need, want, craving, hunger, yearning hit you so fast you nearly blacked out. You were floating for a few seconds, barely feeling the tugs and pulls at your body but you did feel this: that mouth watering pleasure disappeared from your body and you were left feeling hollow. You whimpered further when Morpheus’s intoxicating body heat lifted from yours. In seconds you were on your stomach and lips were tearing up your back with lightning kisses that had you twisting in place. You didn’t get far. Hands ceased your wiggling by your hips and you aired out a moan, feeling your cunt ache and clench. A hand slipped under your body, fingers splayed wide, and pushed up until Morpheus was grasping you chin again. He bent down and pressed his body against yours. The tip of his cock pushed against your pulsating cunt teasingly and you whimpered once more, fingers grasping at soft silk.

“You think you can handle me, my dream?” Morpheus whispered in your ear, his free hand wandering across your hip to the thatch of hair you carefully maintained after Jemima had convinced you to get a Brazilian with her. You hadn’t liked the feeling of being completely bare and did not appreciate the painful beauty standard. His fingers slipped through them and gathered the moisture clinging to your cunt. He surely felt your shiver from his touch.

“Was I not born for you?” The words spilled out of your mouth spontaneously without a thought to say them. But they felt one hundred percent true. “Am I not made to love you unconditionally with everything I have?” He stroked your chin, thumb lingering on your lip.

“Your body knows, but does your mind?” Morpheus countered. Hips thrust forwards and you lurched slightly, gasping against his thumb and feeling pleasure rocket up and down your spine. Body rigid and trembling beneath his, little noises periodically slipped from your parted lips. “I can feel the seed of venom they’ve leeched into your mind.” Another thrust, this time sharper than the last. You choked on your next gasp. “Wrapping around your heart and digging its barbs into you, warping you against me, pushing you away from me, poisoning you against me.” He was growling his displeasure into your ear. “Must I mark you up to show that you are mine? Shall I put a gilded collar around your neck for all to see!?”

The thought of having a collar, no matter how demeaning you would have normally thought it to be, went straight to your cunt and you were squeezing his cock with your rippling walls. Then your back arched into his chest. Your reaction to his growled words was answer enough for Morpheus because moments later something was slithering across the column of your neck and a vaguely familiar hum of energy pressed against your chest. You jerked a hand to your heaving chest and your fingertips grappled against the surface of the ruby necklace you had ripped from your neck so many weeks ago. That would do. Fingers pressing the humming ruby against your breast, you felt your thighs start to quake in pain. Your muscles were protesting what your body wanted to unleash.

Morpheus could feel you fighting off yet another orgasm that would surely deplete your body of any fight you had left. One of his hands wound itself into your hair and pulled your head back far enough that your neck strained in pain. His mouth pressed back against your neck, harshly working against your over sensitive skin like he couldn’t get enough of a taste. It only got worse when his magic swept over your writhing body and took it captive. It caressed the places that burned with pleasure, stroked over skin that showed bruising from Morpheus’s possessive love, and buried itself into your body to worm its way into your poisoned mind and heart. It dug its way into that seed of doubt planted by Desire and proceeded to tear it apart. You let out a sharp cry of pain as the magic all but ripped what Desire had left behind, from your mind and heart. The moment it left you, your entire body shuddered and gave out. There was a roar in your ears and you couldn’t hear anything for a few precious seconds. The crashing crescendo continued to shock your body until your limbs felt like lead blocks. You breathed heavily against the pillow your cheek was now resting on, gasping for air.

“Morpheus?” You wheezed, drawing an arm to your chest and pressing your fingers over your left breast. Your heart was still racing, but no longer suffering from that agonizing pain. “What— what the bloody hell was that,” The being in question, who was laid out next to you with his face buried in your shoulder blades with his arms around your body to cradle you ever so gently, was not quick to respond. Eventually he did.

“Desire’s magic,” He answered, his own voice strained. “Before they let me pull you back they planted a seed of doubt within your mind and heart. It was chipping away at you and would have driven you mad from emotion,” What emotions you could vaguely feel from the bond indicated that he was still very irate with his younger sibling. You weren’t that far behind him. “The power I gave you is immense, if Desire were to bring you to their side the power balance would be greatly disturbed.”

“You don’t need to worry about me jumping sides,” You rasped out, your hand seeking his. You found it and your fingers curled through Morpheus’s longer ones, clinging tightly. “Have you any idea how much it hurts at the idea of betraying you? It is physical pain I do not wish to endure or experience ever again. It hurt so much.”

Morpheus pressed his lips against your shoulder, planting kisses over and over against your skin.

“That night was more than enough of an example, my dream, and I should not like to see you in that much pain or terror ever again.” Morpheus whispered against your neck, his hair brushing against your ear. “Neither should I ever like to see you flinch away from me.”

With what felt like the weight of the universe off your shoulders, you slumped into your pillow and leaned back into his embrace, letting exhaustion pull you to sleep.

Morpheus held you as long as his conscious would allow, but the entire time he held you close his mind was brewing with anger towards his younger sibling. It was one thing to nip you away out of curiosity, but to do it a second time with blatant disregard and then make advances on his bonded? Morpheus was close to wanting to draw blood. He would even go as far as kill Desire is that is what his bonded asked of him. Morpheus dropped his eyes to your bare shoulder and lightly drew his fingers across your skin. He let his fingers continue across your arm to your side, and then hip. You were an ethereal creature that was all his. Only his. Leaning forwards, Morpheus pressed his nose into your exposed neck and took a breath. You smelled of dryad herbal mixes combined with the electric edge of magic that hummed just beneath your skin. His magic. Now that he had pulled every drop of Desire’s poisonous touch from your mind, all you smelled of was him.

Reluctantly pulling away from his sleeping queen, Morpheus rose to his feet and dressed himself. As his jacket buttoned itself, Morpheus turned to look at you once more. You hadn’t moved a millimeter at his withdrawal, your mind was lost to the comforting land of your dreams. He found himself staring at your body languidly stretched out against the sheets, curled and innocent. How long had it been since he had last seen you this relaxed? It must have been years. He raised his hand and gave your naked body one last look in appreciation before gesturing to the sheets. They slipped across naked skin and tucked his sleeping queen in. Leaving you sleeping, Morpheus strode through his palace with one destination in mind.

Your face was smushed into the pillow and your right arm was hanging off the bed, dangling, and entirely numb. Rolling onto your back and holding your tingling arm to your chest, you blearily stared at the drapes lofting overhead. You ached everywhere, most of all between your legs. Heat rose in your cheeks and sneaking a hand beneath the silk sheets covering your body, you trailed your fingers down your flesh until they reached your inner thighs. You softly gasped at feeling the dried mess clinging to your thighs. Your cunt clenched and a deep ache emanated from within your body. Ouch. Sharply retracting your fingers from your far too sensitive body parts, you clutched your hand to your chest and breathed through the massive ache at rattled your spine. This was all your fault, Morpheus. What was even the point of that bath? The Endless was insatiable and very hard to resist once he was enticed.

Nothing you had experienced before could compare to being loved by an Endless. It was intense and nothing short of a whole body worship. Your fingers creeped up your chest to feel the ruby humming against your skin. It helped to supplement the absence of Morpheus. As your fingers traveled around the delicate chain, you noticed one clear glaring fact about this necklace: it had no clasp. You instantly went to poke at Morpheus.

Gilded collar with no clasp, my love?

He didn’t respond but you felt a ripple of amusement from him, it was also tinged with smugness. Huffing where you lay, you chose to not go after him for putting a piece of jewelry on you that couldn’t be taken off by normal conventions. Fingers playing with the chain, you rotated your head and looked out the windows. It was bright outside, well past morning and quite possibly afternoon at this point. You needed to clean up because there was no way you were going to be walking around the palace with that mess still dried to your thighs. Working up the motivation, you carefully shifted your body into a sitting position, wrinkling your nose when it physically hurt to sit. At least Jemima no longer could harp on you about getting rid of your v-card as she called it. You and Morpheus had probably gone a little overboard last night all things considered.

Standing up was a little easier on your body but every step that you took towards the bathroom was more like a waddle. Were you well loved or well fucked? Both. Definitely both. Entering the bath, you stared at the empty bath with a curl in your bitten lip. You were not going to ask for help because the state of your body was flush inducing. As it turned out, glaring at the empty tub long enough combined with tugging on your power source worked well enough that you had a steaming, bubbling bath in front of you in no time. Easing your body down, you sighed as the water eased some of the aches that plagued your limbs. Also your fault, Morpheus. Leaning back, you started humming a tune in your head and let all of the aches and pains you felt leech from your body.

Date Published: 12/30/22

Last Edit: 8/23/23

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[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Random brain thought

Just ignoring Genshin lore for a moment

So, Moths use the moon as their guide, so, and hear me out, what if the reader was the deity of the moon?

Just imagine, sparkling moth lost in the dark, until he finds a soothing glow, a breathtaking radiance.

You

Now I'm just thinking of Big buff abyss moth being your Bodyguard. Cuddling, surrounded by moonlight

oh my moon and stars YES you being some sort of deity/god is one of my FAVORITE AUs ever!!!!!!

you're one of the gods who's on more neutral terms with the Abyss- you don't exactly trust the beings under Teyvat, but you don't go out of your way to hunt them down. you're more of a nighttime deity anyways, roaming the fields and hills when the rest of the world slumbers, your aura casting a soft glow over the grass. mortals will say you hailed from the moon, but in truth you're more akin to someone created from lunar essence that allowed you to watch over the world at night. you're not sure how useful you truly are, especially when some of your brethren can literally shape the earth and sea with a flick of their hands, but if you could help guide even one being to safety and happiness, it'd be enough for you

you're roaming around one night after dark, moths fluttering around you, resting on your fingers and hair. the little insects are quite fond of you, and you of them- perhaps they could be considered your patron animal- and suddenly you see something twinkle in the distance. immediately you're intrigued- is there a god of starlight who's come to visit Teyvat? is there some shiny stone, or glittering treasure waiting to be picked up? you wander closer, pace only picking up when you see the sparkling thing move

you kneel in the gently waving grass and come face to face with the most beautiful creature you've ever seen

he's from the Abyss, there's no doubt, and yet you can't help but admire the black and violet armor adorning his body, the glittering cape-like wings that flow like waves, the crimson mask with two spiraling horns and one single crystalline eye. the monster growls momentarily but it quickly dies to a hushed, curious coo as he stares at you, seemingly in awe. his claws extend, trying to grasp the gentle glow surrounding you, and instead you reach and carefully clasp your own hands around his larger one, helping him to his feet. the beast stands, unharmed, yet he doesn't pull his hand away, only holding out his talons for your little moths to land on, wings fluttering in delight

a happy trill builds in this strange, beautiful creature's throat, and you too find a smile growing across your face as he delicately curls his claws around your hands, reveling in your soft lunar glow

[starrabbitmedia]

Question about Gartha: Was Sunny born similar to a human baby, or do fables lay eggs like moths? If the latter, then did Sunny start as a larvae-like baby. Did sunny have to go into a cocoon to gain his wings?

So Fables do lay eggs, but considerably less than a normal moth. Only about 3-4 at most. Not all of them survive. Usually only 1-2 makes it, so it's a better omen if they lay 4 eggs. It means they'll for sure wind up with at least 1 healthy child. But the eggs are very fragile and are usually placed in special woven baskets with soft, comfortable material inside.

The eggs hatch within 4-10 days of being laid, and the babies are incredibly small at first. They aren't larvae-like, but they are very squishy and chubby looking. The laying basket can also be used to transport the babies in public, if need be, but one of the parents usually stays home with them to keep them protected until they are at least a couple of months old and the parents feel safer taking them out.

At that point, they are placed inside of special baby-wraps on the parent's chest. Though the wraps are tied in a way that keeps the parent's wings free and they can fly, they prefer not to fly with their little grubs until they're at least 6-8 months old.

ALSO, they have "baby colors." Fables start out the same color as whatever the caterpillar of the moth they're based on looks like. So they may start out with stripes and lose those stripes over time. Usually they have their adult colors by the age of 11. Kind of like a child losing its baby teeth and getting its adult teeth.

Sunny's case is... a little special. But yes, they do go into a cocoon to gain their wings. They grow incredibly tired to the point of not being able to function, their bodies grow sticky, and the stickiness turns into a hard shell around them. Essentially, they take a 1-3 day nap depending on the type of Moth the Fable is, and then when they wake up and break out of the shell, they have their wings.

The wings are delicate just for the first couple of hours while they dry, but after that are shockingly strong. They don't rip, they don't freeze (though it is considerably harder to fly in cold/freezing weather), and it doesn't hurt to lay back on them or if someone accidentally sits on one. It really only hurts when they're pulled on.

The Fables usually get their wings any age between 13-15, and it's essentially their version of puberty.

Being based off of bugs, their life expectancy is shorter than other beings in Gartha. They usually only last till about 50-60 years old. The oldest Fable in the world is 68, and he literally looks like he's going to keel over any second. Mans looks like he's made out of dust.

[mothask]

Hello there,

I wanted to ask how cybernetics work in this AU. (Yes, I'm going to draw one more moth-trooper and poor guy had an...ehm accident. He has burns on his left side and has a cybernetic finger. BUT the thing with this all is, that yes, wing parts would grow back...question is, if they would be a bit different from the original or no.

-Ovaa-Bi (and Guard, who isn't sure how the blast will his right wing look like)

------------------------cybernetics-----------------------------

cybernetics is kind of like a form of reanimating objects, it's how the droid's kind of work in this universe.

It's a mix of magic through natural elements it's why Echo has an actual prosthetic arm made out of wood. and legs made out of metal and iron from materials Tech was able to scrounge up. ((coughs, Tech made the legs out of someone's catalytic converter they dumped in the woods))

Anyway, if it comes from the earth, it can be reanimated and if attached to another person it can move based on their free will if they sync up with it. It's how doors open, shields come up or come down, etc, almost everything operates under this law.

So your fella is fine when it comes to this because they lost such a small portion of their body, if it's something like hands, fingers, toes, feet, or even portions of the face then it can be repaired.

However, I'll get into it later but if it's an entire limb or even both of their wings, or God forbid a mix of both. The republic doesn't take kindly to that.

-----------------------Wings---------------------

And when it comes to wings, the scales and the fore wings and hind wing sections can grow back, even the smaller veins in those parts of the wings can grow back.

It's the veins that's the painful part because they pump blood through the wings.

however, it's the apex and costal margins of the wings that either won't grow back or will take the longest depending on where it's damaged.

If it's closest to the base of the wings that connects to their backs, their wings are done for, but if it's more outside of that closer to the apex of the wings it could grow back all be it longer and more painful.

In that situation in which the wings are damaged depending on the extent of the damage the clones have only 2 options, work in a lower level job, or face decommissioning (death).

------------------------Liabilities with limb loss----------

In an extreme case scenario in which they are irreparably damaged, Limbs are lost, during battle they may even face death, which is called decommissioning.

Yes this is cannon in the CW universe, during the war if major body parts like limbs were lost the republic would basically kill paraplegic clones and recycle their bodies for DNA or organ donations.

the reason for this is because the republic didn't want to waste their resources on injured clones during the war and since there was so many of them being made killing off the weak was the only option.

and yes.

this happens in this au as well.

This is why Echo joining the bad batch was so crucial and why Rex had to let him go because in joining an experimental squadron that each have unique qualities valuable to the republic, Echo wouldn't have to worry about facing decommissioning.

The kaminoans make it uncomfortably known that they want to and will do an autopsy on Echo to find out what the separatists did in full to him.

Which is why leaving the republic was so crucial later on. but I'm getting ahead of myself.

[jay-junebug]

You’re So Pretty

Short writing thing of two of my OCs, Lucius and Sylvester. Sylvester is a moth person while Lucius is a regular man.

Despite all the use of hot water during Lucius’ shower, the bathroom was still cold when he stepped out to dry off. Lucius was quick to dry himself, pulling the larger of the two towels off of the rack attached to the wall, and wrapping it around his waist once finished. He reached for the smaller towel to dry his slicked back hair when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in? I just need to grab something real quick.” Sylvester’s voice asked from the other side of the door.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” Sylvester stepped inside and approached the bathroom counter. He and Lucius made eye contact for a moment before Sylvester stopped, a smile growing on his face. Lucius stared back in bemusement.

“What?” He asks, huffing amusedly and smiling back despite his confusion. Sylvester walked towards him to cup his face in his hands. He then proceeded to tilt Lucius’ head side to side as he admired him.

“You’re so pretty. You should keep your hair combed back when dry.” Immediately Lucius could feel himself blush at the compliment. He brings his hands up underneath Sylvester’s to hide his face. “Noo, don’t hide! I like seeing your face!” Sylvester tried to pry Lucius’ hands away. Lucius shook his head with a giggle, eventually giving in and letting Sylvester take his hands in his own.

“You really think that?”

“Yes. I do. I mean, you look great with bangs, but isn’t it annoying having half of your face covered with your hair?”

“Sometimes. When I’m working it is annoying.”

“Then I think you should try a different hairstyle.” Sylvester fluttered his moth wings as he reached up to give Lucius a kiss. Lucius couldn’t hold back the absolutely massive grin on his face when he pulled away.

“Okay. Let me dry my hair first.”

[bluepeachstudios]

For reasons i need to know the following information! What are the kids favorite toys/stuffed animals? What are their favorite materials (like cotton or silk?) Do any of them love dresses/despise them? What are their favorite animals?

How does Sanzio's she'll work? Like where does it attach to the back and brace? Is it spikey? Smooth?

Are the Skittles box turtles or are they like a different breed??

I know i asked this before about their favorite colors what what color do they seem to despise? Actually what do theu despise (exception being bad guys) like birdie hates dill pickles but what about the others?

LET'S DO THIS-- WALL OF TEXT INCOMING

Favorite Toys? Simoni has an old blanket that Mikey gives to him, and he adores it. Nests with it constantly. His favorite toy is his chewy rings. He gnaws on it like nobody's business. He will rip apart any stuffed animal you give him like a dog.

Bardi's favorite toys are basically anything very interactive and a stuffy that's like. It's a moth but it's round with little fabric wings. Very soft. It used to be Simoni's but Bardi snagged it and has fought him over it. Simoni conceded.

Sanzio has a little turtle stuffy that Splinter gave him. Sanzio loves it to death and will maim you over it.

Davinci has a little rabbit lovey that he picked out himself during a shopping trip! He refuses to sleep without it.

Favorite Materials? The skittles all tend to enjoy cotton and bamboo! (Yes bamboo can be a fabric). Bardi (like Donnie) absolutely despises the feeling of sherpa. He will hiss if it gets anywhere near him. Bardi's particularly fussy about textures and doesn't like many of them, and when he doesn't like them he will do EVERYTHING in his power to stay away from it. So no sherpa.

Sanzio's Shell? Sanzio's brace goes down his shell like this, with a slot in the middle for his spines. His shell has spikes down the center and has "ridges" like the other dark turtles have. The brace pulls the shell and spine back as he grows, which corrects the posture. As he gets older, he'll get surgery to correct it even better.

What Breed Are They? The skittles are clones of the turtles, so they're box turtles!

Favorite Colors? Davinci's is yellow, Sanzio's is pink, Simoni's is orange, and Bardi's is dark indigo.

Dislikes? This isn't something that I actively seek out, honestly. I mention it when I think of it or if it comes up in writing or discussion about the kids. So far we've got Davinci hating dill pickles and heights, and Bardi with a loathing for sherpa.

Pacifiers? Bardi won't mind a pacifier. He'll go at it if you give it to him but he also doesn't get upset if he doesn't have one. Sanzio spits them out every time you try to give it to him and thinks it's a funny game. Simoni chews them up into ribbons (he much rather prefers his chewies). Davinci will refuse to let you put it in his mouth. He'll cover his face and turn away and if you get it in there he'll spit it out.

They're turtles, their "sucking" instinct is not strong.