#also related to fish strangely enough

[ssruis]

Aside from the noble platypus I also feel like rui would really enjoy these animals:

Mola mola/Sunfish

Anteater

Echidna

Kiwi

Kākāpō

Axolotl

Horseshoe crab

Gibbon

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Werewolf // Cinna’s Monstertober Writing Challenge

Tags: Werewolf!Geto x Fem!Reader, Alpha!Geto x Omega!Reader, A/B/O mechanics, marking, scenting, nesting, fated mates, description of violence including murder, NSFW, MDNI

Synopsis: Suguru knew you were his before you even presented as an omega, but the pack elders did not take too kindly to him marking you at such a young age. He kills anyone who gets in his way to you.

An: If you don’t like a/b/o or omegaverse, skip this one :3. If you’re a freak like me, enjoy! Also, this was my first time making my own banner in Canva.. what are we thinking?? I am also so sorry that this one is so late.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.”

Let’s rewind, shall we?

Living in a small pack has its perks. Everyone is protective over one another and will always offer to help no matter what. Pack relations are strongest when the pack is smaller, and the pack is more likely to survive.

There are, of course, some cons as well. Everyone knows your business, and everyone wants a say in how you live your life.

For the longest you can remember, Suguru has been by your side. You two would spend a lot of time down at the creek together as kids. You two practically learned everything together: how to hunt, fish, trap, and forage.

He was your insistent shadow, and the pack elders thought it was adorable when you two were younger. He would without fail abandon the other small children to always go hang out with you. The two of you were like little partners in crime together.

Though their adoration turned to concern when Suguru never quite left your side. In fact, it was getting worse as he grew older. By the time he turned 13, He was abandoning hunting trips early to come home to you. He’d sneak out of his tent to go to yours late at night. Your parents would have to kick him out every morning, chastising both of you.

Though, the straw that broke the camel’s back wasn’t simple sleepovers and abandoned hunting trips. It was when he presented as an alpha. Everyone knew he would with how physically gifted he was as a young teen. He was also too damn protective for his own good, going as far as to breaking another kid’s nose for simply grabbing your wrist.

You were only a few months younger than Suguru, but you hadn’t presented yet. When he presented first, your parents forbade him from sleeping over. They were just trying their best to protect you. You two were “too old” and “not old enough” at the same time to be sleeping together.

Suguru, given that he now had the talk from his parents, knew what your parents were suggesting, but he hated it. He didn’t understand how your parents could think so lowly of him overnight just from presenting.

He lasted three nights. Three whole nights of not snuggling against you, not smelling your hair while you two drifted off to sleep, not hearing your soft snores in the dead of night. It was three sleepless nights.

Suguru always had an inkling that you were his. It was a rather strange feeling of possession, like he shouldn’t have to listen to your parents’ rules because you weren’t theirs. You were his.

His frustration only heightened when the pack started to impose longer hunting trips on him. Shorter hunting trips were reserved for those who hadn’t presented and mated alphas. Since they were mated, they couldn’t be away from their mate for too long; thus, getting the smaller trips.

All these things led him to the conclusion: you’re his mate, and he needed to mark you to prove it.

After a particularly taxing hunting trip, Suguru’s eyes filtered through the camp. Everyone was as painfully jovial as usual: sitting around doing absolutely fuck all. His eyes landed on you, and he could feel the tension melting away from him almost instantaneously. You were in charge of looking after the small children, even though you yourself were still a child.

His feet stomped over toward you without a second thought, and his hand wrapped around your arm tightly, pulling you along behind him.

“Ah- Sugu. Where are we going? I’m working-!” You shout as he continues to drag you along silently. “Sugu- The kids…” You murmur as the two of you head further into the forest.

“They’ll be fine for a few minutes.” He responded calmly before he glanced behind him. The camp was far enough away now. No one would be able to see the two of you unless they were specifically looking for you.

“What are we doing, Sugu?” You asked with a small nervous smile. You had started to have to look up at him these days. It was as if he was growing taller overnight. No longer just a boy.

He also started to stink — well, it wasn’t like a smelly smell, but it was unfamiliar. Your parents had explained pheromones. You didn’t particularly like them since you hadn’t presented yet.

“I need you to sit still, and don’t scream.” He instructed before he dipped his head between your shoulder and jaw. He experimentally sniffed at your neck — completely scentless. The only smell coming from you was your strawberry shampoo that he had grown accustomed to.

“Why would I-“ His large hand covered your mouth before you could get out another word, and he opened his mouth before clamping down on your neck. His K9’s punctured your skin, allowing for blood to trickle down your skin.

A pained cry fled your mouth, but it was muffled by his hand. Suguru felt his heart begin to race. It was happening. You were finally officially his. No one could tell him otherwise — not even your silly parents.

He calmly reassured you that you were okay while you softly wept. Your hand covered the bloody mark on your neck. He was just marking you. You know, like it was no big deal.

After sweetly kissing your tears away, he proudly walked you back to camp once you had calmed down from crying, satisfied with himself. Your hands were laced together like true mates.

The first to immediately notice was Satoru, another alpha who was barely a year older than Suguru. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of your marked neck.

“Suguru, what did you do?” He asks like a mother scolding her son. Usually, this was the other way around. Satoru would’ve never expected Suguru to do something as reckless as this.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Satoru. I just marked her.” He shrugs nonchalantly, still so proud of himself.

“You don’t understand. She hasn’t presented. This isn’t good. We need to-“

Your face was flushed a bright red, and Satoru could see your breath becoming more and more labored with each passing second. He frantically looked around, trying to think of what to do. Suguru probably didn’t even know that he just inadvertently forced your body to present. Having been marked, your body was now plummeting itself into a heat.

Suguru could feel you gently tugging on his hand, trying to get his attention. When he looked back at you, his eyes widened. He could tell what your body was going through, but he was just a boy. He didn’t know how to handle it.

“What are you three up to? Why aren’t the children being tended to-“ A clan elder asked after seeing the small children running around without you to watch them. His eyes landed on you, and he immediately tensed up at the scene. “What- How… Geto.”

*** *** ***

“He’s just a boy!” Suguru’s mom pleaded with tears in her eyes. Her hands clasped the young boy’s shoulders. “He has a whole life ahead of him! Don’t do this to him.”

“You’re right. He is just a boy, so it was your responsibility to teach him about these things.” A pack elder spoke.

“He’s an alpha. Even if they taught him those things, he would’ve acted on his own volition anyways.” Another spoke.

“Who even allowed him to be around her? He was suppose to be on a hunting trip, no?”

“We got back early. It was my responsibility, but we were carrying back a large buck. My mind was preoccupied. I accept full responsibility for his actions.”

“You can’t take on the full burden of responsibility. Geto is old enough to know right from wrong, and he chose the wrong path. He took that girl in the woods and marked her before she even presented as an omega.” The pack leader spoke.

Suguru stood completely motionless in front of his parents. He stayed looking down at the ground. While they argued over his future in the pack, his mind was stuck on you. They had ripped you away from him the second that the pack elder had realized that your body was in heat. He wondered if you were being taken care of okay. He wondered if you missed him as much as he missed you already. He wondered if he’d get to see you again.

“He’s done so much for this pack at such a young age. Please.. Don’t do this to him. He has his whole life ahead of him.” His mother pleaded once again. “We’ll keep a closer eye on him. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

“What about my daughter’s life?” Your dad finally spoke up after being silent for far too long. “That bastard tainted her. She could’ve presented as anything: alpha, beta, or omega, but no, he forced biology upon her with a godforsaken mark. He should be shunned from the pack.”

“He can’t be allowed to be in the same space as her. He’s already proven that he can’t be trusted. The last thing we need is for a young omega to fall pregnant because an alpha doesn’t know restraint.”

“Don’t you two have family anywhere she can stay with… just until she’s a bit older? The mark might fade after they’ve been separated for a while.” Another pack elder spoke up to your parents.

“You’re seriously removing our daughter instead of the problem child? That’s fucking rich. So, what will happen when he marks another omega far too early, huh?” Your dad argued, clenching his jaw.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Suguru finally spoke up, looking your dad in the eye. A stare off between the two ensued.

“If this is how this pack operates, fine. I don’t want her in here if we protect alphas simply due to their gender instead of the innocent.” Your dad finally grit out before stomping away from the meeting.

It took three full grown alphas and Satoru to hold Suguru back while you were leaving. They wouldn’t even allow him to say goodbye to you, not even when you cried out his name. Not even when you begged, pleaded, asked why.

*** *** ***

Suguru was never quite the same after you and your family left. It had been years. He was just a boy when they took you. Now, he’s a twenty year old brooding alpha. He was aloof towards everyone, and he only confided in Satoru. His friend seemed to he the only one who understood that he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He didn’t know that his mark would cause a great deal of stress on your body, and had he known, he wouldn’t have done it.

The rest of the pack looked at him with reserved disdain. He was a stain upon their community. Your parents were well liked in the pack, and he was the reason they weren’t there anymore.

Words kept getting tossed around, and the pack members who weren’t there for the meeting were terribly misinformed. As the rumors spread, the story became more and more horrid. They painted him out to be a monster who held you down while you begged him not to and bit your neck forcibly.

Suguru never tried to correct the stories. He had nothing to prove to these people, the people that sent you away from him. They could all think of him as a monster, especially if it meant they stayed the hell away from him.

The only thing that kept Geto from expulsion from the pack was his innate ability to hunt. His beast from was truly that of an apex predator. He went on extravagant hunting trips often, and he kept the pack fed on wonderful meats.

He looked for you, his mate, on every hunting trip. He tried to remember the faint smell that started to emit from you when your body went into heat. He looked for every sign of you.

He knew the mate bond was still strong because he could feel everything through it. He hated when you felt sad. He knew you experienced some sort of nightmares without him there to care for you while you slept. Your happiness made him feel bittersweet. He wanted you to be happy, but the thought of you being happy without him made him sick.

Your heats were the worst. Suguru would sulk in his tent in a state of horny depression. He should be taking care of you, tending to your body and every desire you had. He should be helping you nest and kissing every spot on your body while cooing praises to you.

Instead, he’s laying in his own sweat and cum, too much of a sad sack of shit to make himself go get cleaned up. His tent stunk of potent pheromones. Your heats, even while being so far away, managed to throw him into a rut each time.

He could feel your dissatisfaction. You were pining for him to come help you. It was as if you were screaming down the mate bond for him to come save you. He missed you so damn bad that he started to hate the smell of strawberries. They smelled too much of you and reminded him of what he couldn’t have

He knew that the elders still kept in touch with your parents. They were high ranking leaders in the community after all. They knew where you were, and they still opted to keep you away from him.

You and him were suffering because of the fucking elders. They caused all of this. If they would’ve kept their fucking noses out of y’all’s business, none of this would be happening.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.” Suguru was practically crying for help. He was sat in his tent, holding his head in shame. His arms and legs were practically trembling.

The homicidal thoughts started when you left. It was sneaky at first, but they only got worse over time. His friend was the only one who knew about them. He knew how badly Geto craved to end their lives.

“Let me talk to them. They might listen to me.” Satoru spoke calmly as he gazed as his heartbroken best friend. The tent was heavy with the scent of alpha rut and distress. He could tell Suguru was really going through it right now.

*** *** ***

Suguru’s beast form was nothing short of a monster. He was the strongest, right next to Satoru.

His black fur was matted with blood as he pawed at the remains of the pack leader. Satoru had tried to talk to them, but they instantly shut him down. Then, to make matters worse, they sent him away on a hunting trip that same day.

Without Satoru there to keep the thoughts at bay, Suguru literally couldn’t help himself. The beast shifted before he could even do anything about it, and he was instantly blood hungry.

Tears coated his face as he shifted back to his human form. Killing the elders didn’t even help soothe him. He just wanted his fucking mate for christ’s sake. He sat on the floor in a scatter of papers from where the two beasts had fought valiantly.

Nothing could replicate the feeling of emptiness that filled him in that moment. His best friend wasn't there. His mate had been gone for oh so long. The pack leaders were now all deceased. When tomorrow morning rolled around, he'd likely be ostracized from his pack for the murders.

He laid his head back against the wall with his hands covering his face. He just wanted to see Satoru one last time before he was expelled and shunned. He wanted to apologize and thank Gojo for sticking by him for all these years.

At some point, the sleep deprivation got to Geto, causing for him to fall asleep naked in the massacre that was the pack leader's tent. Nightmares of slaughter plagued his dreams. Your face haunted him. He wondered what could've been had he known better than to mark you at an early age.

It felt so real, that he swore he heard your voice, though it was different in his dream. Your voice wasn't as squeaky as it use to be. It was smooth with age and experience yet still soft spoken. Maybe he was forgetting the way you sounded? The thought terrified him. His memory was all he had left of you.

You were... laughing? No, it couldn't be you. The voice sounded more like Gojo's-

The tent unzipping. A gasp. "Shit. Don't-" Gojo's voice.

Geto fluttered his eyes open to see Gojo standing in the small doorway of the makeshift shelter. He had... a woman's eyes covered. Her bottom lip was trembling.

"Suguru, what did you do?" Satoru asked like he did all those years back, and suddenly, Suguru felt like a small child who had no impulse control. He quickly scrambled up to his feet, using a random sheet of paper to cover his manhood.

"You were gone, and I just... I just really fucking..." His words trailed as his eyes looked over towards the woman. His heart started to pound in his chest. She looked... so much like you. It was as if he was being confronted with the ghost of his past once again.

"I went to go get her, Suguru." Satoru calmly explained with a hint of bite in his tone. "You really think I'd listen to what those old geezers said about not going to look for her? I grilled every last one of them until they slipped up and gave me enough information to find her."

Geto's eyes were as wide as saucers, and his pupils were dilated as he stared at the woman who was quietly trembling next to Satoru. His hand covered most of her face. "Is that...?"

"In the flesh." Satoru said as his hand slowly dropped from your eyes. Chills shot through Geto's body as he saw his mate's face again.

"Sugu..." Your little nickname for him. His breath went labored as he took in the sight of you for just one moment. His eyes involuntarily filled with tears before he dropped the sheet of paper and lunged for you.

His large muscular arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you into a tight embrace against him. "I'm so sorry.." He whispered in your ear like a mantra. His hands roamed across your back as if he was double checking that this was real.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He whispered again in a pained voice. This was not how he wanted you to see him. He was at his lowest. “I’ve missed you so much. It feels like I’ve been underwater this entire time.”

You gently nuzzled your face into his chest, and you took a deep breath, savoring his scent. A content hum fled your lips. He smelled like home. “I’ve missed you too, Sugu.”

Suguru had grown so much since you last saw him. His body was now muscular and toned. His hair was even longer. It was tied up in a half knot while the rest of it messily splayed down his back. He wasn’t just a boy anymore — a man now.

“I hate to be the one to ruin this reunion, but there’s dead pack elders that we have to deal with.” Satoru spoke up as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Suguru reluctantly pulled back from you, not ready to let go of his missing mate. “I have no intention of staying here.” He said, eyes glancing over to the corpse on the ground. “This pack is a shit show.”

“So, what do we do?” Satoru asked, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. It was never a question in his mind. Satoru was going to go wherever Geto went.

“We start our own pack.” Geto casually threw out the idea with a small shrug. “It’s not impossible. If those incompetent creatures could do it, so can we.”

*** *** ***

You were happy and content to follow Geto and Gojo wherever the two went. It had been so long since you’ve seen the two males. You had almost forgotten how much mischief they could get up to.

Every day was filled with hiking, trying to find a new place to settle down. Every night was spent around a small fire, listening to the stories of the two while you were sent away.

When you and Geto would finally lay together next to the fire, he’d lazily play with your hair and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He’d tell you how beautiful you were and how there was never a day that went by when he didn’t think of you.

“Have I mentioned how terrible it was without you?” He murmured in your ear while his large hand was gently caressing your hip. He would carefully slip it underneath your shirt. The pad of his thumb caressing your soft skin.

“Only a million times.” You giggled in response, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

“Make it a million and one then. It was terrible.” He quietly laughed, not wanting to wake up Satoru who was snuggled on the ground on the other side of the fire.

“I missed you too.” You replied. Your hand carefully reached up and cupped his cheek. Your head was resting on his bicep while your legs were intertwined. “I tried calling out to you often through the mate bond.”

“I felt it each time.” He admitted as his hand slowly snaked higher up your torso. “I felt each time you went into heat and needed me.”

The fire calmly crackling masked the small whimper that fled from your lips. “I’m sorry. I know that probably drove you crazy.”

“You have no idea.” He muttered as he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the mark on your neck. It hadn’t faded in the slightest. Your body knew you were his before you presented as well. “I dreamt of going out to find you.”

“Yeah? What would you do had you found me while I was in heat?”

“Mmm..” He hummed in a low tone as he gazed at you with a small smirk on his face. “I would sneak into whatever tent you were in like I use to when we were kids.” He spoke softly as his hand continued to trail up your side slowly.

“I’d find you lying there, already such a mess for me.” He went on, painting the picture vividly for you. Your eyes slipped shut as you imagined it for yourself. “Then, I’d pin you down to your nest, stopping you from taking care of yourself.” He went on, and he rolled on top of you, pinning your arms down with his free hand.

The sickly sweet scent of your arousal building lingered in the air, making Suguru’s heart pound in his chest. You smelled even more yummy than he imagined you to.

“What next?” You ask softly in a breathless voice.

“I’d kiss your lips until they were bruised.” He mumbled, and he leaned down to you before pressing his lips harshly against yours. He groaned softly as soon as he could feel you kissing back. He poured all of his love and hunger into his affections. He needed you like he needed air. You were his sole salvation - his reason for living

He carefully pushed your shirt up over your chest, and he skillfully reached behind you, unclasping your bra within a few seconds. You worked with him, pulling it away from your body before you wrapped your legs around his waist.

His hand came up and carefully cupped your breast. Hs kneaded on the soft pillowy flesh with another groan. He gently bit your swollen lip, asking for entry before proceeding to deepen the kiss. He swallowed up your small moans and gasps.

"Then," he softly pant out after parting from the kiss, "I'd mark up your neck again and again. I never want you to forget who you belong to." His head dipped into your neck, and his lips latched on to the soft skin.

He sucked, nibbled, and bit his way up and down your neck, making good on his promise to mark you up. Your hips raised up to meet his, needily searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs.

"My poor omega.." He mumbled softly against your skin before allowing his hand to trail down and to grope you at your core.

"Fuck- Sugu.." Your voice was a soft whine, forgetting all about Gojo who was asleep not even 10 feet away.

"Shhh, princess. Don't wake him." Suguru shushed you softly with a impish grin. His hands now worked to take your pants and panties off. "Want me to keep going?"

"Please..." Your face is illuminated by the warm glow of the fire before you two. A soft blush spread across your cheeks.

"Mmm, then you have to be quiet." Suguru teased before he allowed himself the pleasure of gazing at your glistening cunt. "Oh, so pretty." He mused before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your folds.

Suguru's mind was running haywire as he generously lapped at your wet heat. He had imagined this happening so many times while he fucked his own fist. It's all finally worked out. He's finally gotten to taste you, to hear you moan his name.

Your fingers entangled in his hair, holding onto him for support while he devoured you thoroughly.

"Mmn.. Sugu~ S'close... please." You quietly whimpered out, warning him of your impending release while he slurped at your cunt, drinking down your slick as if you were a fountain of youth.

"Can you hold it, baby?" His voice was muffled as he didn't dare part from you.

"N-no, I-" You softly whine, starting to rock your hips back and forth across his tongue. You were desperate for release, nearly riding his face to get there.

Suguru tugged back away from you. "That just won't do, darling." He mumbles as he unbuttons his pants and pulls his pants and boxers down just enough. "I need your first time finishing with me to be on my cock. Think you can do that for me?"

You're quick to nod in agreement with his wish, desperately needing the approval of your alpha. You had already caught a glimpse of his size when you and Satoru first arrived. Even when soft, Suguru still isn't small. Now that he's fully hard, it's almost intimidating.

"Mmm~ such a good girl." He quietly praised as he carefully guided his cock between your slick covered folds. He held your gaze as he rubbed his tip up and down, creating a wet "schlick" noise with each movement. His poor neglected cock leaked sticky pre-cum along your core, making everything so messy.

"Bite on my hand." He instructed as he placed his hand over your mouth. "Don't want you makin' too much noise." With a small huff, you bite down onto his hand.

Humping you a few more times, Geto finally decided to push himself into you. Your body immediately went rigid as you tried to cope with the new pressure between your legs. It felt as if he was trying to split you in two, completely impaling you with his thick cock.

"Ohh~ fuuu... That's it.." Geto's voice was deeper and extremely breathy. His eyes were half-lidded as he continued to watch your facial reactions. The small tears crowding the corners of your eyes made him throb. "You're so fucking tight."

"it's not gonna fit-" You quietly whined behind the palm of his hand. Meanwhile, your fingernails were embedded into his back, decorating him with scratch marks.

"It's gonna fit, baby." He quietly reassured you as he pulled back a bit and sunk back in. Your slick coated his length, making it easier for him to push in more. "Gotta let me stretch you."

"Ngh~ ah.." Your voice cracked as your leaned your head back against the ground. Suguru's hips rolled, just barely fucking into your tight cunt. He'd add another inch with each thrust, allowing you time to gradually get use to him.

The air was filled with shushed panting and breathy whines. The sound of your sopping cunt squeezing around him was like a holy song to him. You were the only slice of heaven Geto would ever see.

He had been so caring; you hadn't even realized he was all the way in until you felt a thump towards your stomach. "Ohmygod-" The gasp fell from your mouth before you could even think to stop it. "Fuuuck... feel you right here.." You meekly murmured as you pointed towards your tummy.

"Yeah baby? Feel me all the way in there?" He humors your intoxicated speech as he's lovingly thrusting into you. "You feel so fucking good." He praised as he peppered your face in sweet kisses.

Your spongy walls cling to his dick with each soft thwack of his balls clapping against the flesh of your ass. You're completely soaked around him, allowing him to glide in and out with ease.

His fat tip was damp with sweltering pre-cum gathering at his slit. With each thrust, his tip was kissing at your womb, making you feel all dumb in the head. He occupied his mouth with kissing and sucking more love bites into your shoulders. "So good, baby... ah~ so fuckin' good." He continued to mumble praises in a pussy drunk tone.

Both of your bodies were glistening in a mix of sweat and slick. The fire raged beside you two keeping you very warm while he pumped in and out. "Can't get enough. Need more.. ngh~ M-missed you so much." He growled lowly in your ear as his tender thrusts grew sloppier - fueled by an intense need.

"Suguu~ fuck me." That little needy whine was all he needed to start forcefully pounding into you. Noise level be damned; he needed his omega on a biblical level that Satoru would never be able to understand.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your poor cunt was practically sobbing for him - making a complete mess between your thighs as his cock rudely drilled into you. Your back arched up off of the ground, and you could feel your eyes rolling back. It felt like you were ascending to a higher being.

Suguru caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. Strings of saliva connected your mouths like strings of fate as you muffled each others moans. "Need to knot you - f-fuck, please, let me knot you."

Your legs wrap completely around Suguru's waist. "Knot me, Sugu.. hngh~ I'm s'close.."

Suguru's legs began to shake as he could feel his balls growing heavy. Instincts completely drove him to keep fucking himself into your drooling cunt. His eyes stayed on you as he felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge.

"Sh-shit!" You hissed as your gummy walls suddenly tightened around him. The squelching noises slowed as he felt his knot starting to swell. His hands gripped onto your hips as he had to force his way deep inside your wet heat. The knot locking you two in place before he completely spilled inside you.

"Fuuucking hell..." Suguru breathed out as he stayed planted on top of you. His breath was labored as his hand brushed a few stray hairs from your face. "No one will ever take you away from me again. You're mine."

Bonus Scene!

Upon waking up the next morning on Suguru's bare chest, you sighed contently. Your body ached in the best way. Though, you knew it would only make this trek even harder.

You slowly sat up with a quiet groan. Your face was slightly sticky from sweat and drool. He had really wore you out last night.

"Morning, sleepy head." Suguru mumbled as his eyes rested upon your tired face.

"Mmm.. morning." You quietly hummed as your hands instinctively smoothed out your hair, trying to make yourself look presentable.

"Good morning, Satoru." The white-haired alpha spoke to himself in a grumpy, sarcastic tone as he stared at the two of you.

"It's too early for your attitude, Satoru." Suguru quietly laughed as he looked at his friend.

"You can deal with my attitude given what I had to deal with last night." He huffed as his lips curled into a slight pout.

"You didn't-"

"Oh, I did." He confirmed. "Oooohhh, please knot me, Sugu. Oh so big and strong!" He mocked your voice in a high pitched tone.

"Oh god, please stop." You whine as you covered your ears. A nervous laugh involuntarily bubbled up from your throat.

"Mmm, fuck. Gonna knot this tight cun-"

"That's enough, Satoru." Suguru playfully warned as he shook his head with a calm smile. It didn't bother him one bit that he heard the two of you last night because he knew that Satoru was going to hear you two again tonight as well.

Read the rest of my monstertober here !

[chatonarya]

I think there's really not enough content depicting Karlan Trio as three weirdos who vibe with each other's weirdness. Especially and including Enciodes.

Beneath his perfect social facade, Enciodes is extra and kinda strange. He thinks it's funny to dress up as a pirate on his off-time to go to the beach. He regularly gambled his allowance away as a kid. He got sold to kidnappers as a child by Gnosis and ends the day promising Gnosis a future. He comments on the taste of the food he's being fed while he's captive and says he felt safer tied up when Gnosis cuts him free. He thought it would be a swell idea to empty his bank account to save Degenbrecher while barely knowing anything about her personality. He decided to try to make a Viscount owe him a favor by trying to position himself as a savior and cat's paw while also being "that guy's son from that backwater country." He decides to just enlist with RI as an operator like "Hiii, did you miss me? <3"

He tends to do non-business-related things in an over-the-top way, because he's apparently Just Like That.

Then we have Gnosis and Degenbrecher. Canonically, they're both outcasts from their respective homes even if for different reasons. They're both people who have internalized the pain of being ostracized and made it into strength, refusing to allow public opinion to affect them. This is common ground for them and I believe it forms part of their friendship and why they always have each other's backs even if they mess with each other. But on a personal basis...

Yep, they're kinda weird too. There's the fact that homeless orphan Degenbrecher says Gnosis has "lousy taste" when it comes to food. What does that even mean? Is he an omnivore crane who'll eat anything in front of him? Does he like spicy food (fun fact, birds don't have capsaicin receptors)? Does he like the most hardcore weird traditional Kjerag food? Does Enciodes always have to pick the restaurant when it's his turn? How bad must his taste be for Degenbrecher of all people to say it's "lousy"? He has a penchant for blowing things up and setting things and people on fire whenever he can, apparently just because he can because why be subtle when you can be over-the-top? He's a consummate actor yet can't be bothered with pleasantries. He has an intimate knowledge of etiquette yet chooses to be rude. He's a scientist and engineer yet forges weapons because it's the family tradition.

Degenbrecher? Almost goes without saying. She likes to fight avalanches because survival is fun. Enciodes got her to come along to Kjerag partly by telling her she might be able to 1v1 God and she says so to God's face. She's the strongest person in the country but knows animal midwifery and does farmwork. She's an honorary member of the Kjerag fishing association. She has a great time roleplaying a witch because acting as the final boss means everyone will come at her and spends a long time trying to figure out how she can fit the hat on her head because she's that into it. She grins like a maniac when she gets the chance to destroy the trap house walls; she probably gets a kick out of wanton destruction just as much as Gnosis does. She goes on a Looney Tunes Chase after Trilby Asher with a single-minded intensity without a second thought. She has a cell phone but almost never uses it because she hates being contacted.

I would just love to see more content that shows them just being a bunch of total freaks with each other while vibing harmoniously all the while. Let me see Degenbrecher helping Gnosis blast new mineshafts because explosions and debris are fun. Let me see Degenbrecher throwing the boys over her shoulders like potato sacks to escape some building that's on fire because Enciodes was a cat who knocked something over for the fun of it. Let me see them trading parts of their meals. Let me see them going on vacation together and accidentally causing a minor incident just by being themselves.

Let me see them just doing stupid fun stuff together like the besties that they are.

[edgeray]

oh yes i meant when the reader is pregnant if u can, not in a nsfw way im sorry i made it unclear😭

Dragon Hunter Mother Part 4

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N -Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  It is once again dragon time, guys. I've written three dragon-related things straight 😩. The part you guys have been waiting for. Actual romance, hell yeah. Extra fluff for that one annoying moot (you know who you are 😡). It’s a bit short compared to the other parts for this series, but probably because there's no new lore dump. Guys, I’ve thought so far into this au, please feel free to ask questions about this AU outside of requests. I am dying to talk about random bits of lore I made up (such as Arle's backstory that I won't be able to write). Also this isn't the end. Because there is going to be a Part 5. What the fuck, guys /j.  Hi anons!! Yes, you can be 🦊 anon and 👅anon. I'm sorry for how late this was first anon, I know I kept you for a while 😭. Also I'm sorrry for not being able to fulfil parts of your request because a) jealous arle wouldn't make sense given the worldbuilding, and b) i don't write nsfw of any kind. Sorry. I'm not going to include how exactly you're pregnant because it makes me uncomfortable writing it, so I'll just leave it up to your interpretation.  Please don't let these discourage you from requesting from me :). I always try my best to satisfy every request as long as it's reasonable and within my rules.  Content warnings / info - no warnings :), 1.8k words

Recovering from the infected wound didn't take long–in fact, it only took a week to be fully healthy, and the wound was healing nicely. Arlecchino was able to take care of everything while you were bedridden. You were surprised by how diligent and aware she seemed to be of taking care of you, especially as a dragon, but you didn't question it. She has had several decades of experience before you, you wouldn't be surprised if she picked up on a few things about humans. 

It's been about four months since the dragon hunters incident, and you have yet had another situation like that. Venturing into the town you had previously been going to was no longer safe, and so you began frequenting another bordering village. It was a bit further away, but because it turned out to be a port town, it ended up providing you with a lot more food and resources you previously couldn't access; including: fresh fish, more meat and produce, and more clothes and fabric. 

The trio have grown big enough to which you ride on top of one of them with no difficulty. They not only increased in size, but also their affection for you, crawling into your lap or climbing your back, or simply pouncing on any limb and holding onto you tightly. The same could be said for you, you no longer saw them as children, but your children. Arlecchino tells you that they refer to you as ‘Mother’ often.

Speaking of Arlecchino, she is no longer the standoffish dragon she was before the dragon hunters incident. On certain days, she can be just as clingy, if not more, than the children, although she would vehemently deny it with a scoff if you are to ever bring it up. Over time, she was less dragon, and more human to you, and with that, your attraction towards her continued to blossom. Your current relationship status with her is still strange, neither of you had ever labeled it on human standards, nor have the two of you ever ‘courted’ one another–in human or in draconic methods. Still, neither the two of you could miss the glances or the way you hold each other. 

Lately, the past few weeks, she has been acting strange. She's been exiting the cave more often alone, leaving you with her children to tend to, not that you mind. She returns hours later, usually with some type of wild animal she caught for you: deer, the occasional bear or moose, sometimes even pigs. You often stand at the entrance of the cave, dumbfounded as she drags the dead creature by her teeth in her dragon form, while the hatchlings salivate. If it's not wild animals, it's usually an arrangement of different colored stones she found along the shores or in the river. You appreciate them, but you're no less puzzled by the intention with each gift. 

You tried to wrack your brain of why she would be behaving like this, but you can’t come up with anything. It also seemed like with every gift you received, she became more and more… saddened? You weren't entirely sure for the reason, but you don't want to offend her by questioning her more. As the weeks pass by, and she disappears more and more, it seems like Arlecchino is… moping. 

You have asked the children multiple times, but all they do is give you a pointed look before jerking their head towards their Father and letting out a rumble. When you approach Arlecchino, asking what was troubling her, all she does is shake her head, her subtle pout ever so slightly intensifying. Finally, having enough of Arlecchino staring blankly at her hands for hours straight, you finally come up to her, taking her clawed hands in yours and gaze into her eyes. 

“Arlecchino. Tell me what's wrong,” you demand gently but firmly, kissing her knuckles.

The dragon stays silent, turning away from you, making your eye twitch. 

“Please…” You plead. 

Arlecchino seems hesitant to answer, opening her mouth before closing it several times. She contemplates something deeply, then lets out a steady exhale. 

“I've been… making courting attempts towards you,” she quietly admits, her cheeks flushing the slightest amount. “But… it seems like you're unreceptive to it because you're human.” 

Courting attempts? As if she was trying to establish a romantic relationship with you? No, it’s not courting as in ‘human courting.’ If it has to do with dragons, then perhaps it means–

“You… you want me as your mate?” You whisper out loud, your face undeniably warm at the realization, and your lips quirk up to the faintest smile. 

The dragon nods timidly, so unbefitting for a strong beast like herself. She peers at you intently, searching and analyzing every twitch of your face to come up with her own answer. You let out a huff, raising your arms to cup the sides of her face in your palms. The cold texture of her skin will never be an unwelcome sensation. 

“You could have told me instead of pouting like one of our children,” you chuckle, stepping closer to lean your forehead against her chest, feeling her thumping heart through it. 

“I didn't know if you wanted to be since… you never responded to my attempts. I know that it's silly seeing that you're human, but I felt more and more discouraged…” Her voice is low and vulnerable, and it makes you want to do nothing more but hold her in your arms forever.  

“You really still have so many things to learn about humans,” you giggle, pressing your lips against her nose. Fingers card through Arlecchino's silky locks, and you hum contently.

 “What do you mean?” 

You grin knowingly. “We like more direct expressions of our desires.” 

You stand on your tiptoes before leaning in, warm lips gracing cold ones as you pull her towards you. Your arms lock around her neck, keeping the two of you against each other. Quickly, Arlecchino responds, pressing her mouth against yours fervently while her fangs prick your bottom lip. You groan into the kiss, and squeak when her hands slide down to your behind, lifting you up from your feet and wrapping your legs around her waist. 

The two of you pull away, and there's almost a feral look in her eyes. 

“There's somewhere I have to take you to,” she growls in your ear, and you can't deny that it makes your stomach coil, your loins burning.  

“Okay…” You murmur, holding onto her tightly. She carries you with ease, walking out of the cave and following along the edge of the mountain's base. It takes only about ten minutes until you spot a small opening, another cavern. Arlecchino takes you inside, and your eyes widen at the sight.

It's a nest, a careful structure supported by stones as the foundation with the sides from branches and sliced tree trunks, before the top is covered in an assortment of blankets and pillows. However, it's smaller and cozier than the nest at home–as if it's made for humans. You carefully step into it, sitting down and finding it pleasantly comfortable. 

“Arlecchino…” you gasp out with whispered awe. 

“Yes…?” 

“Where did you get the money for this?” You question, holding a heap of the numerous silk blankets in your arms, giving her a pointed look knowing damn well it wasn't your money. 

The dragon brings a claw to her face and scratches nervously. “I had Lyney search the bodies of the dragon hunters for anything of value. They had quite a hefty sum,” Arlecchino confesses. 

You sigh in relief, glad that no weaver or innocent person was harmed in getting this. “It's lovely. Is this what you've been leaving the cave for for so long?” 

Arlecchino nods, her voice bashful. “It's… it's a mating nest, so that if it were to happen the children would not be there. I wanted to ask you here…” 

The dragon walks inside the nest, before kneeling down before you, her clawed hands gingerly finding yours and holding them in her large palms. “Would you like to be my mate?” 

“I thought my answer was obvious. Of course,” you answer, smiling. “But isn't mating season in another two months?” 

She nods in response. “I wanted to prepare as early as possible. I wanted everything to be perfect.” ‘For you,’ she leaves out, but you know it's what she implies.

“It is perfect. Thank you… though I feel bad,” you murmur, your own face flustered by your embarrassment. “It took me this long to realize. I guess… I should make it up to you by courting you back, right?” 

Arlecchino flushes, her face visibly reddening. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you've courted me with how dragons usually do it. I will do the same, but with humans. Does that sound alright?” You offer, giving her the largest grin. 

Arlecchino's face softens, leaning down and pressing her forehead against you. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds alright,” she murmurs against your lips. 

—

Three months have passed by since then. 

Safe to say, you’re pregnant. 

Arlecchino’s attentiveness towards you had always been impressive, but it borders on extreme with how much she pampers you. Before the mating season, you've taught her all you can about human civilization and socialization so that in the instance you won't be able to travel to town yourself, she can instead. While you always have saved up a lot of money from your time as a dragon hunter, she likes to spend it on you unreservedly. 

It would be endearing if it weren't the excessive amount of blankets in the nest, as if you weren't warm enough. Not to mention the amount of books she's gotten you. Since she doesn't exactly know how to navigate a bookstore, or how to differentiate between different genres of books, she’s gotten you dictionaries, children's book, erotica even. She was blissfully unaware why you read a page for a few seconds, shut the book immediately, took a deep breath before reopening the book, only to reshut it as well, repeating the same process. You didn't want her to get any… ideas. 

Currently, Arlecchino was in her dragon form, nestled around you   protectively from any gusts of wind that may pass through the cave entrance, her tail thumping against the floor softly. Her head rests besides you, her throat rumbling gratifyingly as you run your hand over her snout. 

The trio are currently fighting over some of the beef jerky you mistakenly bought for them, unaware of the chaos it would ensue in the cave. They seem to forget that you can return to the town to buy them more… Ah well, hatchlings will be hatchlings. 

You wonder how much more lively the cave will be with another one. 

[kyri45]

The Forgotten Island, AKA The Kingdom of Stars

A ISAT and Sky:Cotl Mix list of headcanons for a possible sequel of the main game.

MAP HERE!

Basic Information and Assumptions from the game:

From what we know, The Country is a rocky, forest, and mountain-filled island, close enough to be seen from Bambouche. Because of the cold climate, I’ll assume that it's located more northern than anything else in the ISAT world. Let’s also assume that it’s a highly humid country (it’s an island, so). Therefore, for a society built principally on the study of stars, I will further assume that the mountains there are high enough to well surpass the level of the clouds.

Another post also pointed out how the Country closest reference would be Iceland, which I couldn’t agree more ( even though I don’t think it would be THAT cold, I think the cold is more from the altitude than the position on the globe itself)

My personal take:

If even children are aware from a very young age of the physics and rules of the cosmos, then it’s safe to assume that these things not only are being taught in schools but are also present in their everyday lives in their homes. Just like the Change god is present in the form of statues and figurines around every house of Dormont, we could imagine that every house of The Country could have had its own observatory floor.

For an entire town, or city, or even country, to be able to see the stars perfectly at night, they would need to have their buildings more elevated than wide, so that the upper floors aren’t so affected by street lights pollutions or other form of illuminations for the roads.

As for the materials, we can drop down to at least:

Wood, from probably evergreen trees such as birch or even pine and spruce?

Basalt, from the (most likely) volcanic beach. It has also wonderful heat-keeping properties so It wouldn’t be strange to assume they use it in their buildings as well. The dark color also reflects less light during the night and would increase the star's visibility.

Other grey stones or concrete, from which they build at least the base of their tower-based architecture to be able to sustain multiple floors.

While an island such as The Country should technically be poor in metal, the presence of volcanic terrain and geysers should, on the positive side, mean that there is the presence of gold! So yes, shiny gold decorations for observatories or other star-related rooms are realistically allowed :)

I will take as a reference from the world of Sky 3 main realms for this AU:

Isle of Dawn: can be used as a reference for the surroundings part of the kingdom, using the same rocky and sandy morphology. Sky also has many boats scattered around the kingdoms, and since the Country mostly based its economy on trade and fishing was its main source of protein, I’ll take those as a reference as well.

Valley of Triumph: for its peaks, mountains, and climate. Also maybe for their transportation methods and house architecture from the Village of Dreams

Vault of Knowledge: the Vault itself is just one big building that could be well used as a like the main capitol center building for archive, research, and study of Wish Craft and stars. The architecture itself can also be used as an inspiration for other buildings such as libraries and schools.

I'll be updating this thread with possible more personal designs and sketch about the architecture!

Let me know if you finds errors in what I wrote or personal suggestions!

[devildom-moss]

This is sort of a joke so only do this if you want to but: brothers with an mc who eats moss like kris from deltarune. It's..... weirdly attractive? There's a sheep joke to be made here

Sometimes we need a silly little joke, and that's okay. I hope you like it anon. Is the moss thing related to this blog name or is it just random? Also, I don't know who that is - and I had to look up what deltarune is. Maybe it's an age thing or maybe it's just one of those topics I know nothing about. Either way~

Also, I'll be honest, I set up an excel sheet with all of my requests organized by post type before I did this request. Now I feel more organized. Yay.

The demon brothers react to MC eating moss

(SFW) (silliness)

Word Count: +1,600

Lucifer

No. No. No. No. “Spit that out right now, MC.”

They’re going to give this poor single parent of 6 an aneurysm. Moss could be dangerous for MC. Where did they even get that? Did they at least wash it before shoveling it into their mouth?

What is he going to tell Diavolo if moss gets them sick? “Yeah, sorry about needing you to call a human doctor for MC. I looked away from them for one minute, and they started eating moss.” He has a responsibility to keep MC safe.  

Lucifer is the type to order MC to get a psych eval when he sees them eating moss. He knows it’s weird and potentially dangerous. This kind of unusual behavior should be closely monitored by a professional.

He’ll nearly lose his mind believing that MC had definitely lost theirs.

“What in the Devildom has gotten into you? Have you utterly lost it? MC, I can’t handle these kids on my own anymore. I need you to be sane and relatively normal, please.”

Please don’t do this to him. Lucifer needs stability in his life, and eating moss is not the picture of stability.

He will make MC’s potential problem about him for a bit in true bad single parent fashion.

Mammon

“The hell ya doin’?!”

Mammon will not hesitate to point out how weird he thinks they are. He doesn’t want to hurt MC’s feelings, but he can’t stop himself from giving them a look of confusion and light disgust.

“That can’t possibly taste good, can it? Ya can’t just go ‘round eatin’ any plant ya see.”

Once the initial surprise works through him, he’s just worried about MC eating something weird. What would he do if they got sick? What would he tell Lucifer? He’s their guardian, and he takes that role more seriously than he likes to let on.

Mammon’s the most likely to try to physically remove the moss from MC’s mouth (but Lucifer is a close second). It could be dangerous. He’ll confiscate MC’s moss if they have any left and keep a close eye on them.

His search history from that day will be telling. “is moss dangerous for humans” “is moss dangerous for humans to eat” “types of moss that are safe for humans to eat” “how to tell if my human is sick” “human ate something bad what happens” “why did my human eat moss” “is my human mentally ill” “Devildom human doctors near me” “human-friendly moss” “good dates for humans” “how to charm weird humans” “how to romance weird humans no magic” (He got distracted.)

Leviathan

Levi finds it funny (and he probably actually knows which character you’re referencing, anon). It’s weird, sure, but he figures whatever MC is doing, it’s pretty harmless.

He wonders if that applies to algae. It might make cleaning out his fish tanks a bit easier if MC can and wants to eat it. The thought pops into his head, but Levi decides against it.

It’s strangely comforting that MC has something weird and arguably off-putting about them. Usually, he’s the weird, gross one. (This is where creepy Levi kicks in and he wants to know more about MC’s weird habits. Maybe if it turns out that they’re super weird, he can keep them all to himself. However, Levi lets his creepy thoughts go as quickly as they came.) Levi unlocked new information. Friend points +50. MC’s charm points +30.

“If I kiss you right now, that’s close enough to touching grass, right?” That’s a thing he’s supposed to do, isn’t he? Shit. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it’s too late.

Levi’s one of the brothers who will just let MC be and do their thing. He might double check and make sure MC isn’t going to get sick, but after that, he’ll leave them be. It’s not really his business. If it makes MC happy, he won’t judge.

Satan

Oddly supportive boyfriend.

The man’s a little feral and weird. I think he would find it kind of precious and adorable; it’s kind of like how cats like to eat grass.

He’d spend a while figuring out which mosses are safe to consume, asking MC if they have any preferences for which moss types they enjoy. Do they prefer certain textures and mouth feels? Are certain colors preferable? Which moss tastes the best?

Then, he would set up a moss terrarium for MC filled with their favorite mosses. Satan may ask them to help him build it as a cute little craft date. This way, MC will have a way to safely snack on moss whenever they wish. A terrarium has the added benefit of MC being able to control where the moss comes from so that they can avoid any harmful bacteria, viruses, pesticides, etc.

Of course, Satan understands that eating moss is unusual, and he may question what it is that compels MC to eat moss, but he doesn’t see the need to stop it.

He may taste the moss himself (in the same way that someone with a pet may be tempted to try pet food). It would, in all likelihood, disappoint him, but MC’s enjoyment is all that matters.

Satan has a real “MC can have a bit of moss – as a treat” kind of mindset. He’ll probably try to see if he can hand-feed MC like they’re a stray cat. He’s weird, too, but we love him.

Asmodeus

“Honey, no. This isn’t how we transition into our feral era.”

Asmo thinks it’s kind of gross, but he asks if maybe eating moss is good for the skin or something (because he can’t think of any other reason MC would even consider eating moss).

When they tell him that’s not why, he gives them a troubled stare with his arms crossed over his stomach. “Uhm, hun. Why are you eating it then?”

Even if MC tells him that it tastes good, there’s no way he’s trying it unless it has incredible health and beauty effects. He can’t stomach the thought of it.

After the disgust washes over him, the concern floods his system instead. He asks if MC is sure that they can and should be eating moss. Regardless of what MC tells him, Asmo will go to Satan or Lucifer (probably both) to make sure that MC isn’t putting themselves in any danger. He couldn’t handle it if MC got sick. All that stress would destroy his skin (and break his heart beyond repair).

Once he ensures MC’s health, he tries to just let MC do their thing. “Just please don’t eat that stuff around me, ‘kay? And if you eat it, please brush your teeth before you kiss me.”

Beelzebub

“Aw, MC, are you hungry? I’m sure we have something more delicious than moss in the fridge. I was just on my way to get a snack. I’ll pick one up for you too, okay?”

He’s probably eaten some moss in his time. He’s no stranger to eating weird things, so his reaction is the least judgmental.

Sometimes moss looks delicious, right? It just makes sense to him that they would want to try eating it.

Beel will definitely ask them to spare some of their moss so he can try it, too. If the moss tastes relatively bad, he might be weary of their tastes in the future, but as long as eating it won’t hurt them, Beel doesn’t care.

Beel is probably the only one who would try to suggest tastier methods of eating the moss. “What about putting it on top of ice cream? Or maybe in a cheeseburger. Mmm. . . cheeseburger. A moss salad might be more appetizing, too. I could blend it into a smoothie or some soup for you. How does that sound?”

It makes him feel a bit comforted that they both have eating habits that others think are weird – like it brings them closer and is a special connection only they can share.

Belphegor

He’s seen Beel bite into a pillar at the castle when he’s hungry. He’s not too troubled by a bit of moss-eating.

Belphie trusts MC not to be stupid enough to ingest moss that would be toxic to them, and not worrying saves him a bit of energy and time. Additionally, I think Belphie would be relatively knowledgeable about plants, so he would probably be able to tell if what MC is eating is likely to kill them.

For the most part, he just doesn’t care. MC could even kiss him with fresh moss breath, and he won’t give a shit. It’s probably better than morning or fish breath, and he’s still getting a kiss, so he doesn’t see a reason to complain.

He won’t be ultra supportive like Satan, but he will be a bit more enthusiastic about it than others – mostly because it gives him an idea for a prank. He could make soup with moss in it, have MC bring a bowl to Lucifer, and eat one themselves so he isn’t suspicious. Then Lucifer would end up eating moss soup. He could probably do that with multiple types of food, too.

One (stupid) point of contention will be that Belphie thinks moss is better as a pillow than as a snack, but he acknowledges that’s a ridiculous difference of opinion. However, that could be a nice date idea: find a mossy forest where he can take a nap while MC gets to snack on moss.

He will probably get scolded by Lucifer and Mammon for enabling MC’s behavior (and not at all because he goes on weird moss dates with MC).

[beneathsilverstars]

very possible youve done this before but…. can u come up with some hcs about how the party connects with nille? in a post canon hypothetical

(youve probably talked a lot about nille before but just!! general ideas. maybe silly ideas. anything u wanna share you havent talked about before. etc :])

Ok this is all minor spoilers for my currently unposted Nille fanfic and major spoilers for my currently unwritten post-canon fanfic but I don't care if you don't, let's go.

People usually write Nille as quite overprotective of Bonnie, and I do too, but I also write her as unsure that she's good enough to protect them! So her big reaction to meeting the party is "I failed to keep Bonnie safe, of course I failed, I was always doomed to fail. And these people succeeded!! Who am I next to the Saviors of Vaugarde??"

So she kinda feels like shit, personally. And she has no idea how to act around the party, because there's the way she acts around strangers, and there's the way she acts around people she trusts, and it is understandably bizarre for those circles to overlap. Since she can't be suspicious or friendly, and she's feeling somewhat useless, I think her instinct is to kinda just... fade back..? Which is upsetting to her in itself, which feeds back into the problems. But! Everyone is very determined to connect with her, and "we love the same kid" is a great way to bond, and Nille still has her usual Bambouche support system to help her sort out her feelings, and the party have been working on their communication skills. So they figure it out!

Her exact first impression of Siffrin probably depends a lot on how he's coping at that point post-canon, which isn't something I've decided yet... But it's some sort of strange mix of "I owe you my life" and "Wowww do you need my therapist's number" and "#Relatable /neg /pos". Siffrin meanwhile is anxious as fuck because he's not just meeting the most important person in Bonnie's life, she also has the power to break apart the family he nearly destroyed the world to keep together! So it's a little awkwardly intense on both sides.

Then once they get to know each other better, there's some emotional difficulty in how similar they are; it's hard not to compare what's worse, remembering shitty parents or not remembering any family, being alone or having to take care of a young child. So there's some pity and guilty jealousy on both sides. But also commiseration and understanding! But also they're liable to trigger each other's issues occasionally, what with Siffrin still having a rather poor handle on their own emotions and Nille disrupting the party dynamics. But they don't really hold it against each other; it would be hypocritical, and none of that matters compared to the fact that they've both nearly died for Bonnie. They like to go fishing together, sometimes Nille helps explain things that Siffrin only knows through muscle memory. And Nille does end up passing on some therapy tips!

Nille is a little star-struck by Mirabelle, who is the Chosen Savior of Vaugarde and only a couple years older than her and so heroic and nice and well-adjusted! Mirabelle is on a similar but less extreme wavelength, excited to meet Bonnie's sister who she's heard so intriguingly little about, but who must be so brave and cool! Once they get to know each other more it's kind of a confidence boost for Nille to realize that even Mirabelle has anxiety and imposter syndrome and is just some girl who found herself in the position to do something and she did her best to do it. And Mirabelle thinks Nille is just as cool as she imagined!

They end up taking some small classes together for fun at various Houses while they travel. When Mirabelle figures out that Nille isn't very good at reading, she reads books to her sometimes, and recommends her books that aren't too hard but also aren't too kiddie. One more for the girl's night book club! They have some good convos too about the balance of protecting and caring for a child vs giving them space to grow confident and independent, since Mira's parents were quite stifling; it's easier to find the acceptable middle range when you know what both failure modes look like, instead of just the one horrible extreme.

Isabeau is very friendly, and used to working with strangers and projecting an aura of safety, so he's got the chillest dynamic with Nille to start. He's the one who notices that her easy acceptance of the group was a little too easy and actually has some difficult feelings behind it. And he's been working on being braver, so he consults with his friends and then talks to Nille about it! I think it's a scary conversation but helpful in the long run, it's the start of establishing actual personal trust rather than just assumptions and idealization.

Since that precedent has been set, Isabeau becomes Nille's first choice if she needs to bring something up to the group. Doesn't hurt that he reminds her of one of the first people she met in Bambouche, too! On Isabeau's side, he likes having the opportunity to get to know someone new while he's figuring out his new self. And he's so delighted when she joins the war on puns as a whole new front: dad jokes. She wasn't even particularly into them before, she just wanted to shake up the battlefield. Nille and Isabeau also spar sometimes, because she hates how poorly she did at defending Bonnie, and Isabeau has the most formal/practical training in self-defense to pass on. (And he's the most willing to do physically-demanding activities for fun after already walking all day.)

Nille finds Odile intimidating. She's not sweet like Mira, or exuberant like Isa, or, uh, whatever the fuck Siffrin has going on. She's a full generation older than Nille and hard to read! Scary! But Bonnie adores her, and she's been making an effort to be more reassuring to Siffrin lately which shows, and Isabeau starts being more teasing-rude to Odile (the way she is to him) to prove that he can annoy her without repercussion which is really funny. So it doesn't take all too long for Nille to come down from high alert for the most part! And Odile respects Nille hardcore for raising Bonnie and takes her very seriously, which she appreciates.

Odile takes point on tutoring Bonnie, because she has some formal teaching experience and they're most likely to sit and listen for her anyway, but the others will give lessons on this or that. But Odile soon realizes from the way Nille hovers but doesn't help that she is actually further behind in schooling than Bonnie, and makes it her mission to rectify that. It's kinda rocky at first because Nille is both self-conscious of and resigned to her lack of education, but once she starts getting into it she really gets into it! This brings Odile and Nille a lot closer and Nille ends up admiring her a lot, especially as she catches hints of wild Odile lore.

Loop really likes getting to know Nille, since she never knew pre-loops Siffrin but she's still connected to their family. Not a stranger, not a copy, best of both worlds! Nille also appreciates having another person there who feels out of place in the party dynamics. She thinks Loop is funny, but also worrying, but they have enough people worried about them that she decides to goof off with them and enable them instead. Like yes it's probably bad for their mental health to make this kind of joke but it's worse to have everyone constantly analyzing their jokes' healthiness, yknow? Ironically, this (along with her newcomer status) means that Loop takes her worry more seriously and is more likely to listen to her than anyone else (except maybe Siffrin but only maybe).

Sometimes Loop gets a little too frantically irrational and it freaks Nille out because it reminds her of her and her mom's manic episodes. But she can disengage and tag someone else in, and see from afar that it all turns out okay! Loop gets some therapy tips from her too, but not necessarily the same ones as Siffrin. And they give her super shitty advice in return, in that way where it makes you realize how shitty it is and commit yourself to doing the opposite. They like to do silly things together that Nille never got the chance to do as a child and Loop doesn't remember doing, like rolling around in mud puddles and staying up all night just to watch the sunrise. Nille doesn't feel as self-conscious about acting juvenile because Loop is like a billion years old, but she also doesn't have to be in charge the way she is when playing with Bonnie! And Loop gets to make brand new memories with someone who has no old ones to compare them to!

Bonnie is super happy to see Nille for like, a day, and then they get really mad at her more often than not for like a week (because now that they're home with her it's safe to be distraught and uncooperative), and then they settle back into a more consistent dynamic. But it takes a while longer for them to be able to comfortably get any farther away from each other than maybe a room over; Bonnie confidently heads off and then suddenly comes running back, and Nille is so brave about separating and bravely panics the entire time. Oh well! The first time around it only took her a couple years to get to be okay with Bonnie being away from her, she'll figure it out again eventually!

There's no rush.

[entishramblings]

Fuck the Forbidden Pt. 2

[Boromir/F!MermaidReader]

PART 1 | PART 3 — coming soon

Fuck the Forbidden: FTF LINK MASTERLIST

A.N: my apologies for taking so much time to update: graduate school is a tornado, plus getting sick and the craziness of holidays season didn’t help. Anyways, thank you for your patience and your continuous support! I literally read all your comment in order to inspire me to write again!

Request: none

Pairing: Boromir X Fem!MermaidReader

Summary: The Reader is a Mermaid and witnessed a shipwreck. She becomes interested in human life—particularly one human: Boromir.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the mermaids of middle earth is not canon. also I tried my best with arda water/river geography plz don’t come at me—it’s not one of my finer subjects :/

Word Count: 5.7k — listen, yes, I STILL have a problem

Warnings: depression, drowning, ptsd, alcoholism, angst, comfort, fluff, stalking (idk how to make that last one sound less creepy. you’re just gonna have to read it).

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

The following day, (Y/N) waited in the depths of the Anduin River by the entrance of the Minas Tirith castle. Sure enough, the captain, decorated in silver, came out upon his steed. Though he did not have the cheer he normally held—despite his recent struggles—he seemed….different. (Y/N) had hoped that he didn't remember what he saw under the lake. Maybe he figured he was too drunk and his mind was playing tricks on him? Maybe he would forget it all together? However, that fearful look in his eyes when he glanced at the river told her otherwise. It appeared Faramir failed to convince his brother that the mer-folk were just a myth.

Boromir deviated from his routine as well. He did not go to the market for the breakfast that he seemed to love. No, no. Instead he went out towards the edge of the city–towards the docks. And (Y/N) went with him. He passed his horse off to another and walked upon the wood, passing ship and boat, until he came upon a small fishing vessel. (Y/N) swam around it and took to the surface upon its side, far enough to not be spotted, but close enough to see and hear.

“Iwar,” Boromir called out. “You there?”

“Oi!” the old man replied, emerging from the sails. “What can I do for yer?”

“You have a moment?”

“For ye? Of course I do, lad. What is this about?” Iwar stated, squinting in the sun.

Boromir huffed, and pulled something from his pocket. He lightly tossed it to the older fellow. “What do you make of this?”

Iwar frowned, holding the whale up before his face by the string Boromir had used to make it into a necklace. “Where’d ye get it?”

“In a pond. One that connects to the Anduin River.”

Iwar sent him a strange look. “Do ye know what this is made out of?”

Boromir shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s bone, Boromir,” he replied tentatively.

At this, the captain’s lips parted. “Bone?”

Iwar tossed the whale carving back to him. “Aye, couldn't tell ye what it came from. Whittled too much away for that. Ye said yer got it from a pond?”

He nodded, swallowing dryly.

“Could’ve washed up from the currents.” Iwar stated, nonchalantly, returning to the tasks of his sail. “Some trinket someone lost to the sea.”

Boromir dipped his head, his anxiety present as he fiddled with the whale.

Iwar glanced at him. “Something else, boy?”

Boromir inhaled slowly. “Iwar, do you–do you really believe those tales of the sea-folk?”

The old man sent a weary look at the captain as he tied off one of the ropes upon the fabric. “Aye. Saw one of em’ when I was just a lad. Nearly lost my life.”

Boromir focused his gaze upon Iwar. “I think–I think I saw one last night.”

At this, the older man froze. Slowly, he turned his full attention to the captain, dread slipping from his face.

Still, Boromir continued, trying to justify his sighting. ‘Though, I don't know. I was very drunk. Had a couple ales too many. My mind could’ve—”

“You were out on the sea last night?” Iwar interrupted, confused.

Boromir shook his head.

“The shore then? Never heard of em’ venturing so close.”

Boromir released a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, I was in the pond by the Minas Tirith castle.”

Iwar’s form stiffened as he walked toward the captain. He nodded at the bone carving in Boromir’s hand as he spoke in a tone that held so much anxiety that it radiated through the air around him. “The same pond where ye found that?”

“Yes.”

Iwar’s eyes widened wildly. “I’d tell ye what, lad. Ye have been marked by em.’ And that—” he dipped his head at the whale once more. “—I reckon that's human bone.”

Blood drained from Boromir’s face, replaced with sheer panic. His fingers clumsily grappled with the carving, uncertain of how to handle it. Reluctant to make direct contact, he hesitated before settling on gripping the string, allowing the whale to dangle. Disgust etched across his brow.

“I’d get out while ye can. Stay away from the sea waters, boy.” Iwar warned.

….

That night, Boromir didn't go to the pool of water by the white walls—nor the following night. He, quite frankly, didn't go near the water at all. He stayed far from the beaches and from the Anduin River. He took longer paths to where he needed to go in order to avoid such circumstances that put him near what Iwar had described to live in the sea.

And this—all this broke (Y/N)’s heart. It stirred up a tumult of emotions—sadness, anger, fear, and frustration. Therefore, on the third day, she sought solace in a secluded nook along the Bay of Belfas. Hoisting herself onto a warm rock, she sat, enveloped in her misery. Her once-vivid fantasies of the land-people and Boromir now dissolved into sorrow and regret. What lingered was the haunting image of Boromir's disdainful expression when Iwar speculated that her gift was crafted from human bone. Any mer-folk would be delighted to receive such a heartfelt gesture! But Boromir wasn't of the sea, now was he.

(Y/N) stayed upon the rock for hours, hoping the sun would soak up her melancholy mood. However, that is not what the golden beams absorbed. Her skin dried, her hair lightened and billowed freely, and the scales on her tail lacked the moisture they once held. It was at that moment discomfort struck. Excruciating, searing pain surged through her tail, a relentless agony that prompted a deep cry from her lips. Every nerve seemed to flare with an intense, burning sensation, rendering her nearly paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the pain. She couldn't move, only shake and claw at the rock she perched upon. It felt like hours as she laid there, praying to the gods to make it end. And when it did, she instinctively reached for her scales. However, to her surprise, her hand met no such thing; instead, flesh had replaced the once-familiar tail.

(Y/N) gasped.

Her father had said…

He had tested them all…

None had the gift….

He lied.

Emotions swirled around her naked form as she stared at the strange extension that replaced her glimmering scales—legs. Anger, irritation, sadness, regret, frustration, excitement all ran through her blood.

Slowly, she stood. As she took a wobbly step upon the rock, a loud, breathy giggle escaped her lips.

Was this a dream?

(Y/N) took another uncertain step, and another, and another—until she stumbled, her hand reaching out to break her fall. However, a splash came from that, for her palm struck where water had gathered in a dip upon the rock.

Immediately, she felt it.

Her skin tingled, then burned and stung, stretching and pulling in a painful dance. (Y/N) cried out as the pain intensified. With scales attempting to form on her dry legs, the tugging became excruciating once more—tears streamed from her eyes as she desperately scrambled towards the water.

Her form slipped and rolled, right off the rock and into the ocean.

Immediate relief enveloped her. Scales continued to knit together without a hint of pain. The water soothed her. It coated the soreness into nonexistence.

(Y/N) allowed her form to sink, adjusting.

There she floated, letting her body and mind adjust to what had just happened.

It was then when one of the turmoiling emotions overtook the rest of them. It coursed through her gills and surged through her veins.

How dare he…

With a decisive flick of her tail, she propelled herself toward her father's palace.

The anger granted her remarkable speed, causing other merfolk to whip their heads around in confusion as she barreled past them.

She swam directly to the grand chamber, where she anticipated her father perched upon his throne, and busted the door open with her tail.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” she screamed at him.

Heads turned instantly—her father’s, her sisters’, the guards’.

“HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME, FATHER. HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME I HAD THE GIFT?!”

Her father rose, signaling the guards to leave. They swam away quickly, avoiding the impending wrath of the sea's king and his children.

“You lied straight to my face,” (Y/N) stated.

“(Y/N), what are you talking about?” Anahita interjected, appalled by her sister’s tone.

Mareena added to her statement. “That is no way to speak to our father!”

(Y/N)'s tail flicked with irritation as she focused her gaze on the man before her. “I have the gift to walk among the land-folk.”

Una gasped. Seria’s mouth dropped open. Rana’s eyes widened. Nerida’s brows shot upwards.

Their father swam towards (Y/N). “You went to the land?!” he growled. “It is forbidden.”

“I DID NOT GO ONTO THE LAND!” She snapped back. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “I was letting the sun warm me upon a rock when it happened—the tingling, the splitting, the pain.”

“You went to the surface—”

“How dare you not tell me, Father!”

“I DID NOT TELL YOU BECAUSE OF THIS!” He yelled. “Because I knew the minute you would figure it out, you would want to test out your new form. You would put us all in danger.”

“YOU HAVE PUT ME IN DANGER. YOU HAVE MASKED YOUR PROTECTION IN LIES THAT HAVE ONLY CAUSED ME PAIN. HOW DARE YOU!” (Y/N) retorted.

With that, (Y/N) swam away. She twisted through the reefs and the grass. She slipped through the schools of fish and their bubbles. She slithered through the rocks and caves. She did so until she was back in the Anduin River, where the lively markets and the hustle of people's households awaited. Breaking through the water's surface, she emerged with a cautious awareness, ensuring she remained unseen.

She swam along the edge until she came upon a line of clothing strung between two buildings. On it hung sheets as bright as a lemonpeel angelfish, a skirt holding the vibrance of an orange clownfish, a flowing wrap the hue of a blue tang fish, a pair of trousers the color of a brown leafy sea dragon, a top shaded like that of a pink fairy wrasse, and a flowing dress the cream color of a stingray’s belly.

(Y/N) looked at her surroundings.

The people were on the other side of the clothing line—all mucking about in the market. None even bothered to shed a glance behind the fabric. All were too busy going about their day.

Therefore, with little regard for the forbidden nature of her actions—because, really, fuck the forbidden—(Y/N) decided to defy the rules that had once controlled her life.

Originally, she hadn't intended to act in such defiance, but the anger coursing through her veins urged her forward into impulsive urges.

Hauling her form out of the water, (Y/N) manipulated the water clinging to her, using her fingers in twisting and rippling motions. She gathered the liquid into a cohesive ball and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the sphere dancing through the air before it plopped back into the river.

The tingling sensation began, followed by the excruciating pain, and soon enough, the transformation into legs commenced.

Anxiously, (Y/N) stood. Her shaky legs wobbled as she adjusted to their unfamiliar form. Her trembling fingers swiftly seized the cream colored dress—she didn't want to stand out, she needed to blend in—and she clumsily slipped it on. Her gaze then fixated on a brilliant blue wrap. The color resonated with the deep seas she hailed from, and she couldn't resist. The mermaid grasped the silk and yanked, winding it around her hair in a manner she had observed from land women when peeking from the river. Letting some of her locks cascade out of the twisted band, the blue fabric draped over her shoulders. She smiled.

Her hand instinctively rose to her neck, where her necklace adorned with shells, sea glass, and bones encircled her skin. A frown crossed her face. She couldn't part with it—this cherished gift from her since passed mother. Therefore, she let it remain, finding that it didn't look too out of place.

(Y/N) ventured into the market, nervously navigating the bustling city of Minas Tirith with her new, wobbly legs. The vibrant atmosphere teemed with life and excitement as diverse groups came together to weave the people into the human race. So many men, women, and children—all different sizes, all different shapes, all different skin tones—bustled through the streets.

Young children ran through the tents playing games and tricks on one another. Often enough, a woman was pursuing the chase while yelling for their halt of mischief. Men were not involved in this matter. Instead, they loudly called out the names of what they sold, along with prices, at the busy passerbyers in hopes of getting a customer. Never had (Y/N) seen something so brilliantly enthralling and engaging—not in her time under the sea with the mer-folk.

As she moved through the people, she discreetly snagged what she needed. A pair of sandals disappeared from a rack, and she swiftly turned away before anyone noticed. Vibrantly colored bracelets caught her eye at a vendor's stall, and she couldn't resist snagging a few. Additionally, she plucked food from bins and baskets. She didn't know what it was—but oh how delicious it tasted when it was not dunked in the salt of the sea.

Here, (Y/N) stayed, exploring the thrill of humanity and letting their culture enrapture her senses. So much so, that she failed to notice a soldier adorned in silver until she collided with his metal-plated chest.

Her form tumbled backwards, taking an extra moment to steady.

“Are you alright, miss?” a concerned voice inquired.

(Y/N) slowly raised her head to meet a familiar face: Faramir.

Unable to find her voice, she could only nod in reply. Shyness and anxiety filled her as she backed away from the unexpected encounter.

He acknowledged her reply with a dip of his own head before turning to another soldier a little ways away. He made way towards him and gently touched his arm. “Boromir, we should get going. Father is expecting us.”

(Y/N) went still. Her inquisitive gaze shifted towards him, and indeed, there stood Boromir. His dark, sandy hair brushed upon his forehead, tousled slightly from the refreshing breeze. Vibrant blue eyes held a sternness, concealing the sadness she knew resided in his heart. His pink lips pressed into a firm line, refraining from the warmth of a smile. Boromir was clad in the silver armor and the metal weapons that she had seen him in nearly every day. He looked fit for his position as captain, his authority nearly radiating from him. Now that she was upon the land, he seemed so much bigger—so much stronger. So much more important.

(Y/N)’s cheeks began to heat, prompting her to quickly ducked behind the fabric of a tent. After giving herself a moment, she peaked out.

Though she knew she shouldn't, she found herself following them. At a safe distance, she mimicked every turn, accentuated every step, and utilized every path they took. And when the Steward's sons crossed the threshold of Minas Tirith Castle, so did she.

Instantly, she was met with just as much business as the market. Servants flooded the halls, carrying trays of fruit and platters of meat. Maids held onto neatly folded laundry and finely pressed sheets. Guards bustled about, their steel clanking as they moved through the halls, to get to their next shift, meal, or rest.

(Y/N) was so overwhelmed that she failed to notice a group of soldiers rounding the corner. As they pushed past her, a heavy shoulder slammed into her, the edge of the metal plate catching her forehead. The impact sliced the skin open, causing her to tumble backward against the wall.

Surprising her, she felt a gentle hand upon her arm, holding her steady. A soft voice that she knew all too well, that spoke words all too similar to his brother’s, filled her ears. “Are you alright, miss?”

In a daze, (Y/N) looked up at the dark sandy hair, vibrant blue eyes, and perfect pink lips of Boromir. Too stunned to speak, she merely stared at him, every thought that had occupied her mind vanishing in the moment.

Boromir turned towards the group of soldiers who had caused the commotion and knocked her down. With a tone infused with authority and anger, he snapped at them, “Watch where you are going!”

They turned, initially confused and uncertain of Boromir's reprimand until they spotted the frightened and injured girl beside him.

“What kind of soldiers are you that you let your steel hit a woman!” Boromir added, his irritation even more obvious. “Keep better track of your things—and your forms!”

The soldiers nodded, though their indifference was evident, and they shuffled away without much concern.

Boromir turned back to (Y/N), repeating his prior question, his tone gentle once more. “I apologize for the actions of my men. I will reprimand them later, but right now you are more important, yes? Miss?”

She looked up at him, blinking. He didn’t recognize her, did he?

“You’re bleeding,” he stated softly, his finger pressed gently upon her forehead.

A quiet gasp of pain escaped (Y/N)’s lips and her expressions distorted slightly.

“My apologies. I did not mean to make your pain worse. May I take you to the infirmary? We can get that treated.”

Unsure what to say—and what an infirmary was—she nervously dipped her head.

“Alright,” he began. “Let’s get you moving.”

Gently, he helped her move away from the wall, one arm wrapped around her waist. However, with a couple steps, her vision swirled and she stumbled.

Boromir caught her quickly. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Just a step at a time.” His brows pulled together as he looked down at her. “Are you dizzy? Is the room spinning?”

“I—I,” she stuttered. “Y-yes, uh, sir.”

He released a heated breath from his nose, the anger at the men who had harmed her simmering within him. However, he pushed it away, ensuring his attention remained on her. "How about you sit back down? Lean against the wall to keep you upright, yes?"

(Y/N) nodded, allowing him to help lower her to the stone floor. As the coldness rushed through her bones and the stillness began to steady, she looked up at him. “T-thank you,” she whispered. “Uh, sir.”

The captain smiled softly. “You may call me Boromir.”

She nodded slightly.

Boromir looked up and stopped a passing servant. “Could you please fetch me a medical kit from the infirmary? Just basic supplies.”

The man nodded, accepting the order, and rushed off. Moments later, he returned with various materials in a small box.

Boromir expressed his gratitude as he opened the kit. Without hesitation, he took hold of a soft cloth and gently swiped it upwards, collecting the blood that was now trickling down (Y/N)’s forehead. He then pressed it against the cut that was bleeding rather heavily. "Hold this there," he commanded gently.

The woman reached up to follow his instructions, and Boromir proceeded to lay out an array of little bottles and scraps of cloth. "What is your name?" he inquired as he doused a cloth in the liquids of one of the containers.

Her eyes followed his motions nervously. “(Y/N),” she replied timidly.

The Captain smiled, attempting to provide some comfort. “Are you from around here, (Y/N)?”

She shook her head.

“No? What are you doing in these parts then?” He asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

Boromir frowned, looking up at her from the medical supplies. She appeared more disoriented than he had initially expected. Perhaps the blow to the head was more substantial than he had thought?

“You don’t know?” He questioned, no alarm in his tone. Meanwhile, he began threading a needle, preparing it for the task of stitching her forehead. “Have you come with anyone? A husband? A father?”

She frowned, a blush creeping into her face at the implications of his words. “N-no. Alone.”

Boromir pressed his lips together, a sudden loneliness hitting him—one that he knew all too well—as he placed the threaded needle upon a clean cloth.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

She shook her head.

“Hmm. Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can worry about that.”

Boromir took the cloth from her forehead, his hand brushing upon hers as he did so. He then began bringing a damp cloth towards her face.

Instantly, her eyes went wide and she ducked away from the material. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s just alcohol.” He replied, lowering the cloth.

“N-not water?” She whispered, almost fearful.

He shook his head. “Nay. Water would not clean it properly. This will prevent any infection, though I’m afraid it will sting a bit. Is that alright?”

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded.

Boromir pressed the cloth to the cut and, instantly, she hissed.

“I know, I am sorry,” he murmured.

Gently, he cleaned the wound, being careful to not make any sudden movements that may startle her. When he was certain it was clean, he moved to pick up the needle.

“I will have to stitch it back together so it heals properly.” He looked into her worried gaze and he instantly felt guilt tugging at his heart. It appeared she had never experienced such an injury, or perhaps she had but never received proper treatment for one.

Cautiously, he used his other hand to pick up her own. Her soft palms brushed upon his hardened calloused, gentleness upon her touch. Placing her hand upon his knee, he spoke softly, “If it hurts too much just squeeze really really hard, and I will pause, alright? It is important that you keep your head still, yes?”

She nodded, adjusting her grip upon his knee, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety in her eyes.

Slowly, Boromir began the delicate task of stitching her skin back together. Her grip tightened upon him, only slightly, as she adjusted to the strange sensation of tugging on her skin.

"You are doing beautifully, (Y/N). We are almost done. I promise," the Captain reassured her. As he finished the last stitch and skillfully moved the thread to knot itself, he breathed out, "There we go," placing the needle back upon the cloth. He smiled gently, a reassuring warmth in his eyes, as he carefully cleaned the area around the stitches. "All finished," Boromir stated before leaning back, (Y/N)’s hand slipping from his knee.

“It will be sore for a bit,” he said. “But it should heal in a week. The stitching will fall out on its own, so if it starts to come out, do not worry. Though, I would advise you not to get it wet.”

At that last sentence, (Y/N) smiled softly. She wasn’t planning on getting wet—not anytime soon.

“Can you stand? Has the dizziness subsided?”

The woman nodded and slowly rose to her feet, taking Boromir’s hand when he offered it.

“Let’s find you a place to rest while you heal. And I would like to apologize for my soldiers’ actions once more. You are welcome to stay in Minas Tirith as long as you would like. I will make sure you get everything you need.”

(Y/N) looked up at his kind expression and spoke with that same nervous hesitancy. “Thank you.…Boromir.”

The captain guided her through the castle, arriving at a room. He opened the door and gestured inside with a soft smile. "It is yours to stay in. I will ensure the maids are alerted to provide you with adequate care. If you need anything else, my chambers are just down the hallway to the right, the second door."

She nodded in reply.

He bowed his head. “I will leave you then, miss.”

With that, he was gone.

(Y/N) moved to the center of the room and slowly spun around taking it all in. It was massive and airy. The windows were wind open, the sea breeze rushing in and caring hints of the city. The white curtains blew with that gentle wind, dancing in its whispers. The walls of the chamber were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting only what she could assume to be the legendary tales of the city. They were woven with beautiful silver and turquoise thread, catching the light so delicately. A bed sat in the middle of the room, soft white blankets and comforters piled on it. (Y/N) walked towards it and gently sat upon the fabric. It was….strange. Very different from the large shells she was used to curling up in.

Feeling a sudden tiredness take over her form, she laid down with ease. Resting her head upon the pillow, she allowed sleep to consume her.

…….

When she finally woke, the sun had set, and the stars took their place among the blanket of the sky. Cautiously, she pulled her legs from the cage of blankets and let them dangle off the side of the bed. They looked so….strange upon her form. She was used to her glimmering tail that collected light to share among the waters. Not—not this. She lowered her feet upon the stone floor, almost startled by the coldness that greeted them.

Hunger settled into her stomach as she moved towards the door. However, she found herself at a loss, unsure where to find a meal at this time. The markets were long since closed and she knew not where the kitchen in the Minas Tirith castle was. Of course, she could wander down to the tavern that Boromir frequented regularly—she knew the way well enough, but she didn't have any means to pay.

(Y/N) shifted on her feet. Boromir did say she could come to him if she needed anything….

Almost as if it were an excuse to see him again, she slipped through the door and began following his directions to his chambers. With every step, her heart pounded harder. She would get to see him again—and it wouldn't be through layers of water.

Upon arrival, the door stood ajar, allowing a whisper of cold air to drift from his open windows. Cautiously, she peered into the room. It was shrouded in darkness, with only the soft glow of the moon reflecting upon the vast room—oh, and what a beautiful room it was. The room eluded a captivating chaos, in the most exciting way. Tablets and shelves were filled with various items—maps, books, stones, germs, inventions, and trinkets. The room held a multitude of objects, each beckoning to be looked at, studied, and pondered—igniting a sense of wonder and an urge to guess the intention. Oh, it was a captivating sight.

“Boromir?” she called out.

Silence.

Slowly, (Y/N) stepped in. She let her feet carry her throughout the room, her hand brushing upon every object that her eyes could consume. She picked things up, examined them, then put them down for another. She did so continuously, urgently, the thirst for knowledge of the humans’ customs eager in her blood. She did so, until she came across something familiar—something she was surprised to see.

(Y/N) picked up the bone carved whale from the shelf that it rested on.

He had kept it.

A little grin formed on her face, for after his conversation with Iwar she didn’t think he would.

“Does that one interest you?” A soft tone asked.

(Y/N) jumped, startled.

Boromir chuckled lightly, stepping into the room. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

She glanced down at the whale carving before looking back to him.

“I am not quite sure how that one came into my possession,” he continued as he moved to stand beside her.

She frowned, looking up. Her eyes were now direct at him, focused and stern—for the first time since he had met her. He would be lying if he said it didn't startle him a bit.

“You don't remember?” she asked, her tone strong.

“Well, no it’s not that. Of course, I remember how I got it. It just was a bit peculiar.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, not understanding.

Boromir sighed, his tone was distant as he spoke, his blue gaze not wavering from her curious eyes that suddenly seemed so bold. “A friend of mine says it's a dark omen, ment to mark me for death.” His vision trailed across her face. “He says it is made of the bone of my fallen brothers, urging me to follow them to their deaths.”

“Do you believe that?”

He blinked, his gaze lingering upon the whale. “I do not know what to believe.” Boromir looked at her expression. “What are your thoughts on such a statement?”

(Y/N) shrugged, placing the whale in its spot upon the shelf. “I believe people don’t understand other cultures and customs. I believe they make their own assumptions out of ignorance and fear.”

The captain raised a brow at her intelligence. “You are feeling better then?”

“Hmm?” (Y/N) hummed in question as she moved to another object.

“Well, that is the most I have heard you speak since I met you. You are wiser than you appear to be.”

She only shrugged in response, picking up a telescope and looking through its glass—by the wrong end.

“Though,” Boromir continued in a teasing manner as he plucked the object from her grasp, turned it the correct way, and placed it back in her palms. “That wisdom seems not to extend to everything.”

She frowned, looking through the glass once before placing it down. She then went for a music box, her confused expression deepening. “We do not have all these….these things where I am from.”

Boromir reached across her and twisted the little lever, releasing the gentle music from its hold. “And where is that, may I ask?”

At the twinkling sound, her smile, born of pure delight, extended from her expression. Her response to his question, however, was only that of a simple word, “Far.”

The captain raised a brow. “How far?”

(Y/N) shot him a strange look, placing the music box down and picking up a crystal sphere instead. “You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.

He grinned playfully. “You do not seem to give many answers, Miss (Y/N).”

She glared at him.

With that playful smile, he spoke again. “Would it help if you got to ask a question?”

(Y/N)‘s eyes crinkled with thought as she placed the object down and turned towards him. She saw how his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, how the circles under his eyes appeared so dark, how his expression was so hollow. Softly, she spoke again. “Why are you so sad, Boromir?”

Taken aback by this, his lips parted. “I—I do not know what you mean.”

She took a step closer to him, a step that nearly eliminated the space between them, and her piercing gaze burned up at him for the truth.

Hesitantly, he whispered that truth, as if she compelled it right out of him. “I—I recently was in a shipwreck. I thought, well, I thought I was dead—left for the watery graves below.” He paused, just for a moment. “But yet I am here and I do not know why. And, I am beginning to question things that I know, well, thought I knew, for the world appears different now.”

Silence.

Boromir's soft voice then picked up again, his breath warm upon the woman’s face. “Why are you so sad, (Y/N)?”

At this, her shy nature returned. (Y/N) turned her head away, not wanting to look at the source of her sadness.

Gently, Boromir tugged on her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You implored me to tell you such a truth,” he whispered. “May I not ask the same of you?”

(Y/N)’s tone was soft. “My truth is complicated.”

“Are not all truths complicated?” he responded.

With that, she withdrew from his grasp—a hold she desperately craved—and created enough distance between them, leaving him to wonder if such closeness had occurred at all.

A loud grumble then echoed through the dark room—splitting the darkness with something else, something much for lighthearted.

“When have you last eaten?” Boromir asked.

Her brows pulled together as she looked at her stomach.

He chuckled, offering her his hand. “Come. Let’s get you some food. I can take you to my favorite place.”

“But I—I have no coin,” she whispered shyly.

“You are a guest of Gondor, Gondor will see you fed.”

(Y/N) smiled, that innocent gaze returning. She hesitantly took his hand and he led her through the castle and towards the tavern.

The two arrived at the tavern rather quickly. Urine, stale ale, and sweat flooded (Y/N)’s nostrils—familiar aromas reminiscent of her vigilant watch over Boromir along the Anduin River. The lively atmosphere enveloped the pair. In the corner, a bard sang to the patrons, his melodic voice resonating throughout, enticing some to join in. Drunk men, tapping their feet along to the beat of the tune, howled in laughter and glee as they clinked their ales together and shoveled food into their mouths. Requests for additional drinks prompted maidens, adorned in long skirts and aprons, to gracefully deliver brimming glasses, the foaming liquid sloshing about.

(Y/N) smiled, taking in the environment.

Boromir cast a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “It’s just a tavern.”

She turned to him, her grin unwavering. “We don’t have taverns where I am from.”

He raised a brow. “And where is that? You never said.”

She shrugged. “Far.”

(Y/N) moved deeper into the tavern, with Boromir following suit. He motioned towards an available table, and they both took a seat. Before long, a serving maiden approached. Boromir signaled for two meals and two ales, and they promptly arrived.

The woman wasted no time and eagerly indulged in her food, swiftly emptying the plate.

Boromir tried to suppress a smile as he saw this, for he was glad she was getting proper nutrition after her likely long and hard journey. He, of course, wished to know more of her origins; though, he could see she wasn't quite ready to discuss such things. Instead, he opted to answer any and all questions she had which began with her curious tone.

“Boromir, would you be willing to tell me of your city? How you live in these parts? I wish to know.”

His soft gaze made contact with hers and he nodded, chewing his food and swallowing before he spoke. “What would you wish to know?”

“Everything—its structures, its people, its culture, its history.”

Therefore, Boromir spoke of such things. He described the White City's towering architecture, the valor of its people, and the complexities of the various beliefs held. He relayed its history and tales, showcasing the values of the Gondorian people.

His narratives ignited a spark in her eyes, drew laughter from her lips, and filled her heart with joy.

Fuck the forbidden indeed.

As the hours stretched on, Boromir’s friends joined them. (Y/N) could see the gleam in their eyes and catch the less-than-subtle teasing tones as they whispered about Boromir bringing a lady to their tavern. Faramir, arriving shortly after, seemed prepared for a night of dealing with his drunken brother, only to find himself pleasantly surprised by his brother's apparent sobriety and the joy the unknown woman seemed to bring to his melancholy soul.

Yet, amid the cheerful atmosphere, a pair of shifting gray eyes belonging to an old man that (Y/N) recognized as Iwar, kept her uneasy heart alert.

…..

Everything Tag: @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @hey-its-nonny @mirclealignr @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @desert-fern @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @sotwk @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnotjapanese @mgchaser @heavenshumour @heavenshumour @clairealeehelsing @starenemy @ceruleanrainblues @casuallyeating-blog @cheari @aheadfullofsteverogers @imthebadguyyy @beehivehappy @queenmariex @newjsns01

Everything But Spice Tag: @goldfearless @cauliflowertree @heranintomyknife23times @mxmia @unethicallypleistocene @amessofmultifandom

Boromir Tag: @scyllas-revenge @lord-westley @callistobalisto

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[blacklegsanjiii]

this might be strange but what about fishman!sanji? as in, Sanji is raised on Fishman Island? he escaped Germa but nearly drowns if it wasnt for a fishman who rescued the strange human and he was brought down to be nursed back to health. If Jinbei's still there then maybe he argues to look after the kid as proof of improving human-fishman relations and Sanji is very happy to be there because!! he's actually in the sea!!! he always loved the ocean and fish and swimming and surely the fishmen can help him find All Blue (they dont know how but are endeared enough to let him expllore their archives for clues)

sanji ends up being a huge difference in terms of fishman attitudes towards humans because its so hard for anyone to hate this excitable kid who genuinely thinks fishmen and mermaids are cooler than humans and is obsessed with figuring out how to cook underwater. sanji is a little hesitant with the royals due to general trauma but ends up getting close to them! closest to jinbei tho, shark dad for the win!!

i picture sanji either meeting the crew at the baratie, maybe on one of his excursions to find clues on the all blue, or maybe at sabaody, because he snuck away from the island to try to save camie and any other enslaved mermaids. or maybe something else? rest is up to your brilliant mind <3

Sanji weak and fresh out of the dungeon in the ocean drowning and is found by a fishman. The fishman knows something is terribly wrong so he takes Sanji to Fishman Island and presents Sanji to Jinbei who as a former slave would be able to help the boy more. Jinbie spends a lot of time with Sanji, studying the boy and helping him. Trying to gauge how deep the trauma runs and it's deep. Sanji is skittish, not just from fishman but mer people and others too. Even his time on land has him hiding behind Jinbei.

He tells Jinbie about his dream and Jinbei offers to introduce him to the royals and help get him access to the archives. Sanji is shaking and doing his best and when the king asks about his fear Jinbei says it's not through prejudice but trauma. Trauma from royals specifically. The king nods and grants Sanji access so Jinbei takes him and Sanji flits around the room looking, he starts getting excited after a while. He's flitting around and talking animatedly about the All Blue. Jinbei smiles very fondly at the boy in front of him.

Jinbei helps him for weeks but they find nothing so they talk to travelers and nomads and migratory fishman and merpeople. They never find out but Jinbei teaches him cooking. How they cook underwater and what they eat and the diet he as a fishman follows.

Also in line with everyone but Mihawk, Jinbei absolutely takes Sanji to Warlord meetings and gets him into some of the archives and libraries. He talks to other humans about the All Blue. Sanji is an actual delight to have at Warlord meetings. Sometimes he'll bring snacks or Fujitora will take him to the kitchen to cook something and eat and tell the boy stories. Sanji still asks everyone about the All Blue.

Sanji grows up like a fucking immaculate swimmer. He can hold his breath for ages and dive so fucking deep. He calls Jinbei dad around eleven and just keeps it going. Jinbei smiles every time his son calls him that.

When Sanji is old enough he sets out to go search for the All Blue and gets a job at Baratie to find information from other travelers. Which is how he gets into the Strawhats crew. Everything is canon until Sabaodyish when they meet Chamie who is talking to Sanji like they're old friends and Sanji mentions off handedly he grew up on Fishman Island.

And when they get there after the time skip and the royals are welcoming Sanji back and everyone is confused again. Jinbei comes by to join the Strawhat crew and he and Sanji are hugging and calling him 'dad' and Luffy is like "oh, that's why all the warlords seemed to know you. How come crocodile didn't recognize you in Alabasta?"

"Probably because I never really talked to them, sometimes I would bring snacks but mostly I was looking for clues to the All Blue." Sanji shrugs.

And then obviously Jinbei promises to meet up with them soon and of course the next time we see him is in WCI and Jinbei listens to his son about not killing his birth family. Once they're in the clear Sanji and Jinbei are sitting together and Jinbei says if they step even a millimeter out of line they are dead. Sanji nods and says they have more important things to worry about. Jinbei nods and agrees and pats his son's head.

[positivelybeastly]

From the Ashes Infinity Comics #16: Pygmalion, Part 2

Let's go. I'm eager to talk about this one, because it was good.

Ahhhh, I do love it when comic books are on the nose - and I genuinely mean that. Subtext may be for cowards, as Garth Marenghi once loudly stated, but I also feel like it's just. Too subtle, for most people. You really do just end up with a load of people who don't get the message because it wasn't loud enough, who are there because the franchise is cool and not because they internalise the messages of it, and that's how you end up with racist X-Men or Star Trek fans.

By all means, get into the franchise just because it's cool! But let's engage with the themes and the narrative and the meaning, too, yeah? Trust me, it makes it better.

Anyway, the Uncanny! The adjective applied to the X-Men most commonly since their debut in 1963, the concept of the uncanny has its roots in German philosophy, and specifically the work of Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling in 1837, but Beast and his mimic here correctly identify that it was popularised by Sigmund Freud's theories about psychotherapy and the human psyche, especially his 1919 essay literally titled "The Uncanny."

That being said, my first exposure to this word and its deeper meaning was in relation to Gothic fiction, and the use of supernatural figures like the vampire, in my English Literature class, where the following definition was perhaps a bit more apt: a. : seeming to have a supernatural character or origin : eerie, mysterious. b. : being beyond what is normal or expected : suggesting superhuman or supernatural powers. an uncanny sense of direction.

As a literary trope, the examination of the uncanny, liminality, and the creation of transgressive works exploring the human fascination with the taboo and what falls outside the bounds of 'normal', that which is considered both attractive and terrifying, is a very old human past time.

The X-Men, as mutants, were always meant to have this quality, though how much a writer wishes to touch on it will always vary. Compare and contrast Hickman's use of the uncanny to make Krakoa seem alien, disturbing, and strange, versus how very mundane a lot of especially late 00s X-Men was, with Utopia's focus on very War on Terror politics, and you can see just how different a vibe you get when you have a writer genuinely interested in exploring what makes mutants actually uncanny. Morrison vs. Whedon is another very good example of this dichotomy, imo. Morrison's X-Men are uncanny, and Whedon's are not. Both are good, but they have a very different feel as a result.

Anyway, enough waffling on about literary analysis!

Taking Ben Percy and Jed MacKay's lead, this version of Beast is very much more in line with his 90s or 00s self than the Defenders version he's meant to be closer to - 1985 Beast did not talk like this. That being said, Beast's use of affectation, facade, and code-switching to fit in means that it isn't really a breaking of canon, it just indicates that Hank feels that his goofball persona would be very ill-fitting for this stage of his life, and given the stresses he's under, I can't say he's necessarily wrong.

Browerian mimicry, otherwise known as automimicry, is a form of animal mimicry in which an animal will commonly imitate itself in such a way that it confuses and deflects attacks, i.e. a fish manifesting eye spots away from its actual eyes so as to misdirect a predator. But, as Hank points out, the form of mimicry on display here is somewhat more complex and involved . . .

And now we come to the first hint about what the actual conflict is going to be here - just how much of this mimic's thought processes are its own, and how much are Hank's? After all, while Hank has, historically born up under immense pressure, stress, and racial hatred before, that hasn't always been the case.

In Uncanny X-Men #8, he was one of the first mutants to experience racial hatred and a near lynching for the use of his powers in an altruistic manner, an experience which led him to nearly leave the X-Men. While he grew out of this misanthropy, it's interesting to see this trait potentially return in light of his inner conflict over his inner goodness and morality - it makes sense that Hank would question if he's only a good person when he's treated well, given his lack of faith in his intrinsic goodness and growing belief that he cannot be trusted.

So, we have to ask if this sentiment is the mimic, Hank, or both, especially given how sharp Beast is in this issue, and in MacKay's X-Men #4. Even an older, allegedly more morally degraded Beast, was more polite to similarly ignorant masses in Rosenberg's Uncanny X-Men, and yet, in this issue, Hank refers to them very unflatteringly, to say nothing of his somewhat brusque manner during his fight with the Upstarts . . .

"We're." "We."

Interesting.

I think this issue might well have given Psylocke more dialogue than all of Jed MacKay's X-Men run thus far. That being said, I'm not massively worried about her prominence and treatment, given that what she's gotten has been eminently capable, and she does have a solo series coming out soon, so it's not as though she's being particularly hard done by, I think.

Blankslate. I actually rather like that. It has a very pleasing simplicity to it, and it's both apt and unique, which is hard, given the number of existing shapeshifters that the Marvel Universe plays host to.

I do like that the instant Psylocke saw that Scott was considering field deployment of a vulnerable young moment, she locked that shit down, ASAP. We aren't having a repeat of Utopia's X-Force here, Scoot. Again, pulling at the relative lack of play Kwannon's gotten in MacKay's X-Men thus far, it's nice to see her so assertive and able to speak up against what she perceives as Scott's utilitarian tendencies.

Also, Hank continues to be incapable of sitting on a chair properly.

I really have to question what the fuck Scott thought was going to happen. Were you even listening to what Hank and Kwannon were saying, Scooter?

Hank really isn't used to having an outer monologue. It throws him, to hear the nasty things he thinks about himself spoken aloud, finished, and not left unanswered and unquestioned in his own mind.

It's also very interesting to see this fear explicitly acknowledged in even this version of Hank, given that this worry about rejection, and the ensuing bluster and humiliation, led to his violent reaction to the garbage intervention in Uncanny X-Men #600. He decided to leave rather than be made to leave, deciding that the X-Men had already elected to make him leave the team (not an unreasonable conclusion, given how determinedly shitty they treated him up until that point, and after it), and in so doing, made his worries manifest.

I've also talked before about the significance of moments where Hank doesn't talk. As a persistent prattler, it's worth noting his silences.

A Markov chain is, essentially, a statistical model of real-world processes, that often describes a sequence of possible events in which the probability of each event depends only on the state attained in the previous event, i.e. the prediction of a specific outcome after a number of specific events. Hence, a probability chain.

Here, Hank appears to have inputted data relating to his own life experiences, and the data available to him about the life experiences of his previous self, as well as, likely, his alternate reality counterparts, in an effort to discern his likelihood of turning out the same way.

While this version of Hank has substantially reduced life experiences compared to his older self, he still appears to be well versed in statistical modelling and probability mathematics. If he is behind his Prime self, it's likely only going to be for so long, given that this level of mathematics and modelling was well beyond his 1985 self, who was notoriously rusty at even his own chosen field of biophysics and genetic manipulation in New Defenders, having neglected his scientific studies in favour of, well, fun.

Prions are misfolded proteins that induce a similar misfolded state in normal variants of the same protein, leading to cellular death. Your most likely common experience of the word may be related to prion neurodegenerative diseases affecting humans and animals, such as Creutzfeldt–Jakob's disease, kuru, and mad cow disease.

While this is very impressive science, I think it skirts around the fact that Hank is essentially working on a gun that can kill him and reset him back to a more 'pleasing' version of the same person if someone he deems worthy of entrusting the gun to decides he needs resetting. This is horrific and exactly the kind of self-hating science that Hank would only ever conscience being used on him and only him, because he's like that.

This is the kind of thing that Simon Williams or Abigail Brand would beat his ass for doing, and then destroy, because no, Hank, do NOT keep the 'mind wipe me when you don't like me' serum around, it's horrible that you think so unkindly of yourself, you idiot!

I like Hank's weird little science lamp. The man can't just have a simple lava lamp like the rest of us, can he?

Oy vey.

To be continued . . . in another post, because I ran out of images right at the end, again.

[my-lovely-writing]

Obey Me! Lucifer with an abused teen MC.

Little notes: Haha, sorry that was a bit of a hiatus! I've been struggling with, well...life. You know how it is. But I'm back because I have fictional person brain rot. If you don't want to see anything besides my hero/villain stuff, feel free to blacklist the obey me tags.

Also, I'm kinda new to the obey me! fandom, so I'm sorry if the characters are a bit off. I won't be writing about some of them until I've learned more about them.

With that said, if you have any triggers, please check the tw tags before clicking below. This is about an MC who's been abused.

Lucifer

Lucifer found it a bit strange how quickly you took to him.

He makes you do your homework before class tomorrow? No complaints. He reminds you of bedtime (which you have because nobody's allowed to stay up later than Lucifer in the house of lamentation due to the fact that there may not be one left by morning)? "Okay, no problem! I can study TSL later." (Still trying to hang out with Levi, are you?) If anything, you seem grateful for his overbearing tendencies.

Really, with the chaos of his brothers, he's a little bit weirded out by how much trouble you don't cause. Maybe you're just scared of the demons?

Yeah, that has to be it. Works for him.

Except...it doesn't.

Not when he comes in screaming at Mammon for yet another failing grade and you start trembling, face pale and legs locked from your place on the couch, as if you don't quite know whether to freeze or run.

Dammit, he needs to take care of this lest the angels see you as a hostage and another celestial war is started. Besides, Diavolo doesn't want the human exchange student terrified, he's trying to foster relations.

So, for once, Lucifer forgoes stringing Mammon up from the ceiling, much to everyone's surprise (and your and his shared relief) and instead stalks off to his office to calm down with his favorite cursed records.

Later that night, when he's sending everyone to bed, he saves you for last. "MC, please follow me to my office."

His tone is gentle, reassuring even, but you know better than to mistake it for a request. Your mind races as you follow him on shaky legs. What have you done now? Idiot!

When you reach his office, Lucifer gestures for you to sit in the armchair across from his desk. It's surprisingly comfortable as you sink into it, but you can't help feeling like you're being swallowed up. Is he going to eat you?

As he sits in the chair across from you, it doesn't seem like it. Yet.

"How are you adjusting to life in The Devildom?"

You can't figure out his game here. His face reveals little, but you get the sense that he's asking a question without asking it.

"I'm adjusting," you say simply, expecting him to drop it at that. You're just a mortal, after all.

"I asked how you are adjusting," he counters. "It must be a big shift for you."

Really, it must be, he had realized earlier in the confines of his office—he and his brothers struggled enough after the fall, but you, in your human ways, had not even realized the existence of magic or god before coming here, and now you're surrounded by demons? Not to mention that you're still a child. Lucifer doesn't like to curse, usually finding such foul language beneath him, but he doesn't know what to call it other than a mindfuck.

The Avatar of Pride's efforts to push away the tinge of guilt that accompanied said realization have been in vain. He and his brothers haven't exactly been nice to you, have they?

He's long decided to help you adjust, if only to get rid of this stubborn and unbecoming guilt, but he can't exactly do that if you won't tell him what's wrong and you're just staring at him like a gaping fish, so he doubles down. "Are you experiencing any difficulties, MC?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck—if your mind was racing before, it's moving so quickly now that it's burning into ashes that, somehow, through the magic you've just learned exists, are blown away by the wind to spell those three words.

"MC?" Lucifer repeats your name, eyes widening in that half a millimeter of concern Diavolo talks about (referencing that one chat, I forget the actual measurement and I know his eyes technically widened in surprise, but give me a break) . Is this a human thing? No demons he knows of are this...weak. It's an active effort for him to restrain his judgement as he raises his eyebrows at you which, finally, seems to prompt a response.

"P-please, I'm sorry, I'll do better! I'm sorry for whatever I did. I w-won't do it again, don't eat me!"

Well...

Suddenly he feels like an ass for judging you. Just what ideas has Mammon been putting into your head? You look like you've seen your own ghost. And again, he reminds himself, you are a weak and defenseless human child in a world of demons.

"Nobody, not even Beel, is going to eat you. As our human exchange student, I won't allow you to die before the year closes," he says, lips pulling into a frown, studying you more intently now and watching the way you squirm as he looks at you, back ramrod straight against the armchair. What is going on with you? "Why do you believe that I would eat you?"

"I, uh..." Okay, so you don't think he'll eat you, but it's never good when an adult looks at you like that. "I don't know, you seemed upset earlier and now I've been called in here, so I thought I might have screwed up somehow—not, like, arson or anything, but I thought...I thought you'd find something."

"You thought I'd find something?" Lucifer stresses the word.

"...Yes?" you say with all the hesitance of someone on death row confessing to a crime. You swear you see Lucifer's eye twitch for just a split second.

Meanwhile, Lucifer's got it. At first, he didn't really pay all that much mind when Diavolo mentioned that you come from "troubled circumstances", mostly hoping that you wouldn't be just as troubled and therefore troubling yourself, but he's starting to see that you are—just in a different way than the others.

Of course, he doesn't outright mention or address the clues he's just put together—The Avatar of Pride can tell better than anyone that you're hiding your past as well as you can, which is, admittedly, not well, but he's been persuaded to humor you.

"I am not a sadist." Okay, he is, but it's better that you not know that. He continues, "I am not looking to find something to punish you for and, while there are some things I would kill you for such as threatening my brothers, Diavolo, or the Devildom, I have no intentions of causing you harm under regular circumstances. You may get an F on your math test without fearing me or any punishment I would give you, MC."

You blink as you process the words, a little bit of the fear edging out of your body. "I can?" Your voice is tentatively hopeful.

"You can," Lucifer reaffirms, shuffling his paperwork around, if only for your benefit, as tears begin to brim in your eyes. He allows you to save face. "Go to bed. You're welcome in my office if you ever need to talk."

"Thank you," you mumble to him as you hurry from the room. You don't know what this means, but you know you're not dead and that's good enough.

The next morning, Lucifer's brothers are woken up earlier and met with a stern talk about being kind to you, accompanied by the reminder that you are a child even by human standards who is adjusting to life in literal hell and the threat of them having to adjust to hell a second time over (a punishment—Lucifer's punishment is the second hell). "We're building relations with the exchange student for Diavolo," he justifies explains.

His brothers aren't terribly thrilled with the idea of cozying up to a human, but they agree because they remember how hard the fall was for them.

Asmodeus, being the most familiar and cool with humans due to his pact with Solomon and finding your fearful, doe-like nature adorable, offers to take you out clubbing—to which Lucifer reminds him of the child thing.

Fine, fine, no clubbing. He'll pamper you instead, you certainly have enough split ends to suggest you could use a haircut.

From then on out, a new rule is established where each of the brothers, Lucifer included, have to spend time with you every so often with one or more brothers spending time with you each day of the week.

Needless to say, you're confused by the sudden kindness but you soon don't mind it, finding yourself slowly warming up to them—and, much to the shock of your ruined self-esteem, they to you.

Lucifer is pleasantly surprised and secretly grateful to find that his brothers get into less trouble with you around and, eventually, even more pleasantly surprised to find that you seem almost normal around them. You no longer eat in silence at the dinner table, refuse to meet their eyes, or cower like a puppy used to getting kicked when they raise their voices at each other (everyone has learned not to raise their voice at you, even Satan).

It's not long before Lucifer is calling you his best behaved child sibling. He even goes so far as to have everyone retake the family photo with you in it.

Is there any way he can turn you into a demon? He'd like you to be his child sibling for forever, and humans die far too quickly. As far as Lucifer's concerned, Satan has something new to research.

And it's not as though you don't seem to have some level of darkness in you. Just the other day you heard screams coming from the lower levels of Lord Diavolo's castle and followed them in spite of your fear, kind heart wanting to aid whoever was suffering.

According to Barbatos, you didn't even flinch when you found him torturing your parents, pliers still gripped around one of your dad's bloody fingernails.

Hell, you even asked to join in! (How Barbatos responded to that, I'll let you all imagine lol)

Also, Lucifer will never admit it, but he's quite possibly never felt more pride than the time you, Satan, and Belphie pranked him with a whoopie cushion on his desk chair. Normally he would have beat his brothers with it, but he could tell from the less than ideal invisibility cloak over the object that you were involved and hid a smile from prying eyes as he sat on what felt like his throne despite the ensuing fart noises.

And that's how his family of seven became eight once again.

[alackofghosts]

got tagged by tumblr user @fourteenthz (loved reading about thesa, by the way <3)! thank you very much!

— B A S I C S

name: lil guy i'm very shy, don't worry about it

nicknames: none based on his name, as it's quite short already, but will also respond to a fond and/or slightly exasperated "hero"

age: 33 as of 6.55

nameday: 27th sun of the 4th umbral moon

race: rava viera

gender: cis man

orientation: gay

profession: adventurer

— P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T

hair: black, naturally wavy, very thick and soft

eyes: dark brown

skin: warm brown, freckles easily, especially his face

tattoos: none

scars: burn scar on his left shoulder from his fight with ifrit, another burn on his right thigh from nidhogg. a few other scrapes here and there. notable lack of any significant scarring from shb and beyond, because that's how i see astrologian healing working - he feels particularly strange about not having a scar from his fight with zenos in endwalker

— F A M I L Y

parents: he has not been back to his home village, for obvious reasons, so doesn't know - but assumes - his mother is still alive and well; never met his biological dad. but because he showed signs of. however the viera would call/conceptualise the inner beast, one of the women called in a favour with a wood warder who was also a warrior, to take him under his wing to train. said wood warder, however, was wholly at a loss what to do with a child, having never taken in a ward before and decided to seek out an old friend, who had since left the forest. ...long story short, he ends up being raised by an all-viera dalmascan resistance cell, who end up packing up and leaving with him in tow after almost being rooted out by garlean forces. he views most of them as Parental Figures and loves them dearly, even if some of them have scattered into the winds after he left to become an adventurer

siblings: he isn't aware of any biological siblings, but the village took a very communal approach to raising kids, so at the time he definitely felt like the other kids were his siblings, regardless of any blood relations. one of the men in the resistance cell was a 'mere' 30 or so years older than him, so he also counts more as a sibling than anything else in his eyes

grandparents: he has definitely met his maternal grandmother, but as with his mother, he's not been back home and doesn't know if she is still alive (but in all likelihood: yes)

in laws and other: THE TWINS. putting an exact name to what alisaie and alphinaud mean to him would honestly not be Good or Close Enough, but they are absolutely like family to him and a reason to keep on going. he also has a very sibling-like relationship with lyse, who is always ready and willing to match his energy, tag along for workouts and tease the hell out of him

pets: he befriends an amaro hatchling at the crystarium during shadowbringers and during a later visit, her handler notes that she's been looking glum without him around. he loves animals, but his living situation has been far too chaotic after becoming an adventurer to accommodate an animal (that isn't his chocobo, who, at least, is much easier to house) and hasn't felt particularly inclined to change that. but after endwalker, he finds himself actually wanting to change that and has the time to do it... so, with a little bit of help from feo ul, he has a little amaro friend with him now

— S K I L L S

abilities: war + drk + pld and all that that entails. skilled and formidable fighter, good at navigating/strategising through a fight on the fly, quick study (as far as fighting is concerned, anyway)

hobbies: working out (especially running and swimming), hiking, he's been learning to enjoy fishing after endwalker

— T R A I T S

most positive traits: protective, caring, insatiable lust for life

most negative traits: too willing to let other people do the talking for him, impulsive, stubborn

— L I K E S

colours: warm red, gold, the bright green of sunlight filtering through leaves

smells: fresh earth, cinnamon, a meadow in early summer, the savoury smell of the stew one of his dads used to make

textures: soft grass under bare feet, tree bark, skin on skin, the scratch of ardbert's beard

drinks: water, pineapple juice, lemonade

— O T H E R    D E T A I L S

smokes: no

drinks: only socially, and even then it's fairly rare. he did drink a little more often as a baby adventurer, mostly because he simply had more opportunities to do so: mingling was useful and it wasn't uncommon to have a rowdy bar night to celebrate a job well done. he is a bit of a lightweight and tends to withdraw when tipsy/drunk, so he actually has more fun when sober

drugs: also no (unless we're counting medicine for this. he won't be refusing painkillers if he's in pain etc.)

mount issuance: his beloved chocobo, who he dotes on very much, especially because it was something of a dream to have when he was just a baby adventurer - he could not have afforded to buy or maintain one at the time

been arrested: he's got in trouble for those rowdy bar nights - he's not the type to start a fight, but if someone were to pick a fight with him or his friends, by gods, he will be finishing it. no serious jail time, more like being hauled off with everyone else involved to sober up until morning, though

[johannestevans]

Crimson Peak: A Love Letter To Gothic Romance

Adoring thoughts on Guillermo Del Toro’s 2015 masterpiece.

On Patreon / / On Medium.

This review and bit of analysis is related to the talk I’ll be giving on Crimson Peak tomorrow, responses to misogyny and marginalisation in and around Gothic fiction, and how much of this social conservatism is mirrored in BookTok and modern retorts to problematic fiction.

All proceeds from the Romancing the Gothic Goths for Breakfast talks go to charity, feeding school children free breakfasts! You can sign up for tickets here.

Edith and Thomas in bed, via Cap-That.

Crimson Peak (2015) frustrated me when it came out, and often frustrates me today — I was desperately excited about it when it was released, loved it the first time I saw it, have loved it every time I’ve watched it since. What frustrated me was not the film itself, but its advertisements and the way it’s filed and tagged on sites even today is that Crimson Peak is not a horror film.

Crimson Peak is a Gothic romance.

Yes, Gothic fiction — Gothic horror — might be classified under traditional horror tags and descriptors, but gothic romance is a different and more complicated kettle of fish.

Gothic fiction is typified by its associations with the most visceral of human emotions — with fear and horror and terror; with disgust and anger and rage; with want and jealousy and envy; with lust and love… and grief.

We see in Gothic fiction what we see in the the Gothic architecture for which the genre is named, inspired by its traditional settings — the darkness that lingers thick and impenetrable amidst the ceiling arches, untouched no matter how many candles are lit; the long shadows cast by figures silhouetted against windows and fireplaces; the endless corridors, the haunted attics, the cold and shadowed cellars, the strange and troubling shapes of the house around us.

What do we find in Gothic romance, then?

In Gothic fiction we find the most macabre and grotesque of happenings, of settings, of events — in Gothic romance, we find those who love and lust for them.

Some of the most famous Gothic romances are Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre; Deaphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca; Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights (Stephenie Meyer’s favourite book, and an inspiration for Twilight, by all accounts: no more damning comment can be made of it).

When I was describing my affection for the genre to my partner the other day, I also mentioned Bram Stoker’s Dracula — Dracula lacks the female protagonist that these three classics have, but I would argue that the want and lust (and even love) between Dracula, Jonathan, and Mina (in each direction) more than amount to enough to fit the book into the genre.

It’s not as simple as desire or want or even love for another whilst horrific happenings go on around their heads — Gothic romance’s unique allure is in the darkness of people’s romantic desires, their sexual desires. Wanting what they should not want — wanting the pain and the grief and the fear as much as they want the sweetness, the comfort, the pleasure of love.

This stands out most of all in those Gothic works that delve into proto-feminist explorations of female empowerment — in Jane Eyre, in Wuthering Heights, in similar works that largely centre the horror of a young woman (or women) entering into marriage with a man that leads her to doom of one type or other, supernatural or mundane, what is ultimately being explored is the horror of these women’s lack of choices and agency.

If she will be terrorised either way, if she will live in fear, if she will be controlled no matter what she does and whom she’s married, why would she not seek out a controller, seek out a ghost or monster, whom excites her? To whom she is most deeply attracted? A man who she can — and will — terrorise in turn?

I think it’s why poor Jonathan Harker stands alongside these Gothic heroines in my mind, not merely in line with Mina because he’s her husband, but part of the line-up in his own right— he is desirous of Dracula and, like many of these women stumbling, or rushing headlong and passionately into, dangerous matches, he is heedless of every warning as he allows himself to be trapped in the faraway manse of this hypnotising man who will feed on him, and whom at the same time Harker feels a sort of hunger for even as his intentions and his nature become clear.

What is it, then, about Crimson Peak?

Here’s a Gothic romance that stands on its own two feet — like the best of pastiches, it near perfectly echoes the tone and the hypnotising ache of the best and most impactful stories in the genre, creating a story that could well have been penned centuries ago alongside contemporaries like Wuthering Heights.

In Crimson Peak, there are so many references to different staples of the genre — apart from the basic staples of the isolated manse in the middle of the dales, the strange and dark family with the sordid past, the young ingenue, intelligent and driven but at the same time naive, we see small references or direct mirrors to particular tropes or archetypes present in some famous Gothic tales.

Finlay, for example, the Sharpes’ elderly caretaker who seems confused and scatterbrained, is a mirror to the long-winded and sometimes incomprehensible Joseph of Wuthering Heights; Edith compares herself to Mary Shelley, a stalwart creator in the Gothic genre and one of its defining authors.

Like the best of pastiches, it is filled with its love for that which it’s imitating, delving into classic tropes of the genre — the sprawling and crumbling manse on the hill, apart from all the other houses, filled only with ghosts; the once rich and splendid family, now rendered impoverished and preying on others to survive; the aspects of natural horror, insects feasting on one another, the presence of this red in tooth and claw violence and the desperation to survive; the horrors of lonely, isolated children developing inappropriate and disgusting, incestuous intimacies with one another, those intimacies carried on into their adulthood; ghosts that at once horrify those they appear before and yet on some level crave to help them, to save them, or at least undo what has been done.

At the same time, every character but Lucille Sharpe (Jessica Chastain) is desperate to escape the genre they’ve been born into.

Edith (Mia Wasikowsa), naturally, wants for a romance, but she also wants more for herself than her role as a woman in the society she’s in — much like the Brontë sisters did themselves, she wishes to disguise her gender so that her work is not immediately dismissed, exchanging her father’s gift of a pen for the machinised genderlessness of a typed hand, that she might be an author and create things for herself, just as her father built things before he owned them; Thomas (Tom Hiddleston) wants for a romance himself, craves the love and sweetness of a marriage whilst untangling himself from the horror it’s attached to with his sister, but he is also trying to drag himself out of the hole his house is creating with machinery designed to dredge out clay.

Edith and Thomas both reach for tools of the industrial age, reach with grasping hands for modernity, as if these can save them from the classic ghost story they’re trapped in.

And yet there are further depths to this gift — in giving Edith the gift of this pen, Carter (Jim Beaver) is giving her a sort of phallic symbol. He is a patriarch giving his daughter a metaphorical extension of masculinity and masculine power — in essence, he is saying to her: “Edith, you are not just my daughter, not just a woman as in the eyes of the patriarchal society around us, but you are my firstborn. Uncaring of the gendered nature of your position, and the ways in which this dispossesses you, I am giving you an appropriate tool for your trade.”

And what does Edith do? Immediately reject his pen, because his approval and his extension of this power to her is not enough — she exchanges the tool for the typewriter because she craves the anonymity it will give her, and its modernity.

Appropriate, that Carter Cushing should take such a dim view of Sharpe’s prototype and dismiss it as little more than a child’s toy, whilst talking about his own hard work leading to the empire he later built — talking about hardening his hands before he built larger structures, before he owned property himself.

This is the same opportunity he is attempting to offer Edith in giving her that pen: for her to have a tool to build with before she owns his empire, and yet she rejects it. In turning down this offer of power from Carter Cushing, representative of his allotting her more personhood than one might expect to be offered to a woman in this period, her head is then turned by Thomas Sharpe’s proposal.

She is, in a way, taken back to the past when she returns with him to England — social mores are not so flexible in England as they are for a woman like Edith in America, and even if they were, she is isolated from anybody but Thomas and Lucille (and the ghosts in their home), so she is robbed entirely of opportunities for self-empowerment or agency.

In Allerdale, it is Lucille that carries all the power, Lucille that holds the a ring of metaphorical phalluses on her belt, taken from all her victims — Lucille holds the keys to the house, and denies them immediately to Edith, who by all rights should now be lady of the house as Thomas’ new wife.

She holds power in her hands, wielding these keys, and of course, Edith takes the one that had belonged to Enola Schiotti to unlock her trunk — the same ghost who unlocks another door for her, no key needed, to give her some power within that home on the sly.

It’s appropriate that Edith finally wields her father’s pen when Lucille pushes her to sign the contract that will sign her life away — a concern Carter no doubt always had about Edith marrying any man, even were Thomas not so suspicious a character — and uses it as a weapon to attack Lucille and defend herself, to allow herself to reach once again for freedom.

There are so many layered meanings and ideas within the text, and it’s so richly written and developed compared to many contemporary films I might think of — it’s miserable to think of, but Crimson Peak really is one of those films where you feel that every part of the story has its place, where the whole thing has been wholly considered, carefully mixed and edited, where every scene, every line, every movement of the camera is for a reason, and adds to the greater narrative, elevates that narrative.

In the beginning, for example, we hear Edith say that her mother died of cholera, and that it was a closed casket, that her father begged her not to look — when Carter himself is on the block in the morgue, she is compelled to look although she doesn’t wish to, and seeing him dead there, she cannot conceive of the reality of the situation. She never sees her mother dead, but she understands she is dead, and then sees her as a ghost — never able to fully digest the death of her father, she denies it even as she touches his cold hand, and she is never haunted by him.

Edith mentions that she sees Thomas Sharpe as a parasite with a title before meeting him, and she is entirely right to think of him as such, because that is precisely what he is — there is a continuous and constant theme of living things feeding off one another. Lucille compares Edith to a butterfly, the two of them sitting side by side, one brightly yellow and the other dark and pale: Lucille tells Edith, distant and dreamy, that the moths she’s so familiar with eat butterflies (like her).

Edith and Lucille, via cap-that. “It’s a savage world of things dying or eating each other, right beneath our feet.”

Even the house itself at Allerdale is being consumed by the mountain below, being devoured by the red and bloody clay that had once given the family within it their fortune — having been fed upon by this family over generations, it now feeds on them in turn, both in the absorption of Allerdale House, and incidentally in the drowned victims of those the Sharpe siblings feed into the cellar vats.

Edith as a protagonist notes details — she’s keen and clever, investigates, considers; she notes that Alan keeps Arthur Conan Doyle on his shelves; she speaks on the specificities of Thomas Sharpe’s wardrobe and how its dated appearance reveals that his fortune is waning or has entirely waned; she follows clues, she researches, she deduces. Like her father, she reaches for information, arms herself with it.

We see her horrified again and again by the ghosts that plague her, and at the same time, she works so hard to understand them — she works hard at every opportunity to comprehend the incomprehensible, to know the unknown, to understand everything that cannot be understood.

There are so many other wonderful elements to the film — it’s beautifully shot, of course, and has some of my favourite costuming that I could name in any period piece. Every dress, every suit, is perfectly tailored, effortlessly lit, every piece moves and flows, every piece of jewellery or accessory is set to fit the period, the setting, each individual character.

Even the ghosts, with their smoky essence, with the unnatural shift and angularity to their movements embroiled in a constant and preternatural fog, seem so real, have such a texture to them that makes them so easy not only to visualise, but to imagine you can feel, that you can reach out and touch — or not touch, even as you reach.

And like any good Gothic piece, but especially a Gothic romance, Crimson Peak is a film that exudes sex.

Every glance between Edith and Thomas is full to the brim with want and lust and desire — Thomas’ gaze lingers on Edith’s face and her body, on her hands, on the movement of her skirts and the shift of her waist; Edith follows after Thomas where he moves, leans toward him like a candle flame drawn to a draught, and you can see her hold her breath whenever he draws closer.

Whenever there is a distance between the two of them it feels fraught with electric tension: when that distance is slowly closed, bit by bit, and yet repeatedly denied and interrupted — by Alan, by Carter, by Lucille, by everyone around them — it seems that it should crackle and pop, flash and burst into flames.

Lucille’s desperate control of Thomas is in part dependent on their sexual dynamic, on the older Lucille having groomed him into a partnership when she was only 14 and Thomas even younger at 12 — and Thomas’ soft murmurings, almost to himself, with Edith, are so revealing of his vulnerability.

“You’re so different,” he whispers in one scene, and quickly brushes off Edith’s bafflement at the comment; he is frightened to lay hands on Edith, even to be alone with her at times, for fear of Lucille’s wrath, and when finally permitted the opportunity to fall into bed with her, he’s desperate in his desire for her.

His most sympathetic moment is no doubt where he says to Alan through carefully gritted teeth that Alan is a doctor, that Alan knows where to direct Thomas’ blade, that he might finally do violence upon someone — what Lucille has always wanted from him — and yet still save himself from having committed a murder.

Lucille damns everyone she touches, kills everyone she can — her mother; Carter Cushing; the dog; each of her brother’s wives; Thomas Sharpe himself.

And yet she’s not unsympathetic.

We see Lucille’s desperation — under her cold demeanour is an agonisingly lonely woman, isolated and abused for the whole of her life, robbed of any real and obvious power of her own, and forced to wield power only through her brother’s name, her brother’s movements, her brother’s actual, legal power, which as a woman she cannot wield.

Lucille and Thomas were locked alone in their attic and denied access to anywhere else in the house, apparently denied any other companionship or loving contact — their mother was also an abuse victim, and became isolated after what their father did to her, but she just carried on the cycle in abusing her own children. Is it any wonder she should grapple so desperately for purchase in a world literally slipping out from under her, the sliding stone and brick stained red with crimson clay?

Is it any wonder that she should mix blood in with it, when she has nothing in the world, as far as she sees it, but her brother?

As cold and brutal and violent as Lucille is, she acts on instinct to protect herself and who she holds most dear — even in killing Thomas himself, it’s a desperate action in the hopes of keeping him bound up with her, terrified of his rejecting her when he has been the one constant she has ever been able to rely on.

God, what a film.

[dragonthunders01]

Spec evo Vault, Ocean Flish

An iconic future critter, the Ocean Flish from The Future is Wild stands remarkable of this documentary most featured animals, these constitute a bizarre new radiation of vertebrates from the ocean after tetrapods were wipe out of the face of earth, becoming one of the many recovering animals on 200 million years hence.

This inhabits the coastal regions of the new supercontinent, thanks to the environment lack of competitors that were wiped out 100 million years before with no other trace of land tetrapods left, the sky was basically open for this clade of fish to take over in the last millions of years, being this one of many representatives of a larger group that have diversified across the coasts of the Global ocean and inside parts of the main continent.

According to the canon of the documentary, flishes are descendant of cods, or at least they come from a branch that diverged from cods a time ago that after the mass extinction recolonized the surface and upon the vacuum they developed the ability to fly thanks to strong wings derived of their pectoral fins.

Unlike tetrapods wings, the flish arm anatomy evolved in a way totally divergent in structure, having a short very muscular arm made of three main bones joined in a way that provides a stable and strong base, as well providing great flexibility while flapping and lift enough to fly.

In a general view the anatomy of this animal is remarkable for preserve the Actinopterygii shape with high derived features such as the almost lobed fish like fins, the jawcaps and the strange horizontal fluke instead of the vertical posture of current fishes as well other external features include the lack of any operculum totally sealed, an spiracle upper head that might be related to pulmonar respiration and the most remarkable feature, it extendable jaw.

This peculiar jaw configuration supposedly help them in their method of hunting as these are dipping predators of the pelagic silverswimmers, having the only feature of Actinopterygii developed further with a very extendable mouth with only 2 rows of 3 teeth on the tip.

Although the documentary didn't expose more about their behavior or lifestyle outside of hunting, the main manga did some minor exploration of their land behavior being there showing that they raise their children like altricial seabirds, as well showing that they are capable to stand on land with their pectoral fins up and extended without any folding capability.

As said before, is well known that this animal also has a relative on the forest regions on the north west region of Pangea II but on base of the book description, there may be also a really larger diversity of these derived flying vertebrates covering different niches similar to modern birds, specified by the mentions of comparable analogues of birds.

Probably to add more about this fact on the conference made of the doc (included in the DVD extras) Dixon exposed some concept ideas of more flishes or at least different flish color pattern configurated to specific ecological niches based again on birds.

[akimeowk]

Siren Goddess Reader Hcs

Y'all voted for this, sorry if it's bad

I don't write fanfiction often lol

Fem reader because i specified goddess and i don't think i'd be good at gender neutral

Warnings: some stalking, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of selling people, mentions of drowning

Enjoy!

Before i get into reader and freminet, i feel like some info about my ideas on sirens should be shared

Sirens come in the following three forms:

Shallow water:

These are the smallest sirens. They tend to stick near the surface and around islands, often have tanner skin. They feast on small fish and land animals. They closely resemble mermaids, except with sharp teeth to eat meat.

Open water:

These ones are longer than shallow water sirens. They swim in to deeper waters and don't go near land often. A little more blue in skin tone than shallow sirens. They swim way more than shallow sirens, so they have more fins to help them swim quickly. The fastest of the sirens, they hunt larger fish.

Deep water:

These sirens are HUGE. Because they live in the depths of the ocean, they can grow to extreme lengths. They don't often go to the surface, because of this their skin is unnatural shades of blue. They often have claws. They don't chase their prey, they evolved to swim at consistent speeds for longer distances. Their color allows them to blend in, stalking their prey silently.

Y/n is most like a Deep water siren, however she's not actually a specific kind of siren. She's technically a mix of all three.

Also some backstory

Y/n was friends with Egeria (hydro archon) before the archon war. The sirens used to all live in the dark sea, but frequent hunting caused them to seek shelter in Fontaine.

When the archon war began, Y/n knew she wasn't strong enough to become an archon. But she couldn't allow her daughters to die. So she asked for help from Egeria.

Egeria agreed to help, and sealed off a large underwater cavern so that only Y/n could allow people to enter and exit. The sirens all hid, and haven't been seen since.

But even queens surrounded by their children get lonely, so Y/n finally decided to take a trip into Fontaine.

Freminet just wanted to go for a beachside walk. He didn't expect to come back with a clingy fish lady.

How Y/n and Freminet met:

Y/n had been seen by some people in her half siren form, and they were trying to capture her to sell her. She was perfectly capable of defending herself, and was about to, but Freminet stepped in, thinking she was in danger.

Freminet had recognized her from an old fairytale.

One about hideous monsters disguised as beautiful sea women that lure sailors to their deaths. She fit the description of them, except the tail. He thought that maybe the fairytale had some truth, and that she was an endangered species, hence why he decided to help her.

In awe of how a human could care enough about a creature like her to fight his own kind, she decided "he's adorable. He's mine now."

She fully planned on keeping him in her domain, but when she picked him up and started walking away, he freaked out (he thought he was gonna be eaten), and convinced her to let him go home.

They ran into each other by "coincidence" (Y/n stalked him until the perfect time to reveal herself) later and had an actual chat. Freminet learned that no, she didn't plan on eating him. Y/n learned that it's actually morally wrong to stalk people and very creepy, along with what kidnapping is.

Human customs are so strange.

Y/n is already infatuated with him right away, but Freminet doesn't quite like her like that yet. At most its a simple "she's really interesting, i wanna get to know her better" kind of thing.

Though that starts to change as Y/n makes an effort to court him with sea related gifts and cute dates.

Also, she can carry him.

I think he'd just swoon over a lady who can literally sweep him off of his feet.

He's always trying to be strong for other people, he needs someone to be strong for him so he can lower his guard for once.

And who better than a giant sea goddess who's head over heels for him?

He'd have a wonderful time in her domain.

So many sirens... if only the looks they were giving him weren't ones of hunger and bloodlust...

At least the caverns are gorgeous.

He wouldn't be able to explore her domain on his own for a while. Too many sirens that have been deprived of their favorite food for too long.

Once they start to understand how attached their queen is to this human, they back off.

Back to Y/n being in Fontaine

Freminet (obviously) can't stay in the caverns forever. So he has to leave for long periods of time.

But without her favorite human to occupy her, Y/n quickly finds that the caverns are too boring.

The sirens are all big girls. They can handle themselves! At least until Y/n gets back.

Of course, she has to go about it differently than last time (Freminet banned her from exiting the caverns without him unless she disguised herself.) She forgot that sirens are nothing but a myth to humans now, so showing up in her semi-siren form will only attract unwanted attention.

The solution? Human form!!!

I think it'd be funny if her human form was a little bit shorter than Freminet. Amongst other sirens she's HUGE. But if she was scaled down like other sirens, nope. Below average length. Which is why her human form is on the shorter side.

The sirens find it hilarious. Y/n, not so much.

Of course we can't forget about our favorite twins (wonderful transition i know), Lyney and Lynette!

As funny as the whole iCarly smoothie scene is, i don't think they'd meet Y/n in her semi-siren form or her full siren form right away.

The house of hearth is in the middle of fontaine, Y/n is NOT sneaking past that many people.

Freminet also wanted to wait a bit before letting his siblings meet her. Y/n isn't exactly... caught up on human culture.

After a month of dating though, the twins get suspicious of all the "walks" late at night that he's been taking.

They immediately figure out he's been going on dates with someone, just haven't figured out who.

At this point, Freminet deems Y/n educated enough on modern Fontaine to only be slightly strange.

So the twins finally meet her in her human form.

But they know something is off.

It's uncanny valley for them. She looks human, acts human, talks human, but you just get that feeling that something isn't right.

Freminet doesn't seem to notice their discomfort. Or maybe he does, and he's just praying that the months worth of lessons he gave Y/n didn't go in one ear and out there other.

Lyney puts up a front. He doesn't trust Y/n one bit. But he doesn't have any reason to start a commotion. So he acts friendly and observes for now.

Lynette i think would be a bit conflicted.

She's like Lyney in the sense that she doesn't trust Y/n. However, Freminet is smiling and chatting happily with somone who isnt from the house of hearth or the traveler. He's opening up to someone without the help of his siblings.

She decides that as long as Y/n doesn't hurt Freminet, then there's no issue with her being human or not.

It's still gonna take some work for them to fully trust her.

They'd find out shortly afterwards that Y/n is a siren.

Lyney, wanting to learn more about this strange girl who just showed up one day, suggests that they follow her home.

Lynette finds it ridiculous at first, but she can't help but be curious as well.

So they follow Y/n and Freminet from a far.

I honestly don't think they'd be that surprised when they see Y/n shift into her half-siren form.

"You mean the random girl who's never been seen around fontaine before, has no records of existing EVER and has a strange fascination with trying to drown fishermen, is a siren? How shocking. :|"

Like, they're not surprised that she's not human. But the siren thing? A little shocking. Actually, Freminet spends 80% of his days in the water diving. So maybe they shouldn't be that surprised.

Y/n knew Lyney and Lynette were following them. She doesn't care. She may not be able to win in the Archon war, but she damn sure can keep two human magicians silent.

Unfortunately, now things are awkward. Lyney and Lynette know that their brother is dating a sea monster. Y/n is too smug for her own good.

Freminet is struggling. How did he get into this mess?

Whenever Freminet leaves to hang out with Y/n, Lyney tells him to "not let her eat him alive"

Most people think it's a joke. Freminet knows it's genuine advice.

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

I think i'm running out of ideas.

Lyney and Lynette finding out that Y/n is a goddess would have to wait for another day

Feel free to request some things if you have any ideas! I think i'll only write for Freminet for now though

Thank you for reading and have a lovely day!!

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Vorombe vs Protodontopteryx

Factfiles:

Vorombe titan

Artwork by @otussketching, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: Titan of the Big Birds 

Time: 10,000 years ago to sometime in the past 2000 years (Holocene epoch of the Quaternary period) 

Location: Southern Madagascar 

Vorombe is a newly erected genus of Elephant Bird, the largest that we know of! Whereas all species of Elephant Bird used to be put in the same genus, distinct differences among the types of Elephant Bird that we know of indicate they deserve their own genus names - and here we are! Vorombe was significantly larger than the other species of Elephant Bird, and probably was about 3 meters (nearly 10 feet) tall when standing. It was also ridiculously heavy, weighing around 650 kilograms. As such, Vorombe is currently the largest known bird ever recorded. It lived in the arid and succulent woodlands as well as the grassland mosaics, the weirdly unique habitats that charactierize Madagascar, and was a major feature in the functioning of those ecosystem - helping to spread plant seeds and maintain habitats as they lived within them. Vorombe and other Elephant Birds lived alongside a lot of weird animals during the Quaternary of Madadgascar, including dwarf hippos, giant tortoises, and giant lemurs. 

Note: A paper came out literally on the last day of February this year indicating Vorombe may not be its own genus. More work is needed to determine if this bird is distinct from Aepyornis. 

Protodontopteryx ruthae

Artwork by @otussketching, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: Ruth Love’s First Pseudotoothed Bird

Time: 62 million years ago (Danian stage of the Paleocene epoch, Paleogene period)

Location: Mt. Ellen Member, Waipara greensand, Aotearoa 

Pseudotoothed birds, the strange fever dream of the Cenozoic, are something of a mystery. They don’t have a clear set of transitional fossils from ancestor to first members. It is uncertain what sorts of modern birds they’re most closely related to. But, luckily, Protodontoperyx helps to put some of the pieces together. The earliest known member of the group - and the smallest - Protodontoperyx seems to have had a wingspan of approximately 1 meter long, much smaller than other Pseudotoothed Birds. It does have the psuedoteeth that characterize the group, indicating they evolved rapidly after the end-Cretaceous extinction. It had much bigger nostrils than later pseudotoothed birds, interestingly enough, indicating it wasn’t quite as adapted to marine life as its later relatives and as such, Protodontoperyx does showcase some interesting transitional anatomy for this group. While later taxa were long-term soaring birds, Protodontopteryx probably lived most similarly to an albatross, selecting targeted prey such as fish and not engaging in long term flights. In its early coastal environment, Protodontopteryx wasn’t alone, but surrounded by other early radiating animals following the extinction - a huge diversity of sharks, but also early penguins and relatives of Mesozoic Neornithine birds that survived into the Cenozoic. As such, Protodontopteryx lived in a weirdly transitional ecosystem, showcasing the rise of Cenozoic Birds as the impact winter began to dissipate at last. 

DMM Round One Masterpost