#and carnivore's teeth should be falling out

[arsonshub]

the one thing i critique beastars about is

if wolves and other carnivores can survive off fucking bean-protein and eggs then like

i dont feel is super unreasonable an "Herbivore" could eat meat and not throw up/their body reject it entirely

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife #10 : Snack Time

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Momma bird hungry for all the snacks in the world. Takes some time and frustration before Joel figures out the exact kind of snack you really want.

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Angry!Joel, oral M!receiving, face fucking, throat bulge, throat-pie, dumbification, junk food binge, eating meat, bossy reader as always

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel didn’t know he married the Hungry Hungry Hippo, Galactus the planet devourer, Garfield the tabby cat.

You’re on your phone texting while cuddling Joel. He’s more interested in the movie than you are, but that doesn’t stop him from tracing his finger along your arm, occasionally kissing the top of your head and nuzzling his nose. He loves the scent of your shampoo after a wash, damp and cold against his warm chest. Sometimes you protest how closely he wants to cuddle you, all smushed up on the couch. Your body temp skyrocketed with the baby changing everything. But since he’s keep the AC on full blast, your warm heavy body keeps him from being a popsicle.

The landlines chimes in from the kitchen.

He rolls his eyes. Of course, something to interrupt the comfort that took 40 minutes for you to settle into. "I'll get it,” He grumbles quickly and hoists himself up off the couch. He wants to make whoever the fuck is calling at such a late hour a quick convo. If it’s fucking Tommy needing bailed out again, he thinks begrudgingly, I’ll just hang up on him. 

He clears his throat and answers: “Hello, Miller Residents.”

"Can you get me a bowl of Cap'n crunch while you're up?"

He glances back over at you sitting up on the couch, your cell to your ear as you wave at him. you point to your belly mouthing I T S  F O R  T H E  B A B Y.

It’s for the baby, my ass. You’ve been a hungry hungry hippo who’s been snacking like crazy and ignoring the doctor’s warnings. 

But cranky Momma is way worse than a scolding doctor. 

He grits his teeth and slams the receiver a little too hard down on the desk.

You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, a clash of a bowl on the counter  and the jingle of overly processed cereal filling it up. 

He walks back into the living room. You’ve taken up the whole couch now, with no inclination to move over to let him back on.

You shove a fist into the bowl and pop a bunch of the crunchy orange squares into your mouth “f’anks” you mumble, eyes not once making contact with him as you stare ahead and much away. Crumbs fall onto your chest and down to the floor and sofa, as if Joel hadn’t just cleaned all of it this morning.

.

The next night, Joel's cooking some steaks. You weren’t really a meat-crazed person, having maybe one or two helpings of poultry or occasionally red beef a week, but normally ,you could go without it for a few meals without thinking about it. 

Pregnant momma? She was a fucking carnivore. He had barely set the sizzling steak down before you snatch one onto your plate. He turns around to slice into one, checking its temp before serving, only to see it was a bit too red and bloodied on the inside.

"Oh babe I gotta cook these a little longer; they're too rare--"

You were hacking away and tearing a large chunks of the red, near pulsing meat, juices pouring out your lips, a vampire gorged on a fat blood sucking meal. Despite its tenderness, you chew endlessly and stare off into the table like a Llama enjoying its food on the field. 

"Maybe...we should—slow down a bit,” he suggests with uncertainty. His fork and knife frozen in midair, still in each hand. He hasn’t shifted view or blinked, but clear worry (and maybe a tad bit of fear) stretch across his face.

"Uighgrrfmggmmdeeofxsw,” you reply with gargled cow remains sloshing in your wide open trap. 

 “Right. That."

You swallow what’s left. Joel’s does a double take: your steak is somehow gone, juice licked clean off the plate in front of you.

“Can I have yours???"

He had only sliced 4 cuts  for himself so far. But the hungry look in your pupils, licking your lips while watching his dinner, it’s clear you’ve answered for him. He sadly sets his cutlery down and slides his plate to you. 

Its even more interesting when you douse it in salt and throw a slab of butter on top of it, watching it melt before slicing a big chunk off.

"You gotta watch the salt intake—“

“—Can you make chicken? I want chicken now.”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, whiplash from the conversation. Maybe you’ve gone def AND blind AND lost your taste buds. “I made steak. You've had 2 steaks now. Why do you need chicken?”

“That second one was for the baby. The chicken is for me.”

“What about the fist one?”

“….We split that.”

“Awfully hungry baby,” he says with a dead tone, straight faced as he eats the one roll left in the basket that hasn’t been devoured by you. 

“Well she’s yours, isn’t she?” 

-

You wipe your face with a napkin, a fried chicken leg and wing now securely packed tight in your tum tum along with the famished baby.

"What's for dessert?" You chime eagerly.

Joel turns to wash the dishes, hiding his smirk. He’s got you now, no surprise cravings will catch him short on this one: He boasts proudly, “I bought you apple pie--"

"I want cupcakes. Whip cream icing. Chocolate.”

His grin quickly deflates into a frown. “No.” He says sternly, a little aggravated. “I bought you pie—“

"Did I say I want pie? L I S T E N,” you snap, slapping your palms together with each syllable. 

He puts his foot down with tense sudsy hands going to his hips. “No. I'm not going out again.”

You raise your eyebrows threateningly. One look.

30 minutes later Joel is shuffling into the house with a pack of 12 cupcakes he bought at the bakery.

-

You’ve managed to prop yourself up on the couch after some heaving. “Ha! The baby is making me workout get strong! Obviously that’s why I’m so hungry.” You shrug it off. “Oh! I want raw cookie dough.”

Joel was on his phone the entire time, but the second you said I want, his brain queued in and he quickly retorts, “No.”

He goes back to replaying the voicemail he missed, settled and focused on the opposite couch.

Of course he Doesn't realize you’ve somehow lumbered up past him and now waddling back with 4 chunks of raw cookies in your hand, popping them in your mouth one at a time.

His eyes dark up to watch you, transfixed on the screen as you bend your knees, hardly paying attention to the way you’re about to fall on the couch. He has half the mind to help, but what’s one lesson you need to learn the hard way?

Regretfully, you bounce down successfully and pull your legs up.

And then, as you dust your hands off from the chocolate stains melted on your palms, Joel’s lips part in a o as you reach behind you and pulling an entire gallon container of animal crackers. 

"Babe"

"Wha?” You don’t turn around to look at him, still shoveling them into your mouth. “Yuu wan wan?"

"You need to stop eating every damn thing in the house.”

You gasp incredulously, your hand over your heart in painful offense. “The baby is very hungry! She's related to you and that belly.”

He only remembers to stop himself from reminding you that your belly is much bigger than his now. 

"The baby—“ (that was the new thing now: the baby  this baby that. The baby is why I need this shirt in blue and green. The baby is why I need the ice cream layered horizontally not stacked vertically. The baby —)

"No. Not the baby,” he snaps. “You."

You start to cry. "I thought I AM your baby!!!" 

He gives you a “seriously” look and you stop the fake tears.

“So how about it?”

“I don’t want you getting salmonella.”

“ugh fine. You can bake them I guess.”

He’s about to protest the idea of any dough going into your body, cooked or raw, but knows its going to be a lost cause.

Joel makes you a platter of Assorted cookies: chocolate chip, fudge, triple chocolate, sugar, and oatmeal raisin.

You clap your hands as he carefully places the little plate atop your bump. Humored by the custom “mini” table you’ve got going on now. Maybe his baby doesn’t like her head being used as a countertop, but with the way you close your eyes and moan after biting into the chocolate chip, babygirl must be pleased too.

He goes to the bathroom quickly and then comes back only to glare down at you. You've taken exactly one bite out of every single cookie, leaving crescent shapes for him to scathe.

Every cookie, except oatmeal raisin. You clearly did take a bite ,but spit it out and put the lump back near the undesirable #1 cookie.

“These mine?” Joel asks bemused.

You nod happily. You felt very proud to have enough control and leave him some this time! 

-

It’s about 9:30 pm. You're acting drunk and woozy even tho you're just a new level of tired and achy

"Woopppoooooo!!! Paaartttaaayyy!" You shout with fists in the air, drinking down a shot glass of sugar water. 

“Alright party Momma. It’s bedtime.” 

"Ppfffttt! No old man! Dont steal my fun.”

Joel stands over the couch, blocking your view from the TV, his hands on his hips. “You're being difficult "

“YoU’rE bEiNg DifFicUlT,” you mock and wave him off. "Oop I need to pee. Help me up.”

Joel” grabs both your grabby hands and hoists you up to your feet. “Now up the stairs, you.”

You waddle towards the stairwell, one hand cupping your lower back. Joel is right at your heel. you up at the treaturous journey ahead, all 8 steps to the top floor. Cracking your neck side to side, you wave your arms over to the handrail and begin: “Left foot. Right foot. Left. Fuck. Fuck stairs. Who invented stairs. Left foot…”

Joel’s so sleepy that he nearly falls forward. And he knows you would not take too kindly to him ramming his face into your ass as you battle your worst enemy.

Finally to the top, you scurry over like a penguin to the bathroom. He fears the long night ahead, with all the sugar swirling in your system undoubtedly going to keep him up.

He rubs his wears eyes. Startled when a moment later you’re right next to him by your side of the bed, patiently waiting for him to help you up.

"Get in the covers,” he hums with exhaustion.

But you don’t move. “No"

"Now.”

"I want an orange.”

"No. You—you just had your snack."

"That was the baby's snack. I want MY snack”.

Dear Christ almighty, bless me with a boy next time so that I have a fighting chance against her and mini her. “If I get you an orange, will you go to bed?" He asks irritably, his voice enunciating each word to ensure the contract that he’s making with you right now is solidified on both ends of the bargain.

You think it over before nodding with a little innocent beam. 

You crawl into the covers just as Joel descends the stairs once again. It takes the entire time for him to grab some oranges, a peeler, and paper towel just for you to rotate your middle and sit your ass in bed.

You sit up against the headboard and clap your hands, so excited when he reappears with the goods. He puts the towel on your mini-table bump and plops one orange atop.

Joel sighs and begins to walk towards his side of the bed, but is haunted when you clear your throat for his attention.

“Yes?”

"Peel it.”

He tries not to visibly roll his eyes before he's opening the round orange with his large fingers and clubbed nails. Everything smells like nectarine now.

Picky as can be, you peel off the extra dried white veiny bits and suck on each pod of the orange.

You expect a sweet simpleness to squirt on your tongue, but instead, a sour, bitter, unripe taste floods your mouth. “Ugh these are gross, now I want—“

Joel closes his wardrobe drawer, his shirt off and only halfway down to his boxers. “NO. NO means fucking NO. I’M TIRED. YOU’RE TIRED. WE'RE GOING TO BED. NOW,” he barks sternly into the mirror. His shoulders huffing from such aggression without being able to look at you.

You throw the covers off, orange skin and slices flying everywhere.

“Fuck you! I want ice cream! I want bananas and steak and potatoes and tacos and—!" 

-

He bares his teeth in a snarl, deep angered eyes casting downward with each poignant rut. “You're so annoying, so goddamn spoiled,” he grunts. His huge hands are wrapped around the top of your head and  cupping your jaw and bulging cheek, keeping you in place as he pushes his length into your mouth over and over again. “You’re gonna do shit when I tell you, the first time I say—shit—fuck there we go—gonna listen—unnggghhfff—listen ta me from now on. Just be my good little silent. Slutty. Pregnant. Wife.”

Your teary eyes are fixed upward at his imposing figure. Feeling each time his tip nudges the back of your throat has you gagging but you can’t pull away to breathe—not that you want to.

“You get—what I give ya—and you be grateful bout it.”

You gargle a moan in agreement. His balls slap against your chin with brutal punches. by this time tomorrow, there will be Joel-finger prints bruising your face and neck.

You love it. You love it when Joel forces you out of the hormonal phase of bossing him around, the endless need to want more and more, no end in sight to your greedy gluttonous desires, until he’s blowing up and blowing off steam using you instead. And it becomes very clear to you how much you just really wanted him this whole time. 

“That’s it—that’s it—you were hungry for my cock weren’t ya? Yeahhhh. Just begging me all night for it. Wanted all that meat for dinner, huh? Couldn’t just come out n’ say it? Your little brain didn’t know what ya truly needed. S’okay, Momma. I’m takin’ care of ya, aren’t I?”

The gluglugglug sounds mixed with strained pitchy whines echo in the master bedroom.

You grip his thighs with your hands to steady yourself, allowing him to abuse your throat. Maybe your knees hurt. Maybe the baby is settling uncomfortably against your lower back, and maybe it’s going to be really difficult to get up from this position in a few minutes. But each thick throb of his length filling your mouth over and over again, the spit slick strings dropping from your lips to your swollen tits, and the dent in your throat from his cock stretching to accomodate his size has your swollen pussy dripping into the carpet for more, more, more. 

It’s been at least a week since Joel drained himself. No wonder he’s been so on edge with each demand. Usually marveling how cute you are, but tonight he was at him limit. You were about to get a hefty, Joel Miller sized load filling your belly, and it’s going to be better than any cookie, steak, or orange in the entire world.

He feels the way your lips suction tighter. Your eyes are leaking tears, and he smirks as he brushes his thumb over to collect it. Briefly bringing it to his tongue and sucking on the salty taste before holding your head in place. 

“Shhh-shhhhhhhh. You gonna take it? Shit—shit—fuck yeah you are. Gonna fuckin take what I give ya, that’s right. My sweet wife. Bossing me around. Shit. Love when ya get like this. Known I’m gonna wreck that ass or that pussy or that mouth—all belongs to me. Fuck—fuck—fuuckk—“

His mouth drops into an o, brows drawn tightly together as slams his pulsing member balls deep into your mouth one final time. You choke, eyes wide as the tip of his cock breaches the deepest part of your throat, your nose suffocated by his pubic hairs and the fat of his lower belly surrounding your cheeks. His balls twitch against your lower lip, and you feel it coming. The travel of his seed from his sack, up his shaft along your tongue—a generous spurt of cum finally shooting from his tip and down your throat. You gag with each fat load that he pumps down your esophagus, too much to swallow at once yet having no other choice but to gulp it down quickly. Your face feels hot. He’s cumming endlessly, your mind blanking and eyes feeling blurry.

“Take it, take it, take it, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

You nod just a little, hugging your arms around his thick thighs tighter. He grins, humming “That’s my good fucking wife, and throws his head as the last of his pleasure makes its way safely from his sated balls to your full womb.

Joel pulls you off his length gently. You sputter out cum and saliva onto his feet, sucking in air through your lungs like a newborn. 

Joel gets to one knee, his thumb pressed gently under your chin so you look directly at him. He’s got such softness in his eyes again, the ones that just switch on a dime the second he’s satisfied his aggress out on you. 

You’re completely wrecked: snot spit connecting to your nostrils and swollen lips, cheeks warm and eyes puffy and hazy with exhaustion and tears.

“That—mmffffgg!—was—definitely—my—snack,” you rasp with a hoarse voice. A lazy grin spread across your face only briefly as you continue to suck air.

Joel shakes his head before planting a long kiss atop your forehead. his hands glide along your body, and just in time as your knees give way and you’re falling into him. 

If you had half the mind right now, you’d curse him out for scooping you up and carrying you to bed like his once youthful bride, too concerned with the size and weight of your new body putting unnecessary stress on his aging knees and back. But Joel doesn’t protest once. Just watches you with loving eyes as he settles you into the soft bed. His tongue dips to your chest and breasts, kissing and sucking away any remnants of his rough face fucking. His cum, your spit, and fuvk it, even the little snot specks—all of it he cleans up before coming up to your lips. He kisses you softly with gentle pecks, enough to ensure you can still catch your breath. He sucks your lower lip into your mouth before wiping his own with his thumb. You’re calmer now, sated and drifting so close to sleep.

Joel clambers into bed next to you, wrapping his arm under your head and swaddling you close. You instinctively roll into his embrace. Kissing his peck and rubbing your face against him dreamily with soft breaths. “Tha hit ther spert juss rite. Ur da bess, Jol.”

“I know. So are you.” He waits for a reply, but nothing comes from you. “Are you goin’ into a food coma, baby?”

Your gentle snores answer him, along with the drool now pooling on his peck.

He chuckles and pulls your head into his face, inhaling your scent. Strong, secure, graceful hands caress your big belly. Your very very full belly, the one that he’s not going to envy when it gives you a the tummy ache tomorrow from stuffing it with so much junk food tonight. 

- - - -

Taglist:

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[forthelostones]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #3

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. what a diff'rence a day made by dinah washington ♫

Today had been overwhelming, to say the least, you thought to yourself as the woman bent over the center consul to retrieve something out of her bag. Her ass was firmly hugged by the cargos she wore and you had the temptation to press your hips against her. You found your lips back between your teeth only to relieve them as she looked down at you. Her mouth was slightly damp from the swipe of a tongue before she spoke. This was fucked up, right? Ogling over a woman older than you but more so another woman when you had Ellie. 

“Should I bring anything?” You asked. 

“Just yourself, a few pictures and I’ll bring my research too.” 

She leaned against the shining truck with such machismo that it made you want to submit to her. Ellie never made you feel that way. Was it the heat causing the delirium?

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You mutter, trying to think of something other than her arms and how they’re delicately crossed enough to lift and frame her petite breasts. 

She raised her eyebrows to say a quiet goodbye with a side smirk and you avoided her eyes and continued walking. A weight sank to the bottom of your ankles making it seem like you were slugging through mud. Abby looked more excited pounding a nail into wood than speaking to you. Her face had a general exhaustion as if she was translating adult words to a baby. For the first time since being home, you wished the neighborhood had a little more clamor to distract you from the turmoil pooling in your brain. 

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

Ellie was in your shower, washing the dirt from today’s job off her body. The door was open and the pale bubbles on her skin should entice you to jump in with her. But you just watched and wondered what was changing? When you first got together all you wanted to do was be in her skin. Generally, it felt good to be with Ellie. To know that you can achieve a level of companionship with someone else was accomplishment enough. 

“Hey,” she hollers over the falling water. “C’mere.” 

The drop of her voice was soft like her wet hair with shampoo still looped between her inky strands. 

“El, turn around.” 

She turns without hesitating, as you tilt her chin back to rinse out the suds. She opens her eyes and brings her lips to yours. For a moment it does feel good. Her mouth is slick and warm. Ellie's hands come to your shoulders, wet with body wash as she deepens the kiss. Although the water splashes onto the floor, you don’t care, it’ll be replaced soon anyway. Your mind dots off to think about Abby in your bedroom this morning. It was foreign seeing her in a space where you never imagined her to be. She looked out of place but had the potential to fit in. 

Ellie laces her hands behind your neck, tongue sliding inside with no force. She moans gently into your mouth and you bring your hand to her darkened crotch. Her kiss became carnivorous at the sudden action. Nails sharpening into skin, barring her teeth, and soggy smacking. It had been so long since you initiated any contact with her. The groan that vibrated off the walls showed that too. 

“I love you.” She whispers into your ear. 

Her mouth lingers there, waiting for your response, but something chokes you up. Like a cough or a sickened throat. “You’re my everything El.” You reply. 

It wasn’t a lie, you loved Ellie for everything she was. But you knew she could sense a change in your behavior and you hoped that this orgasm you were giving to her would hold off her suspicion. 

Ellie looked out the window and watched the neighbors follow their decades-old routines. She liked their displays of solitude and never failed to tell you about how she wanted that too. You came up beside her, holding the small of her back, peering towards the line of cherry trucks, wondering what Abby was up to now. Ellie turns to place a welcoming kiss on your cheek with her hand following shortly behind. 

“I’m sorry.” She said. 

“Ellie, what?” 

“I’m thinking too far into the future. I know I need to be present with you.” 

You scoff. “I’m just a little stressed. Has nothing to do with you, you're perfect.” 

“Let's talk,” 

You both travel to the bed and she takes your fingers into her hands. 

“It’s a lot. I just want to be here with you.” You lean in to kiss her. 

“You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.” 

It was unusual for you to put yourself onto Ellie like this but you did, again. Pulling her pants to the floor after you got up and locked the door. You wanted her to shut up and three fingers were the solution. You closed your eyes with your face buried into her hot collarbone, wishing it was someone else’s, not particularly Abby’s but not Ellie’s. A rupture of tears threatened to spill over as Ellie came to a climax, covering her mouth with a quivering hand. She turned to you just before any tears fell as you excused yourself to the bathroom. 

You started to think about the conversations you and Ellie had often, which always led to the same thing. Someone gripping the bed frame and falling asleep to do it again the next day. Even with Ellie snoring on your shoulder amongst the orchestrated noises of bird chirps and lawnmowers, all you could think of was your meeting with Abigail tomorrow.  

The night seemed long as you carefully removed Ellie from your body to tidy your room. It was more than embarrassing that Abby came into your room and almost fell over because of the mess. You didn’t have the will to start unboxing your college life because that meant it was time to face reality. As you sorted the items, you thought about what someone like Abby enjoyed doing outside of working 10-hour days. Obviously, she worked out, probably more out of necessity to keep her figure at her age. What else did she like? Your hands dust off a cover of Carmilla, and you stifle your laugh as you recall the story of blood lust and women. Ellie never understood your desire to read. She didn’t understand much about you, not that you wanted to think about that often. 

Dating someone who took the trade school route versus college has created tension in your relationship. Ellie was a smart girl who knew what she wanted but never related to your stress in college. She was street smart, not book smart. When midterms rolled around you had to explain to her the importance that you two keep distance so you can focus. She accused you of desiring a connection with college more than her. She was insecure that you got to experience something she always imagined. Before you two were dating she would sit in the bar and brag about how she didn’t need school to be successful, as a way to flirt, but it came off as ignorance. So, that translated in various ways such as conversations about your career, the relationship, and even books.

She would kiss your neck to get the attention back on her when you read before bed. When you playful shoved you away that’s when she’d ice you out for hours. It was exhausting. Ellie wanted you to be hers in a different way. She did celebrate you and you appreciated that but there was an unspoken desire for you to be her wife in a traditional sense. She wanted you to follow her, no matter what. She was shocked when you denied her immediate advances to move away with her for the new job. 

“I thought you loved me? I thought we were going somewhere?” Her brow furrowed. 

“We are, I promise but I can’t just do what you want and not discover who I am before settling down.” 

I’m your idea of settling, huh? She said quietly to herself but you pretended not to hear her.

“I want us to be together. I don’t like that long-distance shit, okay?” 

You wanted to challenge her more but just sat quietly and you two didn’t speak on it for the rest of the day, proceeding as if what happened didn’t warrant more conversation. Shortly after Ellie's hands were between your legs to apologize. That's just the way you two operated.

Ellie stirs under the loose sheet and you dart your eyes over to her. You pull out more books and line them up against the wall getting startled by your phone vibrating on your side table.

1:30 AM: Would it be a bother for you to provide some shades of black and gold with your findings too? 

You look at Ellie with her mouth open and body pressed deeply into the mattress before replying. Normal business hours were not a thing to Ms. Anderson, obviously. A message at 1 am caused you to squirm a little, and a shocking edge of exhilaration coursed through your body. Any normal person would simply reply in the morning but it wasn’t as simple as that. 

1:32 AM: not at all. 

1:32 AM: Thank you :) 

Your eyes become one with the typed emoticon. As if Abby's eyes are the colons and pooling deep blue right before you. Something so simple but it made a part of you grin. A rush came through your body as you looked out the dark window, hoping she'd magically appear outside your window, and beckon you to come outside. Such immature thoughts, you whispered to yourself.

1:34 AM: no problem, have a good night. 

She just left the message on read. That feeling you had vanished quicker than it came. That was stupid, you thought as Ellie mumbled a string of unintelligible words. She sits up, stretching her legs by throwing her feet over the edge of the bed and shuffling over to you. You lock your phone and place it back in its original place, face down. 

“Come on, I need you. I just got so cold.” She demands, holding your waist.

You didn’t tell Ellie about the consultation with Abby, it wasn’t needed. She would be at work and you’d go to her place just after the meeting. You didn't feel compelled to share, so you didn't. To keep yourself busy you broke down all the leftover boxes and took them outside to the recycling. Only one truck was parked on your street. You shrugged like you didn't care but you grew curious about where Ms. Anderson spent her morning.

Abby’s office was only thirty minutes away and you drove slow to not seem as eager and still arrived on time. A large bubble felt as if it was going to pop any moment when you saw her truck in the driveway. Her office was her house. She lived at the peak of a dead-end road covered by the twinkling of leaves above her home. Any normal person would let the collection of branches and acorns rot in the street but as a woman who owns a landscaping business, it was the opposite. Even the carving of the bushes left you in awe — you couldn’t believe you suddenly took such an interest in bushes. She had the address printed onto a rectangular yard lantern surrounded by a pool of ruby-red roses. It was beautiful. 

The door swings open as you’re tilted downwards smelling the flowers in front of you. You were slightly embarrassed she caught you and removed your hand from the stem. She squints with what you see is a small grin and welcomes you in. The scent emitting from her house is syrupy vanilla and pine. A combination that's pungent yet sweet. Abby is wearing dark blue jeans and a white button-down shirt with her skin exposed underneath, just shy of two undone buttons. Against the white linen, her skin is specked with brown freckles that deepen her slightly warm skin. Her hair had been brushed and bone straight with grown-out layers you didn’t get to see with her hair up. 

“Hope it wasn’t too scary finding the place.” She says, being the personification of sunshine. 

You look down at her feet, covered in Superman socks hidden under the cuff of her long jeans. 

“Not at all, it’s nice that you have this little section of the neighborhood all to yourself.” You add, slipping your shoes off in front of the entrance. Her body is warm behind yours as she moves to close the door. Her living room was small but the floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves were an impressive use of space. The couch is in the middle of the room, peeling with softened worn leather. Instead of a TV, there was an out-of-commission fireplace with a mantle above it. There were a few photos in mismatched frames and stacked books with titles you could not read. 

“I was super lucky when I found it.” 

You were scared to turn to her but finally did. With her hands on her hips, she nodded for you to follow her into the other room. You took a swift look into her kitchen before turning left down the hallway to her office. It was painted a pale yellow with black and white portraits in black frames of houses she remodeled. The large wooden desk was pushed against the far wall, peering over the backyard. The sun shuttered through the leaves casting a beautiful shadow onto the healthy, neon-green lawn. Abby built the fence and had a garden bed in the far corner, a compost hidden near a bush, and one lone white lounge lawn chair in the middle of it all. Another wall of books crowded the room with words on architecture and lifestyle. 

“I would love to live here,” You mutter, turning towards Abby leaning in the door frame. She admires her handiwork which makes you wonder how much of this house she remodeled. “Seems… peaceful.” 

“It is when you can enjoy it. I’m looking to move out of the hands-on position to being the big boss behind the desk.” 

“I am sure you’ll have no problems with that.” You reply, observing the plain floorboards to avoid her eyes. 

“Would you like something to drink?” She asks. 

You notice her thumbs rotating within each other and her mouth twisting as she asks you the question. You welcome whatever she’d like to bring you, hoping it was wine to loosen her, but knowing it wouldn’t be. But seeing her so casually made you relax a little. You sat at her desk, legs crossed, looking at the seclusion of her life. This was a level of solitude you could become accustomed to. 

“Arnold Palmer. I hope you like it. One of my neighbors has a lemon tree and she brings them to me all the time, so it may be a bit tart.” She reaches behind you to place the glass on your right side, the flowing linen brushes your back gently, leaving you desiring more. She pulls out another chair and a folder stuffed in the drawer with your last name on it. 

“So, black and gold?” She asked, with a joking charisma. 

You bring the glass up to your lips and turn to her, swiping your tongue on your tangy bottom lip. The brush of your knee against her thick pants makes you retract and slide further back on the chair to create a professional distance. Up close her eyes twinkled under the warm light stretching through the window. You felt a pool quake beneath you. Suddenly you wished you didn’t put yourself in this position. So close to her, in her home, with lingering thoughts of her bedroom plaguing your mind. You imagined all-white bedding with many soft pillows and two bedside tables. A large window overlooking the front yard and sheer blue curtains. Maybe even a small desk in the corner stacked with old books. 

“Is that boring to you?” 

“What? Black and gold? I mean no, it’s not about me.” She shrugged. 

“But I value your professional opinion.” You retort. 

Her icy eyes widen at the comment, either shocked by your directness or desire to hear what she has to say. You wipe your forehead with the back of your palm and direct your gaze to the folder in front of you. 

“Okay well, I think you should go for something more unique. Fun tiling, I can definitely have a custom vanity put in there, a standard upright shower.”

You blinked and suddenly she had a pencil in her hand, sketching on a blank sheet of graphing paper. Her lines were loose but neat, you watched how the tip of her index finger guided the graphite on the thin sheet.

[mrsshabana]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary You're sent on your first assignment as an entomologist, but things quickly go awry on your first night and you meet a creature that should just be an urban legend. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Mantis!Gyutaro x female!reader, insects, blood, gore, violence ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2.8k words

✧:･ﾟ→ Mantis Gyutaro art ✧:･ﾟ→ Chapter 2

Tonight is your first night in the field. After years of studying entomology, you were lucky enough to snag a spot on a prestigious team of entomologists. You moved your entire life here so you could have this golden opportunity. Little did you know, they only accepted you because this forest is known for its disappearances. They can’t risk losing their most valued scientists, so they prefer to send the newbies to places like these. 

Unfortunately for you, your studies require you to gather samples of nocturnal species. Which is why you currently find yourself trekking through the lush forest. With only a small flashlight and a paper map to guide you.

Every minute sound sets off your anxiety. You even get startled by the occasional cool breeze rustling the leaves of the trees that tower above you. The only thing keeping you grounded is the soothing song of crickets.

That is, until it all stops. The entire forest goes quiet as you step into a small clearing. 

“What the hell?” you say to yourself to fill the void. The undeniable feeling of being watched begins to weigh down on you. Flashing your light behind your shoulder, it reveals nothing at all. Only the empty path from where you came. “Weird…” you push yourself forward.

One step… two steps… three…

In the blink of an eye, your entire body is pinned to the ground. Your face digging into the dirt, you’re unable to see what is restricting you.

All you know is that something big is holding you down.

Rows of sharp objects dig into the skin of your back, preventing you from struggling. You try to kick your way out of its grasp but the needle-like protrusions dig deeper into your flesh with every movement.

Your screams echo through the trees, but you know that no matter how hard you scream no one will be close enough to hear you. And whatever is holding you down right now doesn’t seem bothered either.

The beast is quick with its movements. You are so used to working with carnivorous insects that you can already tell that this thing doesn’t plan on keeping you alive for long. 

Everything goes in slow motion when you feel the skin on the back of your neck tearing. You’ve got to act fast or else this is it. 

The creature can barely sink its teeth into you before you are swinging your head backwards. The back of your head smacking the creature straight on its forehead. It unlatches from you, falling backwards with a hiss.

Scrambling to your knees, you turn around to face whatever thought you’d make an easy meal.

It’s a man. No… It’s an insect.

The creature has the body and the face of a man, albeit very thin and bony. He has black hair that fades into green halfway down, partially tied up in a messy topknot. Large folded up wings lay on his back. His forearms are decorated with long, sharp spikes. His entire body is covered in ink-like black splotches. Two long antennae hang in front of his face.

The thing is sitting down, groaning with its head in its palms.

Your thoughts are spiraling. There’s no way that this is actually happening right? The sane person in you wants to run away screaming before this thing gets back up. But the entomologist in you wants to investigate further. You know you’re playing with fire, but your curiosity gets the best of you.

You take a moment to admire his appearance again. Antennae, tibial spines, large wings. This creature resembles a mantis. Ok, what do you know about mantids? They’re aggressive predators, territorial, and they’ll eat almost anything. Shit, none of that information helps you right now. It only diminishes your chances of getting out of this alive.

You took too long, and the creature has recovered from your headbutt. Staring at you with wide eyes, it slowly moves towards you. Inching ever so slowly. 

Reaching into your pocket, you grab the small jar of honey you were going to use as bait later in the night. You know that mantids only eat live prey, but this is all that you have. 

You fumble with the lid, scooting yourself backwards as the creature continues its crawl towards you. With a huff, your back hits a tree, stopping your path. You are met with glowing yellow eyes and deadly mandibles inches from your face.

Somehow, you managed to open the jar. The sweet aroma of artisan honey fills the air around you. In a desperate attempt to distract the creature, you hold the honey out to him.

“H-here. F-for you…” you stutter, voice barely above a whisper.

Guttural clicks rumble from his chest. He exhales in your face, the rich scent of blood fills your nose. Almost making you gag. You must’ve not been the first item on the menu tonight.

With curiosity, the creature sniffs the jar in your hand. He places a hand on your hip to keep you in place, as a long tongue slips out of its mouth. Its tongue is pitch black and forked at the tip. 

You feel like you can’t breathe as this thing starts to lick the honey from the jar. Seemingly satisfied by its sweetness he continues. This creature is quite literally, eating from the palm of your hand. 

It’s great that you managed to distract it, but what do you do now? It’s holding you down so you won’t be able to get away. All you can do is watch as the jar slowly empties, your fate approaching. You thought you were being smart by offering the honey, but all you managed to do is give him an appetizer.

It only takes a few minutes for the jar to be licked clean. His hungry gaze shifted back to you. He licks his mandibles as he inches his face closer to yours, tickling the top of your head with his antennae.

“P-please… I-I don’t wanna die,” you whimper. Lowering your head and squeezing your eyes shut as tears roll down your cheeks.

All you can do is wait for the pain of being ripped apart.

But it never comes. And when you open your eyes, the beast is gone.

︶ ︶꒷ ₊˚ ︶ ︶꒷ ₊˚

It took all your willpower not to brag to your colleagues about the amazing discovery you made. Yeah you almost died, but that was a small detail.

You made it safely back to camp. Everyone else was asleep when you arrived so you had all of the privacy you needed to recompose yourself.

The next afternoon you set out into the forest again. It took you longer to make it there this time because of the wounds that you were left with the previous night. Multiple punctures on your back, and a bite on your neck. You can’t complain though because you know you were lucky to come out alive.

Making it back to the familiar clearing, you unpack your bag. This time you came prepared with plenty of food to distract the mantis. Some grasshoppers you stole from your colleague, as well as some honey. There are so many questions that you want answered. You know that you are insane for wanting to get close to this thing again, but you can’t help yourself. It’s in your nature to be curious about new discoveries!

Leaning against a log, you wait for nightfall. Passing the time by taking notes in your journal. 

Day 1

I met the mantis at night. Unusual behavior for a mantis. But not completely uncommon for males. Most mantis hunt during the day time, but sometimes male mantis will hunt at night. As it is easier for them to avoid birds. However, mantis have to worry about avoiding bats at night. But the mantis man is so large that I doubt he has to worry about any predators at all. Does he choose to hunt at night to avoid humans?

Once surrounded by the darkness of the night, you begin to regret your decision to come out here. The panic that you felt the previous night begins to overcome you again. You flash your light up into the trees. No mantis to be seen. 

The senses of a mantis are very strong. His eyesight is beyond anything a mere human would ever fathom. So if he is close, he must’ve already seen you. As an ambush predator, you know that he’ll be stalking you from afar. The halt of the cricket song alerts you that he’s close. It’s said that crickets stop chirping when a predator is nearby.

“I-I know you’re there! I brought food for you,” your voice shaky, trying to sound confident but instead you just sound pathetic and weak.

No response. Just silence.

Turning on your flashlight, you check your surroundings. And when you turn around you are met with the sight of the mantis. He was sneaking up behind you, never making a sound to alert you. He got alarmingly close, so good thing you turned around when you did. Who knows what would have happened if you were a second later.

This is the first time that you are seeing the mantis at his full height. He towers over you, more than any normal human would. He must be around seven feet tall.

Yellow eyes stare widely at you, as he slowly continues to creep towards you. Continuing to stalk you even after you’ve spotted him. It’s unnerving and creepy.

“H-hello,” you try to break the tension. But your words only set him off. He opens his mouth and starts hissing at you. Unblinking eyes never diverting away from you. Every step you take back, he takes forward. You know what he’s trying to do, he’s trying to intimidate you. You are in his territory after all, so maybe he is interpreting your presence as a challenge. It’s just a speculation, but it’s all you have to go off of. So, you slowly kneel down and grab the container of grasshoppers from your bag. Making sure to never break eye contact.

When he sees the snacks you brought for him, he stops hissing. Cocking his head to the side in curiosity. 

“I brought these for you,” you shake the container, making the insects jump around, “I promise they’re tasty.”

The mantis chirps as he kneels in front of you. Snatching the container from your hands, he starts chewing on the plastic. Cracking it with his strong mandibles until it breaks, releasing the grasshoppers. They scatter quickly, jumping and leaping around the clearing. The mantis is quick to snatch them up and shove them into his mouth, leaping around like a cat until he’s caught them all. You feel bad about stealing your colleagues' grasshoppers, but this research is far more important. You took the largest specimens you could find. This is no regular mantis, it will take an incredible amount of food to satiate him enough to not consider you as a meal option for the night. But unfortunately, you don’t have access to such copious amounts of food. So you’ll just have to pray that this will be enough for now.

You study his movements. He’s fast and silent. A deadly combination.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish hunting down the snacks you provided. The loud sound of exoskeletons being crunched fills your ears as he approaches you again. The sound sends shivers down your spine.

He seems much calmer than he was earlier, looking at you expectantly. Maybe he knows that you brought more food for him? You wouldn’t be surprised if he could already smell it.

This time you came prepared with a large jar of honey and a spoon. The mantis starts chirping when you open the jar, eagerly fluttering his wings in anticipation of the sweet nectar.

Holding the jar in your lap, you use the spoon to collect the honey and bring it up to the mantis’ face. His long black tongue unfurls from his mouth, licking the spoon clean. It makes you giggle, spoon feeding a big scary creature. 

He tries to lunge forward to take the jar from you but you push him back. “No! Bad boy,” you scold.

With a growl he pushes you to the side, taking the jar for himself. “Hey!” you yelp. He holds the jar close to his body, dipping his tongue in the thick liquid only to bring it back into his mouth. He repeats this with no intention of stopping until the jar is empty.

Well, at least he’s distracted. 

“Do you have a name?”

He quirks a brow at you, licking the honey off his mandibles.

Can he not speak? He seems intelligent but if he hasn’t spent much time around humans then it makes sense that he wouldn’t know how to speak. But does he understand what you are saying?

“My name is Y/N,” your words seemingly go in one ear and out the other. “If you promise not to kill me, I’ll bring you even more honey,” that seems to have gotten his attention. He stops and stares at you with hooded eyes. Looking much more relaxed than earlier, he chirps two times before diverting his attention back to his snack.

You can only assume that he’s agreeing to your terms. Or at least, you hope he is. 

While he’s busy eating, you use this valuable time to observe his appearance and mannerisms. He allows you to get close enough to inspect the beautiful arrangements of spots that decorate his body. Getting a closer look at him, you can appreciate how beautiful he is. Maybe someday he’ll expand his wings for you to see.

Just in case things went awry, you brought a tranquilizer with you. If you are able to tranquilize him and take him back to base camp, you’d be praised by everyone. You can only imagine all of the awards and recognition you’d receive for bringing his existence to light. But watching as he eagerly slurps the honey, it’s hard not to feel sympathy for him. If you were to take him back to camp, he’d be contained and experimented on for the rest of his life. And that's not fair to anyone. Even a mantis human hybrid.

After half an hour he hands you the empty jar. His eyes look heavy and he blinks slowly. Poor thing must be tired after eating so much sugar. Without a thought, your body moves on its own. You cautiously bring your palm up to his head, and begin stroking his hair with your hand. He seems unbothered by your touch, closing his eyes and purring in response.

Aw, he’s actually kind of cute. Extremely deadly, but cute nonetheless. His antennae twitch, tickling your arm as you pet him.

He’s so vulnerable right now. This would be the perfect opportunity to tranquilize him. But instead, you vow to yourself that you will protect him. As long as you’re here you will study him in secrecy. 

His head dips for a moment before he picks it back up. He’s so sleepy that he almost fell asleep. So he decides that it is time for him to go. You watch as the mantis climbs up a large tree, making himself comfortable on a branch and laying down to rest.

︶ ︶꒷ ₊˚ ︶ ︶꒷ ₊˚

It’s shocking how well your second encounter with the mantis man went. He was aggressive at first, but when you introduced food into the equation, he became docile. It’s obvious that he is food motivated, so everytime you go out, you make sure to have some snacks on hand just in case there is a surprise encounter.

But it has been a couple days since you’ve been able to see your new friend. You aren’t worried about him, knowing full well that he’s more than capable of hunting on his own. But you do feel bad, so you bring an extra large batch of grasshoppers and beetles.

As you approach the familiar meeting spot, you hear rustling in the brush beside you. You know it isn’t the mantis because he stalks silently. 

“H-hello?” you whisper.

“Hey! You shouldn’t be here!” A female voice whispers back. The sound of twigs snapping under her feet as she approaches you.

She steps into the moonlight, her exquisite beauty revealed to you. She has blue eyes and long white hair. And she’s far too overdressed for a walk in the forest.

“This forest is dangerous. You need to leave now!” panic evident in her voice as she takes your hand in an attempt to show you the way out.

“Wait! I’m a scientist, I know what I’m doing. You on the other hand, really shouldn’t be here,” you warn, “There are dangerous animals that live here.”

She stops, raising a brow in confusion, “Could it be?... Have you met him too?”

You gulp, “The mantis…”

She nods and her eyes widen, “You’ve met my brother…”

[amerricanartwork]

RW Headcanon: The Omnivores and the Carnivores

Figured I'd start sharing some headcanons! Buckle up, folks, this is gonna be a looooooooong post! With a bit of Artimand sprinkled in (hope you like it @melissa-titanium)!

This was based on an idea lingering in the back of my mind for a bit, but after drawing the above image from a previous post I got reminded of it and decided to develop it a little more! I'll put the full headcanon down below!

By the way, I should warn you that the verbosity habit in my post asking about headcanons was no joke. This headcanon, as I've explained it below, is literally almost 700 words...

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I headcanon that there are two subspecies of “wild type” slugcats — omnivores and carnivores. I like the idea that slugcats were descended from a pipe-cleaning organism (although I still see them as mustelids rather than mollusks, but that’s a headcanon for another day…), so in this headcanon, a carnivorous variant of the slugcat ancestor was made to be more specialized for killing pests. Back when the Ancients were still around, they had a reputation similar to that of real-life raccoons and pigeons, while the omnivorous slugcats were more-often kept as pets.

As of the present Rain World timeline, though, omnivorous and carnivorous slugcats look almost identical. Omnivorous slugcats are still more iconic — they’re what you’d think of when one says “slugcat” — but the biggest differences the carnivorous variant possesses are their sharper teeth, stronger jaws, and sharper claws. Carnivorous slugcats also tend to be more muscular, while omnivorous slugcats have more body fat due to their largely plant-based diet.

Culturally, though, the two subspecies show more contrast. Omnivores are more peaceful hunter-gatherers who focus on trying to passively get by in a bigger, more dangerous world. Carnivores, on the other hand, are active hunters who tend to encourage combat training more and pride themselves on rising up to the ferocity of larger predators. The two tend to live separately in their own colonies, and don’t interact too often. There’s also some degree of prejudice in each group towards the other due to these cultural differences; not enough to cause large-scale conflicts, but enough that they side-eye each other occasionally. In more extreme cases, omnivores are perceived by the carnivores as weak, lazy, and meek, while omnivores see the carnivores as aggressive, loud, and cynical.

To bring it back to the image above, in my own personal fic-idea concept thing of how Artificer and Gourmand get together, this prejudice is a minor, but additional reason why they never expect to fall in love with each other; Arti is descended from a small group of carnivorous slugcats modified with explosive spit, while Gourm and the rest of the slugcats in his colony are all natural omnivores. Combine that with the rest of their attitudes in life, and at first, it seems they’re just too different to ever make a good pair.

A few more quick thoughts about these two subspecies:

Survivor and Monk are both naturally omnivorous. Hunter and Spearmaster, while directly engineered, were both derived from the carnivorous subspecies, while Rivulet was derived from the omnivorous subspecies.

Despite Gourmand being a natural omnivore, he eats larger prey more often than any other slugcat in his colony both out of curiosity for how other meats taste and because, true to his name, he honestly just likes to eat whatever (hey, as long as it’s edible)! However, once he and Artificer get together, he really starts to eat more meat from the creatures he hunts for her. And, interestingly enough, because he likes to use fruits and other plants as side dishes or as toppings to add flavor, this causes Arti to start eating more plants (now that’s what I call a “balanced diet”)! 

Even though the carnivores are culturally more similar to scavengers, the omnivores tend to get along better with them due to their more peaceful attitude, and the fact they naturally compete less with the scavengers for food (I like to imagine scavengers as pack-hunting carnivores).

Carnivores tend to move slightly faster than omnivores.

Carnivores often have bigger, more ravenous appetites than omnivores because they require more energy on average. Again, it’s partly what the image above is referencing!

Back when the Ancients lived, there actually existed a bit of a friendly discourse around which variant of the slugcat ancestors made better pets. It was in a similar vein to the modern “cat person vs. dog person” idea, but, to some degree, it’s actually continued on in various iterator groups, including the main one! FP, NSH, SRS, and CW are firm believers in carnivore superiority, UI passionately cheers on the omnivores, and Moon just giggles in the background and makes sure the debates don’t get too heated (but is also secretly team omnivore).

Anyway, with that said, BIG thanks to anyone who made it all the way down here! This headcanon originally formed as a way to explain in-universe the noticeably different diets of the main slugcat characters, but I just couldn't help adding more to it!

Let me know what you think of this concept, if you have anything to add to it, or if you'd like to see more of my headcanons! I just LOVE developing fictional worlds from ergonomic, analytical, and narrative perspectives, so if you want more, I've definitely got it!

[moraysoiree]

heels

Awestruck, Rook wraps his arms around your body, enjoying every second of you looking down onto him from above, just like you should. Perhaps he would very much prefer to be at your feet at all times, conquered, vanquished, and powerless.

characters: Rook Hunt x gn!reader tags: smut, dom!reader, reader is shorter than Rook, gn!reader ('reine' – french for 'queen' is used), clothed sex, heels, biting, mentions of blood, slight humiliation word count: 1354

Halloween is the busiest time of year, and most important in terms of boosting the prestige of your alma mater, too. All the more reason to spare no effort in preparation. And so you do, making sure to look your best in the vampire getup Pomefiore have chosen this year. The last touch to your look being the highest heels you could find in Vil’s wardrobe, the deadly and imposing creature of the night image is designed to inspire the basest of fears in the onlooker and pin them to the ground for the taking. And you get the chance to see it in action rather quickly, with your lover as lab rabbit, no less.

As you enter the still empty Hall of Mirrors, the first one to notice you is Rook. He freezes completely right in the midst of a conversation, staring at your form as you approach him, making it more and more obvious that your heels give the usually much shorter you a rare opportunity to tower over him. His conversation partner long gone (everybody knows how insufferable you two are together and prefers to avoid those displays to the best of their ability), Rook comes closer to you, admiration written all over his face as plain as black ink on white paper. ‘Mon amour,’ he takes your hand to his lips and presses a kiss, looking up at you in reverence, ‘Your radiance is most blinding today.’ His eyes travel up and down your body, soaking in this new position you two find yourselves in. ‘Had I known high heels would impress you so, I would’ve worn them much sooner,’ you giggle. ‘Nothing is ever to escape your attention, as expected of the possessor of my heart,’ he laments at being discovered so easily, but you stop him with a finger to his lips. ‘Meet me in the sideroom in an hour,’ and you’re gone with a quick kiss on his cheek, leaving him longing and yearning for your withdrawing presence.

Awestruck, Rook wraps his arms around your body, enjoying every second of you looking down onto him from above, just like you should. Perhaps he would very much prefer to be at your feet at all times, conquered, vanquished, and powerless. ‘You are positively enchanting today, mon amour. I feel like I would do anything under this mesmeric gaze.’

You are stricken with a curious idea at that declaration. ‘Anything at all?’ you question, all but baring your teeth in a carnivorous smile. ‘Anything, ma reine’, he echoes and kisses a lock of your hair gently, as if to underscore his intent. It takes you a lot not to let out a chuckle of anticipation for what’s to come next.

‘Kneel,’ your voice is firm and leaves no room for debate. Not that there would be any, really, with the way Rook’s eyes widen a bit, laying his emotions to you out on a plate. He processes the order, his eyes crease in delight. Without a word, he complies, slowly descending before you as his hand finds the slit of your dress and slides up your leg. His gaze unfalteringly fixed on yours, Rook kisses your thigh time after time, leaving black lipstick marks all over. His eyes are deep and hungry, you’ve ever seen him look like that at you – as if you are the most fascinating and delicate songbird an archer could lay his gaze upon. And this archer, as of now, is caught in the headlights and at the edge of the arrow you are pointing at him.

With a smile, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug, making him fall back a little in surprise. It’s painfully obvious how much this little game of cat and mouse is affecting him. Rook’s expression becomes a tiny bit frenzied in agitation, you know this look to emerge a short moment before he loses control. ‘Uh-huh,’ you chide. ‘Was it not you who said he would do anything for sa reine?’ His face falls theatrically and he throws his hands in the air in defeat, ‘I beg you to pardon my frivolities, but however am I expected to stay still when overwhelmed with such all-consuming beauty? Will you grace this lowly servant with your forgiveness, votre majesté?’ You giggle. ‘I will, for I am a kind ruler,’ you catch yourself thinking that that just now has sounded like a very poor impression of Crowley, but throw this annoying face (or mask, actually) out of your head immediately. ‘Now, how shall my chevalier repent, I wonder,’ you hum. Then your eyes sparkle, and you put your heel onto Rook’s chest, making him fall back even further as he caresses your calf and lowers his head to leave kisses there, too. The way he holds your shin is nothing short of a person holding the most exquisite of treasures, worshipping every inch of your skin with his lips.

His face is thoroughly flushed, and the hooded eyes, fixed on yours with an overflowing desire, leave little to imagination. ‘My, what a peculiar hunter! How he enjoys being driven into the corner,’ you drawl as you slide your leg down to a very telling bulge in his pants. ‘What an unusual display.’ His breath hitches when you press down, fingers tightening around your ankle. ‘Ma reine claims to be merciful, only to mock her poor servant so’, he sighs and shakes his head in fake dejection. You ignore his jests, silently lower onto his lap and push him down by the shoulders, still meeting no resistance whatsoever. You feel Rook grasp your waist with his hands desperately, but don’t break eye contact even for a moment, as you know that your prey will leap onto you the second you lose vigilance. You wrap your hand around his neck and close the distance between your faces, kissing his jawline. ‘Look at you, completely at my mercy now.’ ‘And wouldn’t have it any other way, mon amour,’ Rook whispers, not even trying to hide how he revels in this defeat. You tighten your hand on his neck, and snake the other one between you to cup his dick through the clothes. ‘Tell me?’, you urge him playfully. ‘You are the most fascinating creature to ever grace the lands of this world,’ he manages in a shaky voice as you continue stroking him through the velvety fabric of the fancy vampire costume. He looks the most breathtaking like this, elegant and strong yet still overpowered and bound to your will of his own volition. ‘Were you a wild savannah beast, I would gladly be devoured by your razor-sharp canines and torn by your knife-like claws, if only to surrender to your majestic beauty one last time and quench your bloodthirst,’ white-hot wave engulfs your mind and you clutch his dick harder, letting go of the neck just to yank his head back by the hair and clamp your teeth down on the tender skin so hard as if drawing blood is truly what you intend to do. He comes with a moan, and you keep stroking him through the aftershocks without unclenching your jaws. Only after you feel Rook still do you stop and raise your head to look at him.

The sight awaiting you is gratifying: ragged breaths escaping his chest, parted lips with smudged black lipstick, and, all the more thrilling, the delirious and disoriented look in his half-lidded eyes – it satisfies your hunger better than any hearty meal ever could. You leave a tender kiss on his forehead and get up, leaving Rook down on the floor beneath you, motionless and utterly ruined. You plant your heels on both sides of his head and look down, making sure to commit this sight to memory. ‘Come on, mon petit lapin, it’s high time we got back to work,’ your right shoe nudges his cheek softly and you leave, the clacking of your heels thinning out as you exit the room. Paralyzed, Rook moves no muscle in his body, his glassy eyes just boring the ceiling with a thousand-yard stare.

‘Beauté…’

[turbulentscrawl]

Helloo!, I love your writing so much I actually redownloaded tumblr to be here🙏

I'm such a fool for angst, if you're willing could you do a part two of "reminders of the horrors"?(specifically luchino's part it's so good), perhaps showing the aftermath once the reader "respawns"?

Any excuse to write my favorite lizard man ewe

Just Luchino for now, I'll do this for the others if requested later

warnings: hurt&comfort, mentions of gore and body horror

‘Come see me when you’re ready,’ the note had said. It was Luchino’s penmanship, that sharp, semi-cursive scrawl. You weren’t ready—your throat still ached like the gaping wound was there—but you went to him anyway, out of concern.

And you had right to be, you realized, when you found Luchino sitting at the desk in his office space with dark circles under his eyes. Though he was obsessed with his work, it was unlike Luchino to forego sleep. He glances up when the door creaks open and shuts his notes as soon as he registers that it’s you, yet another odd thing.

“There you are,” he says, softly. “Come here.” He looks you over from his seat, watches as you come in, close the door behind you, and lock it. He pushes his chair away from the desk and holds out his hand to you. It’s an invitation you’re familiar with, but the mood is different. Heavier. Your hand slides into Luchino’s like a key into a lock, and he guides you to sit on his lap. Once you’re comfortable, he props his feet up on his desk, and keeps you flush against his chest with his other arm around your waist.

“You should have rested more,” Luchino sighs with that slight hiss of his. His thumb caresses your knuckles. “It still hurts, doesn’t it? It’s probably best you don’t speak for a while.” Your expression must give away your shock at his knowing because he chuckles. His jaw shifts as he chews on a thought, working it into words you’re not sure he’s going to say. But after several long moments of this, Luchino tips his head back to stare at the ceiling, seeming deflated. You kiss the column of his throat, and though it doesn’t seem to soothe him it at least puts the ghost of a smile on his face.

“I still remember turning into a Hunter,” he admits. You freeze almost violently, first with complete shock, then confusion. You came along after Luchino did…but according to everyone else the Evil Reptilian had been at the manor first. Luchino glances at you from the corner of his eye and continues. “Time works strangely here. Everyone knows that, but…I don’t particularly expect anyone to believe me when I say he came from me. It sounds preposterous, after all.

“But I can recall living here before my Hunter-self with great clarity, and I can remember all the agony of my change into him. The growing pains, the structural change of bones and muscle, the burning growth of scales, and ache of carnivorous teeth pushing mine out…. Some days it feels like it’s still happening.” Luchino’s voice falls as he explains it all, until he’s speaking only in a whisper. He faces you again, your noses almost touching. “I remember knowing with great certainty that I was becoming a creature who could not resist his impulses. And not caring at all.”

“Why have you never told me about this?” You ask, croaking, sympathetic tears welling in your eyes.

“Oh, don’t make such a face for me,” Luchino coos and chuckles. He lets go of your hand to instead stroke your cheek with gentle fingers. “I’m not telling you now for pity.”

No, you already know why he’s telling you. You know him well enough to see the turmoil behind his composure. He’s worried for you, for the lingering pains like his own, and ashamed of the version of himself that caused them. He’s a dominant partner; it was his job to possess and protect you, and he felt he had gone against that in some twisted way.

“And I don’t need yours,” you assert. Luchino’s eyebrows twitch up, amused at your sternness. “Death will happen here, it’s an inescapable part of our lives. So when it comes for me, when it hurts…just kiss it better for me.”

Luchino barks a single laugh, smiling wide and adoringly. For just a moment, you think his eyes look a little misty. His lips meet your cheek, your jaw, your sore throat. His one arm coils tighter around you, the other falling to rub your thigh, and when you exhale it feels like melting into him.

“That, my treat, I can certainly do.”

[bunbitti]

warm

songbaek x cryptid!reader (idk what I'm doing, why did my first fic with Songbaek on here have to be weird); platonic

~500 words

tw: none

Songbaek had been searching for a new spot to train, since it seemed more and more people had been stealing his spots. Not that he'd ever mind being asked to help his fellow disciples with training, but could they maybe stop outright replacing him in whatever place he decided to train? A little consistency would be nice once in a while, but he figured it would be a good test of his discipline to be flexible.

He wandered out past the sect grounds a little farther than he normally would for training, and found a cave.

It was snowing. Snow never stopped him from training before.

He'd also never seen this cave before, but also he'd never gone in this specific direction before. Huh. Surely one of the others would've seen it before, though..?

Maybe he'd peek in to make sure things were safe before focusing on his training.

He found a massive rabbit curled up inside. Not massive as in one of the larger rabbit breeds, but so large that it was probably a few times larger than him if it'd also stood up on its hind legs. If he went off its fur color, maybe it was a snowshoe hare instead? But they shouldn't exist in this part of the world?? Well, a massive hare shouldn't exist in any part of the world, and here it was, so he decided to dismiss that discrepancy.

"..."

It shifted, and he flinched. He shouldn't have flinched, but it had opened its eyes and blinked at him before stretching its legs and yawning.

He never thought an animal yawning should be so terrifying, but it had sharp teeth next to the teeth a hare would normally have. Why did the hare have the canines of a wildcat?!

He was about to back away, but it reached out and snagged him in its strangely hand-like paws and pulled him into his cave. Songbaek had only had the thought once before, when Chungmyung had defeated him in a spar years ago with the aura of a vengeful demon, but was this how he would die? To a carnivorous giant hare in a cave he should've left alone?

Songbaek found himself surrounded by fluff. He vaguely felt the body heat of the cryptid seeping into his body, and he couldn't do anything but relax. The cozy heat contrasting with the frigid cold outside was making him want to fall asleep already. He tried to stay awake, but his strict discipline did nothing to help him.

His eyes drooped shut.

Songbaek woke up hours later. The hare was sleeping again, and he was being cuddled like a child would cling onto a stuffed animal or doll. But it was somehow the best sleep of his life, better than the countless times he'd passed out from the exhaustion of training, or for any other reason.

Huh.

Weeks later, Zhongnan disciples started to wonder where Songbaek went in the middle of the night when he claimed he couldn't sleep.

[transbeeduo]

guess who thought of fat Ranboo as they were falling asleep and actually kinda remembers the idea[s]! thats a first!

anyway: I feel like, pre revival, Ran would be very conscious about their weight and body. post revival, they still would, but different aspects; its no longer: "have I trimmed my fur," "should my hair be this long," "am i light enough to teleport and sprint away when i can?"

now, its "is my fur covering my scars yet," "have I actually eaten today," "do these scars look ugly," "does this shirt show the big gash in my chest," etc. they recall hearing somewhere that fur growth speeds up if you eat more, and since they're no longer terrified of having to run at any moment, they start eating more. and gaining more weight. because theyre not eating only a few apples anymore. and who knew they were malnourished? turns out theyre mostly carnivorous. that explains the sharp teeth that never really fit right into the vegetables and fruit, and lack energy, even after consuming cookies.

also feel like they might forget that theyve eaten that day. their memory is worse after revival, so they have issues remembering even some of the most mundane things. like if theyve eaten yet. when they look in the mirror, to their surprise, they don't see a lot of bone anymore, and they instead see fluff, soft rolls, and fat. mostly in their stomach, but their cheeks, arms, legs, etc got a bit as well. to their surprise, they like it!

in a completely different vein of ideas, this one comes from my "Ranboo never actually died, and instead just got really injured because who wouldn't get really injured from a sword to your chest" but maybe thatll get explained more some other day.

anyway, Ranboo gets injured, and Tubbo winds up taking care of them and healing them. Naturally, he starts upping their food intake and potion intake to aide their healing. four apples a day would NOT cut it if you were healing from a wound that bad. so even if he has to mush up food into baby food or blend them into a smoothie, Ranboo is getting more food and calories. thus, weight gain. it makes them healthier. helps them heal faster. im not exactly sure what all goes on, because this au is a wip, but they do gain weight! and in the end, theyre fine with it.

ANON. ANON HOLY SHIT THIS IS LIKE ALMOST EXACTLY HOW I PICTURED IT literally after being revived I imagine Ranboo would be like, REALLY burnt and scarred post limbo due to so much exposure to water splashing and spraying against his little island, and missing a LOT of fur.

I feel like the weight gain he’d have would TOTALLY be due to health issues, along with what you said, they were also REALLY skinny in limbo (not eating for god knows how long can do that to you) so they REALLY needed to get some nutrients in them to start healing properly!! I think it’s literally as you said, Ranboo felt more confident in eating because he wasn’t scared about needing to run at a moment’s notice, and not needing to worry about fighting for their life all the time!

I think a lot of it comes from just like. Feeling at peace for the first time in their life. Tubbo’s okay, Michael’s okay, his friends are okay. And Ranboo’s here and alive and they’re happy and surounded by love…

[equinoxbloom]

Starved

[FFXIV Write 2024 | Day 12 | Quarry]

She wasn’t a stranger to being haunted. Phantoms had been a facet of her very existence. A ghost had drawn her first breath. 

She was beginning to find  she wasn’t a stranger to being hunted, either. 

It wasn’t that she was elusive, so much as unreachable. And there were those who couldn’t help but reach and reach with the knowledge her broken body would slip between their fingers like grains of sand.

There was a violence to possession, and she seemed built for it. Vessels are made, after all, to be desired. Despite it, she found herself trembling. Familiarity with the substance of what he was, the way he looked at her, did nothing to ease the frigid terror that jolted down her spine. A wraith at the edges of her mind. A closing snare.

In the dappled light of the Greatwood, the small hairs rising on the back of her neck, she’d turned to find him lazing against an ancient trunk. Leisurely, silent, watching her with a listlessness that sent a strange kind of adrenaline racing down her veins. His attention was ocher and luminous and she felt like the smallest sort of creature under his gaze. He was carnivorous in a way she didn’t understand and, she thought, that he didn’t care to examine. He didn’t care about her at all. He didn’t want to. But if he did they’d both burn away.

“Something on your mind, Hero?” he asked, flicking some invisible debris from his long coat. He sounded venomous. He sounded tired. “Or do you despise my presence to distraction?” She did not like meeting the gaze of the ascian Emet-Selch. He looked through her, to the parts of her that had been called divine, and found them lacking. It was unsettlingly obvious he could see the her that she, herself, could not reach.

“No, I just…” she frowned, clenching her fists to stop the shaking. “Wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” she said. He raised a delicate brow.

“I don’t want to look at you at all,” he said. Like a starving man refusing food. His lips curled. A hound before a hare, but she was so far beneath him. How terrible it was to want to reach out, to claw at her, to search her innards to see if he could find something familiar in her entrails like too many red threads.  He swallowed back all the snarling. It would be wasted on her, after all. She couldn’t fathom it, broken little cage of bones.

“I know,” she said, rubbing her arms and shaking off the creeping sensation that, the longer he followed her with those eyes, the more of her would fall away. So much of her was falling away. And he didn’t deny it. He was nothing if not honest with her. It wasn’t so much that she was being drawn into his trap as she was being flushed from the shade. An incidental prize was one of the worst kind. Her attention drifted from him back toward her companions.

“You are a greedy one, aren’t you,” he said, the ponderousness of his voice yanking her back to him. The expression he wore was new, and gone as quickly as it had come. “Well. Keep running on ahead. Keep your distance. It suits you.”

He was gone before she could say anything in response, but she thought she could still feel his gaze following the exposed paths of her skin. Intrigued, disgusted, unable to look away. She thought he might have understood better than she, her soft gasp and the way she clutched her hand to her chest. That aching empty that yawned where her heart should have been, a momentary absence that threatened to swallow her whole.

She was impassive by the time she returned to the treetop bridges of Fanow. If she walked into waiting jaws, it hardly mattered. She had always been so much blood spilling between teeth.  

[dinkflocculent]

Old Prey: Chapter Three - Nightmare

Leo

I have finally found her.

My sweet Soleda.

My life has been an anguish to live through ever since she left me. All alone. So lonely without her. Now here she is. Standing right in front of me for us to be together forever.

Woefully, something terrible has happened to her. She has lost all memories of her life and our love. Brainwashed into this upturned reality. I have to take her home to make her remember.

She will never leave me again.

“M-Mr. Santifelon…” she says in a hushed, shivering voice, scooting back as takes a step closer to her. “I… I-I—”

She’s horrified of me. She shakes as if she’s in the freezing storm outside. Her chest rises and lowers at a frighteningly quick pace. She holds her chest to soften her heartbeat.

Oh, my poor, sweet Soleda.

“Please… don’t devour me. Imagine how long you'd be in prison being a meat defender. Because of your carnivorous curiosity?” her voice cracks. “…I don’t want to die.”

Devour her?

“Why would I do such a thing to you? Why do you keep calling me by such a formal name?”

“W-What?”

“Oh, you are so terribly frightened… Just come with me. You will be back to normal.”

She takes slow, shaky steps back as I come closer. She may think I’m going to do the worst to her. Devour her? The worst thing I could ever do… and to such an angel of mine.

Her gaze treads to the floor. She holds her heart as her breathing becomes more and more clear and quick. She can’t calm down. I’m scaring her.

She’s having a panic attack.

“Hey, hey…” I go to pick her up.

“Don’t touch me!”

Being as gentle as I can, I grab her wrist. She frails as I put the cloth over her snout. The sweet aroma of the chemical fills her nostrils, her eyes getting heavy.

She falls limp in my arms. So calm when she’s asleep. So beautiful.

Soleda, you have filled a hole inside my cursed heart.

***

Beau

I wake up to an early Saturday morning. I should be energetic to start the break, but my head is agonizing to deal with. My limbs feel like I’ve slept for years. My vision takes time to clear.

My bed doesn’t feel right. I have more space. It makes me not want to leave the comforting covers, yet I can’t understand why my bed feels so unfamiliar.

My vision eventually clears, and I don’t depend on touch to see where I am. The floors are wooden, not carpeted. The window is gone. A large wardrobe replaced my bookshelf. The wall wasn’t the familiar white. It was a vintage yellow with a flower pattern. Everything about my room isn’t the same.

Wait.

This isn’t my room.

Mr. Santifelon kidnapped me last night.

The room feels like it’s running out of oxygen. I try to clear my head, but I can only think about how painful a beast eating me to death feels. Claws digging into my flesh. Some of my fur getting pulled off in a struggle. Sharp teeth ripping my body apart.

God, it’ll be so painful.

I can’t let that happen to me. I throw the covers off of me, pulling my feet to the ground. The door was only steps away. Yet I don’t know the surroundings of this house. A frightening sound stabs my ears, knocking me out of my thoughts.

Footsteps.

Large footsteps.

He’s coming.

I jump back into bed, pulling the covers over me in haste. I shake as I curl into a ball, the soft, terrifying creek of the door hitting my ears. I cover my mouth.

I need to move. This monster is going to eat me alive. The exit is so close. If I can just…

“Soleda?”

He calls me by a familiar name, but it isn’t mine. Are there other monsters in this house? Are they in the room with me? My heart pumps faster than it ever has. Is this how I’ll die? Was my anxiety right every time I went outside? Every time I spoke with a carnivore?

A sweet aroma fills my nostrils, filling my head with pleasant memories of my childhood. It almost calms me, but it won’t let me forget where I am. His hand touches my back to shake me awake, freezing me with fear. He slowly pulls away the covers, seeing my terrified, curled-up body.

He looked down at me, holding a tray of freshly baked cookies. His big smile on his face mocks me for what’s to come.

“Are you cold—”

“Get away from me!” I scream, scurrying to the headboard while not taking my eyes off of him.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he sets down the tray on a dresser and walks forward.

He’s going to kill me.

“No, no, no! Please don’t devour me, it’s not worth it! I don’t want to die, I don’t want to!”

His expression changes. He doesn’t have the look of someone who is about to eat me alive. He looks surprised at my behavior. Devastated that I would beg such things. What does he expect? For me to be okay with going through such a brutal demise?

“Soleda…” he has a deep distraught look in his eyes. “I would never do such a thing to you.”

“…no?” I sniffle, tilting my head in confusion.

“I have finally found you after all these years. Why would I throw it all away for my feral, carnivorous desires? Soleda, you need to stay here so I can keep you safe.”

I stare at him, my mind going blank. He finally found me after all these years? He is the first lion I’ve seen in person. In our conversation, I do remember him talking about his dearest leaving him. How sad he got after bringing it up.

Does he think I’m her?

“Mr. Santifelon, you’re mistaken—”

“Call me Leo!” He slightly raised his voice, causing my ears to lower and my lips to close. He notices, changing his demeanor to a more softer look. “Now that we have calmed down, how about you try some of the cookies I’ve made?”

I eyed the cookies as if they were going to jump out and bite me. He cooked them, and he wants me to eat it. I don’t know what he put in that. Eggs, flour, and a sedative to paralyze me? He made me faint while forcing me to inhale chloroform. He wouldn’t hesitate to trick me into drugging me.

“Do you think I drugged it?” he chuckles. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“Eat one. All of it.”

He sighs, taking a cookie and eating it fully. I stare at him as he swallows, waiting a moment.

He’s fine.

“Now can you please eat at least one? I spent all morning making them just how you liked it.”

I take one, a comforting warmth filling my paw. I sniff it, being cautious. Even though it smells good, I can’t bring myself to consume anything he gives me.

He takes another and eats it whole. He looks at me, his gaze anticipating for me to take a bite. I raise it up to my lips, taking a bite.

It’s… delicious.

I go to take another. Then another. Until he stops my hand from getting the fourth.

“Now, now,” he talks to me as if he’s my father. “That’s just a treat. But we need to eat breakfast. Stay put until I come back, my Soleda.”

He gets up, taking the tray with him as he leaves.

My anxiety returns, reminding me of the situation I was in. He thinks I’m ‘Soleda,’ someone he clearly cares about. I’ve only talked with him for one period and this happens.

I don’t know what he wants with me. He wants me to stay. But I won’t be safe. I’ve heard he has a temper, even if they were only rumors. What makes him mad? What if one day I piss him off and he hurts me? Or snaps…

Then devours me.

I can feel my heartbeat start to quicken. I can feel it in my ears. The thought of him killing me in such an agonizing way makes me dizzy. He has the power to do it. I could do nothing to escape it other than scream and run.

My nose twitched, a sweet, comforting aroma filling my nostrils. It’s coming from the kitchen. He must be cooking, and he’s wonderful at it.

Tip-toeing to the door, I take a peek. He stood against the stove, stirring the pot as he sang a soft song. He held everything so delicately like it was glass.

He is just a delicate flower. A broken soul, who clings to me to put the pieces back together. But I can’t be a part of this. I have nothing to do with it. I am not who he thinks I am.

And I don’t know how to convince him otherwise.

My body reminds me that I didn’t eat anything last night, and I try to find something to distract me from it.

The large wardrobe with peeling paint caught my eye. After a struggle, I open it. It’s filled with casual dresses, not bigger than my size by too much. They look out of date, decades old. But they’re in prime condition.

They probably belonged to Soleda. He holds onto anything of remembrance of her. He obsesses over her. I don’t know how I’m going to possibly convince him. He’s set on this.

“Soleda?”

I close the wardrobe and jump back into bed, pulling the covers over me. I don’t know what he’ll do if he catches me rummaging through his prized possessions.

“You can’t eat under the covers…” he shakes me, alerting me to peek from under them.

He holds a tray. A bowl with a delicious smell has hot steam coming from it. Another small bowl with some fruit.

He sets it down on the bed on my lap. I stare at it, sniffing it. It smelled good, yet I wish I had the nose of a canidae to detect if he put anything in it.

“Soleda, I promise I didn’t put anything in it…” his ears flatten.

Both in pity and a smudge of trust, I pick up a spoon and cup some of the stew. I take a sip.

Males aren’t known for culinary, but he is.

I haven’t eaten in hours, but it feels like weeks. I pray that this isn’t drugged, because I am eating way too fast.

“How do you cook so well?” I ask after I swallow.

“You taught me. You must not remember…” he says with a sad tone. It must be a pleasant memory. “I didn’t know how to cook, even anything simple. My father never taught me since it was ‘only a female’s job,’ so I didn’t know how to fend for myself. But you came and guided me.”

“…Oh?”

“You showed me to show my soft interior my father told me to cover with a tough exterior.”

“She sounds like a wonderful beast.”

He sighs, rummaging through his pocket and pulling photos.

“Soleda, I will do anything to bring back your memory. I know things that you will never forget, and I have them stored. Ever since you left…”

He shows me a picture. A picture of a bear no older than me and a young Mr. Santifelon. His mane wasn’t as long, and his teeth weren’t as sharp. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said I and Soleda looked similar. She looks like she could be my mother.

“Remember this? It was just after prom. The night was so cold but it didn’t stop us from playing in the lake deep into the forest,” he smiles. “It was the best night of our lives.”

I just stared at the picture, looking at him as he spoke. My ear twitches in curiosity. He talks so softly, recounting everything in the moment.

“The nights when we would just talk about our dreams. We wanted to live in a cabin in the snowy woods, away from the outside world. No pressure from society’s expectations. Away from all wars. Just living together.

Dying together.”

That snaps me out of my thoughts. The thought of living with him for the rest of my life is horrifying. I don’t want to be with him. I shouldn’t be. I’m not Soleda. I’m Beau. I want to live with my father. I want to live out my final year of high school.

“Would… you do anything for me?”

I don’t know why I said it. Curiosity? That was part of it.

“Of course, I would! Getting rid of anyone that could get between us. Like that friend ‘Duko’ of yours.”

He has no place in our relationship.”

[rauko-creates]

Suptober Day 4: Wicked

Alistair finding Dean in Hell from Carnivore (a fic about Dean's time in Hell and Castiel's battle to save him)

~

Dean screamed. He cried. He cussed. He did it mostly to fill the nothing. Nobody was there to hear him. There was just nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

“DAMMIIIT!! COME ONNNN! THERE’S GOT TO BE SOMEBODY OUT THERE! LILITH! BITCH, DID YOU DRAG ME DOWN HERE JUST TO FORGET ABOUT ME? SOMEBODYYYYYY! Somebody...please…”

Nothing.

Nothing.

Humming.

Humming?

Dean’s mind was messing with him. There was nothing here. Nothing but nothing. Nothing but...humming…

“Hey! HEYYY! IS SOMEBODY THERE?!” Please...please be somebody…

The humming stopped. The response was slow in coming, slow enough that Dean had already decided that he was crazy and it was just more nothing. But finally he heard…

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

A figure appeared above him, sliding down the chain connected to Dean’s shoulder until they were face to face. It was a demon. It was obviously a demon now that that Dean could see their true faces. It was horrible. It was hideous. And it was goddamn beautiful because it was something. It was fucking something , and Dean stared at it like it was everything.

“Well?” The man studied Dean’s face. “What do you think about getting you out of those chains? Would you like to come with me?”

“Yes. Yes, please…” Dean should have been scared. He should have been a lot of things. But for now, he was just relieved that there was something else in this god forsaken place.

The man softly sang as he freed Dean’s hands. “Heaaaven. I’m in Heaven. And my…” Dean couldn’t help but grin at the demon’s sense of irony as he moved to the bonds on his feet. “...and I seem to find the…”   Argh! Dean grit his teeth to keep from crying out as he pulled the hooks from Dean's shoulder and side.

That’s when Dean felt it. It was a sort of...thunder without sound...that reverberated through him and his new companion, a power that pulsed and seemed to shake the whole of Hell.

“What the hell…?” He looked at the demon, who was had one arm wrapped around Dean to hold him while hanging by the other.

“Hmmm,” the demon scowled. He seemed...less confused than Dean was by the new something in their nothingness, but no less concerned. He looked back at Dean with a smile. ”Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

And then they were falling.

[whitepolaris]

Aquatic Anamolies

The Tragedy of Tommy Turtle

In times of war, mistakes are sometimes made. Individuals, especially outsiders, can be misidentified. Inevitably, innocents can be killed. Alas, it's a sad truth that such a fate befell one large and luckless leatherback turtle during World War II.

Tommy Turtle, as he was named postmortem, was a prodigious specimen: more than six feet long, three feet wide, and weighing about one hundred pounds. He was more than likely lost as he swam through the Columbia River one late summer day in 1942. Leatherbacks, the only sea turtles lacking a shell, are concentrated mostly in the Atlantic Ocean off of Florida and equatorial America. They exist in the Pacific Ocean in lesser numbers, but usually nowhere near the western United States. A stranger in a strange land, Tommy was confused by a boatload of fishermen, who mistook him for a small Japanese submarine as he swam just below the surface.

The patriotic fishermen, intent on defending the Northwest from Emperor's Hirohito's navy, grabbed their guns and opened fire on unfortunate Tommy. Realizing their error as blood gushed from his dark ridged back, they did the only thing they could: hoisted him aboard, took him into port, and cut him into turtle steaks.

A newsletter from the Tongue Point Naval Air Station in Astoria aptly concluded: "This is the unromantic end of Tommy Turtle, whose first visit to the Pacific Northwest ended so disastrously for him."

Of Pacu and Piranha

The pacu is a South American freshwater fish, a herbivore cousin to the piranha. The two look similar-flat and oval-shaped, with prominent teeth-although pacu are considerably larger (they can grow up to about a yard long). Pacu teeth are not pointed, like those of piranha, but they can be just as sharp; they can break open seeds and nuts that fall into the water and chew hard vegetation. When confronted with an unfamiliar, potentially edible morsel, pacu harbor no aversion to an experimental nibble. In other words, while they're not as dangerous as piranha, they nay still bite flesh, should they be curious as to whether it suits their diet.

Given the pacu's South American origins, it's surprising and a bit alarming that at least two have been caught in Oregon waters.

In September 1998, Greg Asplund reeled one in while pond fishing at Jackson County's Expo Park. He'd noticed it in the pond beforehand and thought it to be a bass or a crappie. But there was something-if you'll pardon the pun-fishy about the way it chased smaller fish. It seemed overly aggressive.

Upon closer inspection after catch it. Asplund was sure he'd caught a piranha. It was only after taking it to the Oregon State Police, who then turned it over to the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife, that this piscine puzzler was properly pegged as a pacu.

A similar catch was made by fourteen-year-old Nicole Wells in August 2004 at Round Lake in Camas. She was taken aback by the mean-looking teeth on a foot-long fish she caught. Her mother strongly suspected it was a piranha, but a manager at a tropical fish store later identified it as a pacu.

In August 2003, another young fisherman, Jason McGinnis, caught a piranha in Milwaukee's Johnson Creek. He got the scar to prove it, as the pacu's carnivorous cousin bit him on the finger while he was removing the hook. Nevertheless, the fourteen-year-old kept the fish, hoping to sell it.

It isn't hard to figure out how these out-of-towners got into Oregon's waters. Both pacu and piranha are readily available in some pet shops. When their owners get bored with them, or pacu grow too big to keep in a fish tank, they're sometimes dumped into the wild. Cold water in the fall and winter will eventually kill either fish. In warm summer water, however, they'll gladly try out the local cuisine!

[fantasylandbackflips]

Unbelievable Scenes: 7th Dragon 2020

(as portrayed in Kinu Nishimura's "Sympathy for Chisa Inomiko")

──────────•~❉᯽❉~•──────────

It was getting harder and harder to take a morning jog without getting interrupted.

This time? It was a jackalope and one of those awful carnivorous thistle things, jumping out from behind an abandoned truck.

I grit my teeth, hopped out of the way of the jackalope's lunge, and flipped a switch in my pocket. In response, the laptop in my backpack spun up its fans, the YUUHI HUD on my Google Glass came to life, and a defensive script sprang into motion just in time to deflect a squirt of caustic sap off the surface of my infofield. I got to work right away on trying to get access to the jackalope's nervous system and deploy some attack scripts. Meanwhile, I mentally visualized touching my lips and then gesturing at the thistle, and a gout of psychokinetic purple fire splashed against it, singeing its leaves and provoking an enthusiastic shout of "Bullseye!" from the person who had fired it off.

Well. Sort of a "person", and sort of a "shout". We'll get to that later.

The jackalope pounced at me again, and this time I wasn't fast enough - it managed to bite into my good arm deep enough to draw blood. Wincing, I adjusted my script to target via DNA, and it finally got through, with the jackalope letting go and falling to the ground in a daze. The thistle had tried another sap attack, but was tied up dodging the potassium flames coming from an invisible assailant... only to be burnt to a crisp by a gout of red flame from behind me that managed to singe my backpack straight through my barrier.

Fuck. There was a dragon behind me, wasn't there? No time to look. Can't beat the things - not out here in the open. I bolted, shutting down the script augmenting my infofield's entropic mass in exchange for a boost to speed. My "companion", for her part, began to fire off chemical pops in my pursuer's face, in an attempt to harry it as much as possible.

A stray thought came to me, sprinting down the street with an unkillable, otherworldly monster right behind me: at least the apocalypse has gotten me "in shape". Somehow, five seconds from death, that was suddenly the funniest thing in the world. I managed to make it through my front door, with the dragon only 50 feet behind and with my peal of unhinged laughter echoing through the neighborhood. As soon as the door was closed, I flipped the front lightswitch... activating the house's defenses. Antennae in the attic triangulated the position of my pursuer's infofield, and triggered the YUUHI-enhanced mines underneath it on the lawn, dissolving it into that not-quite-matter that the dragons seemed to be made of.

I sighed with relief, ripped the N95 off my face, and braced myself on the door for a moment to catch my breath. This would be so much easier if it wasn't for those fucking flowers.

Once I'd calmed down, I stood back up and headed over to the garage to offload the spoils of my "shopping trip". My car would probably never drive again at this point - too many modifications - but that was okay. It was serving a more important purpose: to act as the generator and power storage for the house. I filled up the tank with siphoned gas, added preservative, plugged my laptop back into the wall, and turned back on the main breaker.

"What were you thinking back there? You should have tabbed me in as soon as that horrid thing bit you!"

I winced. A pink fairy, no bigger than a loaf of bread, was suddenly visible on my shoulder with a vexed expression on her face, fussing over my jackalope bite.

"Push off, Pax," a familiar voice replied from my other shoulder. "The boss needed me keeping the thistle under control." The fairy there, red and armored, rolled her eyes at the pink one, who merely "harrumph"'d and got back to work overclocking my healing.

That was about when a third fairy chimed in - yellow and brown, with an oversized wrench. "I still think we should make an expedition down to the south end of town to scavenge laptop parts. The monsters are getting worse; we won't last much longer with only one of us able to tag along at a time."

I let them bicker in the background, and in a rare moment of sanity wondered how I managed to talk myself into this arrangement. Using YUUHI to aftermarket install CPP in my own infofield in order to have combat backup that could emulate Akaneno Syndrome powers? Using holodisplays to make their thoughtforms physically visible and audible while docked to my home cluster instead of my laptop? Sure, the possibility of mad science nonsense like that was why I'd gotten into YUUHI and infophysics tech in the first place, but who actually does it, especially to themselves? If things ever went back to normal... if President Muller's weird bullshit superweapons were really able to drive away the Imperial Dragons and restore normality... I'd have a whole back catalogue of issues to work through before I could put myself back together again.

But... until then?

I mean. It was that or be alone, right? Who knows if there's even anyone else left in this town?

I flopped down on the couch and looked out the window. No sky. No sky ever since this nonsense began. Just an impossible mountain range that floated upside-down where the sky should be, a patchwork of snowy peaks, rocky crags, and volcanos, tinting the world a lurid red. Somewhere up there was the bastard that had turned my home inside-out. A dragon, according to the radio, like the kind I'd run from today but somehow much more powerful. Creatures that were smart enough to imagine, to come up with this whole nonsensical arrangement... and yet somehow with naive enough infofields to be susceptible to direct YUUHI attacks, the kind that are supposed to be trivial for a conscious mind to deflect. What was with that? How? Why?

I sighed. I wouldn't crack that mystery today.

Draped on the couch, trying to get my head screwed on straight, I watched, idly, as a military helicopter started circling above... and slowly came in for a landing in front of the house.

[morning-moonstruck]

WIP Word Search Tag Game

tagged by kit, @catboysooyoung

Rules: search for the words given by whomever tagged you within your wip(s) and post them for us to see! Then tag as many people as you want and give them five words to find in their works.

ayyyy, first time doing this, and for once I have wips! ish. wips-ish. I sadly still have not written down many—they’re all stuck up in my head atm. but this should be fun anyway, so thanks for tagging me, kit!!  

lost

The snarling creatures surely should’ve snatched us up, that’s been the pattern—[n ot everyone bi tes, but we all f e ed]—yet I never thought of the plants. Stupid, since that’s how we met, not even the first time, but time and again, some giant carnivorous flower or shrub with too many teeth, or spatting out paralyzing poison, or just plain old stickers in the grass on the exact day we both, simultaneously but separately, lost our shoes. We could handle the fauna alone, but the mutating flora? Our weakness.

finger

Now her feet hurt less than her shoulder, which Lee Hyunsung carefully tends to behind her. He swipes ointment over her wounded skin, and she flinches from the chill of the ointment. His fingers are gentle, butterfly touches atop the deep scratches. After he wraps her shoulder with scraps of fabric, she rolls her shoulder, testing out the mobility, and thanks him.

“Where’d you get the medicine?” she asks. “There’s nothing like that back in Geumho Station.”

“It was a gift,” he says, then fumbles out the rest, “from my, um, sponsor.”

“Ah,” she says. “Didn’t know sponsors did that. Good, though.”

tear

Here is where you and I, dear reader, are going to explore what the Fool card represents and how Kim Dokja barely fills the card’s role.

And how I, foolishly, will still claim Kim Dokja as the Fool of my personal ORV tarot deck.

This card is not about falling.

It is not about mockery or derision or scorn or tearful frustration for a young man who’s too distracted by everything around him to notice that he’s about to step off a cliff. Save such harsh disapproval for the Reversed Fool, who may well deserve it.

Instead, this card relishes in the Fool’s naivety and curiosity. This is a card for those on a brand-new journey, starting fresh, and exploring. The sky is blue and he is free.

reap / cost

ah, these two didn’t show up in any of my wips. that just makes me wanna use them now though :>

These are all ORV fics/meta, believe it or not. Tearful for “tear” is a bit of a stretch, but it’s the most recent wip that uses it, so I’m going with it conscious-free.

I’ll tag @vaphelion and @rainbowsrambles. Feel free to ignore the tag, but if you want to play the game, next five words are: star, worn, shame, grant, challenge.

And of course, anyone not tagged can play too.

[obiwanobi]

« I wish you would write a fic where…. »

Ahsoka gets deaged to a one or two years old baby and it’s now Anakin and Obi-WAN’s job to take care of her and it is an adventure at first :« Obi-Wan she’s a carnivore ? Are we supposed to give bacon to a child ??? »,« Anakin she doesn’t have teeth », «  so ? Do I chew it for her ? » or « Obi-Wan you put so much clothes on her she can’t even lift her arms », «  But it’s cold out there! », « yes but she’s sweating so much she’s the same color as Master Tii ». After a while they are synchronized and there are tenders moments where she falls asleep in Obi-Wan’s arm and Obi-Wan falls asleep as well and Anakin takes a holo and put a blanket on the three of them and falls asleep on Obi-Wan’s shoulder an arm across his middle holding Ahsoka little hand or they both realized they are trying to make her say the other name when they are alone.

Can you imagine Obi-Wan coming back from a council session ready to play with Ahsoka and Anakin (his new favorite moment of the day) and Anakin is sitting in front of her with a serious face « Come on little Soka for me say Obi-Wan, O-B-I W-A-N» and she looks a him with her big blue eyes and he repeats and she goes « Noniii wannn » and Anakin fucking cries like « Yes that’s it you are so good myo meeshku!! ». Obi-Wan’s heart is beyond full and he confess that he has been trying to make her say « Ani » for several weeks now cue to her saying « naniiiii » while giggling.

I’m so soft for these boys and their little one ☺️ (myo meeshku -> my sweet in huttese, yes I totally googled it)

that is the cutest thing oh my god 😭😭 Obi-Wan would definitely try to keep his cool and pretends he's not affected by all the cuteness, especially after Anakin said he wouldn't have a problem caring for Ahsoka without getting too attached but was found browsing the holonet to find her lothcat hats (plurals) 12 minutes later. So he tries! he really tries!

Obi-Wan: we are Jedi, Anakin, we should have let Ahsoka in the crèche, really, we can't forget that we, Jedi, shouldn't try to emulate a parental relationship that could possibly lead us on the path of— Anakin, holding Ahsoka up: say it again to him! Ahsoka, proudly: Noni-Wan! Obi-Wan: Anakin: ....are you— Obi-Wan: NO I'm not crying, that would be ridiculous, but for unrelated reasons I'm going to take Ahsoka right now and buy her all the sweet cakes she wants