#entrance gorge

[theodoreangelos]

Cathedral, Teplice Rocks, Teplice, entrance gorge, Czech Republic Katedrála, Teplické skály, Teplice, vstupní rokle, Česká republika Kathedrale, Weckelsdorfer Felsen, Weckelsdorf, Eingang Schlucht, Tschechische Republik Katedra, Teplickie Skały, Teplice, wąwóz wejściowy, Republika Czeska Кафедральный собор, Теплицкие скалы, Теплице, входное ущелье, Чехия Cathédrale, rochers de Teplice, Teplice, gorge d'entrée, République tchèque

[oceanatydes]

overall I loved the first 3 eps!!!!! some genuinely really good and fun banter that had me laughing out loud so im really looking forward to the next eps

[evilgwrl]

Ghost x Reader x König

Paris

Summary: You were bored at home so your roommates gave you a visit to the Eiffel Tower!

CW (MDNI): MxFxM threesome, PIV (no protection, cream pie), oral (M receiving), degradation mixed with a bit of praise, rough sex, face fucking, spanking, one facial slap, talk of anal, slight ass play, the boys r a bit perverted and don’t rlly see u as a person when they’re fucking u, reader doesn’t orgasm but it’s insinuated she will after ;) sorry

Word Count: 1433

Masterlist

You weren’t sure what prompted this situation. Maybe it was your constant whining and bitching about how boring your small town was and how you were destined for more. It wasn’t your fault, their lack of talking always led you to yap more, and more, and more and they had to shut you up somehow.

The room was filled with splutters and gargles as König held your head down on Simon’s girthy cock, his angry mushroom head tickling your tonsils as you choked, bile threatening to rise before you were pulled off for a second. Your nose was running, drooling almost as you gasped for air, tear-shed eyes staring up at your roommates as you coughed.

“Not so talkative now are you, Liebe? Just needed a mouth full of cock, ja?”

König’s words were degrading, yet you found your wanton mouth panting as you chased the taste of Simon’s precum again, the salty tang quenching your throat as you kitten licked the tip, a hiss-sounding from his throat as you were guided back down his length again.

You let out a pleasant hum as your mouth shallowly bobbed around his cock, two hands working the remainder of his length in gentle flicks of your wrists. “Good fucking slut, hm? Dirty cock whore loves being used by her roommates, isn’t that right?”

You nodded in agreement, gargling around his member as you took more of him down your throat, a hand coming up to gently squeeze at his heavy balls, a light fuzz of pubic hair littering them. A gentle hand stroked your cheek as Simon groaned, bucking his hips further into your mouth as König muttered gentle praises about how good you were.

“That’s it baby, so fucking good at this. Just like that – fuck.”

You felt a warmth of satisfaction in your chest as you hollowed your cheeks against the throbbing cock that buried itself in the warmth of your mouth, your tongue flat against the veiny shaft as you traced along every one of them, Ghost’s hips stuttering before he let out a guttural groan, the taste of his thick cum gorging down your throat.

König pulled you away hastily as the finishing spurts landed on your parted lips, tongue quickly darting out to lap at the residue as you panted. “You deserve a treat for doing so good, don’t you Maus?”

You practically whined in response, thighs rubbing together as heat radiated off of you. Your throat was dry as you squeaked out a ‘yes’, desperate hands resting on Simon’s meaty thighs as he pulled you up, the pair leading you to your bed as wanting hands groped at any flesh they could find. You were far past embarrassment as they stripped you off, König’s actions rough as he flipped you onto your stomach, holding your hips up to present your aching holes to them.

Simon sucked in a heavy breath, his cock straining against his hand as he wrapped a hand around it carelessly, giving it slight tugs. Messy digits pulled your cheeks further up, the site of your gooey entrance beckoning them as your asshole puckered, coos leaving their lips as König pressed a thumb against the tight crevice, laughing at how your body jolted in reaction to the unusual sensation.

“Another day, Taube. Need to feel that wet mouth tonight.” His voice was rough and presiding, calloused hands reaching out to his belt as Ghost’s hands gripped the flesh off your ass, a rough smack landing on it as he watched in satisfaction at the jiggle.  

“Please,” you begged as you felt riotous digits rubbing at your slit, admiring the way your slick spilled from your twinging entrance. You were pulled back roughly, cotton burning your knees as you felt the familiar hardness you took in your mouth. Simon’s tip leaked precum once more as he spread the fluids in between your folds, nudging your sensitive bud as he barked out a laugh at your mewls.

“Desperate girl, aren’t you? Don’t know why it took us so long to do this.”

“Worth the wait, nein?”

Simon made a gruff noise as you buried your face into the sheet, a tight burn spreading across your body as you bit down on your blanket, a foreign stretch searing through you as you let out a pained whine. He laid a reassuring hand on the small of your back as he told you to relax, your legs spreading slightly as you let out shallow breaths.

“Fucking Jesus, she’s tight,” Simon barked, fingers spreading your cunt open as he sunk his cock in deeper, soft squelches sounding the room as he hissed in pleasure. You let out a wail as he bottomed out, your pussy stretched to the brim as you felt him nudge against your gummy cervix.

You let out a series of expletives as Ghost’s hands grabbed at your hips, gripping the flesh roughly, a series of bruises most likely to appear tomorrow. König’s hands reached out to lift your head, beady eyes welcomed by the site of an enraged cock, the tip a flushed purple, the impressive length supported by two handfuls of girth, sensitive veins visible as your mouth watered. Both were large, but as to be expected with the Austrian’s sheer size, he was bordering insanity and you clenched in both fear and arousal at him breaking in your tight ass like he suggested he would.

Ghost held your hips still as you attempted to rock against him, pussy aching in desperation as you huffed. “Patience,” he snapped, heavy hand sounding down on your ass, the crack sending vibrations through your body as you barked out a yelp.

“Horny thing,” König quipped as he gripped your mouth, holding it open before he leant down and spat in, strings of spit sliding down your throat as you wet your full lips, tongue darting out to lick at his sticky tip, flushed with his own arousal. The moan you sounded was pornographic as you felt Simon pull his aching cock out before thrusting it back into the hilt, the jiggle of your breasts sounding together as he kissed your sensitive spot.

Your mouth lapped around the Colonel’s cock, working the massive length into your throat slowly as you drowned it in your spit. You were a mess, your chin dribbled in slobber as you moaned and whined around König’s dick, horny hands gripping tightly at the shaft as he held your hair in a firm ponytail.

You looked up at him, doe-like eyes shedding with tears through wet lashes, a satisfied grunt leaving his lips as he guided you along his member, his thrusts matching with Simon’s as they worked you like a hooker, pounding both entrances with little respect, chasing their highs through desperate pounds.

“That’s it slut, taking us both at the same time.”

“Pathetic whore only shuts up when she’s stuffed with dick, schmutzig Mädchen,” König cooed perversely. Their thoughts were littered with perverted images of you, drowning you in their cum as they forced you to take them hour upon hour, bruising your holes and mounding their walls to the shape of their cocks.

You gargled around the giant man’s cock, every agonising thrust from Simon sending him further down your throat as you spluttered. “Jesus – gonna cum in this cunt, hm? Fucking breed your pussy? You would like that wouldn’t you?”

“F-Fuck – yes,” you begged, pulling away from König’s dick before he landed a harsh slap across your face, forcing you back down. You hummed around him happily, spit pooling at your chest, puckered nipples aching in the air as your tits bounced rhythmically.

Simon let out a satisfied laugh, his pace picking up as he slammed his hips against the flesh of your ass, heavy balls banging against your clit as you whined as well as you could. His pace faltered slightly, growing sloppier before he groaned once more, hot cum staining your walls as you choked, slowing your movements against König’s cock as he growled.

Rough hands gripped at the side of your head, holding it in place as he set a brutal force, shoving his member down your bruised throat as he growled before he pulled off from you, fists gripping his cock as he milked his length across your face, painting it with hot flashes of ejaculation. Your eyes closed as you collapsed, worn-out body shivering with pleasure as you felt the leak of Simon’s semen drooping from your abused cunt.

“We’ll let you rest for a moment, Liebling, but don’t forget we haven’t seen that pussy cum yet.”

Pic credits: @ave661

[diejager]

Hiii，I really like your story about Ghost x bunny！reader.Can you please do moreee🥺🥺🥺💖🐰

Needy Bunny Cw: heat/mating cycle, breeding kink, rough sex, mating press, doggy style, unprotected sex, PinV, tell me if I missed any.

You clawed at the sheets, hips bucking back, rutting against the heated palm of his scarred and calloused hand, fingers filling you so well. Your bed smelled like him, something familiar you associated with comfort and safety, gorging on his rich and powerful scent. He smelled like blood and gunpowder, itching you sensitive nose, and the soft tone of something woody —an addictive bourbon and calm sandalwood.

You crooned softly, burying your face deeper into his many shirts, mask and blanket, all infused with his aged scent and sweat, masking you in his scent, drowning in the delicious smell of him. You were clouded by a primal need, to be bred and nurse little kits in your stomach, you didn’t have any sensible thought inside your head, all you wanted was to smell like Ghost and bear his kits by becoming his.

When thrown into the throes of your heat - vicious and unforgiving - you became dumb and needy, wandering the halls of the base for Ghost and pawing at him until he brought you to his room. The moment he closed and locked the door, you were naked and kneeling on his bed, face down on his pillow, drooling over the musky cloth and ass up, showing him how wet and needy you were, cunt winking and clit throbbing from the cool air in his room —it helped with the warmth you exhumed from your heat, body burning so much calories to sustain you during it.

You were deaf to Ghost’s degrading words, uncaring by how mean his words were or how rough he was, all that mattered was that he was using you, his fingers straight as they drove in, hitting your g-spot. Slick dripped from his wrist, your sweet cunt oozing it, transparent and salty fluid tasting sugary on his tongue, his mask rolled up his nose to press the flat of his tongue against your twitching nub, swirling around it wile he pumped you with three, thick fingers.

You whined when he pulled out his fingers, tongue pushing into your hole and slurping down your slick, swallowing your sweet cum in gulps. He drank up your little mewls, sound more like a cat than a bunny, his hand roved over your thighs and around the swell of your ass, spanked red from acting like a little whore in front of other men, and grabbed your snowball-like tail, harshly pulling on it to get a reaction out of you. You yipped loudly, back arching and trying to get out of his tight hold on your sensitive tail, the twitching ball stuck between his fingers even as he pressed the round head of his cock against your clenching hole, tip nudging your entrance —teasing you.

“Please-” you wailed, sobbing for relief you knew that only he could give you, something to fill you up and keep you full until this heat passed. “Ghost, please-”

He kept you still, one hand on your hip and the other still tugging at your tail, he drove in with a sharp snap, thrusting his whole length in one, rough go that had you keening, loud, whorish sounds slipping from your tongue as your eyes rolled back, walls squeezing him as you came. He was warm, cock snugly sitting inside of you, he was as heavy as he was thick, the girth covered in veins and the base in trimmed, musky hair.

He took a few experimental thrusts, rough and unsteady, before he bottomed out completely, heavy balls slapping your engorged clit. Ghost set deep and hard pace, his sculpted hips snapping against your sensitive ass, using his grip on you to hold the pace, plunging in, the leaky tip of his uncut cock slamming into your spongy cervix, veins scratching at your clenching walls, frenum piercings, three starting from the base up rubbing you deliciously.

With how high stung you were, body shuddering and cunt spamming with another upcoming climax, it didn’t take you long before you came a second time. Bursting with a cry, legs kicking and trembling beneath you, you bucked your hips against him, pushing him deeper into you. You were squirming so much so that he had to turn you over, manhandling you from your presented position to a mating press, bent in half with your legs hanging from his broad shoulders, taking him again and again - even as you came twice or thrice, coating him in your juice, his navel and balls wet down to his thighs - until he had his fill.

“You want a kit, is that it?” He growled, forearm pressing down on your throat without putting any lethal force, simply to hold you down, to keep you restrained to your nest, “Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll knock you up, yeah? Put a little rabbit in that cunt of yours, breed you nice and deep.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan

[monstersholygrail]

Early Sunday mornings are some of Demon Priests favorite and least favorite times of the day. Of course, on Sundays Demon Priest has to wake up early so he can get to the church and prepare for the services he's going to be holding for the morning. When he stays over at your place for the night that means somehow dragging himself out of your embrace and out of your bed.

He absolutely hates it. He would stay in bed all day with you if he could. But he knows he has to get up. Yet he can't do it without at least leaving you something.

On some tender mornings it means a gentle kiss to your lips and a soft 'see you soon.' On mornings he's trying to stall leaving you he makes an entire breakfast feast for you to wake up to. On mornings he thinks you particularly need your rest he simply leaves you a note that'll make you smile till your cheeks ache.

And on other more intimate mornings Demon Priest will groggily slip between your thighs as you sleep. Your body just as heavenly as always, pussy glistening in the faint light of a new day. As soon as the scent of your arousal washes over him, Demon Priest can't help but gorge himself on your taste. Giving into his gluttony and his greed, his tongue lapping up everything he can between your folds before he's dipping his into your tight cunt. Hitting every spot just right as his tongue swirls along your walls.

Demon Priest moans quietly, even as you start to stir awake due to the pleasures he's bestowing upon you. He's just too caught up in your pussy to focus on anything let alone think straight. Your essence sweeter than the most pertectly crafted manna or the greatest divine feast. Preferring to feast on your dripping heat instead.

He notices faintly when your moans start to join his as you wake and so he redoubles his efforts until your cries start to echo throughout the room and your release gushes into his mouth a few moments later. He desperately drinks up your essence like it’s more sacred than holy water. You whimper at the slight overstimulation, eyes fluttering open.

“Don’t leave,” you beg, a small whine in your voice. Demon Priest shushes you gently, sliding up your body till you feel his cock resting against your entrance and your hips jump, chasing it.

“Get some more sleep, sweet dove. I’ll be here next time you wake,” Demon Priest promises as he gently sinks his cock into your sensitive walls.

You cry out, slowly rocking with him as his hips roll into you slow and hard. Demon Priest leans down, whispering endless praises that leave his lips with ease. The smooth glide of his cock and his deep voice start to help lull you back to sleep.

With each deep snap of his hips you feel your pleasure heighten, your body burning with need. Even as sleep calls for you, your eyes close and you moan lowly, getting closer and closer to your peak. You whimper and squirm on Demon Priests cock before he pins you down, forcing you to feel every ounce of stimulation with no escape.

The pressure building in your tummy finally breaks free and you clench down, finishing all over Demon Priests cock. With a quiet and careful grunts he soon follows after you. Rutting his cock deep inside you as he works you both through the waves of your release.

Just as you gave yourself to the pleasure you let your body fall back into a deep sleep. Content knowing that when you wake up Demon Priest will be there, his warmth surrounding you just as it was before.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Five

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Gore, violence, some angst

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Meryl struggled forward, trying to keep from tripping on his floor-length robes. A head of ivory hair trailed out after him at a leisurely pace. A blood red hand at her side gripped a slick shortsword. The blade mimicked the cruel curve of her horns. 

You remembered her from the party. 

Teal silk and blood and the lake. 

Koschei. 

Koschei.

Koschei. 

His hand dove into the folds of his robe, withdrawing a dull knife. You caught her smile before she dodged Meryl’s swift kick, sword arching down in a swing that cut cleanly through his back leg.

You didn’t stay to watch the second swing that nearly separated Meryl’s head from his shoulders. The street was still eerily silent.

Meryl hadn’t gotten the chance to raise the alarms. 

You ran to the other side of your apartment, knocking one of the windows open. The smell of smoke, acrid and bitter, flooded your nose. Your stomach turned, nearly emptying itself of your dinner. 

A blanket of haze covered the bottom floor, the flickering of flames beginning to lick up the outer edges of the massive room. 

The Alcove - your home - was on fire.

Your apartment was built separately from The Alcove with no direct path linking the two together. Normally you would simply walk down the stairs and enter through one of The Alcove’s main entrances with its hand-carved archways and stone pegasuses. But with the murderous female lurking outside, that was simply not an option.

You pulled the neck of your sweater up and over the lower half of your face, ignoring the stinging of your eyes. You steeled your nerves and slid your foot out, finding purchase on the decorative molding that lined the walls. Many times you’d thought about scaling the walls instead of trekking down dozens of flights of stairs. You’d never actually done it. 

The soft skin of your palms protested as you shimmied your way down and then jumped the last ten feet onto the walkway. There was no grace in your movements, and no time to dwell on the rough landing before you began flying down the stairs, begging the Mother and Meryl to give you time to cross the expanse of the library. 

Meryl’s apartment lay on the opposite side of The Alcove on the first floor, and unlike your apartment, had a door leading directly to the stacks. The white rune, carved into Meryl’s door, stared at you like the eye of a god. 

Some vague myths about ancient giants crossed your mind. They’d been worshiped in these lands before the rise of the High Lords with brains so vast you could climb in through their ears and walk amongst the grooves like a child in a corn maze. You felt like that child now, the familiar turns and patterns of the atheneum slipping away into mist.

You had no patience to walk the last flights of stairs. You threw yourself off the lower walkway, ankle twisted painfully beneath you as you crumpled onto the floor. 

Just make it to the door. Just make it to the door. 

The first duty of a Librarian was to save the atheneum. Always. 

Again that white rune stared at you from across the floor, winking with the flashes of firelight as the flames gorged themselves on book pages. 

Save the Alcove.

You ignored the pain in your leg, running towards the door with gritted teeth. Three bodies littered the floor, blood blossoming around colorful robes like roses in springtime. 

Save the Alcove.

You wrenched the knife from the sliver in the wall, slicing your palm open with a sharp intake of breath. Warm blood spilled out, dripping onto the floor and then down the wall as you pressed your palm against the rune, muttering the words all Librarians knew by heart - words that would seal The Alcove from the outside world and draw all oxygen from within.

“Beali tchnemonon aschzernai belar-” The rune began to glow, rivers of white light tracing the carving on the door. The doors began to groan as threads of magic shot outward, weaving through the stone and preparing to seal it shut.

“Stop. Say nothing.” A voice said, soft as velvet and hard as scales. 

Your tongue froze up, the rune dimming as teeth sank into the soft flesh of your mind and began to tear through your mental shields.

___________

Azriel chewed carefully, washing down the meat with a swig of sweet wine. All throughout dinner Helion had been glowering at him, one hand gripping the golden hilt of his steak knife like he was prepared to aim it between Azriel’s eyes. 

“Did you spend the whole day with her?” Feyre had asked him when he’d finally arrived for dinner twenty minutes late. 

Everyone else was dressed in their court attire. Even Cassian had changed out of his leathers and was currently pulling at the high collar of his shirt. But not Azriel. He’d arrived late in plain clothes, hair disheveled and face impassive. He gave a nod in response to Feyre’s silent question before settling down beside Cassian. His brother threw him a knowing wink. 

Rhysand looked pleased with himself. Feyre looked pleased. Everyone was pleased… everyone but Helion. 

“Finally! The Shadowsinger arrives!” The comment rolled off his tongue and fell flat, “Now we can eat.”

“I apologize, Helion. I lost track of time.” Azriel said truthfully. He had lost track of time. He wished he’d lost track of it for longer. Then he might still be in your living room, dreaming about kissing you. 

Dinner was a business affair. Theories about Koschei’s next plans punctuated by the appearance of roasted chestnuts, soft-boiled quail eggs, honey rolls, and stuffed duck on the table. 

“He can’t escape the lake.” Rhysand said, “Though the gods know he’s trying.” 

“He can’t escape yet.” Helion countered, brows furrowed in concern, “There’s a piece we’re missing to this.”

“The Cauldron.” Feyre ran a lazy finger over the lip of her wineglass to disguise the unease settling in her stomach, “He’s searching for it.” She tilted her head towards Azriel, “Az found evidence that some of Koschei’s followers have been breaking into the temples further up north.”

Helion shook his head, “It wouldn’t do them any good to search an old hiding place. And it’s not like the legs of the Cauldron are with the priestesses anymore. They must be looking for something else.”

“What else is in the temples except old books and ceremonial artifacts?” Cassian asked. 

“Old books can sometimes be the most powerful objects in the world.” Helion said with a small smirk, “I wouldn’t look down on them so much.” 

“Tell that to a sword.”

“Tell that to a two-thousand page text thrown at your head.” 

Cassian grinned, “I would dodge it. Easy.”

“With that inflated head of yours, I’d hardly be able to miss.”

Azriel smiled inwardly. That sounded like something you might say. Not even four hours since he’d last seen you and he was missing your gentle smile, the crease in your brows when you read, the occasional jangle of your bracelets when you shook out the cramps in your wrist. 

Feyre thought long and hard, staring at the surface of her wine like the answers might materialize there. She couldn’t get her mind off the Cauldron. The most important events that had taken place in the last fifty years could be tied back to its magic. The magic that currently flooded through Nesta and Elain’s veins. 

With its power anything seemed possible - even separating a deity like Koschei from the lake where he’d been confined for centuries.

“What if they’re not looking for the Cauldron itself?” Everyone looked at her, waiting to hear the High Lady’s next words. “What if they’re just looking for something tied to it?”

Cassian dropped his knife to the table with a clang.

“Nesta.” He breathed. He immediately reached out across the bond, feeling Nesta stir on the other side. She was still safe in Velaris, although he pitied any poor soul that tried to go after her.

“Or Elain.” Feyre continued.

It’s no secret they were Made. They wouldn’t need to break into a temple to figure that out or to find out where they’re staying. Rhysand sent his bonds down the bond, one hand reaching out to rub her thigh. 

Nesta and Elain could handle themselves, but that didn’t mean Feyre could shed the protective nature she’d developed through her formative human years. 

Who else then? Who else has taken power from the Cauldron? 

Jurian.

He’s human. He has no magic that Koschei could want. And the human queen has been long dead too. 

Helion glanced at Cassian who only waved him off. Rhys and Feyre did this often - getting lost in their private conversations and only sharing their thoughts at the very end. 

Meanwhile, Azriel was having his own private thoughts. 

Immunity, the innate biological process of recognizing and protecting against foreign entities, is a phenomenon that can be extended and applied to magic.

“How does it apply to mating bonds?” Azriel asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the room. 

The fire crackled steadily, warming your back as you sat hunched over a volume titled “An Exegesis on the Works of Bhenaui The Stone Giant”. 

“Hmmm?” You mumbled.

He pointed to the last page of your paper where an introductory sentence on mating bonds had ended abruptly. 

“You didn’t finish your thought.” 

“Well, that’s because I’m not completely sure what my thoughts are… at least not yet.” 

“Would you tell me your thoughts? Even if you’re not sure?”

You motioned for him to hand it over, the papers floating over to you on a phantom hand made of shadows. You flipped through the pages absentmindedly, your previous thoughts coming to mind as you held your work. 

“Parents, children, siblings - they all tend to have similar forms of magic. Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.” 

Azriel nodded. He’d already read that section of your paper. Although the thought of sharing some magical connection with his half-brothers and father made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny your logic. 

“I always thought that mating bonds must be some special extension of that. Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

“Like the difference between two sets of keys, versus a key and a lock.”

“Maybe? I suppose that’s not a terrible analogy to make, but I’m not sure.” You shot him a smile, “You’re beginning to think like a Librarian, Azriel.” 

His heart sang in his chest, shadows flurrying around him. You’d quickly learned that his shadows gave away more than his face ever would. 

“What an insult to Librarians.” He quipped.

You snorted and shook your head, tossing a pen at his head. He caught it easily, just as you knew he would.

A faint flutter of panic grew in the background of his mind, unprompted and unexpected. He pushed it to the side, focusing his attention back on what you’d told him back at your apartment. 

“Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.” 

Koschei had been brother to The Weaver and The Bone Carver - both dead after centuries, if not more, of confinement to The Prison and The Cottage. It didn’t make sense for him to be searching for them. Perhaps he wanted the Cauldron to bring them back from the dead, but even that seemed like the stretch. Koschei didn’t strike Azriel as the kind of being to care for the safety and life of his siblings. 

If Azriel were in Koschei’s position, he wouldn’t be after the Cauldron. Not necessarily. The thing he’d really be dying to know was who had separated him from his power, and how.

“Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.” 

Like a lock and a key.

“Uh… Azriel?” Cassian gently grabbed Azriel’s shoulder, shaking him. 

Inky shadows climbed up his hand, the light of his red siphons swallowed up by the darkness that had begun to pour off of Azriel. 

That panic was steadily growing into something he couldn’t ignore and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. You with your brilliant ideas and a theory that he still couldn’t quite grasp, like he was trying to hold salt water in his hands. 

“Something-something feels wrong.” Azriel gasped out, a scarred hand clutching at his chest. “Cass, something’s not right. Something’s not right.” He repeated the words until he finally recognized what was wrong. 

It wasn’t his panic that he was feeling. It was yours.

___________

You screamed, thrashing about on the floor as you gripped your head between your hands. 

Get out. Get out. Get out. 

You pulled at your hair, slapped your skull like that would be what it took for the female to relinquish her hold on your mind. 

She was buried inside like a parasite - a virus slowly taking over the cellular machinery, copying it all down as she rifled through your memories as easily as a picture book. 

You shrank away from her as she lingered on one memory in particular. 

It was your fortieth birthday, although you didn’t look any older than eight. Helion sat on the floor, long legs extending beyond the cramped space between the fireplace and the couch. It was a small apartment you shared with your mother with its pale green walls and yellow daisy curtains. 

He filled every inch of it with light. His smile was so dazzling you thought he must have been one of the fairytale knights you’d spent every night obsessing over. He certainly played the part, gifting you a wooden pegasus with wings that hovered a foot above the ground when you asked it to. 

“You can’t keep doing this, Helion.” You’d stayed hidden at the top of the stairs, your pegasus nuzzling into your side and then going still.

“She’s my daughter, Leda. What am I meant to do?”

“You’re meant to leave us alone.” 

“Leda-”

“She’s growing too slowly. You saw her today, she should be fully grown by now.” 

“...I know.”  

“If anyone finds out who she is… the power she possesses. Mother help us…”

“I know. I’m-I’m sorry, Leda.” 

“You can’t keep doing this.” 

That was the last childhood memory you’d had of him, and when the pegasus’s magic had worn off, leaving him stiff and immoble, the novelty of having a knight for a father had worn off too.

You were crying now, tears streaming down your ash-stained cheeks as the female above you clicked her forked tongue. Her eyes were two chips of moonstone split by wide, rectangular pupils. 

“A High Lord’s bastard.” She sang with pleasure. “How fun.” She leaned down and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it up so forcefully you had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming. “No. No.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment, “Don’t stop. I want to hear you scream. Scream.” 

With a roar of anger you latched onto her arm, immediately feeling a flood of memories and emotion pour into your mind. 

Sick, twisted satisfaction. Pleasure. Meryl’s decapitated body hastily hidden behind a pillar. When she’d gone down into the lower levels of The Alcove, searching for the diary, she hadn’t expected to see him there. Hadn’t expected him to give her a hard time. Hadn’t expected him to fight back.

The three other fae, slaughtered in haste. Koschei would not be pleased. He would not let her join him on the lake. But she had the book. She had the book. 

The female hissed, the disorienting motion of being in your mind while you were in hers causing panic. She’d been trained to keep others out of her mind. She’d endured far more training than you had. So why couldn’t she kick you out? 

More memories. More emotions. Rising fear. You soothed it using the training she’d received. She wasn’t the virus. You were. You felt all her memories. The terrible aftermath of war on the continent. The feeling of being burned alive.

The female was trying to break away from you now, but you wouldn’t let her, not even as the smoke grew so thick it clogged your lungs. You felt her memories as if they were your own, and so long as she was in your mind, she was forced to experience it all as well.

His power is beneath the lake. Trapped. Buried. He can’t leave his soul behind. Can’t diminish himself any further. He can’t leave the lake. 

Koschei.

Koschei.

Koschei.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake? 

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!! 

Get the key. Get the key. Get the key.

The scream of her brother’s voice as Koschei splits his head in two. 

When your eyes burst open they’re so bright the female turns her face away, sobbing. Your blood soaked hand searches the floor for the knife you dropped, the knife you can see is less than a foot away. But you’re not looking at it. She is. 

She registers what you plan to do. Every thought of hers reflected in your mind like a ghostly afterimage. But it’s too late. 

You grip the knife in your hand. 

Slam it through her eye and out the back of her skull.

It’s a strange feeling to be in someone’s mind when they die. To feel like it’s your body slowly fading from existence with one final breath. 

The female’s body slumps motionless over yours, and her final memories of her brother play out one last time. 

…Then it’s just silence and the crackling of the ever approaching flames. 

When Azriel reaches The Alcove, the windows have all burst, angry tongues of fire licking the sky and gasping for breath. 

“Y/N!” Azriel roars, shooting off towards the door so hard the cobblestones crack beneath his feet. “Y/N!” 

White lights begin to splinter up the stone walls, filling invisible cracks that begin to take the shape of ancient runes. Swirls, symbols, repeating lines trace their way over the windows, sealing them shut as the flames start to hiss in protest, eating up the oxygen faster than they can draw breath. 

The door has been blown apart, the inside of The Alcove nothing more than a hurricane of ash and smoke. But when Azriel reaches them, he slams into an impenetrable wall of magic. 

“NO!” He crashes against the barrier. Light scatters outward, but holds against the shadows that burst forth from Azriel’s body. Power explodes from his siphons, but still the magic holds. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” He flies up to the windows and tries again to no avail.

The bond is still there, burning away in his chest with a passion. 

He will not lose you. Not like this. Not today. 

He touches back down on the ground, legs braced on the street as blue light begins to wrap around his chest and arms. His shadows mix in with them like ink in a tumultuous sea. 

He’s about to let his power flood out when he sees it - two dim pinpricks of light that pass through the barrier as easily as sparrows diving through the air.

You’re nothing more than a gray shadow, your knees and hands coated in a mixture of ash and blood, as you emerge from the roaring flames. Your eyes gleam a pale yellow, seeing and unseeing at the same time. You make it to the front steps and when you stumble, Azriel is there to catch you, one arm looping around your waist and you’re immediately thrust into another memory.

It’s dark and cold in the cellar. So dark that even after two days the most Azriel can do to prove he still exists is to slap his legs, then his arms, then his face. Then he knows he’s still alive. It’s the pain that helps him remember. 

“Y/n. Y/n. I need you to look at me.” Your eyes are unfocused, still glowing as Azriel helps you walk forward, one hand clasping yours close to his chest. “Y/n. Y/n. Please. Darling, please.” 

His mother sings to him, a gentle, sweet melody that’s filled with more sorrow than words. His hands are heavy with gauze and ointment, the lingering pain magnifying and shooting through his small body whenever he moves them to touch his mother’s face or to wrap his arms around her neck. 

But this is the only hour he’ll get with her this week. So he ignores the pain. He savors only the feeling of his mother’s arms around his weak back and the song she sings, hanging onto every word and committing them to memory. 

You’re vaguely aware of Helion’s deep voice shouting your name. When he touches you, you can feel his relief as acutely as the rumble of thunder before rain. The emotion rolls over you, calming your heart. 

For a brief moment you’re still the little girl he placed on top of the pegasus on your fortieth birthday. For a brief moment your mother is still alive, suppressing the smile on her lips as she watches the creature wobble to life, shake its wings, and begin to fly.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

We're getting into the action/plot now folks! Hold on tight because I have IDEAS! It's going to take time for me to explain it all in the story, but I promise you I have a plan

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[natalievoncatte]

“Lena, you’re coming with us.”

She looked up sharply as Alex stormed into her office, followed by a dozen DEO goons and a flustered, apologetic Jess as she flipped rapidly between apologizing to Lena for permitting the intrusion and shouting at Alex to get out, only to be ignored.

“Jess, it’s fine,” Lena said, calmly, though her heart was racing. “I’ll hear what they have to say.”

“Cover the entrances,” Alex told her men.

Even when balaclavas over their faces and goggles, Lena could sense their unease. The one who was unmasked -Lena vaguely remembered she was named Vazquez- gave Alex a plaintive, pained look before stepping out. The doors hissed shut behind them, and Alex was alone with her.

“We don’t have time for you to be argumentative.”

“What horrific crime did I commit this time?

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m taking you into protective custody.”

Lena put down her phone.

“What?”

Alex produced a tablet from the bag on her thigh and stormed over, hitting play on a video.

It was Lex. Lena’s stomach dropped.

“Hello, Director Danvers,” said Lex. “I hope this message finds you well, because none of you are going to be well much longer.”

A thought hit Lena like a freight train: If I’m in danger, where’s Kara? Even now Kara would drop everything, risk everything, to keep her from harm.

Lex opened a velvet box and drew out a small device. Lena recognized it and felt her gorge rising. It was another disperser, but something was wrong. The crystal within glowed a deep, scintillating red, like a hot coal drawn from a fire.

“Remember this?” said Lex. “You and the rest of this world are about to learn what happens when you trust an alien.”

“What the fuck?” Lena blurted. “He can’t be alive.”

Alex shook her head.

Lex slammed his fist down, and Alex turned it off.

“Well worry about your brother later. He spread red kryptonite into the atmosphere. We can’t find Kara and she’s not responding to our hails. We have to take anyone she might come after into secure custody where she can’t sense you and we have to go now.”

“But…”

“This shit drives her insane,” Alex snapped, seizing Lena’s shoulders. “The last time she was exposed she threw Cat Grant off a building. She almost killed me. ME, Lena.”

A cold flush ran down her limbs, as if she’d been thrown into the cold sea, and panic surged from deep down inside. The last time Lena had seen Kara it had been through Kryptonite-frosted crystal before she abandoned her in the fortress of solitude.

“Part of me wants to leave you here and let you get what you deserve,” Alex said, coldly, “but we are going to fix her and when we do she’d never forgive me for letting you get hurt. Even now she won’t let go of her feelings for you. She keeps talking about saving you.”

Lena swallowed hard. “Her what?”

“Lena, get up. For once in your life just cooperate and do what you’re fucking told before…”

Boot heels thudded on the balcony and dread could tight in Lena’s gut. It was a futile gesture but she stood anyway as Alex stepped between them.

The door was locked, but Kara didn’t care. She threw the door open, sending the lock mechanism flying across the room and cracking the bomb-proof glass on the process. Alex pulled her alien pistol and aimed it at Kara’s head.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Kara. I won’t let you do something you regret.”

Kara stared at her with bloodshot eyes, the ocean blue irises turned a bruise purple as red flashes danced across the whites, like the setting sun chasing across frosted snow. She moved with a languid, inhuman grace, at once casual and as menacing as a predator stalking prey that had no means of escape.

“Hello, Lena.”

“Kara,” Alex warned. “I know you’re in there. Come back with me.”

Kara ignored her, sweeping her aside with an outstretched arm. Alex went flying, crashing into the doors with a grunt, rolling to the ground unmoving.

“Kara,” Lena said calmly, backing away. “You hurt Alex.”

“I know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Kara smiled at her, but there was none of her usual joy, her usual mirth, only a cold, vicious baring of teeth. Lena thumped against her bookcase and a model of the HMS victory that Lex gave her after he finished it toppled from the self.

Kara caught it and returned it to its place. She thrust her hands out, bracketing Lena as she leaned in, trapping her. Lena’s heart was pounding.

“You’re scared,” Kara said, “I can taste it in your pheromones. Did you know I can do that? I can sense your skin’s electrical impedance and see the heat bloom in your flesh and hear your heartbeat. If I focus very very hard I can hear brainwaves.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lena said, shocked at the smooth calm in her own voice.

“I knew it was a lie the whole time. I knew it was a lie from the night at the Pullitzer gala, when you really started loathing me.”

“Then why did you-“

“I didn’t want it to be a lie!” Kara snapped, jolting Lena as she pressed into the bookcase. “I wanted it to be real. I wanted finally be free of the pain of hiding myself from you.”

Behind them, Alex groaned as she sat up, staring at them with a thin trickle of blood running from her nose.

“Kara,” Lena said, very softly. “I can see that you’re sick . Let me help you. I can purge the red Kryptonite from your system in my lab.”

“Why would I want to purge it?”

“You hurt Alex. You love Alex.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” said Lena. “You’re good, Kara. You’re so good. You’re the kindest, most merciful-“

“I’m tired of being kind!” Kara shouted, stinging her ears. “I’m tired of being nice. I’m tired of taking bullets for people! Just because they don’t inure me doesn’t mean they don’t hurt!”

“I didn’t know that either,” Lena whispered. “I thought…”

“You thought nothing hurts me,” Kara said, leaning in close, so close her breath tickled Lena’s lips. “But you hurt me. You hurt more than anything. More than your brother, more than Reign, more than the clone. Dying don’t hurt as much as you hurt me.”

Lena spared Alex a glance. She was lying against the doors, holding her belly. She met Lena’s gaze levelly and Lena knew in an instant the danger she was in and the terrible truth.

She was the only one who could stop Kara.

“I know,” said Lena. “I know I did and it felt good when I was doing it.”

“Lena!” Alex gasped, “are you fucking crazy?”

“It felt good,” Lena said, trying to force the trembling out of her voice and failing. “It felt so good to lash out. I wanted to hurt someone. I want to hurt everyone. I wanted everyone to feel what I’m feeling. Especially you. I bet it felt a lot like what you’re feeling now.”

Kara’s eyes were wild with fury, moments from kindling the red-sun fire that would wipe Lena from existence.

“I never stopped believing in you,” said Kara. “I’m the only reason you’re not in a cell beneath a secret desert compound. All this time I’ve defended you and believed in you and protected you.”

“All this time?” Lena snapped back, fury kindling behind the terror, chasing it back as a fire’s light chases the dark.

She was Lena Luthor. She wasn’t going to die afraid.

“You mean all this time when you accused me of conspiring against you? When you suddenly turned cold to me after telling me how you believed in me? When you made my boyfriend spy on me and destroyed my relationship?”

Lena’s hands released the shelves she’d been strangling in twin death grips.

“I… I…”

“How was I supposed to react to learning that you were both people? After what you did? You should punish me, Kara. I’m a murderer.”

Alex gasped, eyes darting from Kara to Lena.

“I killed my brother for you,” Lena said, very softly. “I killed him because I had to. Because you never would. I’m not a hero like you. I’d do it again. I’d do it all again for you. Now I find out he’s still alive. I may have to. I will. I’ll make sure he’s dead this time!”

Kara blinked, her eyes steaming from the heat inside her as tears ran down her cheeks.

“It hurts,” Kara whispered. “It hurts seeing the truth. It hurts to know what I did.”

“I know how much it hurts,” Lean said, bringing her hands to cup Kara’s face lightly. She was shaking, feverish, her skin almost uncomfortably hot. Lena felt a touch of rising panic and forced it down.

“It hurts knowing that I broke up you and James on purpose. It hurts knowing why. It hurts that even now I can’t say it, I’m too scared.”

“I’m supposed to want you and not him,” Lena said.

Kara jerked back slightly, her eyes going wide. It was an admission without words, a confession to a crime she’d already admitted. She pressed her eyes shut and the tears flowed anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” said Lena. “It hurts, doesn’t it? The anger.”

“Yes,” said Kara. “It burns. It’s burning me up. I can feel it in my chest, like it’s turning my ribs to cinders.”

Lena nodded. “I came back for you.”

“What?”

“I came back for you. I went back to the Fortress. I was as going to let you out, accept the consequences of what I’d done, but Alex must have already found you.”

“She did.”

“She always takes care of you, doesn’t she?”

Kara blinked. “Yes.”

“It hurt the most then,” said Lena, “knowing that I’d made my choice and I couldn’t take it back. I planned it all for months. I lost myself in how good it would feel to make you suffer like I’m suffering. Then when I did it there was nothing. No joy. No catharsis. I just felt hollow.”

Lena sighed. “I fucked up. I ruined my life.”

She flinched as Kara’s too-warm hand brushed her cheek, her thumb grazing lightly over her chin.

“I would forgive you any trespass. I would never hurt you,” she said, even as she trembled with rage.

“I know,” said Lena.

“Part of me wants to.”

“I know. Kara, let me help you. Please. You’re sick.”

Kara looked at her and Lena wondered what was going through her head. Did she think it was all a manipulation, a ploy? Would she lose it and snap Lena’s neck, or whip her head with a burst of heat vision and burn them all?

“Okay,” Kara breathed.

Lena reached over and pulled the book on her shelf that opened with direct elevator to her private lab. It was a touch melodramatic, but hell, it was he office.

She gave Alex a glance, waiting for the nod before she stepped inside with Lena.

They rode down in silence. Kara fell back on Lena’s exam table and closed her eyes as Lena placed the device on Kara’s chest. The House of El rune on the machine glowed as it recalibrated itself and began purging the radiation from her system.

Lena knew it was working when Kara began to weep, her face twisting in a grimace of towering grief. When it was done, Lena carefully removed the device and brushed loose strands of hair from Kara’s eyes and gently wrapped her arms around her. Kara buried her face in Lena’s neck and sobbed, shaking the table with the fury of her sorrow.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whimpered.

“I know,” Lena whispered, smoothing a hand over her head. “I know.”

“Is Alex…”

“She’ll be fine, her people have already taken her to the L-Corp infirmary. She’s fine.”

Kara’s voice was almost childlike. “Did I hurt you?”

Lena closed her eyes. “Yeah. You hurt me. It’s okay, darling. It’s going to be okay.”

Kara’s arms looped around her, tentatively. When Lena didn’t push her back, Kara relaxed into the hug.

“I’m sorry, Lena. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Shhh, I know. I know. I’m sorry too. I forgive you.”

“You can’t,” Kara whimpered. “You can’t just do that.”

“Yes I can. I’m so rich I can do whatever I want. Here.”

Without letting Kara go, she reached over and took Myriad, placing it in Kara’s hands.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lena whispered, as Kara hugged her tighter.

[gacougnol]

The Castle of Peyrelade in Aveyron, France, indeed derives its name from the Occitan "Pèira Lada," meaning "wide rock." The castle dates back to at least the 12th century and was a site of numerous battles and sieges. It was dismantled in 1633 on the orders of Cardinal Richelieu. Due to its strategic position controlling the entrance to the Gorges du Tarn, it was one of the most significant castles in the former province of Rouergue.

[moonydustx]

To belong to you

requests | mastelist Pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x F! Reader Summary: sequel of A not so funny story. In this one, we see Law dealing with a somewhat stubborn reader, while he can barely deal with his feelings. Warnings: fluffy, a little hotter at the end, violence, Law exposing his feelings (this will always be a warning for me). W/C: 3.5K a/c: tried not to take so long to produce, but I ended up getting carried away by the text. Regarding the smutty, I'm thinking about bringing it to a third part, I believe this one was too big. Hope you like.

requested by anon: ok ok now m waiting for a sequel with an overprotective-clingy-lover emo boy Law who keeps reader at his sight❣️ ~ maybe a smutty? idk just give me some more Law

Part 1 | Part 3 (NSFW)

A week, two days and a few hours.

For a week, two days and a few hours Law's sleep became scarcer - which seemed impossible - at the same time, he seemed to have found a new hobby. You.

Since the fateful day he discovered what he had done, even if unconsciously, Law had made it his duty to be your support point. At the same time, even though he dedicated himself to repairing this mistake, nightmares continued to haunt the little sleep he still had. Some days, it was as if he only revisited the afternoon he saw you hurt. In others, it was as if he was fully aware of what he had done.

You didn't complain about all that attention. Of course, the guilt was clear in his eyes and you wished you could lift such a burden from him, but Law's temperament was already known as irreducible, it was almost impossible for you to become the person who would change that.

Sleep had also left you aside that night. Maybe because you were anxious, the next morning you would be emerging on the next island and you would finally see the sunlight again. Maybe your mind kept playing tricks and unlike the nightmares that Law had, you kept having dreams that were closer and closer to him.

What you had left that night was to catch up on your studies. The small stack of books piled up next to your small green notebook while you had been sitting on one of the cafeteria benches for half an hour facing the same calculation.

"I didn't expect to find company at this hour." Law appeared at the cafeteria entrance. The same tired eyes, but the gentle tone in his voice pleased you. "Sleepless?"

"I've been in bed for a long time this week, Captain. What about you, sleepless?"

"I ended up distracted by reading. I just came to get something to eat." he walked past you, heading over to one of the counters. "Did you remember to drink your tea?"

"Perhaps." you just responded and you could hear him grumble in response. It only took a few minutes for the cup to appear in front of him. "Do I really need to take this? It's horrible!"

"It's a medicine, its function is to be horrible, but to end up curing you." surprising you, he sat next to you. Next to it, a plate with some onigiris. You just looked at Law and your horrible cup of tea. "What?"

"How can such a pretty drink, full of flowers, be so horrible?"

"Drink it." in a way, you knew that his impatient tone at that moment wasn't serious at all. "I promise to reward you."

"Saying it like that, I feel like a child." you grumbled, taking a sip of your drink and trying to avoid the disgusted look on your face. Law, unlike you, seemed to enjoy his late dinner. "Next time, please give me poison. I will die happy."

"Good girl, congratulations." he said, in a cynical tone. Even so, the words pointed to another place in your mind. "I bet it wasn't that horrible."

"Said the one who's gorging himself on onigiri." With your complaint, Law just stretched out the piece he had already taken a bite of.

Maybe your intrusive thoughts, maybe it was just the desire to get the horrible taste out of your mouth, but you accepted what he offered.

She's just taking a piece. Law's mind looped through the seconds you bit the food. The lack of sleep must be playing tricks on him, making him imagine things he shouldn't. Are your lips as soft as they seem?

"So. What are you studying?" Law's brain went blank, searching for the first random topic that crossed his mind.

"Blood. In fact, I took a calculation to do and ended up getting lost. In the book it seems so much simpler."

"Let me see." He set the plate aside and approached your notebook.

Gray eyes looked attentively at each written number and you were busy analyzing it. The smell that came from him was the same as the t-shirt you had worn that day, his eyes had clear dark circles beneath them and even though it wasn't perfectly done, the little beard he had seemed to outline his face and seemed to match the dark tone. of the small piece of his tattoo that showed.

"So…" he began, pointing to the notebook. "Here, you're taking the wrong route. To calculate this type of transfusion, first you have to base it on the patient's weight and then use this formula. See."

You were too distracted by him and he was too distracted by the silly calculation you were so lost in. When he turned to ask if you understood, the only thing he found were your eyes watching him. Just a few centimeters away, his eyes danced between yours and your lips, wondering if the action would be hasty. Maybe it wasn't ideal to take the risk.

"Nerd." You muttered, letting out a small laugh.

"Just smarter than you." he replied, pulling away a little. "Take one more."

"Thank you captain!"

The night passed faster than you expected. Accompanied by Law, you spent most of the night redoing some exercises while he helped you, or at least watched you. And even though sleep hit your body, it was hard to close your eyes and sleep after spending so much time with him.

The morning came quickly and as usual on the days you emerged, you and Bepo were standing just staring at the sun on your skin. Some other companions were already beginning to disembark.

"I found you." Law's voice brought them both out of their little sunbath. "You take care of buying food."

"Ay captain!" Bepo reached out his hand, picking up the berries.

"You." He turned around, looking at you seriously. "No running, no heavy lifting, no long walks."

"All right, boss." you saluted, just to annoy him and watched him leave, without giving much more explanation.

The afternoon passed quickly in the small village. At least in the commercial part of the village, everything seemed very busy and colorful, as well as having huge taverns that you would definitely go to.

In addition to you and Bepo, the two also dragged Clione along for the task, which wasn't enough. Despite the captain's clear warning, you managed to convince Bepo that it was just an idle worry, which ended with you carrying some bags under your back.

"Need help?" the bear climbed Polar Tang first, reaching out to you.

As soon as you appeared in the Heart Pirates captain's field of vision, you knew you were in trouble. The blue dome enveloped you and soon the weight lifted from your back. Instead, two small flowers appeared on the ground.

"It seems the two of them decided to ignore my warning." Law grumbled as you picked up the two colorful branches that were at your feet.

"My fault, there's no need to fight him." you took the lead, going to where Law was standing. Around him, in addition to the bags he had taken from you, were a few small bouquets of plants and flowers, all as colorful as the city they had just visited. "What are these?"

"Just a few missing ingredients can become medicine, tea, ointments." he bent down, plucking a small yellow flower and handing it to you. "Something tells me your favorite is this one."

"Oh, God no." the image of last night's horrible tea came to mind. you held the flower up to your nose. The sweet smell was delicious, but just remembering the taste made your stomach turn. "It's so beautiful, but so bad." you made to return it, seeing him raise his hand and deny it.

"It is not necessary."

"Thanks." you laughed, pinning the small flower to the zipper of your jumpsuit.

"Captain." two humming voices came towards you. "What do you think about going to a bar today?"

"You can go." he responded to Shachi and Penguim, who were not convinced and joined in a chorus of please. "I'm not in the mood."

"Please, Captain. The town seems nice, I bet the bars are too." you joined the other two, interceding.

You knew that Law wasn't the most sociable person in the world, but if there was something you could boast about, it was your power of persuasion - which you hadn't yet realized only worked on him.

"Okay, okay." he gave up, seeing the three of you cheer up and Bepo shouting happily in the background. "However, no alcohol for you."

"Yet?" you grumbled, but his expression already made the answer clear. Your power of persuasion wouldn't work this time.

You weren't the type to take alcohol seriously enough for it to bother you, just going to a new place would be good enough for you. As soon as night fell, you started getting ready. As much as you wanted to wear something lighter, you didn't know how comfortable you would feel showing the scar on your leg, even though it was already partially healed, it wasn't such a pretty sight. You put on pants and a simple, comfortable blouse and headed towards the bar with Ikkaku.

Law watched you from afar. Unlike most of the women there, you weren't balancing on thin heels or with a face so adorned with colors that made your real expression disappear. You were you.

He saw you sit at one of the tables with the other companions. Everyone with drinks in front of them, except you. He could use some alcohol on him to give him the courage he lacked, but he knew it would be unfair. Ignoring the judgmental looks, he ordered two glasses of juice and took them to the table, looking for a place to sit.

"No vodka?" Ikkaku looked at the cup in front of you and the cup in front of the captain. "This is new."

"I'm banned until further notice." you replied, raising your glass to toast your captain. "At least someone had compassion on me."

"So cute." Ikkaku cheered and you surreptitiously tried to elbow her. "So, I saw people playing in the background. She can play, right captain?"

"As long as she doesn't bet Polar Tang." he replied, a shy smile on his lips. As much as he didn't admit it out loud, something woke up in him when the two of you were in some way related. "I think betting a mink could make some good money." he turned to Bepo, who immediately complained.

"Never!" you stood up, placing yourself next to Ikkaku and picking up your glass. "I'll be right back, I'll take the money from some idiots." you smiled, turning your face towards your captain. A soundless thank you left your lips, as you pointed to the glass in your hands.

Law tried to disguise it, tried to ignore your presence. It was as if your body had some kind of magnet, which made it find you in the midst of so many people who crowded into that bar.

The first time he looked at you, you and Ikkaku were side by side singing something that he couldn't hear from where he was, around you some other people were singing and others were playing cards. He could see some looks that bothered him. Why did they look at you like that? Law could feel the repulsion of those men, even from a distance.

The second time, the two of you seemed to be dealing the cards. A man next to you, one of the same ones who was looking at you, seemed to whisper something in your ear that seemed to have offended you. The expression soon disappeared from your face, returning to a calm expression. At that moment, Law could feel his body tingle and had to suppress the urge to make the man's head roll off his body, even though he had no idea what he had said to you.

The third time, the only thing Law saw was your head being pushed against the table, after that he only saw red and pure hatred in front of him. The other crew members with whom he shared the table only noticed a small playing card slowly fall towards the upholstery.

This time you hadn't stolen in the game but apparently some bastard decided you were hiding some cards. You felt your head against the table and you could hear Ikkaku swear. You could easily get out of there and reach for your dagger hidden in your boot, you could also trip and see the guy hit his own head against the table. You knew you wouldn't need to do anything when you saw a blue dome appear in front of you.

Unlike the many times you had seen him fight, Law didn't use his sword or his devil fruit. His hands reached for the man, twisting his arm and slamming his head against the table, ten times harder than what had been done to yours. The other man, who was restraining Ikkaku, immediately released her.

"What happened?" he asked and you knew the question was directed at you, even though he kept pinning the man against the table.

"They thought we were stealing in the game."

"He said we would pay for what we stole from him with money or anything else we could offer." Ikkaku added, as you stood up and untied your clothes.

"The bastard likes to threaten others." Law muttered and within seconds, the man's head rolled on the table, as he screamed desperately, not understanding what had happened. Looking around, Law reached for a small knife and immediately stuck it to the side of the man's head. "Next time I see you, I won't need to use any power to rip your head off."

Law walked away, his eyes immediately searched for you. You had your back to him, checking to see if your friend had gotten hurt.

"Are you two okay?" he walked closer, searching for any signs of injury on the two of you. At that point in the fight, the entire crew was already gathered alongside.

"It's okay captain, it was just that asshole. The others tried to help us." Ikkaku explained.

"Understood." He tried to calm things down, still thinking about what that stupid guy could have done if, for some moment, you had left his sight.

"For today, that's enough." you sighed, trying to give your best smile, which with all the stress caused, seemed impossible. "I'm going back to Polar Tang. I think today's activities tired me out."

You lied, blatantly. You weren't tired, on the contrary. The whole fight, Law showing up to defend you, that had lit you up. The only question that was going through your head was where Law's anger had come from. It wasn't the first time you ended up fighting with someone in a bar and every time Law would just laugh a little or if things got out of hand, He gave a little fright to anyone who even touched his crew. Today the gray eyes that accompanied you so much appreciate you full of fury.

"I'll join you. You guys, enjoy." Law took out some berries and placed them in Ikkaku's hand. "The next rounds are on me."

Bepo made to accompany you two, but was stopped by his friends. They seemed to see the entire situation clearer than the two of you ever would.

The walk to the submarine was quiet, much quieter than you were used to. Despite the beat, your head didn't hurt besides the fact that you saw Law analyze every inch of you after the argument.

Even after entering Polar Tang, silence prevailed between the two of you, it bothered you a lot more than you tried to show. Taking much smaller steps than Law's, you tried to catch up to him before he locked himself in his room and then you'm will only see him the next morning.

"Hang on!" You tried to follow him and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he had heard you. "Captain!"

"I don't want to talk about it right now." he replied, stopping in front of his room.

"I am sorry but no." you replied and understanding that perhaps you had a discussion too serious to have there in the middle of the corridor, you just indicated the door behind him. "Let's just talk, just five minutes of your attention, okay?"

He could feel the blood boil in his veins, the words burned in Law's throat. Damn that damn bar, damn all the things that still haunted his mind. He had fallen, and fallen hard.

"I understand." you leaned the door behind you, keeping your arms crossed. "I understand all your concern, I mean, you have been carrying a burden that is not yours."

"No?" he laughed, almost cynically. "I won't apologize for that."

"What about all that at the bar?" you asked, approaching him. "About almost killing a guy over a card game."

"He was hurting you." the words came out of his mouth, bluntly.

You stopped a few centimeters away from him, watching him. You wanted to sound intimidating, you wanted to impose yourself on him, but it was him. It was the serious eyes looking down on you, the posture, the smell that emanated from him. As much as your brain tried to deny it, something in you liked - almost needed - Law to protect you.

"You know I'm not that fragile, right?" You held his arms, looking for even the slightest reaction. "I don't break so easily, if that's what makes you worry about me so much."

Law wished he had more time to plan, he wished he hadn't been as close to you as he was last week. That cat and mouse hunt between the two of you worked for a long time. It worked when he watched someone talk for too long over you and he chose to leave his jealousy aside, it worked when he watched you fight so many times and chose not to intrude, it worked when he saw your curves marked by any other clothes you wore ,except the crew's overalls, and he had to try his best not to look. It worked, sentence passed, something left aside.

"I like you." he began, the words coming out like relief from his lips. "I like you and to be honest, I don't know how to deal with it."

"Why not?"

"We are pirates, I have enemies, people who can use this to target me." he pointed to the space between the two of you. "I don't know if I can handle this, damn, I could barely hold my own against a drunk at the bar. I like you too much to risk you."

Just like the day he had seen you injured, his hands found your face, holding it as if it were the most precious thing Law had ever laid his hands on.

"I have a proposal." your hands found his, caressing them. "Here, in this room, just here it will be Law and me. Without all the worries of a captain, without all the responsibilities of a crew member, without fears. Just you and me, one belonging to the other. No one needs to know."

You wanted to say that maybe it wouldn't work and that maybe the two of you would just come out of this story more broken. You could also say that you would understand if he hated the idea. Before any words found the sound of the room, your lips were stolen by his.

None of Law's thoughts matched what he was feeling. Your lips giving way so he could taste a little of you. Your hands left his and spread out over the small gap in the open shirt he wore. Every inch of your body still seemed small for him to explore, his hands went down to your waist, almost merging his body with yours. He could stay there, in that room trapped with you for days. Damn the life of a captain, damn all the rationality he valued so much, you were more than enough.

"So…" you moved a few millimeters away from him, looking for just enough space to catch your breath.

One of his hands went up to your chin, one of his fingers running over your swollen and red lips in an almost sinful caress. How long did he wait to be like that?

One of his hands tangled in your hair, gently squeezing it so you could give him space. Law's lips - now warmer than when they first touched you - ran down your neck. You wouldn't take Law for an avid lover, but the way he held your body to his said completely the opposite.

"I accept your proposal." His low voice whispered next to your ear. His mind took him to dark places, but a little rationality still kept him lucid. "But maybe, maybe we should stop for now."

"No, we shouldn't." Serene eyes looked at him, but the malice in your words was clear.

"Yeah, we shouldn't."

[vivelafranceblog]

Moustiers-Sainte-Marie, France: Moustiers-Sainte-Marie is a commune in the Alpes-de-Haute-Provence department in the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region of Southeastern France. It is considered one of the "most beautiful villages of France". It lies at the western entrance to the Verdon Gorge (Gorges du Verdon). The village has been a centre of the pottery trade, especially faïence, for centuries. A spring flows out of the cliff and creates a waterfall in town, providing water power. Wikipedia

[pearlwithgirl]

Lamplight, Headlight, Moonlight.

Simon Riley x f!reader

Filthy smut - 1479 words

The second of many tender musings ("tender" works because of all the biting and flesh talk <3)

TW: Bites, scratches, and bruises; animalistic fucking; breeding; use of "bitch" (not in Simon's dialogue)

It started off as most of your trysts did. Habitual, comfortable, but not monotonous or passionless - oh no, quite the opposite. 

Simon sinks his teeth into you, suckling at smooth skin and adorning you with yet another set of glowing crescents. Low and dulcet, he moans into the meat of your thigh, a fleshy dessert after gorging himself on your sweet cunt for what felt like an eternity. 

He’d left you hanging on a precipice, dangling in the blinding glow of orgasmic bliss like a little flashing crystal hanging on a line in the bright sun. 

Like prey. Routine. 

You’re still puffy and sensitive, trickling juices that he pauses to lap up between mouthfuls of hide. Your body’s split-second reaction is to jolt and tense up at the feeling. To recoil, because it hurts, doesn’t it? 

You want to pull back, to scramble away at the deep sting, but you don’t. You love this. You accept it greedily, because he knows just what you need. You curl your hands into his ashen waves and yank him in for another sharp bite, as if he could get any closer - because it hurts so fucking good.

Simon creeps up over your belly and past your breasts until he reaches your tender neck to suck blossoming bruises into your skin, laving his tongue over your thrumming pulse. 

He nocks the blunt head of his cock against your twitching entrance, meeting your gaze and waiting for a sign. You can feel him throbbing already, leaking precum onto your hole. You nod almost desperately, and he slides home in one smooth stroke, bathed in blissful rapture.

He breathes out a delicate moan, a sweet zephyr in a register that nobody else gets to bear witness to. They don’t see this soft expression, eyes half-lidded, long-healed pink lines streaking across his flushed cheeks. He’s painted with a cherubic blush and his bottom lip is drawn between pearly teeth, plush and pink. 

It’s almost funny. Everybody outside this room gets something so brash, cold stares and no-nonsense orders, barked-out laughs and grumbled praises for those who are among his inner circle. 

Not you. You get the mild side, the pretty pout that looks nearly angelic in the soft lamplight behind him. It truly resembles a halo, incandescent luminescence shining over pale locks and radiating around his crown as he languidly drags his cock over that gummy spot on your front wall. 

You have to giggle at the juxtaposition of it all. A tremor that causes the change in atmosphere, nudges the falling domino that spills the sable wax and seals your fate. That little amused huff that made your chest quake - barely perceivable to most, but then again, Simon isn’t just any animal, is he? 

He leans back onto his haunches and cocks his head at you. 

“Something funny, doll?” 

It falls off his dusky lips with a tinge of affectionate snark, probing, curious.

You don’t answer. 

‘Nothing wrong, I just think you’re sweet.’ Is what lies on the tip of your tongue, but nothing comes out. 

You just remain zeroed-in on that panting mouth, eyes creeping lower over his heaving chest, his glistening abdomen, those slim hips that taper down to where his thighs flex and bulge…

Your wandering gaze flits back up when he prompts you once more. You’re frozen, lashes fluttering as you blink slowly at him, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“Your mind wandering?” He drawls out, the corner of his mouth creeping up into a sly smirk. “Is this not enough for you tonight? D’you need more from me?” 

“How could it possibly get any better?” You quip back in a plucky tone, mirroring his smirk and flashing a teasing glint with those glassy doe eyes. 

The air is sucked out of the room, a tangible shift, that halo obscured by a darker miasma of lust and insatiable hunger. You should have known better than to provoke a beast like him. You’ve challenged an apex predator.

The smirk drops momentarily. Cogs turn in his mind - it comes back as a grin peeling across his face. Your juices and his saliva catch the light filtering through the rosy bulbs strung up around your bed posts, tinted red all around his mouth, dripping from that ravenous maw. He licks his lips, leveling you with a carnal leer. You clench around him and that broad smile beams even wider. 

He leans in close enough for you to feel the perfumed puffs of breath along the shell of your ear. His tone is hushed, but it’s dripping with lust-soaked venom. 

He brushes his fingertips along your thighs and and hooks his hands under your knees, pressing your legs far back and priming your pussy to be filled to the brim by his heavy cock and heavier thrusts.

 “As you wish, pet.” He murmurs, the phrase rumbling through you like the warning growl of a starved lynx.

The very next moment, he’s buried to the hilt, setting a punishing pace, looking right through you to your gooey centre with wild, frenzied eyes.

He plunges over and over into the searing heat of your cunt, dragging you closer to the edge once again with every minute that ticks by.

You’ve offered yourself up like some sacrificial lamb, bared your delicate throat to this great beast of a man, and you couldn’t be happier. 

You’re not a lamb at all - you weren’t asking him some throwaway question. Deep down somewhere, right beside your warm, beating heart - you knew it was a provocation, didn’t you? 

You fucking minx. 

You’re a lesser predator yourself, yet here you are yowling like a beautiful little bitch in heat. Just like you wanted. Just like he knew you needed.

He’s just a man and the moon is nothing but a razor-thin sliver slicing through the sky, but when he tilts his head back, slinking closer and closer to his release, you think he might let out a howl. Your pale blonde beast, snarling in the soft, creamy light of the paper lantern hanging from your rafters. 

You tip your own head back and the gentle hand cradling your skull tightens its grip. He licks into your mouth, exchanging feverish kisses and hot breaths. He’s panting, littering dirty phrases between your punched out gasps and squeaks that punctuate every unrelenting thrust into your soft, warm cunt.

You catch a masochistic glint in his eyes as you scratch long stripes into his back and nearly pierce him through with a sharp gaze that screams, begs - ‘Breed me. PLEASE.’

A reedy whine tears its way out of your throat as you clamp down around him, lofted up into the sweltering air to mingle with the harsh grunts rumbling their way out of his chest.He won’t be far behind you, his rhythm growing stuttered and syncopated. 

There are a million disjointed thoughts swimming in your soupy mind, but you’re far too lust-addled and fucked-out to string them together. You’d like to be eloquent, to tell him what a good boy he is for blessing you with his impending orgasm and painting your walls creamy white, but that’s utterly impossible right now. All you can let out are broken babbles and whimpered chants of his name, but these are just as enticing and poetic to his finely tuned ears. 

You nearly lose yourself in the blinding pleasure of these heavy thrusts as he gets ready to fuck you full, but he doesn’t let you. He’s got you by the scruff, and he doesn’t even need to say anything - you know well enough by now what that look means.

'Look. At. Me.'

So you do. You lock eyes with him as his face twists with pleasure and his hips meet yours in a chorus of wet smacks. His sharp gaze softens as he falls prey to his pleasure and careens off the edge, knocking his forehead against yours. 

He lets your thighs drop back down after pumping you full of every last drop he has to offer, and as routine dictates, his wolfish grin goes all soft and gooey just as fast as it appeared. He drops the woozy smile to lean in for a sloppy kiss and collapses on top of you, bracketing you in and placing his weight onto his elbows.

“S’that “better”, sweetheart?” He asks, voice muffled against your dewy skin. 

“It was perfect. It’s always perfect.” You respond, cum-drunk and hazy.

He huffs a laugh into your neck, redistributing his weight until he can fully relax his burning muscles without crushing you. He’s draped over you, still breathing heavily and quickly approaching a deep sleep. 

You let him rest for a bit, stroking his back as he peppers feather-light kisses across your chest.

You’ve tamed him once more, gazing at the waxing crescent while a shameless smirk graces your lips.

Little minx.

[we-stan-cale]

I want to hear about your favorite moments in TCF.

I have a long list, but I'll start with one that I don't hear people talk about much - Cale's conversation with Lock and Raon the night before the battle at the gorge.

First, I absolutely love how Cale handled Lock here. Lock is feeling like a failure, guilty, a coward - a whole bunch of negative things because he's no longer able to use his berserk transformation, and he thinks it's because he's afraid.

Cale - acts normal. It's hard to describe what that means, or why it matters. He just doesn't make a big deal out of it. Not like he's dismissing Lock's fears, but also not like he thinks Lock needs to be reassured.

This is right after Lock told Cale he couldn't go berserk. Rosalyn is also there, and the 'she' it starts with.

She heard a quiet voice at that moment. Pat. “Why is a young boy like you so skinny?” Rosalyn could see Cale pat Lock on the back before heading toward the tent entrance. Cale opened up the flap in order to exit as he looked toward Lock. “Let’s go.”

Cale just... Doesn't respond to the fear, but does show care and concern. And just treats Lock like normal (except in this case that's not really normal).

He then basically gets Lock to focus on the here and now, so Lock won't go into that headspace where he keeps feeling like he's a failure. He's preventing Lock from spiraling as he keeps thinking about what a failure he is.

Cale started to speak as soon as the young boy stopped right in front of him. “Focus on my back. Follow behind me and don’t think about anything else.”

And then he invites Lock to dinner. Just Lock, Raon, and Cale. Cale lets Lock talk, and then said something I absolutely love:

Lock’s mumblings stopped as soon as Cale asked a question. “Would you throw me away if I was weak?” “What-” Something like that was unbelievable. Lock throw Cale away? Lock’s eyes opened wide in shock as Cale smiled back at him. “Lock, you wouldn’t, right?” Cale picked his fork back up. “So, don’t ask something so obvious. Just eat.”

I love my progression fantasy, but the protagonists in those stories almost always have the same solution for every problem - get stronger.

To hear the protagonist say something like this is just so refreshing. Like - your worth is not tied up with being strong. You are a worthwhile person even if you can't destroy a wall with one punch. You wouldn't throw away someone else just because they were weak, so why are you being so hard on yourself?

And Raon hearing this leads into the final part, the conversation they have as they prepare for bed.

“By the way, human.” “What is it?” Cale made eye contact with the six-years-old Dragon who stopped connecting the device and looked toward him. Raon looked at Cale and asked. “I cannot go through my first growth phase. Is that okay?” ...

“Didn’t I answer that last time? Don’t ask me something so obvious.” “…Is it okay if I am weak?”

...

“Raon, although I am weaker than you, I’ve lived at least thirty, no, fifteen years more than you. But I am still weaker than you. I am not even as strong as you front paw. Is that a problem?” Cale realized his mistake and quickly changed the years before looking at Raon. “It is not a problem at all.”

There's more, but I've already copied enough so if you want to read the rest you should just go check that chapter out.

The thing here is that Raon, who was supposed to go through his first growth phase, couldn't. It now looks like he was afraid of how weak and vulnerable he would be during that.

And Cale, dense though he can be, perfectly reassures Raon.

Now if only that lovely, dense and yet wise man could treat himself with a fraction of the consideration he shows everyone else.

[tribbetherium]

A few additional species from the rattile cladogram that have not yet been properly introduced:

In the arid regions of Central Arcuterra, food is rather scarce. A clade of rattiles, the moundators, became specialized insectivores feeding on the abundant termite nests, one of the food sources that were rarely in short supply. However, as the moundators diverged into several species over the eons, competition became tougher for these highly-specialized insectivores. To relieve the pressure from its cousins, one group turned their sights on a much more dangerous quarry: the desert applehead ant (Maluscephalomyrmex trimorphis).

Omnivores that scavenge carrion, hunt other insects and diligently harvest the seeds of the local desert plants, the applehead ants accomplish their work with the cooperative effort of three separate worker castes: small minor workers tending to the affairs of the nest, major workers as foragers and fighters, and large, big-headed supermajors that do the heavy lifting, taking apart difficult food items and acting as the guard to the nest entrances to protect against raids by rival ant colonies. With powerful mandibles, formidable stingers, and able to grow to a centimeter in length, these elite guard are a force to be reckoned with should anything dare to threaten their nest.

Yet this is little deterrent to the blue-tongued lizardvark (Myrmecosauromys cyanoglossus): a moundator species that, in a long arms race not only with others of its kind but also with the ants themselves, have developed a resistance to the ants' stings. Tough, pebbled scales on the tip of its snout are impervious to bites and stings, while powerful curved claws allow the lizardvark to excavate out nursery chambers and gorge on the soft vulnerable larvae as well as the adults. By being able to tackle a prey insect species others of its relation cannot, the lizardvark is ensured a reliable source of food with little competition. Up to 80% of its diet consists entirely of applehead ants, with the remaining percentage being comprised of other insects to supplement its diet, and as applehead ant nests are less numerous than the more abundant cathedral termites, lizardvarks are more solitary and territorial than other moundators, fiercely defending productive ant nests from competitors with their long curved fore-claws that double as formidable weapons.

Aside from slurping up ants from their underground tunnels, the bright blue tongues of the blue-tongued lizardvark serve another practical purpose: as a display organ to other members of its species. While both sexes sport the namesake blue tongue, it is more brightly colored in the males, which use the colorful, flickering appendage, visually contrasted against their dull brown bodies, to both impress potential mates and intimidate rival males especially during the breeding season.

In the same regions of desert roamed by the blue-tongued lizardvark, another rattile, smaller and less conspicuous, makes a living in the desolate land. Camouflaging perfectly in the rust-hued sand when Beta's red gleam dominates the sky, this elusive, hard-to-find creature performs a disappearing act not just above, but below the sand as well to conceal itself both from the midday heat and the diurnal predators: the carmine sanddigger (Erythrosaurocricetus vermiformes).

During the day, when Alpha's searing rays scorch the sandy surface, the carmine sanddigger buries itself under several inches of sand to hide from the searing heat. Small nostrils and a specialized nasal tract keep out sand particles and even allow it to breathe the small air pockets between loose grains of sand even when buried, allowing it to remain entirely hidden under the sand for hours at a time to escape the hottest parts of the day. As dusk, dawn, and Beta-twilight cools the clime, however, it emerges to forage, alternately scurrying across the sand on stubby one-clawed limbs or 'swimming' through the loose grains with side to side undulations of its body, preying upon the various small invertebrates of the dry regions that serve as its primary source of moisture as well as nutrition.

In the earlier days of the rattiles' evolution, during the Middle Glaciocene, the monisaurs produced an experimental lineage that took to the water to become semiaquatic omnivores that fed on a diet of both bottom-dwelling shelled invertebrates but also marine algae in addition. Known as the monitees, their success was ultimately short-lived and would soon give way their niches to the sterapins and bayvers as of the Early Temperocene.

Nonetheless, a few small species of monitees remain, surviving in coastal environments as generalist foragers that seek refuge on small rocky islets offshore the coast of Gestaltia, nesting on beaches and cliff walls but turn to the shallow seas to seek out their food. The dusky mudlap (Littorasauromys bulbocephalus) is one such species, sunning itself on warm rocks during the mornings to heat itself up and raise its body temperature to a sufficient level to be active enough, before plunging into the cold, dangerous seas to feed, propelled by broad, paddling feet, its short, snubbed snout, blunt teeth and powerful jaw muscles ideal for gnawing off algae anchored firmly to rocks as well as dislodging crustaceans, bivalves and quillnobs off of solid surfaces. Being ectothermic as most rattiles are, mudlaps have a short window of time to feed, as they cannot remain in cold water too long or else they could become too sluggish to properly swim and can end up drowning, though their round, compact bodies decrease their surface area and slow down heat loss.

While such risky excursions are usually worth the payoff, mudlaps prefer to supplement their diet with food closer to shore: the tidal zones where various invertebrates, particularly snails and bivalves, hide in the soft, perpetually-wet sand. Their forepaws, lobed rather than webbed, make a good compromise between swimming paddles and dexterous digging implements that they use to excavate food from the damp ground.

Unusually among rattiles which typically bear large litters of tiny young, mother mudlaps bear one large well-developed offspring per breeding season, which can fend for itself almost immediately. While fed on regurgitated food for the first few days to acquire its mother's necessary microbiota vital for its immune and digestive system, it quickly becomes fully independent within a couple of weeks' time. More carnivorous when young in order to fuel its rapid growth, it gradually becomes more herbivorous-leaning as it grows older, though always remains opportunistic on whatever food it can find.

On the Fissorian archipelago, a primitive yet specialized lineage of rattiles had capitalized on the vacancy of predator niches by becoming rather large-bodied aquatic ambush hunters, giving rise to one of the largest rattiles next only to varats and seashingles: the garitors. Equipped with long snouts bearing elongated, multicusped teeth, they flourished in coastal wetlands, rivers and lakes, exploiting the biological need of land animals to drink: and thus have their food easily come to *them* rather than having to pursue their next meal.

While the marshland garitor, native to the Fissorian Archipelago, have thin, narrow snouts better suited for small prey, their cousins the mainland garitors have broader, stronger jaws, enabling them to tackle bigger prey including walkabies and ungulopes whenever the thirsty creatures come to seek out bodies of water. The most common species, the mottled mainland garitor (Myosuchoides varicolor) ranges across the eastern part of Gestaltia in wetlands and freshwater rivers and lakes, its mottled coloration allowing it to hide in murky river water among silt, debris and floating water plants to catch whatever may come its way, trying to drag their prey underwater to drown them.

Much like the marshland garitor, mainland garitors bear very large litters of over fifty tiny young, but give little to no parental care and abandon them quickly after birth: ironically, as less of a display of indifference and more of an active attempt to protect their young from their own predatory instinct to attack and eat any animal small enough to swallow in one gulp. The young of the mainland species, however, have one additional trick up their sleeve: they are rather skilled climbers and can escape up into the trees where the adults cannot follow, retaining such a behavior for a year or two until they are both too heavy and ungainly to climb, and too large for adult garitors to view them as an easy meal.

On the forest floor of tropical rainforests of central Gestalia, a strange relic of an early adaptive radiation can be found, emerging from burrows under cover of night to hunt for small invertebrate prey. A last survivor of the first molrocks of Fissor to re-evolve keen eyesight and begin to forage above ground once again, this hardy survivor lost to time endures despite competition by finding an unusual intermediate.

Known as the bristly bareback (Hemisauromys gymnus), this strange animal is the last remaining representative of the stem-rattiles, the rest of its kin having long been outcompeted by the true rattiles with their plated skin, rapid reproduction and slower, less energy-intensive metabolisms proving highly advantageous in the enironments of Fissor. Yet it is these very features that have allowed the bareback to survive: by doubling down on traits true rattiles have lost, it manages to occupy a middle ground between the quasi-reptilian and the traditionally mammalian.

Despite its generally rattile-like saurian appearance, the bareback is immediately distinguished by its wrinkly, leathery skin sparsely adorned with sensory bristles, leftover hairs that in the rattiles became their protective scales. In addition, it has a more erect stance than the sprawling rattiles, their limb posture being a holdover from their burrowing ancestors whose limbs emerged out to the sides for shoveling away loose dirt, a trait that proved advantageous for their new saurian-like lifestyle: yet one the bareback has lost, in favor of more-sustained running in pursuit of prey or in fleeing predators.

Being mesothermic, able to keep itself a few degrees warmer than the environment, it can remain active even on cooler nights when ectothermic rattiles retreat to safe places and become dormant. However, it too has a lower metabolism than other fully endothermic small insectivores such as furbils and duskmice, allowing it to go longer without food and use less energy when foraging. Some of this extra saved energy can then be used in investing in their young: while true rattiles went the full r-selected route to the point of losing their mammary glands, barebacks still do retain them and bear smaller litters of ten to twelve at a time which depend on the mother for at least three months.

A mix of basal holdover traits and derived new ones allow the bareback to occupy a unique ecological niche in the undergrowth. Despite being the last of its lineage, it nonetheless finds success in capitalizing on the best of both worlds: giving it enough flexibility to thrive when conditions favor one strategy or the other.

-----------

[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 4

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Comment if you'd like to be tagged! x

Glen feels like he's buzzing.

Like the kind of buzzing you feel when you've had one too many cups of coffee, or a hit of pre workout just before a big gym session.

Except this time, he knows it has nothing to do with caffeine.

It's Billie.

He’s known her for less than twenty-four hours, but already he feels like he can’t get enough of her. Of her voice, her eyes, her lips, of her smile. Her fucking gorgeous smile.

Glen looks over when he sees a black Ford pick up pulling up a few spaces away, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees Billie step out of the car. He sucks in a breath as he looks her over, feeling his muscles clench as his eyes run over her body. Her thick legs, her round ass, her toned abdomen peeking out from beneath the cropped shirt she’s wearing. It’s enough to send him spinning.

Fuck.

He looks back at his reflection in his rearview mirror, running his fingers through his hair and putting his cap back on. He bares his teeth, checking for any missed pieces of food, before letting out a heavy breath and getting out of his car.

“Billie!”

Glen sees her look up at his call, a happy smile parting her lips when she sees him. He jogs the short distance over to her, watching as she puts her phone away and reaches up to shield her face from the afternoon sun. 

“Nice wheels” he says, gesturing to her pick up behind her, Billie’s smile widening.

“Thanks. I like yours too”.

Glen grins, glancing back over at his own Chevy Silverado, his big silver truck standing out like a shining beacon in the Ikea parking lot.

“Can I ask you a question?” Billie asks as they start walking towards the entrance, Glen watching the way her long ponytail bobs as she walks. 

The colour reminds him of roasted espresso beans, with ribbons of warm chocolate rippling through.

“Shoot”.

“It must be really hard for you to just, go out shopping? I mean everywhere you go, you kind of risk being stampeded by fans” Billie says, looking at the building entrance and back at Glen, “It didn’t even occur to me what this might be like for you, and now I feel a bit stupid that I asked you to come along. To Ikea of all places”.

Glen laughs and shakes his head. “Billie, I’d have said yes to anything you said if it meant that I got to spend more time with you”.

Glen loves the way her smile grows then, the soft blush that creeps into her golden skin from his words.

She has no idea how fucking gorgeous she is.

“But to answer your question, yes, it can be hard. It’s not something I really thought about though, at least until Top Gun. That kind of changed everything”.

Billie laughs, and Glen immediately decides that her laugh is one of his new favourite sounds.

“I mean, not to go all fan girl on you, but I can see why that happened. You were pretty memorable in that movie” Billie says, offering a soft, sheepish smile and pulling her ponytail forward so that it tumbles down her shoulder.

“Yeah, as the asshole character” Glen replies, teasing another chuckle from Billie that makes his stomach flip.

“Well you did sort of save the day at the end, so perhaps that’s more the reason?” Billie reasons, her shoulders lifting in an adorable shrug, “Or you know, there’s the whole beach scene too, you were kind of gorg---, I mean, hard to forget in that”.

Glen turns to Billie with a raised eyebrow, willing her to continue talking. Instead he sees her mash her lips together, her eyes squeezing shut and her brow furrowing for a moment. She looks up at Glen a second later, her eyes big and beautiful, flashing with what Glen can only describe as embarrassment. 

“I’m going to shut up now, because I’ve said too much and I’m making an idiot of myself”.

Glen drops his head back and laughs, clapping his hands together.

“You know, I’d be quite happy to recreate that scene for you if you really wanted to see it again. Private screening, just for you”

Billie laughs and shoves him playfully. 

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

Glen doesn’t answer, instead flashing Billie his most charming grin.

“Alright so tell me, what kind of couch are we looking for?” Glen asks when they reach the entrance, cold, air-conditioned air blasting them as they walk through, “How many seats? Fold out? Material? Where is it going in your house?”

Billie bites her bottom lip again, and Glen has to put his hands on his hips to stop himself from grabbing her face and kissing her.

“I can’t answer any of those questions except that it’s going in my living room” Billie says, lifting her hands up in an I-don't-know-gesture’, the two walking through to the first of the showrooms.

“Okay so do you have any ideas of what you’re after then?” he asks, pausing when Billie leans over to run her hand over a navy throw blanket.

“A colour that Nugget’s fur won’t be so noticeable on. That’s about it so far”.

Glen laughs. 

“Okay so no dark colours then” he says as they browse the concept bedroom, the theme an earthy mix of whites, browns and deep greens. 

They move onto the next room - another bedroom, this one decorated in an urban, industrial theme. It’s all exposed brick walls and black fixtures, the bed linen a tangle of moody greys and dark navy. It reminds Glen of his own style at home, making him think of the dark charcoal sheets that are currently on his bed.

Sheets, he thinks, that would look great under Billie’s naked body.

Fuck.

His mind wanders for the tenth time since he’s been here, looking over to find Billie bending over to pick up and inspect a large terracotta coloured cushion. All of a sudden, his eyes are glued to her ass, her round, peachy ass in her bright blue, skin tight shorts. 

He imagines it in just a pair of panties and nothing else, a deep wine colour, a tiny, lace and silk number that covers next to nothing. He imagines her bent over in front of him, a cheek in each of his hands, her skin soft and buttery smooth as he kneads her supple flesh.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Glen exhales deeply, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself to get his thoughts in check. He looks up a moment later to see Billie taking a photo of the tag on the cushion she's holding, before dropping it back onto the bed and making her way into the next room.

“Maybe suede?” Billie asks, running her hand over the back of a grey suede loveseat she's just stopped in front of, Glen following close behind. 

“Probably not the best for fur though” Glen counters, Billie nodding in agreement and leaning her hip against the couch as she looks around the new room.

Glen hears laughter up ahead and he turns to see a group of girls walking towards the room they're in. There's four of them, all eighteen or so, laughing and chatting away at each other as they walk. 

He exhales heavily through his nose. Young girls were always tough to deal with when he was out - they made the most noise. They also posted everything on social media. 

The last thing he wants is fan attention when he's out with Billie, or worse, paparazzi following him in Ikea of all places. He knows from past experience it’s one of the quickest ways to freak out a girl he likes, particularly one that isn’t in the spotlight like Billie. 

He has a split second to make a decision. 

And so, he does.

“I think I like grey or ta--”

Billie’s words are abruptly cut short when Glen grabs her hand, pulling her into a nearby alcove behind the bedroom's wardrobe.

“Are we hiding?” Billie whispers after a moment, confusion evident on her face as she looks up at Glen in front of her.

He nods.

For a second he can’t think of anything except Billie, about how fucking gorgeous she is, about how right at this current moment she’s pressed up against him against a wardrobe, her fingers still wrapped in his.

Billie frowns, an amused, but confused expression on her face, Glen watching as she leans back to poke her head out of the alcove.

Glen sees her face transform with understanding when she sees what Glen is hiding from, the sound of the girls laughing and talking now evident inside the room. She leans back in towards Glen, a soft smile on her face, and it takes everything Glen has not to lean in and kiss her right there and then.

They both still when they hear the voices come closer, Glen's grip on Billie's hand tightening. He feels a momentary sting of alarm, all manner of potential scenarios now playing out in his head.

His chest tightens as he sucks in a deep breath, panic suddenly taking over his brain.

Fuck. Here we go.

He hears footsteps walk into the alcove and Glen isn't sure what to do, his thoughts immediately silenced when Billie reaches for his jaw and pulls his mouth to hers.

Oh, Billie.

In an instant every part of him relaxes, concerns from just a moment ago seemingly forgotten. Her lips are soft against his, moving against his in a tender kiss, her free hand cupping his jaw and holding his face to hers. He releases her other hand and searches for her waist, his fingers finding the bare skin beneath her short shirt and gripping at her warm flesh.

She's everywhere, all at once, the sweet taste of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the intoxicating scent of her skin, every single one of his senses suddenly drowning in her. Glen's heart races in his chest, his brain unable to think of anything else except Billie.

He hears the awkward stammering of the intruding girl, but it's barely audible above his heart beat in his ears. Just when Glen thinks he could die right here and now, Billie breaks away and turns her head, her hand still holding his face to her neck. He realises she’s shielding him, hiding his face from the unknown girl, his chest all but heaving as his mouth hangs less than an inch from her neck.

“Oh um, sorry” Billie says with a mischievous exaggerated giggle, the other girl muttering her own apology.

Glen barely listens as the girl backs away out of the alcove, unable to concentrate on anything except Billie's neck. He breathes in her scent, delicious and warm, forcing himself to stay still. It takes everything he has not to close that one inch gap and press his lips to Billie’s throat, every single fibre in his body screaming at him to drag his tongue along her skin.

Some part of him hears the girl return to her friends, the group giggling and quickly scurrying out of the showroom moments later. Reluctantly he pulls away when Billie releases his face, a heavy breath leaving his mouth as he does. Billie looks back at him with bright, wide eyes, Glen hyper aware that her chest is still pressed to his and his fingers are still gripping the warm skin of her waist. His thoughts are all but blank, except for how much he wants to do that all over again. 

He's buzzing again, stronger now, the feel of Billie's lips against his seemingly burnt into his brain. He drops his head back against the wall behind him and looks down at her with an incredulous smile, words struggling to form in his mind.

“Th---that was---”.

“Some quick thinking?” Billie interrupts, finishing his sentence for him and flashing a gentle grin.

He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, Billie laughing and grabbing his hand from her waist. He says nothing as she wraps her fingers in his and steps away from him, pulling on his hand so that his body peels away from the wall and follows her back out into the bedroom.

“C'mon you, we've gotta find me a couch”.

---

Billie

“Are you sure you’re okay with those? I can carry one if you need”.

Glen looks down at her and shakes his head, two furniture flat packs nestled firmly under each of his arms. Billie forces herself to keep her eyes trained on his face, fighting the urge to stare at his thick biceps.

“No need darlin’, I got this”.

Billie exhales silently. 

How is his voice so damn attractive?

How does he make that ONE WORD sound so damn attractive?

How is ALL of him so damn attractive?

She swallows thickly.

She still can’t believe how bold she’d been earlier, still not quite believing that she’d kissed Glen. It was a split second idea that needed a split second decision. And she’d done it without a second thought.

She’d kissed Glen Powell.

The look on his face when she’d pulled away had made it all worth it though, and it had taken everything she had not to lean back in and kiss him up against the wall of the Ikea wardrobe. 

God.

To say she was attracted to him was an understatement, now even more so if that was even possible. To his gorgeous green eyes, his devastatingly sexy smile, his broad, muscled chest. If she were a cartoon, she was pretty certain she’d be drawn with permanent heart shaped eyes every time she looked at him. 

Billie pulls out her keys when they reach her car, unlocking the tailgate and stepping back to allow Glen to unload the flat packs into her tray. 

After much searching she’d ended up finding a couch she liked - an ‘L’ shaped three seater with a chaise extension, in a rich caramel coloured leather. There hadn’t been any left in stock though, so she’d instead ordered it, with delivery expected early next week.

She’d also found a new wooden end table and a small oak bookshelf that she loved, both of which Glen was currently hauling into her car.

Billie opens the front door of her pick up and throws the bag of assorted cream and grey cushions she'd also bought onto the passenger seat, closing the door and turning around in time to see Glen shutting her tailgate. He reaches up to readjust his hat, his sandy blonde hair peaking out from beneath it, an effortlessly handsome smile on his chiselled face. 

Billie wonders idly if he has any idea of the effect he has on her. Or on women in general for that matter.

“So I know we’ve spent the better part of the afternoon together, and at the risk of sounding needy, can I ask what you’re doing for dinner?”.

Billie can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips then, her face falling a second later when she remembers she actually does have plans.

“I've actually got a dinner to go to, a house-warming barbecue up in the hills”.

She feels her heart fall when his face drops, and in an instant she wishes she hadn't RSVP'd to her Saturday night plans.

“My boss just bought a new place” Billie explains looking down at her hands and then back up at Glen again, “but---, I’m free all day tomorrow?”.

His face instantly lights up at her words and suddenly her heart is soaring again, his gorgeous grin returning.

“It’s a date”.

Billie laughs and tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. “Does that mean today counts as our first date then?”.

Glen shrugs adorably. “That depends”.

“On?”

“Whether or not you liked it. If you didn’t, then no, it doesn’t count and tomorrow can be our real first date”.

Billie laughs out loud, shaking her head so that her ponytail swishes along her shoulder.

“I like unconventional dates” she says lifting up her hands in a shrug, “There isn’t so much pressure”.

Glen nods in agreement.

“Unconventional” he says repeating her word as if he’s thinking of ideas, his grin suddenly growing even wider.

Billie laughs again, but she can't help the frown that suddenly bends her brow.

“All of a sudden I’m scared to ask about what you’ve now got planned for tomorrow”.

Glen winks conspiratorially. 

“I’ll message you with the time”.

“Can I at least have a hint?”

Glen shakes his head.  

“Nope” he says, making the ‘p’ sound pop, “You said you like surprises”.

Bille laughs and rolls her eyes, immediately cursing herself for telling him that earlier.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Glen says, pushing himself off her car and stepping towards her.

Billie only nods, a school-girl smile threatening to split her face.

She sucks in a breath when he leans in towards her, his lips grazing her cheek with a gentle kiss. She closes her eyes momentarily, opening them back up when he steps away, seeing him look down at her with a smile that makes her knees weak.

“Have a good night Billie”

Billie lets out a shaky, silent breath and smiles.

“You too Glen”.

He winks at her and suddenly Billie seriously considers cancelling her dinner plans, watching as he walks off towards his truck. He turns to look back at her when he reaches his car, that same damn gorgeous smile etched on his face as he waves at her. She stays frozen by her car, her mind reeling as she mentally goes over the afternoon she's just had, reaching up to wave back at him.

Moments later he's in his truck and driving away, leaving Billie standing alone in the Ikea parking lot with nothing but a stomach full of nerves and a mind full of excitement for tomorrow.

---

Next Chapter

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TAG LIST:

@wickedtactics @auntiegigi @friedchips94 @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey

[xtra7s]

hello!! i adore your writing style and wanted to ask if you maybe would like to write a reneé rapp fic where instead of lola tung she takes fem!r to the stage and sings one less lonely girl?? and they could already be in a relationship or not either way i think that could be cute!! thank you<33

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 ─── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee sings to her girlfriend on stage during her Halloween show.

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, fluff, Renee is Justin Bieber(confirmed)

Word Count: 700

a/n: AHH THIS IS SO CUTE, im sorry if its too short, tried to add more to make it longer. hope u enjoy gorg!

masterlist

The atmosphere was alive with anticipation as the grand concert hall brimmed with eager spectators, all awaiting the entrance of the night's headlining act — Renee Rapp. The air was thick with excitement, whispers of admiration echoing through the venue. Little did the audience know that tonight's performance would be unlike any other, a tale of music and love waiting to unfold.

As the lights dimmed and the first chords of the music reverberated through the hall, Renee made a spectacular entrance, clad in the unmistakable style of Justin Bieber. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement reaching a crescendo as Renee took command of the stage with a magnetic presence.

Renee's performance was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her voice soared, effortlessly hitting every note, as she flawlessly navigated through a setlist that spanned genres and emotions. The audience was caught in the spell of her musical prowess, every song a testament to her versatility as an artist.

Throughout the performance, Renee danced and interacted with the crowd, creating an electric energy that charged the room. From high-energy pop anthems to soulful ballads, she showcased the depth of her talent, leaving the audience in awe of her captivating stage presence.

As the setlist reached its zenith, a hush fell over the crowd, and the opening notes of "One Less Lonely Girl" began to play. The audience erupted into cheers, recognizing the iconic Bieber tune. It was then that Renee's mischievous smile hinted at the surprise that awaited.

Midway through the song, Renee's gaze shifted to the front row, where Y/N, her girlfriend, stood among the enchanted spectators. With a twinkle in her eye, Renee descended from the stage, capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

Taking Y/N's hand, Renee led her onto the stage, seamlessly blending the line between performer and audience. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement now intertwined with the unfolding love story. Renee guided Y/N to a chair that had mysteriously appeared at the center of the stage, setting the stage for a moment that would be etched in the hearts of those present.

As Y/N settled into the chair, Renee took a step back, gazing at her with a mixture of adoration and playfulness. A girl rushed on stage and handed Y/N flowers, making Y/N's mouth open in shock as the spotlight focused on Y/N and Renee as she began to sing the heartfelt lyrics of "One Less Lonely Girl," pouring her emotions into each word.

The audience fell into a loud cheer as Renee's voice filled the space, creating an intimate atmosphere that transcended the boundaries of the stage.

With every verse, Renee moved around Y/N, her movements choreographed to express the depth of the song's sentiment. She would occasionally reach out, gently cupping Y/N's face or intertwining their fingers, creating a palpable connection that resonated through the venue. The crowd, initially swept up in the spectacle, now watched in awe as this private, intimate moment unfolded on the public stage.

As the song reached its pinnacle, Renee knelt before Y/N, holding her hand and serenading her with a tenderness that resonated through the venue. The crowd, initially swept up in the spectacle, now watched in awe as this private moment unfolded on the public stage.

In the final moments, Renee rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving Y/N's, the concert hall erupted into thunderous applause, appreciating not just the performance but the genuine connection that had unfolded before their eyes.

Still holding Y/N's hand, Renee delivered the closing lines with heartfelt sincerity. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, appreciating not just the performance, but the genuine connection between the two women who had shared a musical love story on stage.

As the final notes faded away, Renee and Y/N shared a knowing smile, their hearts entwined in the melody of love that echoed through the concert hall, leaving an indelible mark on everyone fortunate enough to witness the enchanting performance.

[evilminji]

Pondering Doors Again >.>

Thinking about a concept I saw in a Manhwa. "Dungeons feed of the death that occurs within them" and how the Protagonist went "alright, Bet. A stable and prosperous society for outcasts has a LOT of Death! What with the need to eat food and people growing old and thus, inevitably, at least SOMEONE dying every day".

Because FARMING is and always has been a slower but more profitable way to accumulate food then Hunting. More reliable too.

And? What better way too feed your hunger(HungryHungryHUNGRYItHurtSIMSO-) then by BECOMING a Trap Door? Not every ghost looks human. Not every ghost WANTS too.

Maybe you want to Live. Yes, you are fighting, fighting, fighting. Not even Death can take you. But given half a chance? Given the infinite freedom of the Zone and all of Time stretched out before you? Do you? WANT to think anymore? WANT to keep fighting FOREVER for every scrap of food to fill your endless NEED for food? Your obsession with being full?

You can stop.

Like meditation.

Instead of MAKING a Lair... become one. You could always change your mind, if you felt like it. Souls rarely if ever DO, but you COULD. Then? You wait.

There are house ghosts. Dwellings that die. You blend right in. Are you angry? Vengeful? Do you blame the world? Perhaps you'll call them in. Like Hansel and Gretel. Look upon my house made of candy, children. Isn't it tempting? Isn't it sweet? Come closer. Listen to my siren song.

Chomp.

But, maybe you are tired. Hungry. Old bones and cold, barren soil. Barely the strength to paint gaudy veneers over straining, decaying wood. Like long abandoned circuses. You try for the appearance of cheer, but your tattered visage. betrays you. Yet, just like them, while you may not be able to entice those you truely wish to come? Vermin find safety and comfort in your walls.

And is that not how nature heals? First the weeds? The insects and vermin? Little things that build to great forests over time? Blobs hide within in you. Safely out from underfoot. What do they care, if you can not provide them scenery? You are safe. And they? They feed you in turn.

Like little worker bees. Drifting out, gorging on ectoplasm, and returning. Nesting safely inside you, they radiate that Ectoplasm and leech it into the Lair around them. You feed. And Feed. And FEED.

You make more places to hide for them. Bushes. Trees. You only half remember them now, so the colors are off and the forms shakey at best. The blobs do not care. More flock to you in response. You grow stronger. Make more trees.

You finally, FINALLY attract a curious and skittish ghost. They linger by the entrance. Watching. Uncertain. They know traps and hunters hide out here. Who would leave a perfectly good Lair up for grabs? This is a trick. A nasty little trap. Right? It has to be! Their luck can not be this good.

But it is. Because bottom feeders find each other all the time. Lairs that have little to offer and Ghosts who couldn't possibly defend anything worth keeping. All the Zone is stronger then them, why not be weakling together?

And they always take the chance. Because hope is eternal.

Inching forward in a cautious float, ready to dash away, they eventually realize the Lair really IS up for grabs. It really CAN be theirs. Which of course... means they have to fix it up of course! They are THRILLED. Look at all this ROOM! Why, these trees are LOVELY. A good start! They just gotta tweak THIS and then THAT aaand... there we go! Oooh, now over THERE would be a great place for a- *excited muttering*

And a proper ghost? MUCH better at bringing in Ectoplasm then a blob. Then dive in and out, fetching plants to transplant, decorations, building supplies. They invite their friend to crash with them. Become roommates. Their roommate gets a partner. They meet someone. Eventually somebody has a kid. And so on and so on.

All the while, they are feeding their Lair. Do they know it's not a NORMAL Lair? Yeah. They aren't dumb. Blobs disappear sometimes, if no one leaves for too long. House ghosts don't do that (or so they're told). But? They aren't powerful ghosts. They are weak ones. They CAN'T defend one of the nice spots from jerks who want to take it.

But a Lair that can defend ITSELF? And doesn't seem to want to eat them? Meh. Whatever works, man.

And you know what happens? Eventually, you reach a sustainable mass tipping point. Enough ghosts, set up in houses and cabins and castles and caves. All within a single Trap Lair. That they radiate enough ectoplasm to sustain the Lair itself. Enough that it can FINALLY pull the infamous and legendary "never leave" trick.

What is that trick?

Simple! You are a ghost. You'd kinda like an apple. You get up to leave you Lair to go get one. Oh, hey, an apple tree! That's new. Oh, these are really good! You sit back down. You never leave. Why would you leave? You are happy and have everything here. Your friends and family are here. Have another cake. Sit back down.

That is the trick.

The Trap of the sort of Trap Door.

They are known as Honey Traps. Heaven's Gates. Dream Doors. And they build slow to become quite dangerous. Entire cities exsist inside them. Ghosts go in and never come out. The take the energy you produce, small kernel that it is, and feed it back to you. And Ghosts? Efficient generators that they are, produce far more then they are given. Little into more. Little into greater. Building and building.

Until it has the strength to weave dreams.

Trap and entice. Blind and numb you. Bread and circuses for the masses, pay no attention to the bars that keep you here. You LOVE the comfort of your cage! You can leave whenever you want! You just never want too.

The Lair makes certain of that.

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation