#feathers are a bane of existence

[ghostincorrectinternetedition]

Secondo: Why do all these damn birds have to tweet in the morning!? It’s 7am and I’m trying to sleep! Go sing your mating calls somewhere else, you thirsty feathered fucks!

[varnaedhar]

@flightofaqrow: I still have to physically type in your ask url i still don't know where the link is. anyway [other] tell me about the headdress and also how the maiden power effect her physically.

Oh, you mean the headdress that absolutely ruled my life for like two months? THAT HEADDRESS, RAY??

Raven's headdress ( for lack of a better term ) is certainly a focal point for those who see the woman. At first glance, it can be difficult to distinguish where the mass of feathers begins and her hair ends, the two seemingly interwoven together.

To the best of Raven's memory, the leaders of the Branwen tribe always wore feathers -- tucked in their hair, braided throughout it, or something of that ilk. She took it a step farther when she became the leader, creating the large black mass with feathers she collected from her travels across Remnant. How many of them are her own is unknown, but presumably at least a few of them have to be.

( and qrow's feather is in there as well, kept closest to her left ear. she's never mentioned it. )

The headdress is topped by the red bandana that she has always worn, the embroidery on it coming loose and being sewn back down over the years. The entire mass of feathers weighs less than one might expect, but does keep a weight on her head: a constant reminder of the weight and burden being the Tribe's leader have placed upon her.

As for the Maiden powers, the majority of the effect that Raven feels is mental over physical.

That said, there are small things: the way that her hair stands on end when she gets aggravated is caused by the large amount of static electricity coursing through her. Touch her at the wrong moment, and you'll likely suffer a nasty shock. The majority of her Maiden manifestation is thunder and lightning, turning her into a walking storm.

Using the powers for too long puts an incredible strain on her heart, which at times can result in her having trouble breathing or feeling as if she's going to have a panic attack. The mask conceals most of these issues, but fighting her without it gives less space to hide these negative side effects.

It's unclear if this is due to the fact that the powers were taken, more than given.

let's get physical ( features )

[moistvonlipwig]

i normally don't believe in capital punishment but i do think whoever invented loud-ass leaf blowers and grass cutters should be shot

[woodlandwrites]

i. mind over matter

aphrodite!reader x luke castellan

pre-tlt, characters 18+, mdni, def going to be a pt.2

warnings: cursing, whole lotta impertinence!

2.7k read - unedited

You have been plagued by flocks of doves and Luke Castellan. So Aphrodite decides to meddle a little a lot in your love life. Who needs memories anyway? Unfortunately, the only person you find comfort in - is the very person you hate.

A/N: first fic in a loooong time - stick with me here. there will be more parts and maybeee some spice? anyways hope you enjoy!

You’d like to think that Aphrodite loved the game of making you miserable. In retrospect, you hated your mother. She was a hard act to follow. 

Don’t jump to conclusions - you loved your cabin. Your brothers and sisters were wonderful - not vain like most campers would say. No, that was not an issue. The problem started with one slender, curly haired, crooked smile boy - Luke Castellan. He was the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood and the bane of your existence. 

Luke was an astonishingly aggravating self-centered egotistical bigot. 

“Why do you hate him so much,” Silena asked one day out of the blue. You both sat in the stands watching Luke teach his swordsmanship class. You pondered her question for a while.

“Because. He confuses me - and aggravates me constantly. I have never met anyone so full of themselves in my entire life. He is Narcissus reborn again. It also does not help that he is a complete jerk,” you nodded as you ate another fresh strawberry. Silena pondered on your words.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with mom and the whole..argument,” she said in a cautionary tone.

Silena was the only one who knew about you and Aphrodite’s - complicated past. To be fair - she didn’t know the entire truth. The prophecy, the impertinence, all the bullshit. However, she did know that your shoulders seemed to tense every time Aphrodite’s name was mentioned. 

“I mean every time I have talked to him at camp counselor meetings he seems like an alright guy.

Silena - forever the optimist. Sometimes when you looked at her through the corner of your eye she resembled your mother. She had this soft tone and locks of hair that seemed to always catch the wind just right. Yeah, no wonder Luke was nice to her. Selina was extremely beautiful - Beckendorf struck gold. 

“Yeah, I can see right through the façade-” you were cut off by a dove landing next to you. He started pecking at your strawberries mindlessly. Silena stifled a small giggle. 

“It is funny when it isn’t happening to you. The bastards have been following me around for days,” you said annoyed.

You tried scaring the bird away - only for more to return. After a couple minutes an estimated 20 doves flocked around you mimicking every move. 

“Go away!” you screamed - only for the feathered friends to cock their heads in curiosity. By now, the entire arena seemed to convert their attention to you. 

“Hey! I heard if they shit on your head it’ll bring good luck,” Luke echoed watching amused.

He leaned against his sword in a cocky manner. What an asshole - you hated when he did that. The other campers seemed to laugh along. 

“Up yours, Castellan,” you yelled with a face the color of cherries. 

The doves had now increased their army to a solid 50 - all looking to you for a further instruction. Doves had followed you around your entire life - a gift your mother had bestowed to you. The unfortunate part was that they were pretty much the most non obedient monsters on the entire planet. You never had truly understood why they would appear - most of the time it was a random occurrence. Of course - Luke was always there to revel in your misfortune. You still had not forgotten when the doves caused a complete riot last month at dinner - leaving quite a mess for you to clean up. The younger campers were still traumatized. 

That was the thing about doves - they were just like your mother. At first they are nice to look at, almost sweet. That is until they turn into vicious assailants from Tartarus (Silena says you overreact). They also annoy you - another common attribute with your mother. 

“For Gods sake just leave!,” you yelled again, stomping off, bidding Silena goodbye.

You did not want to continue being entertainment for the rest of the campers. The doves seemed to take the hint - maintaining their place in the stands. You were sure there were some week old snacks stuffed between the seats the rotted things could ravish on. Luke chuckled before turning his attention back to his students. 

The sun was setting and soon it would be dinner - but you still sat in bed thinking about what Silena had mentioned early about your mom. Maybe it was your nerves - but you knew a visit soon would be unavoidable. The doves only confirmed your suspicion. It was rare for gods to visit Camp Half-Blood, at least publically. The closest thing the camp had to godliness was Mr. D - what a joke. However, you knew your mother and her constant desire to meddle with your life. 

Dinner went without a hunch - except for the Stoll twins starting a food fight at the Hermes table. You loved quiet nights like these where the summer breeze feels like a warm hug. Silena nudged you - reading her expression you knew she was inquiring about the events from earlier. A shrug sufficed. You were so caught up in laughing with your siblings you failed to notice the yelling from the other side of the pavilion. 

“One of the Ares girls was flirting with Luke after you left today - Charlie and I could not help but laugh. It was so awkward,” Silena mentioned.

 There were a couple of murmured sounds and gawking from your siblings - which was the usual. If there was one thing they loved it was - well - love. However this subject rubbed you the wrong way - maybe it was just Luke’s name being mentioned.

It felt like a suffocating gut punch and it was most likely your mothers doing. If there was anything she loved more it was demigod love - the trials and tribulations - and of course the unfortunate ends. It quite literally made you sick. But why did Luke have to be roped in it and moreover - why did you care? You smiled and nodded - trying to pay attention and not let the thoughts take over. 

“Get these goddamn things off of me!,” a familiar voice yelled in annoyance.

So wrapped up in thought - you failed to care - assuming it was a practical Hephaestus joke with an Ares kid. Selina quickly nudged you pointing towards the Hermes table - for quite an interesting scene. Luke being attacked by a merciless army of doves. 

“Hey Castellan, let them shit on your head - heard it was good luck!,” the words reflected from just a few hours prior.

You couldn’t help but giggle - it was nice not being the receiver of dove aggravated assault (as Beckendorf had termed it). It was also nice not to be the joke for once - everyone laughing at someone else for a change was different. 

“Call the damn things off,” he struggled - yelling your name in the process.

“Why do you automatically assume I am the one who set them off? They just do what they want!” you retorted.

 Silena looked at you - questioning your motives. He struggled even more as the doves thrashed him around - seemling gaining confidence in their blows. They seemed - deadly - more than before. Silena muttered your name.

“You have to try,” Silena persuaded. Reluctantly you obeyed - knowing she was being more serious than she was putting on. 

“Stop!” you yelled sternly to the winged creatures.

Like usual - they did not obey. Unfortunately, they keep going - tearing Luke’s shirt in the process. He held himself quite well against dove assassins  - a fact you did not want to admit to yourself. 

“παύω!” You spoke - pleading that it would end.

It was all your mothers fault. She wanted you to be miserable. She wanted to ruin your night, humiliate you - and to hurt Luke. You weren’t sure why that last part bothered you so much.

 “Φεύγω!” you screamed once more in an earthshaking tone.

The doves dissipated automatically. Like literally - poof - into dust. Again - the entire camp had its eyes on you - what else was new?

“What is wrong with you,” Luke questioned - still astonished at the sheer power of your voice - that very voice that made doves disintegrate. You slowly looked up at his disheveled appearance - he looked worse.

Beautiful. 

You wish that voice in your head would go suck a dick!

“Shows over, enjoy your dessert,” you said bitterly to the crowd taking a bow.

Silena yelled your name but you had already darted towards the woods. You could hear the muttering of the crowd questioning the evening entertainment. You could not seem to care. 

You took a seat in the sand on the beach overlooking the shore. The moonlight seemed to make the water sparkle like diamonds. You felt almost calm here - no one to distract you from your thoughts. Why did his words strike you like a knife? He might as well plant backbiter into your back, it would hurt less. It all led to the proper question - why? Why would the doves attack him anyway? They had never done anything quite so ruthless before - nevertheless to another sole person. 

Then again - it was always about Luke - ever since you got to the infernal camp. He was probably celebrated for his brave victory in the battle of the doves - hoisted up by other campers. You suppose a feast in his honor was in order. 

“You think such unhappy thoughts,” an angelic voice sang from the sea. 

Your attention turned towards a bundle of sea foam. The foam began to sparkle and mangle to take the shape of a woman the closer it got to shore. Soon after your mother - Aphrodite stood before you - in all her glory.

“I thought seafoam was just whale jizz,” you spoke casually. You chucked at yourself that was a good one!

Of - fucking - course. Your mother was behind the entire dove fiasco - you called it. You should start placing bets at this point. 

“Most would be labeled impertinent with that attitude - especially with a God.” 

“I am impertinent.” You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest. Maybe if you really ignored her she would disappear. 

“I will not disappear yet - we have much to discuss.” 

“Get out of my head.” 

“I heard what occurred tonight at dinner. Shame, doves are very gentle creatures.”

A dove magically appeared in her hands, letting out a soft coo. You cringed. If you saw another dove tonight - you might just roast it and eat it. 

“So that was you?” You asked venomously.

“Well thanks mom! Now the entire camp thinks I tried to kill the golden boy with a league of killer doves. They all think I am absolutely crazy.”

“I did nothing, my child.” You gawked at her - she paused to collect her thoughts.

“However, you might want to look within yourself before you spit accusations that are not true. I merely gave you a gift - how you use it is at your own expense.” She finished. 

“But I don’t control those horrid things - they just show up and do whatever. Why would I even attack Luke with a bunch of wimpy doves?”

That was your mother, having the audacity to say you caused the incident. That it was all your fault. 

“Love, perhaps?” Her eyes seemed to glitter at the thought. 

“No.” Ugh, not this again, you thought.

“Doves are a mere - personification of one’s inner love. That is why I gave you the gift - so your innermost feelings can never be bottled. That does horrid things to one’s complexion.” 

“Well thanks for the shitty gift, mother. Next time maybe a pair of socks will do the trick.” 

“Why do you insist on denying who you are? Denying what you are destined to become? Denying yourself the love of the century?”

“Why love someone if they eventually will die.” It was true. Your father had died when you were young - leaving you an orphan. Your demigod friends you made throughout the years died horrible unspeakable deaths.

“Isn’t that all the more fun?” 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? You just love to see me suffer?”

“You’re being rash.” She fired back.

“Rash? Where have you been?” You scoffed at your godly mother.

“Child, I do not write destiny - I only enforce it. I know you more than you would like to admit, sweet dove. And you - are in love with the child of Hermes.”

 Apollo could’ve shot you through the chest - it would have felt better. 

“Mother, you have it mixed up - I do not have any feelings for Luke. You’re just making things up because you are bored and need some excitement. Please go back to Olympus and meddle with someone else’s life,” you stated. You staggered to your feet dusting the sand off. 

Before you could walk away a bolt of pure energy hit you in your spine. You flew to your feet hitting the ground with a hard thud. In a blur your mother was standing proud above your feet - surrounded in a pink aura. 

“Luke Castellan, he will keep you safe - and you will keep him steady.” 

You might have thought to curse at her - but you couldn’t speak - let alone move. She had disappeared from vision leaving only a dove in her wake. The pain - was excruciating - like being electrocuted a million times. Your ears rang terrible tunes as you tried to level yourself - only to fall back down. The world was spinning at an unmeasurable pace. You could hear shrill screaming - or was it yours? You weren’t even sure who you were? Only images of dark curls, broad shoulders, and crooked smiles flashed through your vision. 

A quake of footsteps running towards the shore were felt as you thrashed in the sand. Voices - yelling a name - whose name? You couldn’t recall. All you knew was darkness. 

“Y/N?!” a feminine voice called. You could feel her hands shake your shoulder violently - it felt like knives.

You heard screams - this time knowing it was your shrill cry. You pushed her away with force. You backed away, crawling backwards in desperation. 

Once your vision returned you focused to see a swarm of kids all in orange shirts - staring at you in shock. The girl who touched you - you could only assume was kneeling in the sand in front of you. She seemed to be pleading.

“Stay away, please,” you pleaded with tears streaming from your eyes. You weren’t sure what had happened but you knew you had never felt pain so deeply. 

“Y/N, please you were screaming. We only want to make sure you are okay. We can go to the infirmary and figure it out,” the girl reached out only for you to retreat more. You hyperventilate on your own words. 

“What’s going on?” another voice asked with urgency from beyond the crowd.

Every child seemed to turn their attention to focus on the male figure. Pushing his way through the crowd - he became shocked at the scene before him.

However, you felt as if all the oxygen had left your body - leaving you limp. You felt as if a hand had grabbed your heart and ripped it in two. He was the one - the one you had seen in your visions. 

“Y/N?” he questioned - half concerned, half annoyed. His chocolate eyes seemed to lock ever so easily with yours. He was indeed the most beautiful man you had ever seen - like a carving of marble. Your soul ached. Without a thought - on instinct alone - you ran. He was engulfed in a desperate hug - his shoulder muffled your pitiful cries. 

“Please, you’re the only one who can help.” You could feel the eyes on the two of you - the gasps were hard to ignore. He went stiff in his posture - not sure how to react. Silence fell over the entire shore, only the crashing of waves in the background. 

“Y/N what is going on? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked in disbelief. 

He had never seen you like this - so scared. Some small part of him wanted to scoop you up, hold you tight, and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you how he would fix all your problems - just so he would never see you cry again. Although these feelings were so suppressed he restrained.

Gods you were beautiful. 

“I- I don’t know who Y/N is. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know me.” 

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Yuus Food Truck

In which Azul loses his mind over a grilled cheese.

Content stuff: short, one sided enemies to lovers, Azul being a loser, general cringe.

Posting Reqs like this for a bit until Tumblr lets us edit asks. I had a request for Enemies to Lovers with Azul, so I came up with this.

That goddamned Prefect was the bane of Azul's existence. For the past few weeks, he has been gripping his leg in absolute rage within his office as he stares at his weekly reports. Practically frothing at the mouth at the mere mention of you.

Recently, the little Ramshackle prefect has begun a new business venture. A simple food truck on campus selling only grilled cheeses for a singular madol. That's it. He found the idea a bit funny, he'll admit, but he was far from worried.

Surely after a month it would shut down, or at the very least get so few customers it wouldn't impact his business. I mean come on, how much money are you really making from selling grilled cheeses for one dollar? You must be taking a loss!

He was wrong. So so wrong.

Not only have you somehow been profiting from your little side project, but you have taken all of his customers. He is looking over his lounge, nowhere near as full as it usually is. He grits his teeth and heads back into the VIP room. The twins should be here any minute now. 

On cue, the door creaks open, and in come those rowdy twins both with their usual smirks. Azul jerks up, staring up at Jade from his desk. His hand shook ever slightly as he gripped the feather in his hand.

“Well? Did you get it?” The mer asks, gaze steely. Floyd speaks for the both of them through mouthfuls of grilled cheese.

“Mmmhmm yeah, we got you a cheese, here you go. Mmmm.” Floyd took another bite of his as he tossed the wrapped-up grilled cheese onto the desk. 

“Hey watch the merchandise– Are you eating their food?" Azul stared at both of them. Floyd stuffing his face with the one in his hand and Jade elegantly nibbling on his own. He was shocked, betrayed by his own staff. “You guys gave them more money— ugh. I would have expected this of Floyd but you too Jade?”

“The prefect saw me ordering and put some mushrooms into mine that pair well with the cheese. Free of charge as well. How thoughtful of them. I must commend their customer service.” Jade wore a shit-eating smirk on his face as he took another bite, making a show out of it. He seemed to relish in Azul's misery.

“Free of charge?” Azul was flabbergasted. Not only were their prices ridiculously low but they were adding things for free? They might as well be handing their money away at that point.

“Right? I say they should have charged Jade for all he's worth for putting those damn things on. Yuck…” Floyd wrinkled his nose as he side eyed Jade, who just continued to eat blissfully. 

He needed to figure out just what was so good about the damn things. Gloved hands carefully lifted up the wrapped delicacy with such fragility as if it would break from a gust of wind. The wrapping was done well, nice and neat as he peeled it off to reveal what was inside.

Crisped and perfectly brown buttered white bread. It glistened in the light with its heavenly beauty. The cheese was ooey and gooey and so thick that it ran down the sides. So far the presentation was beautiful, but it was pretty damn difficult to fucked up a grilled cheese. He tried to hold back this drool from the smell alone.

Carefully, he took a bite and closed his eyes. His mouth was blasted with flavor. As he savored that magical bite, a gust of wind swept through the room, causing the curtains to dance dramatically. The cheesy aroma lingered, creating an ambiance fit for a culinary masterpiece. This grilled cheese has unlocked secrets of the universe with how much it expanded his mind. This mere sandwich has him on the brink of tears

Azul has to hold his expression. He's not gonna be impressed by some measly sandwich. He's better than that. Though he thought that maybe by tasting it he could be able to figure out what your secret ingredient was, it's clear that isn't the case… This is a simple grilled cheese. He would have to go undercover to discover your cooking secrets.

***

“Heyyy Prefect!” A wry voice hums near the truck, belonging to no other than Ruggie. He knocked on the side of the window and Yuu poked out their head.

Azul watched from the distance, narrowing his eyes as he hyper-focused on the conversation. He admits the front of the Ramshackle dorms was a great location. Close to the botanical garden, close to the main building, not as far as Octavinelle either, and had most of the foot traffic. It's why he had his eye on it for a second location.

“Well if it isn't my number one customer, what can I get ya, let me guess a grilled cheese?” Of course, Ruggie would be their number one customer, which makes sense given his financial state. Figures. Maybe if he introduced a dollar menu…

“You know what Ruggie, you're cool. For you, it's 50 cents. Two for one if you will.” Ruggie pauses for a moment before smiling again. “Awe really? Sweet, can't up a deal like that shyehehehe!” The hyena cackles and you get to work. The window for the truck is fully open, allowing Azul to see in.

You aren't even hiding your cooking technique?! You're just giving all your secrets away like that?! Ohh you foolish fool… This would be easier than he thought.

He must get closer, to see what sort of fuckery is at play here. However, walking up and just watching you cook work is suspicious. As much as he hates to fund this little project… sacrifices must be made… He will have to order a grilled cheese…

Ruggie slinks off, tail wagging happily as he munches on his food. This was the perfect opportunity to approach. He stood up even straighter and approached with determination hidden poorly behind his attempt at a straight face. His scowl dared to seep through but he managed to smooth it out into his sickenly sweet facade.

“Hello, dear prefect!” He watched Yuu perk up through the window as they wiped down their workspace. They glanced over at Azul, completely unaware of his evil plot. “Heya Zuzu what can I get ya?”

Zuzu? That's awfully bold… whatever eyes on the prize… 

“I'd like one grilled cheese please if I may…” Hell yes. Smooth operator. He's so good at this.

“Mkay, coming right up.” Azul leans in closer as you get to work, memorizing everything you do… You just make a grilled cheese… Nothing special. It's just simple bread and cheese you cook in butter. How the hell? Was it the oven perhaps? Did you somehow know of his intentions and we're trying to conceal it?? Ugh, whatever maybe he can sucker you into another deal.

“... You know Prefect, if you just raised the price a bit you'd be bringing in more profits.” 

You shrugged as you pressed down your creation with your spatula to make it sizzle more. “Yeah, I know how money works.” Azul paused and blinked.

“So why don't you do it?” You shrug again. “It's funny.” Azul was perplexed, bamboozled, perhaps even smeckledorfed perchance. You were doing this for fun?! Starting a business for fun. Not for profit which would be beneficial given your situation, but for fun.

“Fun? Really? But prefect– wouldn't you– shouldn't you consider raising the prices even slightly? I mean after all Crowley hasn't been paying you well and if anything—”

“I should shoot you for the mere suggestion of raising the grilled cheese prices. The price is firm. It's never going up even by a cent. Hell, I'm so offended I may lower it.” You pulled the cheese off the grill and started to pack it up, swaddling it with such delicacy and love reserved for newborns.

Azul's mouth hung open for a bit before closing it. “Are you serious? Prefect— Yuu at this point I'm not even mad about the competition I'm– hrk!”  

“You need to relax a little Azul, for your own sake.” You shoved the grilled cheese out the window a bit more forcefully than you intended, making the unwrapped part hit Azul's glasses. The melty butter left grease marks on them, and through the blurriness, he could see your expression. His heart skipped a beat and sucked in a breath. Oh no.

He was in love.

[eachuisge-cc]

Honestly I'm astounded that nobody has taken that name yet.

Do you dislike the look of vanilla Skyrim horses? Are you tired of riding some kind of Clydesdale/Belgian/Cob thing around fantasy Scandinavia for no clear reason? Do you want your beloved and loyal horse to stand out from the crowd as much as you do? Well great news, this mod covers all of those things.

Basically I made some significant edits to the horse model including a fuller, longer mane and tail, redone feathering, somewhat more realistic conformation, and entirely redone ears because at a certain point it was just easier to make new ones. None of the changes affect how the horse fits the vanilla rig so it still bends and moves without distorting weirdly. The textures are entirely painted from scratch and have new normals to go with them that are meant to give the horses a somewhat softer, more natural look that still fits with Skyrim's general vibe. I used references of primarily North Swedish and Dole horses, but also borrowed from the wider range of colors and patterns in Icelandics because I couldn't give up the pintos.

Current Features:

Asymmetrical coats/markings, because I fully redid the UV while I was messing with the mesh (mostly because mirrored pinto horses in video games are the bane of my existence)

Distinct meshes for mares and stallions, the mare model is closer to the vanilla horse's conformation, while the stallion model has a slightly bulkier build and thicker neck, and a an unobtrusive low poly dong.

Five generic solid-coated textures that appear on most NPC horses in the world.

Unique texture for each purchasable player horse

Unique texture and model for Frost (he's now a mealy chestnut as his papers claim)

Unique Shadowmere

Unique Karinda (this mod does NOT add Karinda into the game, but her texture should show up if you have CRF or another mod that does add her, as long as it doesn't alter her texture or base model)

Unique Hearthfire stable horses (purchasable through the steward)

Unique unsaddled stable horse in Markarth because uh, I just felt like it

Unique coats for a growing number of modded follower horses (see the mod page for the list)

Future plans: see the mod page

Compatibility:

This mod should be compatible with most things, though for best results it should be loaded after any mod that affects vanilla horse records (this isn't always obvious; SkyTEST has no visible affect on vanilla horses, but if you load it after this mod the unique player horses will have generic coats). Most mods that add new horses use the existing vanilla records, so unless a modded horse has a unique model (and assuming it doesn't have a unique coat addon) it should be replaced automatically with the edited model and one of the generic coats. That isn't always the case, sometimes another mod gets weird with it and there's nothing I can do about that, but in those cases a patch will likely be needed.

This mod will NOT be compatible with any other mod that changes the appearance of the vanilla horses or replaces their models/textures.

I will not personally be making patches for other mods because there's no way I could possibly keep up with that and I'd rather spend the time and energy on the mod itself, however I encourage anyone else who wants to to make whatever patches are needed. Please message me if you do so I can link them here for people to find.

Huge thanks to SassiestAssassin, who has been an incredible help in navigating the learning curve of editing nifs (and is continuing to be a huge help with solving my inability to make patches), and also has a lot of fantastic mods you should check out.

Download:

Nexus Mods

[slowd1ving]

TALES OF A DISGRUNTLED CORVID ⁺ 　 . MOZE

Quite frankly, you've been assigned an absolute loser (unaffectionate) to work with after your dramatic exit from the Intelligentsia Guild. Whoever said this guy was too silent was wrong, as he verily proves himself as the bane of your existence with his ceaseless yapping. art credits to @code_tesseract on x!! and tagging @ilovechuuy4 as requested :3 pairings: moze + male cryptologist reader (will be part of a series methinks) warnings: male reader, mentions of assassination? may be a touch ooc since this is pre-release writing unfortunately, lowkey crack fic, pre relationship, business partnership of hating each other wc: 1.9k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

There’s never a dull day when a certain Shadow Guard is your partner for an assignment. Truly, your life always sparkles brilliantly when the information pings on your Jade Abacus; without fail, everything gains just a bit more colour, a bit more vivaciousness. Pathetically fallacious, you might’ve described it as had you taken literature classes: mood hued with such dynamic chromaticity that you fear you might explode into little prismic rainbows. Always such a bundle of joy to be geminate with him. 

“Must you be so… disorganised?”

Oh, who are you kidding.

It’s always a dull day when you’re paired with Moze.

“Get out.” A particularly rude gesture materialises in your open hand as you stare at the door he practically kicked down. Apartments in this particular sector of the Xianzhou Yaoqing do not come cheap, and you half-wonder whether he’d eke out coin to console your landlord. Then, with an especially sour, lemon-like expression, you realise he would fork out his own money just to make your life more difficult. 

When you first got assigned work in the Yaoqing (read: kicked to the curb by the Intelligentsia Guild to gain real world experience), you really did expect your tenure to be plain office work. Letters, forms, public relations—these mundanities you anticipated. In fact, you would’ve relished such tedium; after decrypting endless scientific formulae and pondering your mysterious tomes, engaging in bureaucratic matters would be a piece of cake! A little treat for your weary eyes—if you closed them, you could still see faint imprints of equations in the theatre of your mind. 

But what you hadn’t factored into your (ahem) calculations was just how sharp the Arbiter-General Feixiao was: just how passionate she was about pursuing Abominations and ruthlessly eliminating them, just how frank and swift the Madam General was. You also forgot that out of all the flagships, the Yaoqing were one of the most militarily driven. A blunder most fatal. 

“Thy talents would be wasted in the mere administrative wing,” Feixiao gesticulated. “Come, child, put thy brain and brawn to use and track down these villainous curs most evil.”

“Goodness, Madam General!” you’d cried out pitifully. “My heart is thine for the keeping!”

Or something like that. Actually, it may have not all been like that. 

After all, you were kicked out (temporarily! temporarily!) partly due to your penchant for delivering heart-rendering performances to your professors to avoid taking on their extra work. Such moving renditions, that they had to let you go lest you broke their bleeding hearts. Had you known you’d be working in the shady corners of intelligence and decryption, you would’ve kowtowed to the Guild for utmost forgiveness. Probably. 

When your path first overlapped with the Shadow Guards’, you honestly couldn’t give two hoots about the rumours that followed silently behind their own noiseless steps. Your ears had perked somewhat at the gossip your colleagues threw back and forth—though, who could blame you. The job was no fun!

Weirdo with the crow feathers, they’d murmured. He’s so quiet. What a reticent chap. 

Of course, you’d disagree, and perhaps tack on a loser to the descriptions of Moze. You’d disagree not with the ‘weirdo’, but rather with the quiet and reticent adjectives—partly because he really does need to shut up more. 

And he needs to stick to his rumours more. If this loner’s made it a point to not work with people, then why oh why did the honourable Madam General decide your ancient science and study complemented his shady skillset? And why oh why does he never refuse her request? (You’ve conveniently forgotten how you always fold when it comes to her.) You’ve always worked alone too, for as long as you can remember; decoding the ancient equations in ruins and solving their gimmicky puzzles using your boundless wits is a job for one. 

As it stands, the people he investigates, the work he takes care of, sometimes intrudes into the realm of questionable rituals and summonings the Abominations and their ilk oft partake in. Thus do you find your career verging into some gruesome form of forensics as you stare down what would commonly be considered a murder scene: sigils and ancient alchemical algebra staring right back at you. He deals with the human aspect of intelligence: the psychology, the crime, the covert espionage. You deal with the technical fallout: the analysis of antique sciences is your specialty, after all. This has culminated in a begrudging partnership where both parties wish nothing more than to leave it. 

A business relationship, of sorts, founded on the mutual dislike (a weak description) of each other. 

“No.” He doesn’t budge from where he leans against the doorframe, but he does have the decency to swing the door closed behind him. Yet, it’s not out of any respect for the hallowed sanctity of your abode, but more because he’s sooo Mysterious and Aloof that none of your neighbours are allowed to view his visage. 

“You are—” a quick glance at your watch proves your point. For someone obsessed with keeping tidy, he sure does have messy time management. “—eighteen minutes too early.”

“And you still aren’t ready,” he counters, pointedly eyeing the loose shirt and comfortable cotton trousers slung over your hips. You yawn, tired already from his yapping. He’s been compared to a crow for as long as you’ve been here—and perhaps far longer—but to you he’s always been more like a little dog. Yap. Yap. Yap. 

This is precisely why I don’t work with others, you can almost taste his words—his thoughts. 

“You are currently the biggest hindrance to my getting ready,” you grimace. Casting a quick glance over his intricate garb, it’s no wonder he feels getting ready is such a lengthy endeavour: all straps and buckles and tough layers that makes him the walking fortress he is. “I’ll be on time.”

He doesn’t reply: laconic only when he acknowledges your point as unequivocally right, which is seldom. 

“Are you going to keep staring?” you snap as you sling the worn shirt from your body. Beneath the soft clothes is muscle hard-won through your frequent collaborations with the Armed Archaeologists in the Guild: days filled with more sparring and their stupid callisthenics than actually finding ruins. 

“Do you have to dress right here?” he counters, but it’s a futile argument—this apartment is barely big enough for you as it stands. Currently, he’s situated by the doorway, but you’re on the unseen boundaries of the living room and the tiny kitchen. Beyond is your bedroom and miniscule bathroom, of which neither have enough space to move comfortably to change. And you certainly aren’t going to sacrifice your comfort to appease his poor eyes; he’s seen worse for sure. Though, you doubt he’s ever seen a naked body that wasn’t in the context of assassination and the anatomy classes you know he’s meticulously attended for his shady work. Surreptitiously, you snicker at the thought: that there aren’t any lovers lined up for this weirdo. 

You toss the garment onto your couch, precisely because you know he’s grinding teeth over it; and there’s that tell-tale click of molar against molar. You even whistle a bit as you untie the neat bow holding your trousers to your hips; the fabric pools on the floor, and you don’t make any move to pick it up. 

There it is. His glower—red-hot and piercing through the flesh and sinew of your back—is heavy in this small space. What you don’t see, however, is how his eyes flicker briefly across your body, down the firm step of your legs as you step out of the trousers. Out of context, watching muscle ripple and twist as you strip forces crimson to seep into his face. This is an implication he’s absolutely disgusted with—with you. 

“If you have any more input as to what I do in my home, you’re welcome to pay my rent first,” you finally deign to reply, rummaging in the dresser in your hallway—which he knows has never been neat with all the clothes spilling from the edges. His eye twitches. 

“You’re an incorrigible man,” he retorts, carmine flush now from irritation rather than anything else. Irritation from the beginning, because it was never anything else. 

“Wow,” you blink, weighing your options between shirt A and shirt B. The cherry-red with straps, or the Prussian blue with straps, you muse, holding the shirts against your beloved grey cargoes. “You sound exactly like my professor. Same adjective and everything.”

When it comes to shameless people, there comes the very real risk of insults being nullified by the insulted through them simply agreeing. 

“No wonder the Guild kicked you out.” As you’re pulling the scarlet fabric over your head, you pause—it seems he’s finally hit a nerve. There’s a rare smile toying with his lips at the victory: one he doesn’t notice, but ghosts across his face nonetheless.

Now, there are many things you could reply to that with. Such as, did your parents give you a reason when they abandoned you? Nay, that is too low of a blow. No wonder you don’t have any friends. But he probably grapples with that bitter reality each morning, gnashing his teeth and beating his chest. 

“Bold of you to speak of being unwanted,” you comment matter-of-factly. Both insults it is then, wrapped neatly into an ambiguous tale of these eight words. His smile fades. 

With a slight gasp, you finally wrangle the tight material on—it’s armour, after all, a specific textile development by the Yaoqing for the protection of civilians and tourists alike, though you aren’t considered a tourist by your special work-abacus-plaque. It fits snugly against you: straps for knives sit tight against your forearms, while the harness that provides extra support for your torso rests neatly beneath your chest. The garb’s almost like a compression shirt from your home planet, except the Yaoqing has far more violent uses for it. 

“Didn’t Guard Zhí reject you?” He bites out, and it takes a minute for you to realise he’s talking about Zhí Hua, the best friend you’d made on the flagship—and your Shadow Guard drinking buddy. 

“Huh?” Dumbfoundedly, you pause in doing the buckles on your trousers, losing far more time than you’d bargained for. “A-hua is my friend.”

The diminutive doesn’t go unnoticed, which rankles him far more than falling prey to the rumour about you and his fellow Guard. No, both rankle him—likely because hearing about a workplace romance about you just disgusts him in general. 

“Pfft,” you snort out, finally done with the laborious task of adjusting the materiel and various other gadgets attached to your body. “I have got to tell her about this. Who knew your ability to gather information would be stopped by a rumour?”

The tightness in his chest lessens somewhat. 

“Besides, everyone already knows my heart belongs to the Madam General,” you sigh, clasping your hands to your chest in a dreamy gesture. It’s an ongoing joke: you professing your deep adoration of Feixiao after she gives you a pay raise for putting up with the so-called ‘reticent’ Moze. “Woah, what’s with the sour look?”

“Gross,” he mutters. 

As you step near the doorway to grab your boots, you lean into his space mockingly: and he recoils back in even more revulsion. 

“Of course, you wouldn’t know.” You pat his shoulder once, condescendingly, then promptly slip your heavy boots off the shelf. “Since there’s no one who loves you.”

And his glare as you shuffle your shoes on is poignant. 

 ₊  ⋆   ☾

[takami-takami]

How To Fix the Ache.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut.

warnings— gn!reader. virgin!hawks. masturbation. slight primal play.

based off this previous post. a sexually frustrated keigo goes home to jerk off after your dates, and he's real cute about it. he tries so hard to be a good boy.

Keigo doesn't quite know how to breathe when you're kissing him like this.

His calloused hands run up your sides as you hang off his lap, cramped and pushed together in the driver's seat of his car. It takes every effort in his tightly strung body to not moan into your mouth, to not add to the noise of the leather seat creaking below; but he manages, determined to keep from scaring you away with his less than innocent desires.

He can feel your heartbeat in more places than one, he thinks. He violently swats the thought away, focusing his effort on allowing your tongue to work its way into his mouth.

Slow, he reminds himself. You deserve slow, patient. He wants more than anything to do romance right by you— but you want him. He can sense it on you, can feel it against his leg through your—

He holds back a whimper.

Keigo's touch remains feather-light, his mind screaming at him to grip you harder, to flip you over and sink his teeth into the woefully unmarked skin of your neck. He sighs into the kiss instead.

The ritual of these makeout sessions at the end of your budding dates has simultaneously become the highlight of Keigo's week and the bane of his existence. He has plenty of time to prepare as you sit across from one another at an evening candlelit picnic, or after you've finished counting every star in the night sky on a rooftop post-flight. Keigo Takami is a gentleman, so he absolutely does not mentally prepare during your date, picturing what it will feel like when your thighs rest on either side of his moments after this.

No, he rests his chin on one hand while watching you instead, a smitten look in his eyes. He can shoo the thoughts away for the first hour or two, but once your body language indicates that the date is coming to a close, the dread begins to settle in his bones.

He'll drive you home again, heart racing and faux smile wide as you show him the latest band you've gotten into on the aux. The speakers on the luxury drive he recieved as part of a brand deal are perfect for music, you explain, and as you bob your head with the rhythm, he can't help but picture a similar movement somewhere further down in his lap.

Eyes on the road, he reminds himself. His thick digits hold the steering wheel like they have some sort of vendetta, tapping once while they get a grip.

"This one here? They actually broke up this year! But this is like, their only good album, so it's not much of a loss," you explain to deaf ears.

"Oh yeah?"

The poor boy wishes he didn't have to keep his foot so steady on the gas pedal. He's itching to bounce it, to relieve at least some of the tension swimming through each nerve.

When he reaches your place and puts his vehicle in park, he can feel the swallow thick in his throat, glancing at the devious little glint in your eyes out the corner of his.

He's starting to think you know exactly what you're doing.

After you've gotten your fill, he places one last kiss on your cheek and gets out the car, opening the door for you and peppering another kiss on the back of your hand. Giggling, you kiss his hand right back, yours landing square on his palm. The lasting touch of your lips sears his skin.

He decides right then and there: he'll use that hand to touch himself tonight.

As soon as his apartment door slams behind him, knocking some poor potted plant off its shelf with a clammering shatter, Keigo's clothes are hitting the floor.

The man undresses himself with each step. His coat plops down first. Then he begins to kick off his stiff boots, leaving his pants and boxers somewhere in the hall. He mindlessly stalks his way toward the bedroom with exhausted haste. A single feather yanks down the blinds to allow a bit of privacy, on autopilot at this point of the dreaded ritual that is your Saturday night dates.

Keigo sighs a sigh of agony or arousal— he can't quite tell the difference these days, and he doesn't have enough brainpower at the moment, regardless. At last, the ruffled cotton of his shirt is thrown down on his bed to leave him perfectly bare, the hand that you kissed creeping its way down his now-exposed abs and reaching his painfully hard cock.

No matter how many times he does this, the first contact always makes him hiss through his teeth. He's already begun to work up a rhythm before he even crawls into bed, one knee inching up at a time, before he flips onto his back and sighs.

The full weight of his body presses firm against the sensitive nerves entangled in his wings. He doesn't care.

Shaky and tentative as he is, Keigo lets his eyes flutter shut and his head loll back, sandy locks splayed against the white sheets beneath. With every languid stroke of his fist, he lets his weakening mind drift to thoughts he dare not let you see.

Images of you on top of him. Topless. He visualizes your body once more in the tight space of his driver's seat; only this time, you shrug yourself free from the pesky barrier separating the two of you from the flesh. In his dreams, he takes his time exploring every inch of you, digging into your dreaded thighs, mouthing at your chest.

Dear fucking god, that feels good, he thinks, choking on moans with his scrunched up nose and cutely furrowed brows. The burn of your mark on his palm only heightens his daydreams, stinging in the best way against the head of his cock as he rubs the palm in circles on the very tip.

It's already wet. Pathetic. He whimpers.

What am I doing, he curses himself.

Why can't I stop?

He refuses to pry open his eyes. He can't bear to break the illusion when he's formed such a vivid image of you resting atop his lap, fresh in his memory. Your thighs entrap him on either side, your tongue works its way into his mouth; but this time, your hands slide their way down.

They peel away the hem of his shirt, dragging it up the abdomen that rises and falls with his gulping breaths, before trailing their way beneath the waistband. Fingertips barely graze his hardening length once it's freed, guiding his tip inside your awaiting—

Keigo gasps.

He finally allows himself to go back to stroking base to tip; slowly, with the rocking motion he imagines you'd take as you ride him. The creak of the bed as his movements rock is just enough fuel for his imagination. It almost mirrors the sound of his leather seats; if he pretends, that is.

"Please let me fuck you," he mumbles, not certain if he spoke it aloud or if that sound were simply another whim of his imagination.

He hopes it were merely a thought. It sounded rather desperate, actually, and he's not desperate—

One hand darts to his side to grab his discarded shirt, roughly stuffing it into his drooling mouth to shut it. His teeth grit and gnash down on the fabric. His abdomen and chest are both completely exposed; and with his whines echoing off the walls of his far-too empty bedroom, Keigo wishes you were here to lave your tongue against the rolling beads of sweat.

Would you clean him off? He'd let you. He'd let you worship his body; after he's done gorging himself on yours, that is.

The hiccup that escapes him at the thought is absolutely adorable.

Against the plump tip of his cock with every stroke, his palm burns. Overstimulating the sensitive frenulum underneath, a single thumb rubs along it with the uptick of every twist, milking himself closer and closer and closer to that edge.

He can practically taste his upcoming release.

He can feel it in the lift of his hips, no longer touching the mattress, but instead arching toward the blur that is his clenched fist. Choking on the drool of his watering mouth, he grits his teeth and growls, squeezing his cock painfully tight.

Shame forgotten, he just wants to grip your hips and spear himself into you, to flip you over the seat of that damned car playing that damned band you listen to and milk his cock raw in the vice of your body. Like animals, he swears he would press your front flush into the seat with his chest snug against your back, would wrap his arms around your core to pull you deeper into every thrust of his cock.

God help him, he'd bite into your nape and snarl when he cums inside of you; he'd reach around your front to get you off when he fills you up, stuffs you full, has you sobbing on his cock.

But instead, Keigo is the one who sobs as he finishes. His teeth bare when he does, his entire body wound tight enough to snap as pleasure dances along each nerve in his body. Up and down, his fist drags every ounce of his load up and through his cock, landing as high as his chest.

With a shaky gulp of air, his hips drop limp against the mattress. After gasping for what feels like hours, Keigo swallows thick enough for the sound to echo off the walls.

"Shit," he grunts as the clarity sets in, sitting up and opening his eyes to stare at his open palm. It's sticky with his release.

"Ugh."

He makes the walk of shame to his bathroom, twisting the knob of his shower.

The poor man steps in, sighing in relief as he begins to wash the evidence of his deed away in the exceedingly spacious expanse of his shower. It's large enough for his two wings to outstretch comfortably. Large enough for two people, actually—

His cock twitches.

This is going to be an achingly long Saturday night.

[marigoldenblooms]

Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 1

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, canon-level violence, use of medieval weapons, body horror description in transformation, magic use, slight dissociation/self harm, restraint, fluff (for five seconds), R is a simp, so is W, N is not here to play, etc.

A/N: I’ve been working on this next chapter ever since the previous. Chapter two is coming along quickly as well! I want to keep a bit of a backlog for my longer fics, so updates will be as frequent as I can manage. The name established in this chapter for R will be used sparingly, but I loved what Missmonsters2 did with Between the Lines when I read it months ago, and thought it’d be pertinent until nicknames/pet names are established (and for as long as I can avoid conversation where names are necessary). 

R’s monster form brought to you by bearded vulture inspiration! Feel free to imagine your own version of avian horror to your heart’s content. Enjoy, y’all!

Word Count: 3.1k - Read Length: 11 minutes, 18 seconds. Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners!

~~~  The healer’s home was nothing short of overwhelming. 

Multi-colored knick-knacks were strewn on every surface, perched below gatherings of drying, braided flowers which hung from the rafters. Beneath your feet, woven rugs of alternating sizes dotted the cabin’s cool wooden floors, like islands between a chilled sea of timber. The front door lead further into a sitting room, offering glimpses into a small, quaint looking kitchen, adorned with a single well-worn table and chair. Within that same place, a large pot was held still on the counter by wisps of scarlet magic, another more opaque plume coaxing a wooden spoon to stir whatever was inside. 

Paintings hung along every wall, although you could never get a full glance at one, as though they’d subtly shift and change muses whenever you’d look away. The sound of a shutting door would heighten your senses enough to break from the scenery, turning on your heels to face the home’s owner once again. She’d pry at you with a half-smile, and you’d solidify your gaze at the floor before her eyes could have the chance to meet yours. 

“What brings you to my home?” She’d question evenly, her words a pleasing rasp- smooth molasses which could easily cloud your senses if you allowed her to. You’d see her form move to the side of you in your peripheral, yet you’d remain still, your stare continuing to bore a hole into her carpet. 

Wordlessly, you’d tug at your shawled sleeve to show the back of your arm. Running along the skin’s expanse were thin ridges, pin feathers prickling beneath taut flesh. A light down speckled your skin in odd patches, consolidated mostly on your neck and shoulders for now. Your hair had begun to fleck and grow waxy and silkish, akin to dense ostrich feathers, tousled from your trek to her abode. You’d watch the ground as her shadow would shift around you, a curious tsk showcasing her intrigue.

You wouldn’t see her raised expression, eyebrows furrowed as she’d take your wrist without warning, raising it up so she could see the indentation better in the light. She’d drop your arm as soon as she’d grabbed it, falling limply to your side, and her smooth voice would threaten to carry you off again. “Fascinating..your affliction isn’t something I’ve seen recently.”

“Can you help?” You’d mumble, the few phrases coming to you sounding choked from lack of use, and you could hear the healer’s grunt at your lackluster response. You’d swallow thickly, trying to find the words to explain all that you were, but none arrived. She’d circle around you once more, and before you could flinch away, would capture your chin between her thumb and forefinger, wrenching it to make you look at her- green irises narrowing as you’d shut yours, unwilling to look her in the eye. You’d half expect her grip to be cold like the Matron’s, but her touch’s pleasant warmth was something you almost missed as she’d let go of you, the shuffle of her arms crossing heightened behind your closed eyelids. 

“I can’t help a patient I can’t trust,” She’d muse with a teasing lilt, rolling her r’s in a way that made your chest flutter. Was this another symptom of your molt? It had been a long time since you’d been with another and the thought made your heart ache, albeit not more than your bones. “Why won’t you look at me?”

The scoff that came in response to her was almost too easy, opening your eyes after directing your head to the floor again, “Because I am no threat to you.” “And why would I assume that?” She’d retort immediately, and you’d glare into the ground. Why was talking so easy for her? Why couldn’t she understand that you weren’t like her? You’d raise your arm aloft again, the skin burning now as you’d twist the plumage under your flesh for her view. The rage that had been festering in you for days unlocked a torrent of your words, finally finding purchase in your mouth- frustration evident in how each phrase was ripped from your throat. Your larynx would be useless beyond a breathing tool soon, so you better use it now. Your nails clawed at your arms, doubling into yourself, “Because you are human and I am not, healer- is that not something you’re able to understand-?!” 

“Relax for me-” she’d grit, and you’d feel your stomach plummet at her words. Something in them begged obedience, and for a second you felt as though you were back in your nightmare. You’d twitch, glance immediately circling the ceiling as something would restrain you- thin tendrils of crimson magic, keeping your arms from flaring out at your sides. As if seeing your frustration, your panic, the healer’s sorcery would calm, soothing both your body and your mind into an unnatural lull. “You’re…using-” you’d begin, yet words would evade you once again, no longer fueled by anger. There was only a different feeling- regret, and uncomfortable stone in your stomach that you shied away from, wanting to cower from its weight. You didn’t like yelling at this woman, even as she cradled you with her witchcraft. 

You’d feel her heat again, warm hands placing tentative touches to your shoulders, slowly coaxing your glance to hers. “I’m sorry,” she’d breathe, shallow as you’d feel her palms shake against you, “I didn’t want you… to hurt yourself-” Her irises, blooming with clouds of red, would drain into green as you’d feel her magic loosen around your body like unraveling ropes. You wouldn’t shy away from her this time, panting as her gaze would share her soul with you. She, too, held that stone in her gut. Perhaps she didn’t fear you. 

You’d part as her back would stiffen, adding a few feet between the two of you. “What is your name?” She’d ask, and you saw the way her head tilted since you looked at her face. Your words came easier now that you were less tense, muscles losing their rigidity, and yet you didn’t have an answer for her.  You still pried into her windows, eyes flicking across the expanse of her garden from the view you could get from her living room, but it was a start. “I met your gaze, healer..I’ve done my part, you first.”

You’d see the way her nose crinkled at your response, flecks of mirth illuminating her expression, a grin finding its place there, “Talking now, are we? I’m Wanda.” “I’m..Margo.” In truth, you hadn’t had a name in years, the few decades you’d been alive focused more on survival than memory, especially when your molts made it difficult to discern who you really were- humanoid or avian. You’d forgotten your birth name ages ago, and it was a blessing that your words left your mouth as cleanly as they did. She’d tut at your response, taking it in as satisfactory, “Sure…Margo. Would you like to sit down?” 

Wanda would guide you to her kitchen table without much fanfare, settling you on her single chair. With a focused look and a wave of her hand, however- a duplicate would reveal itself from a cloud of scarlet mist. “Your magic is red?” You’d inquire, tilting your head as you’d seen her do, “It’s a violent color. Why is that?”

“Do you really want to toe that line?” Her phrase were humorous, yet you swear a flash of indignation peppered her visage. You were not going to mess with that line, whatever she meant by that. “No, Wanda.” She smiled at that, her name seemingly pleasing in your mouth. You felt the flutter in your chest again, heart drumming a little faster against your shifting ribcage. If this was a sign of your incoming succession, then you had to finish this fast- to return before you transformed in Wanda’s house. And yet, why was the feeling almost pleasant? 

“You said you haven’t seen my ‘affliction’ in a while,” You’d recount, finding her term for your molt unremarkable. You’d offer her a glimpse of your arm again, hesitating to touch the quills beneath. It was always tender before a lunation, and you didn’t want to aggravate the transformation further, “It doesn’t normally happen so soon. In hours before the new moon, maybe- not over days.” 

“And what happens after those hours?” She’d coax your arm down with a gentle wave, seeing how your movements grew stiff as your skeleton hollowed out. You shrug, “I transform.” Wanda’s expression would sour, yet curiosity prickled underneath. Why did she look at you like that? “Can you help me? You said you're familiar with my kind.” 

“..In truth, I’ve never met someone like you,” She’d murmur, expression bashful, and if the circumstances were different you would’ve taken it as a compliment. Instead, spiked embers of dread seared in your stomach, heart beginning to thrum in your ears. She didn’t know. Could she even help you? Her voice would raise a little louder, “However, if you tell me about yourself, perhaps I could figure it out.” With a twirl of her fingers, two cups of..something floated towards the table. Her gaze was an offer, “Thirsty?”

You’d nod, your throat suddenly dry. The drink was smooth and warm, with a bite of something fresh and crisp. It was much better than your rainwater. Gulping more of it down, you notice how she’d smile at your eagerness, careful not to spill as you’d raise the cup from its saucer. “Cider,” she’d mention, motioning to her mug, “Where are you from?” “My cavern is far from here. About half a day’s walk.” Wanda’s eyebrows would raise. “Cavern? You live in a cave?” Her interest was a delight, and you wanted to keep it for as long as you could. You didn’t answer her question, instead throwing one back at her, “Why do you live far from your town?”

“Bellmoor?” Amusement would blanket Wanda’s expression, snorting as she’d shake her head, twisting in her chair so she could lean forward towards you, “Because I like my peace and quiet. I assume the same for you, Птичка?” 

“What does that mean?” You’d ask, and she’d tut again. “Now now, that can be your next question, but it’s my turn.” She’d scrunch her nose at your grumbling acquiesce, and you couldn’t help but smile with her. You liked this game. Wanda rested her hands on her table, and your eyes were caught on the shimmer of her rings as she’d speak, “Can you control your transformation?” That one was easy. “Fuckin’ wish I could...” Wanda’s brows would reach her hairline at your curse, but you wouldn’t give her time to comment as yours would stream from your maw, though it’d stop early, “No Aegypius can. What does..”

“‘Птичка’ mean?” She’d grin, rasping her knuckles on the wooden grain at each syllable, “Little bird, birdie, you have feathers underneath your skin, yes?” You’d send her a taunting look, one that she met in equal measure. You’d smile back at her, “Is that your question?” 

Wanda would balk, gotten so caught up in teasing you that her words just tumbled out with no direction. You’d see her cheeks grow pink, clearing her throat with a stuttered breath, and you swear she felt like you did when you felt that flutter. “No, it isn’t-” She’d respond smoothly, but you caught how her eyes shimmered, and you took another sip of cider. You knew why when her words made your mind double-take, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

You almost spit out your drink, coughing on it as you’d sputter, blush alighting your face. You felt it warm and you tried to hide it away, your flustered reaction seemingly pleasing Wanda. She certainly didn’t know what that meant to you, “I..you want me to stay with you- I’m going to molt tonight, Wanda.” 

“And if I am to help your transformation, then I must see it in person,” She’d respond, never losing her smile. It soothed you, that richness in her tone and that calm in her expression, and you’d feel a new pull in your heart. One you hated.

Your instincts wanted you to ruin her. Wanted her vulnerable as she was, to splinter her bones into shards you didn’t even have to chew. 

To take advantage of her weakness, your hunger eating you alive unless you picked her clean, consumed-

You’d swallow, a shaky breath leaving you. Wanda had blinked, and your voice acted quicker than your mind would comprehend, “I don’t want it helped, Wanda. I want it gone.” You’d feel your skin itch at that, and a cold dread filled your gut, like the Matron’s chill held you once again. Your words were a whisper. “But I don’t think my body will let me.” 

“All the more reason for you to stay. Do you have anything that helps you calm down?” She’d ask, leaning forward with a gentle lilt. Her hand would’ve come across the table, offering her palm to yours. It was calloused, warm skin juxtaposed with smooth metal, and you took it in yours gratefully. You were starting to really like her company. 

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

The hours would’ve floated by you, a subtle bliss filling you as you and Wanda would’ve enjoyed the rest of your evening together. You could feel your body shift by the hour, and yet a part of you didn’t care if you were with her. You’d show her your chains, mentioning their unknown inscription and how they’d keep your form….distracted. You would be kept in the barn once the moonless night had begun, the sky within a period of tranquil dusk. She ghosted her hand across the rim of your shackles, and you were surprised they didn’t burn her like they did you. An Aegypius trait, you supposed. 

Wanda had made you stew using that pot from earlier, while you hovered in the vicinity, chopping up carrot and onion into more manageable pieces. The meal was finished after it had boiled for a long time, and it was only when you sat down to enjoy it with her that a blink of movement would catch your eye. The bay windows curved in a beautiful shape that let the last vestiges of light in, and you’d register the sight of silver metal piercing into the glass before you heard it smash. 

A figure leapt through its shattered remains, thick cloak blanketing their form to protect them from the glass. Their armor and longsword was polished beautifully, and they would be regal if it wasn’t for their war shout and barred teeth. You could see their face beneath their hood, just before the glint of their weapon as it’d slice down towards your chest. 

You’d dodge, rushing backwards until your back hit the other end of the wall. As the longsword would finish its downward arc, Wanda’s magic would cradle its blade, her hands outstretched and bent as if trying to push it up. Her voice was strangled and thin, heard between the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears, “run, Margo- go!” 

Turning to bolt, you’d hear the clatter of boots against wood as a rougher hand would grab you by the scruff of your neck. Writhing in their hold, you’d shove your elbow into the ribs of your attacker, before grabbing their hand from your nape to sink your teeth into it. “Fuck, you гриф-” The knight’s heavy breath was audible from behind your back. You’d bite harder, feeling their skin break beneath your jaw as you’d thrash, trying to cleave flesh off. They’d tear their hand from you, kicking your legs with a force that sent you barreling down. 

Your head would hit the hardwood floor, and you could hear the ringing in your ears as you’d look up, vision swimming as everything looked double. Your hooded attacker brandished their longsword with two hands above you, although it looked like they had four. Before they could stab the blade downward, Wanda’s hand would lurch out to their neck- pressing the kitchen knife into their throat as her other palm would scratch towards the knight’s eyes, the pair barreling backwards which left you an outside view that made your pupils retract into pinpricks. 

The sky was dark, illuminated with bright swaths of stars. Tears pricked at your eyes. The few treetops you saw couldn’t even reach its height, blanketing the world in an awaiting gloom. You knew the moon was out there, but you couldn’t see it. Your mind reeled, thoughts growing famished as you’d stare into its expanse. You licked your lips. The sky offered you reprieve, and who were you to deny its feast?

The wheezing pop of bone into stronger sockets would startle Wanda and her assailant into a tense standoff, your witch pinning the stranger to the floorboards while the knight tried in vain to grasp at their longsword that had been kicked many feet away. Your breath heaved with strength you hadn’t felt before, seizing as the voice that came from you was no more than a guttural hiss. Your skull would reshape, mouth widening into a curved beak, hooking into serrated edges, while your skull would become angular, bird like. Anything but human, you were no longer recognizable. Feathers would blanket the creature’s shifting musculature, tearing from roughened skin as they’d fan into shape. Its arms and legs grow as its fingers would lengthen, bat-like wings creaking before they’d be covered in plumage; ivory white on it’s neck and shoulders, cascading into darker blacks and blues elsewhere. The monster’s feathers wouldn’t remain unpigmented for long, as they’d begin to warm on its skin- sparks flying from where they touched, growing into a burnt umber. The beast would groan as its wings crashed to the floor- bipedalism was no longer an option, the force cracking the wooden boards. Horns would thunder from shaking its monstrous head, the beast’s eyes blinking into pale gold with a crimson ring surrounding them. A black line of feathers ran down the side of its face and to its gaping maw, tufted at its chin. Its feathers had heated into shades of orange, flecked with flame- while cyan speckled where its temperature had reached an apex.

Silence would still the room, the shaky inhale of breath marking the presence of living beings in it’s fray. The demon would blink again, a gnashing sound emanating from inside its cavernous beak. It’d then raise itself on its haunches, spread its twelve meter wingspan (shattering the walls in its wake), and echo a deafening, reverberating call into the night. 

The hunt had truly begun. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

~~~

[youronlydarlin]

Hi dolly!:) silly idea, have you ever tried writing for the hybrid cod guys? Ie: dragon hybrid price or werewolf hybrid soap, not a Request, I just think their neat. Also, probably good for Halloween as it's nearly October!

warning: none. Crack and fluff kinda, hybrid tf141

Ah of course, writing for hybrid cod is tradition at this point

Romantic bits aside. I like to think that each of them are annoying in their own special way. Intentional or not.

For starters, DragonHybrid! Price just reeks off burning wood. No matter how many times he's taken a shower, –no matter how long too!– he always ends up smelling the same. Like a fuckin' pizza oven.

Must be because he's half dragon– you'd think, so you can't really hold it against him. But out comes the second problem, which what seems to be his unhealthy relationship with cigars. What good does he have for temporary, man-made, chemical smoke, when he can produce his own. More natural, more efficient, and quicker too. But alas. It's just one of those cases where you try one thing once, then you find yourself doing it all the time, over and over.

You love the guy, really, you do. But getting any closer than 5 feet would set fire to your lungs, a guaranteed visit to the nurse's office. Doesn't help that kissing him feels like swallowing a dozen lit matches.

While Price's stench is still somewhat tolerable. WerewolfHybrid! Soap's constant howling at the moon might just make you consider transferring to another task force. Unfortunately for you, you also love his stupid face too much to do that. Sigh, the things you do for love. He just can't seem to get enough of that stupid fucking rock floating in the ink of night. Like he was some desperate firefly, who can't reach the light of a bulb. Well, at least he'd be a very handsome firefly.

But oh he cries for it, howls for it, and makes everyone suffer because of it. Heartless monter. A part of you thinks that he's just feeding into the cliché –that his kind is unable to resist that shiny ball of white floating about the dark sky– and the other wonders if he just Palov'ed himself into doing that by accident, and now can't quit.

Next up is your dear HarpyHybrid! Gaz, darling boy he is. He's not much of a nuisance save for the occasional stray feathers you'd find scattered all over the damned base. He has no control over it.

Besides, it's not too much of a problem on most days, but if you're unlucky enough to catch him on a bad mood you'll be left with more feathers than the ones you ordered to clean. And if you happen to hit a very specific nerve he might just ask a favor from his bird friends to shit on your car. Or your head. Whatever quells his thirst chaos at the moment. Is that a new suit? Well it's definitely not gonna smell like one anymore, baby!!

Very petty, and pretty would be the top description for your love.

Lastly we have WraithHybrid! Ghost. Who definitely lives up to his call sign. Never brings shame to it. He haunts the halls like he gets paid to do it, said he'd love for that to be the case. But no. The prick just can't be bothered to alert anyone of his presence.

You'd feel him before you see him. Unexpected taps to the shoulder has you jumping out of skin, and bumping to an invisible body never fails to bring a chill up your spine.

But when you do see him? On the dead of night? Out to get a snack? Ohh, lucky you, if you're a horror fanatic because the worn out material of his mask. That soulless skull. It's enough to give the boogeyman nightmares. Scare the monsters out from under your bed. You'd be glad that it was just skeletons in your closet, and not his dark, grim, saturnine, figure.

The last thing you needed from that was the introduction of the bane of your very tired existence, or as others would call it, "the swear jar". Price was just looking to take advantage of your very consistent "Oh fuck!'s towards Ghost.

a/n: I forgot how much I loved writing. I missed all of you so much.

yours, truly

–Dolly

[nekohime19]

Bimawen # 9 : Nervous

Here we go for another chapter of monkeys romance in stables. Mengai is overthinking, as usual, while Wukong is having several gay panics and tries to be smooth about it, poor guy doesn't know what to do with himself, but he knows one thing, he likes to hugs his assistant! 😉

Sun Wukong was an oddball. He lived without any fear whatsoever. Doing everything his heart desired no matter the time of the day. In a world of rules, it was almost terrifying to find someone so free. It was unfamiliar. Seemingly otherworldly. Mengai wasn't used to his boss's nature at first, yet slowly but surely he learned to understand how his mind operated. Now, he prided himself at being able to recognize what the glint swirling in sun-kissed eyes meant. Yet Wukong proved to be even more unfathomable than he thought. 

He that was usually so prone to be loud suddenly turned a lot quieter since they began to work in the vineyard field. Wukong was never quiet. Granted, Mengai didn't know him since birth, perhaps he had been quiet at one point in his life (even if the macaque sincerely doubted that) but still this sudden quietness was unsettling. Not that Wukong completely closed off. He was still as passionate as ever, and as annoying. He still dragged Mengai around like the mere idea of not having him by his side was absurd, and he still did everything in his power to annoy the black-furred monkey. But there was a building distance between them. Now, everytime Wukong touched him, he did so with a slowness that was never there before. The brash side-hugs became more tentative, the once unashamed ruffles became shy brushes no heavier than a feather. As if touching him made the great bimawen nervous. A silly idea truly. Sun Wukong wasn't the kind to be nervous. If anything, Mengai doubted the guy even knew what nervousness felt like. 

So if Wukong wasn't nervous, it had to be something else. This worried Mengai. Not that he would ever willingly admit it but he began to feel… anxious. What if Sun Wukong realized he wasn't worth being friends with? What if he was trying to physically distance himself as a polite way to sever their relationship? Not that Mengai cared that much about their relationship… Well, who was he kidding? He did care. He cared more than he should really. He didn't want to lose his first ever friend. But as much as Mengai fretted, he never dared to bring up the subject with his boss. It felt daunting to even try. What would he even say? 

“You're not as handsy as before and I wonder if it's because you realized I'm not worth liking?”

Ridiculous. He couldn’t do that. It was embarrassing to even think about it. Mengai groaned and leaned over his shovel, he stared at the hay littering the stall, as if the answer was hidden in between those gold-coated strands. The stallion laid before him huffed, almost rolling his eyes at his predicament. The black-furred monkey frowned at the horse's sass. Gods, those dragon-horses were so cheeky. He was still intimidated by their stature but, since Bean's foaling, he realized they weren't as dangerous as he thought them to be. At least, for him. He couldn't speak for those crossing their path on the battlefield. He created a tentative truce with most of them by now. Strangely enough, the horses also knew to not approach him suddenly, they long since understood that he was a skittish one. 

Now, there were still some horses that he couldn't help but be scared of, those Wukong called “energetic”, truly not the right word, Mengai thought “warmongering” fit them better . Among them, Apple was the bane of his existence. The blood-red stallion was bigger than his peers, he towered above everyone, casting a shadow in his wake. And, for some reason that Mengai couldn't understand, the stallion developed a keen interest in him. Everytime Mengai passed by Apple's stall, the stallion would lean over and lick his head. Wukong, like the carefree mogwai he was, brushed it off as an affectionate gesture. The macaque didn't agree. Clearly, Apple was tasting him to see if he'd make a worthy snack. Since then, Mengai did everything in his power to avoid the stallion's stall, for Apple great misfortune who always glanced at him with something akin to longing. Longing to eat surely! Ah! Mengai would not be eaten today.

“You work fast!” Mengai was broken out of his musing by the familiar voice. He glanced behind him and found Wukong leaned over the stall’s door with a silly smile blooming on the edge of his lips. It could be said that Mengai was the expert of lying, he learned to lie like he breathed air, and others lied to him without any restrain, lies were for him as familiar as the sun kissing his face in the early morning. So he knew that Wukong wasn't lying. He was genuinely praising him. Perhaps that's why it affected him so much. Why it made him feel a warmth he never even imagined before. Warmth as soft as the blossoms dancing in the spring breeze. 

“I'm used to the work so I'm faster.”Huffed Mengai with a hint of pride. Perhaps unconsciously, he approached his boss, naturally gravitating around him. Sun Wukong was the kind to attract, even if you loathed him, you couldn't help but glance his way. He had this shine inside of him. He was like a spark in the dead of winter. Curious. Otherworldly. 

The black-furred monkey glanced at his boss' hand, it was casually thrown over the door's railing, fingers dandling in the void. It was oddly tempting. Usually, the macaque wasn't one to initiate contact. Out of the two, he was the most adverse to closeness. But in the light of Wukong's strange shyness, Mengai couldn't help but wonder… what would happen if he was the one to touch the other? The macaque gulped. Could he? Would he dare? What was the worst that could happen? No matter the rumors about his flaming temper, Wukong wasn't one to be mad for such little things. 

Mengai took his boss's hand in his own, it wasn't anything special, nor did it feel like a revelation. The hand was warm. Bigger than his. It was calloused in some places, roughened by the stable work, but it fit well in his. The black-furred monkey looked up at his boss after observing his hand for a few seconds. Wukong was strangely still, as if he reverted back to the very stones he was made from. Mengai snorted. The sight was a bit humorous.

“What's the matter?” Teased Mengai as he squeezed his boss's hand. Wukong jolted. As if brought back to life. He glared at the black-furred monkey but made no move to take back his hand. Mengai felt the urge to tease him even further. It wasn't common for his boss to look so… flustered, for lack of better words. It was a rare sight. The black-furred monkey took a few moments to commit it to memory. But as he was about to tease his boss even more, he was interrupted by a sudden clamor coming from outside the stables. Mengai, startled by the loudness, let go of his boss's hand. 

Wukong followed his assistant's retreating hand with his eyes, he looked strangely upset. His sudden disappointment only lasted for a few seconds before he shook his head and glanced at the door. 

“Let's see what's making this noise.” Hummed Wukong, he lifted his hand, ready to grab Mengai's wrist and tug him along, but for some unfathomable reason he hesitated. The black-furred monkey understood his intentions nonetheless, he put down his shovel and stepped out of the stall, ready to follow him. Wukong brightened; he merrily made his way out of the stable, glancing back from time to time to make sure Mengai was following.

A flock of horses were waiting for them outside of the stables. They were quite the colorful bunch. Covered in glistening feathers that shined like diamonds under the sun's luster. They were slender, like panthers, yet had thin and long necks like swans. The entire flock turned towards both monkeys the second they heard them arrive, progressively, the horses ears perked up in excitement. 

“Guys-” Wukong didn't even have time to finish his sentence, the entire flock rushed towards him and smothered him in coos and chirps. The bimawen laughed, he patted the horses’ heads, greeting each of them with nuzzles. 

Mengai watched the scene with curiosity, so these were the infamous heavenly horses? He wasn't surprised by the way they drowned Wukong in unrelenting affection, after all he came to learn that his boss was quite popular among horses. Still he didn't expect one horse to notice his presence and approach him. The horse moved gracefully, its long colorful wings fluttering at each of his steps like those of a butterfly. It came closer, observing him with large bead-like eyes, until it decided that he wasn't posing any threat whatsoever and pressed its snout against his chest. Mengai froze. Even if those horses were noticeably smaller than dragon-horses, they were still powerful beasts able to send him flying with one flap of wings. Moreover, they seemed to be… quite the energetic bunch, for a lack of better words. 

“Hey?” Greeted Mengai, unsure of what he should do. He let the horse sniff him to its heart content. Suddenly, the feathered horse nosed his ears, it pressed its warm, slightly wet, snout against the side of his head a few times in curiosity before nipping at the fluttery appendages. Mengai yelped. Not expecting that. The rest of the flock perked up at his high-pitched yelp. A drop of cold sweat dripped down from Mengai's forehead, oh no, that didn't look good. 

Driven by pure instinct, the black-furred monkey slowly backed away, trying to return to the stables. The heavenly horses watched his every move intently. 

“Wait guys, don't pounce him-” Once again Wukong couldn't finish his sentence, the horses pounced. Mengai shrieked, he turned around and ran inside but he couldn't escape the waves of fluttering horses pouncing on him. He was drowned in coos, curious nips and a flurry of flapping wings. They weren't necessarily rough but still they had no concept of personal space whatsoever. Each time Mengai tried to emerge from the sea of wings, he was pushed back inside the maelstrom by a snout. He began to wonder if he would never be able to escape this fluttery hold when a loud, deafening neigh echoed inside the stable. 

The sound startled the heavenly horses, they hopped back, their wings puffed out in alarm. Mengai could finally breathe. He scrambled on his feet and put some distance between him and the flock of feathered horses. Once he calmed down, he looked at his savior and crossed eyes with Apple. The blood-red stallion huffed proudly at him, as if to say “You're welcome”. Mengai decided he would never badmouth Apple again. 

“You're okay, Mengmeng ?” Wukong parted the sea of feathered horses with one flick of wrist. They all silently heeded his orders, suddenly acting like obedient children. 

Mengai dusted himself off, removing the wandering feathers stuck in his fur. He had a scowl on his face. “They're energetic.”

“They like you.” Chuckled Wukong. “You're quite the popular guy.”

“Sure.” Mumbled the macaque, he watched the feathered horses being guided to their stalls. They all hopped with glee, fluttering behind the clones. The macaque couldn't help but be curious, after all those heavenly horses seemed vastly different from the dragon-horses. Perhaps his boss noticed his inquisitiveness, he replied to his interrogations despite him not voicing them. Mengai wondered if he was truly that easy to read. 

“Dragon horses are used in warfare. That's why they stay here most of the time and are tougher. Heavenly horses are messengers, they're faster, lighter and slender.” Explained Wukong, he puffed out his chest at the same time, as if proud of showing off his knowledge. Mengai chuckled. He found his behavior slightly endearing. He slapped himself mentally the second he thought this. 

What was this?

Not that Wukong was unsightly but… to the point of thinking him endearing? Well, it's true that his boss wasn't as annoying as he once thought. Besides, they were friends. Perhaps it wasn't abnormal to think of friends as endearing? Mengai wasn't very knowledgeable when it came to the ways of friendship. 

He decided to simply accept facts as they were, Wukong was endearing, there was nothing more to add. 

***

The hour of the sheep was at its end, the sun reigned over the sky with no shadows in sight. Mengai was sitting on the greening hills surrounding the stables, truthfully, he should be inside shoveling and sweeping, but his boss had the tendency to keep him close at all cost, even if he wasn't very useful for him. An odd habit certainly. But Sun Wukong was an odd person to begin with so Mengai didn't pay it any mind. He simply watched his boss attempting to lead the newly born foal with a halter. 

It wasn't the first time the foal was confronted with the halter. Wukong made sure to bring it to the foal the past week, letting the fluffy baby sniff every corner of leather, familiarizing himself with it. The bimawen told him it was a crucial part of the foal training. They had to acquaint themselves with the equipment as soon as possible. Wukong also made sure to let the foal familiarize himself with his voice, scent and the feeling of his hands. By now, the baby was well acquainted with Wukong in general and felt comfortable with him. And because Mengai accompanied Wukong everywhere, the foal was also familiar with him. 

Bean laid behind the macaque, she huffed on his hair, her own way of greeting, and quietly observed her son. Mengai tensed for a few seconds but he quickly relaxed and laid back on her side. Her scales were warm, glistening under the sun's fires, slightly moistened by the fog swirling around the lands. Mengai wasn't sure how the seasons worked in the Region Above. He once thought the entire realm was frozen in an endless summer. But it wasn't really the case. Storms and rain passed. It wasn't always bright. The black-furred monkey wondered if he would ever see those lands covered in snow. It would be fun to roll around in white. He could make figures in the snow, play with his boss. Mengai began smiling without even realizing. He was broken out of his musing by Bean. The mare pushed against him, requesting pets. The assistant absentmindedly complied with her request and scratched behind her ears, her favorite spot. 

He liked her mane. It was so soft, so aerial, like touching solid smoke, steam of cotton. It flew under his fingers like wisps of water. It wasn't like anything he felt before. It was soothing. Warm. He breathed in the fresh winds slithering on the hills and looked at his boss. The foal was trotting after Wukong with enthusiasm. Sometimes the baby would stop and tug at the halter, looking up at the bimawen with a playfully glint in his doe-like eyes. Wukong would first try to correct him, but in the end he wouldn't be able to resist and end up playing with the fussy baby. 

Mengai hummed. He carefully looked at the baby's robe. It was somber than his mother. The sunlight darkened it until it resembled the color of an emerald. It was quite lovely. Mengai still hasn't decided on which name to choose for the foal. But he certainly didn't want Wukong to name him. He would probably choose something stupid. Like Cream. The baby didn't look like a Cream. He needed something classier. 

The topic of names made him stray. He wondered if his boss had a courtesy name. He didn't seem like the type to bother with such intricate pageantry. Courtesy names were a human tradition to begin with and Wukong wasn't familiar with humans’ customs. He was closer to wilderness. Not that he was uncivilized. He was simply freer than most on such matters. Still Mengai couldn't help but wonder. In truth, he kinda wanted one himself. Courtesy names were often reserved for nobility. It would give him a bit of pride to have one. Perhaps he was just greedy. Receiving a name in itself was nothing short of a miracle, it was maybe presumptuous to wish for something as precious as a courtesy name… 

His boss flicked his head. He whimpered and rubbed the reddening spot with pursed lips. He didn't even see his boss approach. Damn sneaky mogwai. 

“Earth to Mengmeng, what were you thinking about in this silly head of yours?” Wukong put his chin on his knees, a smile blooming on the edge of his lips. His eyes were slightly curved, brimming with something warm Mengai couldn't really name. Sometimes, when the macaque looked at the reflection shining in those sun-kissed eyes, he could almost notice a better version of himself. 

“I was thinking.” Huffed Mengai, he crossed his arms in a poor attempt at keeping a shred of his dignity. Wukong chuckled, a soft luster glimmering in his eyes. 

“About what?”

“... Courtesy names.” Wukong frowned, as if trying to remember what the notion meant, in vain. Mengai snorted. His boss didn't seem used to the ways of man. Or he forgot. Both were highly probable. “The name you receive when you come of age, for other people to address you.”

“Why would you need two names?” Snorted the bimawen. 

“Your birth name is personal, it's only for the closed ones.” Wukong looked at him intently. He then smiled, something devilish slowly expanding on his lips. 

“You want one.” Teased his boss. Mengai flinched, he did, but it would be too embarrassing to admit it. He averted his eyes and tried to shoo the subject away with a flick of hand. Wukong snorted. He observed his assistant intently, watching how the sun dripped on his face. Mengai shuffled a bit, he didn't like to be this closely watched. He could feel the weight of the other's gaze pinning him down. “Mi Bao.” Chirped Wukong. The macaque ears fluttered, he looked Wukong's way and raised an eyebrow. 

“Why Bao?” Mengai could understand the Mi, after all his full name was Mi Mengai, so it was somewhat logical to use it for his courtesy name. But Bao was not something he expected. Not that he didn't like it, in fact it flattered him to be associated with treasures, it fed his malnourished ego. 

“You Mengmeng don't get to question me.” Muttered Wukong, he put his head on his knees and averted his eyes. Mengai swore he saw a dust of red appear on his cheeks, but it disappeared as soon as it came. 

“Yours should be Sun Tao.” Chuckled Mengai, he laughed even more at Wukong's pursed lips. 

“Peaches aren't everything in my life, you know.” Snorted the bimawen. Mengai doubted that. His look probably conveyed his thoughts, Wukong playfully pawed at his face to make it disappear. Mengai laughed at his gruffy hands, they were calloused, as hot as a stone hit by sunlight, but they felt nice.

“I mean yeah, Tao means peaches but it also means the way. You know, cause you kinda… show me the way sometimes.” His voice faltered at the end, it was so embarrassing to admit it, but it was true. Wukong teached him quite a lot since he came here. And even if it was annoying sometimes, Mengai was still quite grateful. The black-furred monkey averted his eyes, he didn't have the nerve to look his boss in the eyes. Admitting these sorts of things was always difficult. It required a moment of vulnerability, for him to open the keep guarding his heart. It would have never crossed his mind before coming here. 

He once thought that bearing his heart open was foolish, that it was simply exposing his feeble organ to other's blades. But here he was. Willingly showing the malnourished organ residing in his chest. And yet he wasn't afraid. He felt embarrassed but he wasn't scared. For now, he could only crack the keep’s door open and let the other see what was inside, perhaps one day he will put his feeble heart in the bimawen's calloused hands. 

He could feel his boss's gaze weighing on him, it was even heavier than before, brightened by something akin to gladness. Before he could do anything about it, Wukong pounced on him. The black-furred monkey shrieked in surprise and rolled back. His boss wrestled with him, so much that they rolled down the hill. Bean huffed at their childiness while the foal pawed in excitement. They tumbled down on the grass, dirtying their robes. Wukong's futou fell off his head, fluttering on the grass beside them. Wukong managed to pin him down, hips pressing against his pelvis to prevent him from moving. Both his boss' hands were on each side of his head. Mengai groaned. He looked up at his boss with a frown on his lips. 

“You gotta stop pouncing on me without warning.” Sighed Mengai. Wukong hands tightened, knuckles turning white. The macaque glanced at those fists with curiosity. 

The bimawen suddenly straightened, sitting on Mengai’s pelvis. He looked tense. Still as the rocks he was born from. The macaque frowned. Ah. Once again… his boss's odd shyness returned. Doubts began to creep in his mind. Why was his boss putting distance? Why was he so withdrawn? Did he do something wrong? 

“Why are you getting away? Did I do something wrong?” He mumbled without even noticing. Wukong perked up at his whisper and looked down at him. Mengai didn't know what type of expression he was making exactly but whatever it was, it made a shadow appear on Wukong's face. 

“You…” Wukong opened his mouth and closed it, as if munching on something invisible. Finally, he launched himself at Mengai and hugged him tightly. The black-furred monkey yelped. He stayed immobile for a few seconds, not really knowing how to react, before slowly reciprocating the hug. The blonde-furred monkey was gripping his shoulders tightly, hands fisted in his robe. He was pressing his nose in Mengai's neck, wanting to be as close as possible. “You fool!” Mumbled Wukong, his voice muffled by the macaque's fur. “You Mengmeng. You did nothing wrong. I'm just… I was nervous.”

Mengai stilled once he heard his boss's feeble whisper. Nervous? That wasn't something Mengai even thought possible. “Why were you nervous?” Wukong flinched, he tightened his hold on Mengai and pressed his face closer. 

“It's not something a silly monkey like you should worry about.”

Mengai huffed. He could worry about whatever he wanted no matter what his boss told him. Yet he didn't want to argue with Wukong right now. Oddly, the monkey clutching him like his life depended on it seemed almost vulnerable. Mengai let his hand creep on his boss's back, slowly going up until it reached his shoulderblades. They were sharp, protruding from his back like two prideful hills. He put his hand in the valley in-between and slowly patted him in a feeble attempt at comfort. 

The macaque gradually hugged tighter, bringing Wukong closer, pressing his nose in the bimawen's shoulders. He missed this. He missed this closeness, this warmth, this scent. He inhaled the smell of grass and sun, and closed his eyes. 

Damn. 

He really missed this. 

***

Mengai was particularly happy that night. He was dandling by the river, pants rolled up to his knees, feet swaying in the fresh current. He liked the feeling of water passing through his toes. It tickled him. Making him giggle uncontrollably. He looked up at the moon, admiring its silver tears falling upon the earth, slowly disappearing in the clear water. It was a peaceful night. His usual spot was shaded by the thick foliage of the nearby trees, their branches were bent over, as if eager to catch a glimpse of him. The whispers of night creatures echoed all around, crickets perching on grass, owls hidden in bark, fireflies buzzing above the clear surface of the river. Mengai felt at peace. He inhaled the fresh smell of the night and enjoyed the sound of his feet swaying in the water. 

Wukong didn't hate him. 

That was a relief. 

To think all this worrying was meant for nothing. Still, it was so odd to think Wukong could even be nervous. No matter. As long as his friend didn't shun him out, he was quite happy. The macaque felt flustered at the thought. Gods. Wukong really carved himself a place in his heart didn't he? Mengai didn't even realize when it happened. But even if he would never say it out loud, he couldn't deny the truth, he trusted Wukong. 

The feeling was as sweet as it was sour. On one hand, it felt incredible to be able to depend on someone, to let another see beyond the facades he put on. To shed the mask covering his bruised skin and let his self breathe. There were no words that could describe the warmth seizing him when his boss embraced him wholly. On the other hand, the underlying thought of betrayal never fully left him. He never forgot that behind the smile could lie a blade. It was ingrained in him after years of survival. Beware. Beware of the smile. Beware of the warm hands. Beware of the friends. For, out of everyone, they are the ones able to kill your heart with a flick of wrist. Beware of the lies. But at least, if Wukong was lying to him, then it was a beautiful lie. One he didn't want to wake up from. 

“This damn mogwai, when did he make me trust him so much?” Chuckled Mengai. Ah, really, it seemed that even the most guarded hearts didn't stand a chance against the roguish charm of a stubborn mogwai. 

The black-furred monkey spent some time enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. After a bit, his stomach rumbled, pushing him to go look for food. His presence likely made all the nearby fishes flee, he could go up the river and find another spot but, somehow, he craved something sweeter than fishes. Perhaps he could visit his boss's orchard, surely Wukong wouldn't mind him having a small snack. Mengai nodded, satisfied by his plan, and rose. He dusted himself off and went towards the orchard. 

On the way, he heard rattling coming from above. Mengai looked up and squinted at the thick foliage. He discovers a familiar figure hopping on a crooked branch above him. The songbird was peering at him curiously, leaning over the branch. Mengai chuckled and offered his arm, the bird fluttered down and perched itself there, its wings flapping for a few seconds before it was comfortably settled.

“Hey there, birdie.” Mengai tentatively patted the bird's head. Birdie graciously allowed it, its eyes closed in contentment. “No fish today.” Birdie eyes snapped open and it lightly nipped at Mengai's finger. Mengai was expecting it so he wasn't really surprised. In fact, it became less painful with how much he was experiencing it. 

The bird hopped left and right on his arm, occasionally glaring up at him with nothing less but pure outrage. Mengai pursued his lips, trying to restrain his laughter. It was hard to be intimidated by a fuzzy bird. But he knew this one could get… annoying if mad so he didn't dare to laugh. 

“I'm going to the orchard for fruit. You like fruits, no?” Birdie calmed down after this tibid of information. It fluttered a little, as if lost in thought, before settling on Mengai's shoulder and huffing. Mengai interpreted this as Birdie's reluctant acceptance of getting fruits over fishes. They made their ways to the orchard in amicable silence. Mengai was pretty familiar with the layout of the bimawen's estate by now. 

There were three places of importance within the estate, four if one counted the in-work vineyard : the mansion, the orchard and the stable. But the estate wasn't limited to those places. In truth, it extended way beyond that, covering lis and lis of forests, lakes, mountains and hills. Wukong himself once admitted that he never fully explored the extent of his property. Apparently, since none of the gods lived in those remote outskirts, Wukong had full ownership of them. The bimawen didn't plan for much, as long as he had his orchard (and his soon-to-be vineyard) he was quite satisfied. Mengai was still curious about what lay beyond. The river he regularly went fishing at laid at the beginning of the forest extending behind the mansion. He never truly crossed it. Perhaps one day he could rob Wukong into exploring. He was certain his blonde-furred friend would be excited at the propesct. 

The orchard's pink foliage soon came to view. Mengai stopped before entering, gazing up at the imposing trees. He couldn't help but be impressed even though it wasn't his first time coming here. The trees had a mystical aura. Something that commanded respect even in the most dried up hearts. A shadow leaped off one of the trees and landed before him. Mengai flinched. Not expecting that. Birdie, on the contrary, was as relaxed as one could be. 

Mengai came face to face with an odd clone. This one was dressed entirely in black, with only two fiery eyes peeking from a thick veil wrapped around his head. The clone's demeanor was at first hostile, but it changed when he recognized Mengai. His shoulders dropped and his eyes crinkled in glee. 

“Oh! You're the assistant. Hello there. I'm on night watch duty!” Gleefully chirped the clone. He dusted himself off and offered his hand to Mengai. The black-furred monkey carefully shook it. For the most part, the clones he interacted with acted like a bunch of meerkats stuck together, always on the watch for drama. But this one had a more silent aura. Like an owl waiting in the shaded trees. It was his first time interacting with a clone from the ministry of watch, or whatever they called themselves. 

The clone's eyes strayed on birdie, the two fiery gems widened in surprise. “Oh I didn't see you there Bo-” Birdie shrieked in panic and flew towards the clone, shutting him up with a few wing's flap. Mengai sweatdropped. He coaxed Birdie back to him and apologized. 

“It, huh, it didn't have its night snack yet so it's a bit grumpy.” Mumbled Mengai as he scratched under Birdie's chin to calm it down. 

“Oh yeah, no problem. It's a handsome bird, a totally normal, handsome bird, yep.” Awkwardly chuckled the clone. Mengai raised an eyebrow at the peculiar behavior but he didn't inquire further. The black-furred monkey put Birdie on his shoulder, when he looked back the clone was gone. Oh. Guess those in the night watch were very silent. 

Mengai entered the orchard and wandered for a bit. Suddenly, Birdie leaped off his shoulder and fluttered in the night breezes. It chirped at him, as if wanting him to follow. Who was Mengai to refuse really? The macaque hurried after the bird, his eyes never straying from the golden songbird fluttering form. Birdie perched on a young orange tree growing in the outskirts of the orchard. Mengai stopped in his tracks and observed the tree. Oh, so Wukong really did plant oranges for him. The black-furred monkey felt warmth spread in his chest, it bloomed and grew, blanketing his heart in something comforting. He picked an orange, even if it wasn't fully ripe yet, and settled down, slowly peeling it. 

“You want some?” Proposed Mengai, but Birdie chirped in indignation, as if the mere idea of tasting something so sour was an affront. Mengai chuckled. He picked a peach laying on the floor and cut some pieces for the picky bird. Birdie ate them with glee, wings fluttering in delight. 

Once his orange was peeled, Mengai took a bite out of it. It wasn't fully matured and tasted a bit too sour for his liking, yet strangely enough it was the best orange he ever had. 

The black-furred monkey spent the night by the orange tree foot. Curled under the sapling in a bed of greening grass. Birdie hopped before him, as if hesitating on something, before deciding to settle on the crook of his neck. Spending the night with him. Mengai sighed in contentment. The bird's warmth was soothing, oddly familiar in a way. 

Mengai had a good night. 

By morning, he nosed something soft, inhaling the familiar smell of grass and sun. He felt arms bringing him close and he easily melted in the familiar embrace 

Wait… What embrace? 

Mengai's eyes snapped open, he was met face to face with his snoring boss. A line of drool was falling out of his lips and dripping on Mengai’s shoulder. 

Ew. 

The macaque ears flickered, Wukong was beginning to wake up, he quickly shut his eyes and pretended like he didn't see anything. Wukong slowly woke up, once he realized that he was hugging Mengai he froze. He awkwardly slipped out of the embrace and paced left and right before the orange tree, then he leaned over Mengai and softly nosed his forehead, the touch as light as a feather and as tender as the sun's kiss. Afterward his boss took flight and left, leaving behind only a trace of warmth and a few blonde strands already dispersing in the orchard's breezes. 

Mengai opened his eyes. 

So his boss was Birdie? Mengai was a bit mad, but then he thought of all the teasing he could do. 

Oh he was gonna have so much fun with that.

+ some voc!!

Courtesy name : courtesy names are given during the coming of age ceremony, they are to be used in social settings and for strangers to address you by. Personal names (your birth name) was usually reserved for loved ones. This tradition was especially for nobles in the Tang dynasty.

Bao : Bao means gems or treasures, I let you think why Wukong chose this for Mengai courtesy name 🤭

Tao : Tao can means peaches, but it also means the way, it's derived from Dao which is quite a powerful concept in one of Chinese famous religion.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[sashiavi]

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𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁

#17•𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔•#17

𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ¹.⁸ᵏ

Working at the Dawn Winery was a dream. The grounds were absolutely beautiful, the staff were nice and extremely helpful. The estate was stunning, the interior decadently fitted with dark woods and ornate decorations. The Lord of the House - Archons, you couldn't even think of his name without your tummy turning. Diluc Ragnvindr, eldest son to the estate, ruler of the wine tycoon, Nobleman, swordsman, bartender and the man that had captured your heart.

It was a wonder you even landed a job like this. You were well versed in the world of the Ragnvindr's - so to speak. You were once a maid for the Knights of Favonius, seen pittering around the halls of the establishment, cleaning products in hand. You were often assigned to Captain Kaeya's office, not that he kept it messy, just there to prevent dust and grime from sneaking its way into the room. That man was the bane of your existence, always a tease, a flirt, a drunk - a pain in the ass. He somehow knew of this little crush you had on his brother, the bantering was endless. But credit to him, he put in a good word for you and one thing led to another. Here you stand at the door, uniform on, tea in hand and ready to go.

You rap your knuckles on the wooden door, knocking a short tune and entering when you hear a curt 'Come in.' Behind it reveals a study, cluttered in books, papers, a sofa to the wall and a large mahogany desk right in the middle of the room. There sits the man of the hour, Diluc. Your body works overtime to keep the silver tray in your hands steady - pull it together, he's your boss.

"The tea you requested, Sir." You struggle to make eye contact, how can a man be so pretty?

"Thank you, [Name]" He smiles politely, turning towards you and nodding a small gesture of appreciation. He knows your name. Your heart trembles, fluttering in your chest. You bow, quick to continue your maidly duties, swiftly dusting off the heavy, hardcover books that lined his study.

"Ah.. [Name]" You hear him call. Oh Archons, you did something wrong. One day in and you've ruined it. You take a big breath before turning to face him. You were a big girl. It was going to be okay.

"This tea is really lovely.. You did a good job." He toasts the air with his cup before taking a sip, returning to the mountain of paperwork sprawled over his desk. Your chest swells with pride, bubbling with all sorts of fizzley feelings. You excuse yourself from the office, off to continue your duties, not before the Young Master waves you off with a soft smile. You shut the heavy door and lean against it for a moment, nearly squealing into your feather duster, promptly coaxing a loud sneeze out of you. You hoped no one heard that.

It continues on - Your interactions with Diluc. He sends you the sweetest smiles when you bring him treats during the day, praising your baking skills when you reveal that you made them yourself.

"I ought to commission you to bake for the Tavern.. You're a great cook," He gives a side smile before biting into the sweet treat. Diluc makes a happy sound, eyes closed and head tilted as he chews. Your heart does that thing again - It makes your chest feel light, throat feel tight and your legs all wobbly.

And again - You had changed out of your working uniform, no longer clad in the pretty frilly apron provided to you. Dressed up, ready for a night on the town with your friends. Nothing too crazy, maybe a visit to the Cat's Tail to have a snuggle with some Kittens. You're halfway out of the estate when you realize you had forgotten a crucial item - Your coin purse. The way in which your eyes widen and the not-so-elegant spin you make towards the Winery would have been comical - If anyone had been watching. You hastily make your way through the Winery doors, making a beeline for where your personal belongings were stashed during the day. You find what you were looking for and make a swift exit. But not before nearly barging into your poor boss.

"Ah- [Name], oh.. You look really lovely, heading into the city?" He smiles, arms crossed against his chest. You nod and briefly tell him of your plans before excusing yourself. You were sure your face was the colour of a sunsettia. You were sure you were going to faint if this kept up.

"You look so pretty like this," Diluc muses gently, carding his fingers through your hair while you swallow around his length. Archons there it is again, that fluttery shiver in your tummy. You hear the scratch of pen upon paper above you, Diluc works through the last of his paperwork you always saw plastered over his desk. You couldn't recall how you got here, but you couldn't care. He caresses your face softly, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. He touches you so tenderly, purposely, with care and ease as if you had been lovers for an eternity already. You sigh blissfully on his thick cock, taking him sweetly down your throat, swallowing around his plushy soft tip. Your nose nestles into his pelvis, lips kissing at the base of his length.

"Gods… You're perfect.." He nearly groans, his fingers dig sweetly into the back of your neck, massaging into your hairline. You keen into him, moaning airily on his cock, swirling your tongue around his length as you take him in. His sweet praise makes your tummy swirl, you nearly beam at him, heart full and proud that you were pleasing him.

You pull back on him, suckling sweetly at the soft pink head of his cock, swirling your tongue around his velvety tip. You hear his pen clutter on to the desk above, accompanied with a short profanity. Both of his hands are on you now, holding your face and neck, cradling your head in his palm.

"Such a sweetheart.. Treating me so well.. doing such a good job." Diluc breathes. His words go to your head, they toy with your heart and make you ditzy on his cock. You pop off of his length with a soft squeeze of your lips, earning a little whine from the man above. You kiss at his cock, leaving spitty wet kisses on his velvety tip. Your eyes make contact with his, deep pools of hot lava melt into your pretty gaze. He drags his thumb across your spit swollen lips, thumbing into the corner of your mouth, pressing it sweetly against your tongue. His fingers caress your face lovingly, curling behind your ear in a soft drag. Your tummy flips and aches, dripping sweet arousal into your panties. Diluc openly sighs, a hint of his voice trickles through his throat.

"How can you be so gorgeous?" He breathes, slipping his thumb from your lips, not before you press a kiss to his finger tip. He couldn't help but lick your sweet spit off of his thumb, humming a soft groan as he wraps his lips around the wet tip of his finger. You give a sweet whimper at the sight of him, heart nearly busting out of your chest with a flutter. You kiss your lips around his flushed head, sinking back down on his aching cock. You bob your head up and down his thick length, taking him in with an earnest feeling, a strong desire to give back the sweet kindness he had shown to you.

"Gods.. Making me feel so good.. My good girl.. My [Name]" Diluc babbles, petting your hair, his praise is soft, full and swelling with adoration. His hands find their way back into your hair, threading through the strands, massaging your scalp. He humps short little thrusts into your throat, relishing in the soft vibrations of your keening moans around his length.

"Never want you to stop.. all I need is you-" His voice strains deliciously. It all goes to your head, his sweet syrupy words set your body on fire. A shiver runs down your spine, flashing and fizzing like water on hot coals, earning Diluc a sweet and pliant darling in his lap. The aforementioned man groans softly, eyes never leaving yours as you swirl your tongue up and down his thick cock.

"Getting.. getting close Darling, 'gonna… Your pretty mouth is 'gonna… Send me over the edge..!" His face burns red at his own words, ears tipped pink and lips bitten raw. You're eager to swallow him down, take him deep and prove that you are what his sweet words say. You feel his fingers tighten slightly on your hair, balling your hair into a gentle fist. His hips stutter sloppily, fucking back into your awaiting mouth with careful, soft thrusts. He babbles sweet praises as he reaches his peak, cradling your cheek, telling you just how good of a job you were doing.

"Cumming-! M'comming~!... so pretty for me.. Treating me so sweetly- ought to treat you- for your good work~" He luls his head side to side, prattling on and on in a pretty whimpery voice. His hips still, his hand pushes your head down. Diluc groans out, thumbing at your cheek as he shoots his thick, milky cum down your eager throat. He babbles again, nearly deluded from just your lips alone, spouting sweet nonsense into the air of the room.

Carefully, you come off of his cock with a sweet wet pop. He beckons you up, patting his thighs with his strong palms. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, faces nearly touching, breath huffed and hot. He urges your arms to wrap around his neck, just as his arms cradle your waist. He kisses against your lips, capturing them in a searing, tender lock. His warm tongue licks into your mouth and he keens a soft moan, his voice vibrating on your lips. You tug at his hair and squeeze his lap with your thighs, your arousal was surely staining the front of his pants. Diluc pulls away with a heaving breath, thumbing at the soft swell of your bottom lip.

"Darling.. Pretty lips taste so sweet on my tongue… Can only imagine the rest of you.."

Your tummy flutters and spins as he pulls you back into his lips, warm and wet with spit. Working at the Dawn Winery really was a dream.

Confident Diluc thay knows what he desErves >>>> 😤

Im sorry if he's occ idc idccccc he's just <3 also I wrote this in public I am so sorry if it isn't my best work-

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! I'll Give You A... A Kiss Mua

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[stochastiz]

i'm distracting myself from real life by thinking about magic users who stim using their spell components

of course there are the classics of using your arcane/divine focus and/or material components to fidget with:

rolling augury sticks/bones/dice around in your hands or pushing them around a table, shuffling and cutting your tarot deck

feeling the softness of the feathers used for flight-based magic

twirling small pieces of wire and constantly bending them into various shapes before straightening them again

pulling your amulet along the chain that holds it along your neck, using a particular spot or groove along its surface as a worry stone to rub your finger on or pick at

but what about the verbal stims you can make out of the arcane and divine languages the magics are based in:

turning casting phrases into patterns to chant or challenging yourself to repeat them as fast as you can like tongue twisters

picking out the particularly satisfying parts of the elemental languages used in your casting to echo throughout the day

maybe a non-magical party member picks up bits and pieces of the phrases the casters of the group say as they cast and try speaking them for themselves, seeing how the words form the potential for magic in their mouth but find no purchase to be brought into existence

i've mainly been thinking about somatic and physical components as stims though. how the intricate finger and wrist movements used to pluck magic out of thin air must be so satisfying. but also how a magic user who might gesture wildly as they speak or try to keep their fidgeting fingers from drawing too much attention could be gesticulating with movements from their spells unintentionally, and what sort of subtext that could lend to what they are saying:

a cleric going through the motions of a bane or a blessing towards their conversational partner, depending on how the conversation is going

gesticulating through an emotion calming spell as they try to talk someone down from a heated argument

a wizard saying "sorry, could you repeat that?" as their fingers imperceptibly twitch through their language comprehension spell and they focus more of their attention on the speaker

a druid fumbling to catch an item they dropped as their fingers try to summon a vine instead of reaching for it themselves

nervous fingers busily trying to cast invisibility on the body they're attached to after their joke falls flat

fingers rubbing temples in a similar way to how they would cast a spell to see through illusions or invisibility as the caster continues trying to see the solution they know is right in front of them

hands subtly motioning to produce flame or acid or electricity in their palms before being outstretched to shake the hand of a new acquaintance that has already managed to rub the caster the wrong way

hands that jolt into the beginnings of protective spells with each roll of thunder or crack of lightning the caster hears outside

it just seems very right to me

[baeshijima]

— in these quiet nights

whenever you're stuck in solitude, ayato somehow manages to find a way to be by your side without fail.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 900+ wc, fluff, established relationship

A/N : its 1 am, currently using this as an escape from my project, and writing a very late ayato piece for his bday ;w; life stop making me have no time for my fictional men pls and ty <//3

There’s a solemn chill hanging overhead. The air stills, the stars dull, and the moonlight glimmers.

It’s not often you find a moment of peace, what with your busy schedule interfering time and time again, though you could argue it’s more solitary than it is tranquil. Perhaps this escapade would have been better suited in the early hours of dawn as opposed to the steadily approaching midnight you’re currently stuck in.

A whisper of a sigh slips through your lips. Pulling the thin blanket closer around your shoulders, you lift your gaze upwards, paying half a mind to the feather-light footsteps approaching from behind. You have no reason to turn to be able to identify the new presence, for who else would be mad enough to be up this late after the busy day which transpired?

“A fine evening, is it not?” comes that oh-so familiar intonation, the footsteps coming to a halt behind your seated form. Strands of baby blue obstruct your view of the bleak stars, a pair of lavender eyes twinkling with fond mischief follow in pursuit. Despite his towering form shielding you from the pale lighting, his face glows all the same — a testament to the sheer elegance instilled within. His gaze drifts down your shadowed form, a light hum trailing close behind. “Are you cold?”

You blink at his question. It takes a few seconds for you to realise the main focus of his concern; the blanket tugged over your shoulders. “How can I be when there’s no wind?”

As soon as the question is uttered, you immediately sense a foreboding shiver trickle down your spine. Maybe it’s the hairs along the back of your neck rising, or it could be the puffs of air Ayato is relentlessly blowing towards your dumbfounded figure.

“Do you feel the wind now?” he has the gall to ask. Unsurprisingly, the impish grin splayed across his lips becomes increasingly more tempting to slap off the longer he persists. Unfortunately, your hands are occupied, making it near impossible to move them. 

(Archons forbid you actually exert unneeded energy when you’re already spent.)

“Yes,” you deadpan, “I’m so cold my teeth are chattering. Can you hear it?”

He hums in faux contemplation, a gloved hand raised to rest under his chin in an attempt to further support his charade. “Not quite. Perhaps I ought to bring out the fan.”

“Please don’t. My teeth will really chatter then.”

Your shoulders relax upon hearing his gleeful laugh. In a fluid motion he steps away from you, exposing you to the stark moonlight, before plopping himself on the veranda beside you. Before you have the time to process the string of movements, your left arm is promptly lifted up (with the blanket following suit) as a bundle of warmth dives into the newly opened space, your arm tugged down and around the intruder of your personal space.

Well, at least he’s warm.

“If you’re tired then go to bed.” As soon as the words are uttered, a displeased whine escapes him. Much to your bemusement, a ticklish sensation occurs at the crook of your neck, and you belatedly realise the act akin to nuzzling currently being performed by the bane of your existence, his arms wrapping around your torso in protest. Like a child.

“Why should I?” he mutters into your skin, tone bitter and laced with indignance someone of his standing should most definitely not have. Well, you can’t say you’re not used to it.

“Because you need proper sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll get sick again if you keep this up.”

“...”

“...”

“But why?”

Archons have mercy on your poor soul.

“I’d rather not be known as your personal pillow,” you state monotonously, positively done with his antics. “I have some dignity left in me.”

“And if I were to say you’re warmer than my bed and comfier than my pillow?”

(You’re not. You can attest to that fact as someone who has actually slept in his bed — which is unfairly warm and comfortable, if you may add.)

Gaze narrowing at the smug expression beaming up at you, you merely retort, “Do you want me to drag you to bed myself?”

“If it’s you then I would happily obli— mmrph.” Swiftly, your palms smother his words before he has the chance to finish. And no, you will not be swayed by the doe eyes batting up at you, nor by the fluttering of his long eyelashes brushing along the apples of his cheeks.

What an unfairly pretty lover you have in your palms. Literally.

Seeing how he’s more than happy with the skin contact being made, you take it upon yourself to swiftly remove your hands and return your gaze to the night’s canvas, his theatrical bemoans of your “cold shoulder” and “[Name] doesn’t love me anymore” going ignored.

It stays quiet between you for a while, the only sounds being the faint breaths and rhythmic heartbeats steadily falling in sync. Oddly enough, you find yourself forgetting the previous solitude you were trapped in only moments prior, focusing instead on Ayato’s fingers entwined with yours and basking in his familiarity.

Your shoulder dips slightly when a weight drops atop it. When you glance down to identify the source of permeating warmth, you can’t help the smile alighting your features.

“Thank you for loving me as much as I love you, Ayato,” you murmur against the crown of his head as you place a chaste kiss, before pulling the thin blanket around the two of you in an effort to cage your shared warmth.

(How strange, you silently muse to yourself, suddenly finding yourself overcome with drowsiness. The air feels warmer now.)

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[quartergremlin]

I finished Donnie and Leo

And I started coloring Raph and Mikey

They elytras seem to change to fit each user so Donnie gets some tech ones and Raph gets big bug wings and Mikey gets feathered wings!

Same goes for the tools they craft, Raph makes giant tools

And breaks more blocks than normal

Good news! They respawn! Still not a pleasant experience

Both Mikey and Donnie went to the same place which,,,, Leo definitely doesn't want to attempt to go there

I've also been drawing the Minecraft specific mobs cause, why not

Phantoms are Leo's bane of existence

I got lots more, I drawn ghast and hoglins, which I designed off of hell pigs which are REAL creatures from the past and are insanely cool,,,, but Tumblr won't let me post more images

I figured out how they are stuck in Minecraft but I'll leave that till I draw the turts figuring it out to share

And a funny little thing happened to Mikey when he was in the nether. Turns out he doesn't need to wear gold armour to avoid piglin attacks cause the piglins think his markings are gold!

It's a little deeper than, long ago there was a piglin that grew gold on them that healed those affected with the rot disease, which their children bared marks of gold. And Mikey's markings look very similar

This world isn't just regular Minecraft, what ever mystic energy that trapped them there is giving them life if it's own

My mind has been exploding with ideas for this silly little au and I'm loving it. And now my au pile has grown to 6

sorry for sitting on this for so long 😞 but I love the bit about piglins and gold! and your monster designs are so cute!!

[vivalarevolution]

𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓞𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓑𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓜𝔂 𝓝𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓽𝓲

Jake Sully x Avatar Reader x Tsu'tey

A/N: After I shared the question and saw the quick and positive response I got, I decided to write something with both Jake Sully and Tsu'tey.

I hope it will be pleasant to readt and all of you will enjoy it. English is not a language that I use on a daily basis, mistakes may or will appear.  

Also the work contains smut, so minors do not interact.

*Due to technical reasons, the work has been posted again

They were like flames to her. Both equally glaring and hot, burning her soul and heart every time their skin touched hers. But she couldn't tell them no.

They made her addicted. So much that she couldn't live, breathe or function without them.

And she made them just as addicted. She made them forget about the world around them. She was the only one they needed ,like lungs needed air ,like a baby needed its mother. She became the bane of their existence and the object of all their desires.

-Ma paskalin - Tsu'tey murmured into her ear, waking her up from her thoughts - Don't go far with your mind, you must stay here with us - he said, gliding his long fingers over her swollen clitoris.

The woman moaned at the feather-like feel of his fingertips, trembling involuntarily, unable to control her body being at the mercy of two men who gave her as much pleasure as they took from her.

Looking down through half-open eyelids, she could see Jake , who was not listening to their exchange, being too busy devouring her womanhood like he was starving. Licking her, kissing her, and sometimes running his fangs over her labia, making her quiver like an aspen, turning him on even more. So much more that his hands tightened on her firm thighs, leaving traces of his big, strong hands behind them.

-I…I - she tried to form a sentence, but the words tumbled in her mouth with every second the man between her legs slipped the tip of his tongue into her hot center, growling softly at the taste of her on his lips.

All the attention that was accumulated on her femininity overwhelmed her so much that the image in front of her eyes began to blur and before she could react in any way, her inner thighs tightened on the avatar's head and Tsu'tey's fingers, thus stopping both of their movements, and a large amount of sweet liquid gushed from her, adorning the two men, much to their delight.

Her eyes were closed, and the whole weight of her body rested on the black-haired man behind her, who held her in his arms in a strong, steady grip, wanting to never let her go.

-So sweet…always so sweet - Sully murmured, kissing her sweat-damp skin, marking her body with tiny bites and sucking marks on her soft skin - I need to feel you on me, baby.

But before he could fulfill his tempting promise, Tsu'tey buried her even more in his embrace, hissing lowly.

-You had her, now you will wait - he said, looking hard into the avatar's eyes, clasping his hands on the young woman's belly - She's mine, just like she's yours. Do not forget that.

Both men stared at each other intensely, neither wanted to back down.

-Please - Y/n suddenly whispered, her hand lazily stroking Jake's shoulder - I'll let you both take me however you want, as long as you want. But I can't wait…I can't - she whimpered, her hips moving desperately.

It was hard to settle with such stubborn people as both her lovers were. But there was one thing that could break their conflict in seconds.

She. Her tears and begging to take her body was enough, especially when she herself was ambrosia for both of them.

Avatar in front of her growled softly in an act of annoyance. Pulling away from the woman, he allowed Tsu'tey to place her in a kneeling position, still securing her limp body. His hands roamed her naked body, leaving goosebumps behind, while Y/n's head was still on his shoulder, absorbing every touch, every brush of lips, every whisper.

Man was extraordinarily gentle ,savoring the moment. His slender fingers were rubbing her puffy folds that were still very sensitive from the earlier orgasm. He could slip easily into her hot tight canal, her arousal was spilling from her insides, straight to his fingertips.

-Ma yawne, you are so beautiful, so soft - he complimented her, stroking her hips, sometimes touching her thighs - How do you want me syulang? - he asked, placing wet kisses in the hollow of her neck.

-Inside - she replied breathlessly - I want you inside, Tsu'tey - she announced, looking at him with eyes clouded with lust.

-Whatever you want - he replied, sliding into her slowly, almost agonizingly slowly.

Y/n moaned loudly as she felt the delicious stretching of her walls caused by her lover's member filling her to the brim.

Jake watched her facial expression closely. The way her eyebrows furrowed, the way her eyes squeezed tight, the way her mouth formed an o-shape. Her hands tried to find a place, grabbing at Tsu'tey's hips or legs, tightening her fingers on his skin, sometimes scratching him with her nails when the pleasure seemed too much for her.

The bulge on her belly was visible from a distance, a beautiful sight for Jake's yellow eyes as he stared at her like a predator, getting closer and closer every second until his hand was able to reach the nape of her neck, pulling her into a deep, sensual kiss. Their tongues met, drowning out the moans and whimpers that had left the woman's lips moments ago, but Tsu'tey was quick to pull her away, tasting her full ,kissable lips himself. Unable to resist, sending the man a challenging look that disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

But the avatar saw it anyway, hissing under his breath.

He fought with himself. All he wanted to do was snatch her from the man's embrace to take her for himself. He tried to hold back. But even so, his hands began to roam, stopping at her round breasts, which he began to massage and knead. His thumbs were gliding over her nipples, knowing exactly how sensitive they were.

Y/n broke the kiss, feeling the overwhelming feeling return with double strength. Member that hit her cervix and lips that marked her chest with wet kisses , it all seemed to have too much of an effect on her.

-Ma paskalin…I can feel how much your body wants release - Tsu'tey whispered in her ear in a warm and tender voice, even though his loins were moving in such a powerful and precise way, hitting all the right places - Go on, cum for me. I need to feel it.

As if on command, the young woman came with a loud moan. Her thighs trembled intensely, and the substance flowed out of her womanhood again, soaking their lower abdomen, part of both men's legs and the ground beneath her.

Her breath was ragged and her eyes clouded, staring at the sky above her. She couldn't wake up from her state of pleasure, once again putting all the weight of her tiny body on the man behind her.

However her peace did not last long.

Jake immediately grabbed her in his arms, laying her on all fours. Y/n moaned softly, feeling an unexpected emptiness and a sticky substance on the inside of her thighs that began to flow from her insides, but before she could do anything about it, Sully entered her in one brutal movement, filling her so much that the woman was sure that he was in her belly.

The movement of his hips was rough and hard, filling her so deeply that with each stroke of his pelvis, that all she had left to do was drop to the ground beneath her, allowing him to use her however he wanted.

Various sounds fell out of her mouth, interrupted from time to time by the dark-haired woman's attempt to say his name, but to no avail.

-Good girl , allowing me to use her as much as I want - man growled in her ear, massaging her bum, sometimes catching her tail, which was vibrating with every move he made - I'll fill you up, would you like that baby?

Y/n just let out a broken cry, closing her eyes as tears began to flow from the amount of pleasure filling her body.

Tsu'tey grabbed her body, letting her lie on top of him as Jake used her, tearing her insides apart, his mouth marking her neck, biting and kissing her.

-Tsu…tey…please kiss me - she moaned, looking at him imploringly.

Without a word, the Na'vi pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss, stroking her cheeks as her lover behind her assaulted her abused wet and hot walls, growling shamelessly into her ear like a hungry animal.

-Give me a kiss too, baby - Jake said, catching her jaw lazily to guide her in his direction -Good girl - he said as she opened her mouth, inviting him.

Suddenly, a third orgasm hit her, causing her to see the stars, nearly passing out.

The man was still moving, wanting to feel the feeling of the wet, hot, tight canal as long as possible before he filled her completely. So much so that the white substance began to escape from her while he was still inside her.

Y/n moaned softly, feeling the sudden warmth that poured out of her, directly between her asscheecks. Holding the necks of both lovers, she pulled them to herself, snuggling into their larger bodies, which covered her form completely.

Her mind was blank, her muscles limp as if they didn't exist, her heart was pounding against her ribs, and the accumulated sweat began to run lazily down her body.

-I'll let you both take me however you want, as long as you want - Jake whispered into her ear, which made her frown looking at him in an act of silent question - Did you think it was over? - he asked her, stroking her cheek.

-Oh, ma beautiful yawne - Tsu'tey murmured, almost whispering into her ear, kissing its petal gently - This is just the beginning.



*paskalin - honey

yawne - beloved

syulang - flower