#flighty fellow

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining an a/b/o dynamic where the entire 141, including you, are all Alphas. Except, after a few years of such close contact something starts to shift.

You start to become an Omega.

"Why is this happening to me?" You all but wail. It hurts to breathe, everything feels like it's on fire. Your stomach twists again, painful cramps shooting white hot lighting up your spine. "Why does it hurt so bad?"

Your pack is all around you, trying to soothe you in anyway they can but it's not working. Everything hurts, your teeth feel like they're going to crack from how tight you have them gritted. The wave of pain ebbs for a few gracious seconds before starting up all over again. You whine and sob and reach out for any of your team.

"Whats going on?" Price huffs, his cool hand cupping at your face. His touch is the barest relief even as he drags down one of your lower eyelids. He tuts in an intense concern. "Simon, have you seen this before?"

The larger male drops to one knee. He gives you a quick once over before dipping his head towards yours. He presses the front of his mask to the crown of your head. Through your labored panting you barely hear him take in a deep inhale of scent.

He coughs and stands back up too quickly. Judging by his flighty gaze, something is seriously wrong. Another tremor of pain wracks your body. You open mouth squeal. It's getting so much worse.

"Simon!" Soap growls, trying to bring his fellow alpha back from whatever memory he'd fallen into. "What's wrong wit' 'er?"

"She's turning into an Omega."

Everyone in the room turned their gazes towards Ghost, even you, despite your pain. You? An Omega? But you've always been and Alpha. It was part of the necessary requirements to be a part of the 141. You'd been genetically tested, hormonally tested, and aptitude tested. You were a full blooded Alpha coming from generations of Alphas.

"There's...ngh...no way." You hiccup out, tears blurring your vision.

"That doesn't make any sense. That can't happen." Gaz adds. He rubs at your back. His cool touch soothes even more of your pain into a dull throb, but it isn't enough.

"M' n' Alpha!" You cry out in anguish, the first of many tears finally dripping down your cheeks.

Something about Ghost's words hurt worse than any pain your body was making you go through. Try as you may to deny it, he was right. You could feel your body changing, altering, breaking and bending.

"Why is this happening to me?" You wail.

"There's too many of us." Ghost huffs, he glances around at your pack.

"Why does that matter?" Soap grumbles, scooping an arm around your center to pull you up into a sitting position. "We're a pack."

"That's just it." Ghost sighs tiredly.

"I've never heard of this being 'n issue." Price butts in. He grabs your face again and brushes the tears off your cheeks. "Task Forces are fully Alpha run. They 'ave been for years."

"If what Ghost is saying is right, it's biological, Captain." Gaz huffs, his thoughts visibly racing. "Too many Alphas, not enough Omegas. It means we'd go extinct."

"But why didn't she change earlier?" Johnny asks. You teeter in his hold but he keeps you upright. He lets you lean against his chest. He smells more comforting than usual.

"It's hormonal. She's been with us almost three years now, it takes time." Ghost says. Price nods in agreement.

"I'm an Alpha!" You sob, trying wrench yourself free from the multiple men around you. "I- I don't want to be bred. I don't want to be claimed! I'm an Alpha!"

"We're know you are, Love." Price breathes softly. He continued to wipe tears away from your face with a tenderness that only makes your despair swell further. "But this is happening, and we can't stop it."

"Take me to sick bay, please. They'll...they'll put me on blockers or something! Please, anything but this! I don't want to be an Omega."

The pack looks toward Ghost but he shakes his head.

"This is you first heat. The blockers will kill you."

You scream in pain, fear, and frustration. Another wave of excruciating pain washes over you. You wrench out of Soap's grip and fall against the floor. The tile is cool against your flushed skin.

As much as you hate him for it, Ghost is right.

This is your first heat.

Your back arches off the floor. Your toes curl and you squeal, shaking, gasping, panting hot breaths. You can feel yourself start to sweat. There's a sudden gush of wetness between your thighs. Embarrassment floods you. You try to curl into a ball but your body keeps being wracked with tremors.

"H-help me..." You cry out weakly, sobbing into the tile.

Your pack seems to finally get a whiff of your fluctuating scent. All around you, you watch as one by one each of their gazes grow more and more pointed. All of you know what must be done. After all, you're an Omega now.

...and there's no going back.

[pricegouge]

unfortunately due to @quarterlifekitty @angellake and @fulltacs yammering at me about these posts, i can't stop thinking about price and a little fairy sized reader so uh. here's this very specific ass thing.

part one of the honey series

unlucky foot

price x f!reader

cw: microphilia, abduction, dubcon/noncon, overstimulation, objectification, orgasm control. oral, but make it as weird as possible i guess. noncon bodymod. he's cut off her wings but it's off-screen and not described. extremely wrong fairy lore MDNI

his name is price. you've only gathered that recently, after overhearing so many of his conversations. he'd never bothered to introduce himself, had simply snuck up on you in his garden one day, sudden shadow eclipsing the warm wash of sun over your naked skin the only warning you got before he'd snatched you up in rough fingers, his grip crumpling a wing so you couldn't escape even of you'd managed to wriggle your way free. he'd since cut them off entirely, a phantom ache in your back every time your nerves kick in, make you flighty.

well, try to, at least.

mankind has a way of stripping the world around them bare, taking the essence of creature and leaving it limping away. call it a mercy to have let it live. rabbits and their feet, etcetera. fairy honey - the slick that drips from between your thighs, nectar-sweet and filled with the addictive zing of magic - is your unlucky foot. it's what got you caught in the first place, got the freedom of mobility ripped from you. your trapper even wears it like a status symbol.

you've met other unfortunate fairies since being with him. they all stared at you in pity from between the bars of the cages they were locked in. price didn't even bother with one, kept you tucked into his breast pocket when not in use because he knew you would never make it far. a fall from his pocket alone might kill you, the towering beast. still, the pocket is preferable. a lack of wings isn't the only thing that draws pity from your fellow captives.

"me, ah like mah honey best in mah tea," the man declares. soap, price has called him. an odd name for such a vulgar man. "perfect amount of sweetness. an' my girl, she's always ripe first thing in the morn'."

the girl tosses her head at his words, embarrassed. or maybe at his ministrations, blunt fingertip working between her legs as she arches and cried under him, her honey leaking onto his finger, copious enough it drips down to his knuckle when he leaves her squirming, unsatisfied, just to swirl his dirty finger into his steaming drink. you hope it burns, sloughs his finger tip right off. he barely even flinches.

on the table, shaking pleasure, his girl composes herself enough to try crawling away. she doesn't make it very far before being dumped back into her cage, but even still you envy her.

price's teeth clench around you, blunted edges of his molars dimpling your skin, holding you in place off to the side of his mouth so he can use his tongue for its intended purpose for once, growling a response in a voice deep enough to rattle around your skull. you don't think you'll ever be used to it. "don't need all the fanfare."

by fanfare he means food. drink, maybe. anything to dilute the potency. most humans, they milk their girls much like soap had, work them until their shaking in overstimulation and dripping like a font. price had never bothered with the middle man, preferred a direct line to his greatest addiction, kept you tucked under his tongue more often than not, the itchy hairs of his mustache tickling your nipples. he'd suck on you occasionally, tongue your cunt as an afterthought when he remembered you weren't one of the thick cigars he sometimes smoked - that you needed more to give him what he wanted. at least he's quite accommodating, when he does remember.

soap reminds him, it seems, his throaty groan when he tips back his cup enough to have price hollowing his cheeks. your cunt pulses lazily, the traitor, skin gone sensitive and pruney with his saliva. he's been doing this all morning, sufficing himself on the slow leak of honey he draws from you rather than a proper dose. you kick at him feebly, one leg trapped between his teeth as the other tries to fend off his tongue. he's well-used to your antics by now, simply shifts you up to roof of his mouth so your soft belly scrapes threateningly across his incisors before letting you settle into the bowl of his jaw. his tongue widens when he pulls it back towards his throat, bullies into your core until you're bandy-legged, sprawled so wide around the muscle that your toes catch on his molars. he suckles at you again, hard. enough so that you can feel it tugging at every inch of you, enough that it draws you minutely further into his mouth. his lips are soft, slick. not the worst thing he's ever slid you across.

"likes tha', does she?"

price shrugs, pushes you off to the side of his mouth again. "likes it enough," he replies, much to soap's amusement, and works his tongue against you expertly as if to prove his point. it's hard to stay stoic even when you want to, his tongue so hot and overwhelming. you're too busy trying to keep your moans stifled to notice how he twists you, rolling your around until his bottom teeth dig up under your ribs, uncomfortable enough that you try to push against his chin just to keep your weight off them.

he doesn't make you suffer for long, at least. a hairy finger wedges under your belly, another hooking over your back. he pulls you from between his teeth like he'd hold a cigar, your plump ass on display for him when your legs fall from his mouth. you hang there, limp, the fight gone from you even as you can't meet the other fairy's eyes. you just want to cum, want him to return you to his pocket so you can burrow into the warmth of it and hide your naked body from his friend's prying eyes. instead, he twists his hand around to show soap the shine of your honey leaking from your cunt, graciously offers the man a taste.

you shudder and huff when soap's tongue drags over you, face burning with the realization that price doesn't even care enough to notice your pleasure.

soap groans again, deeper than before, like he suddenly finds his tea insufficient. "got ye'self a sweet one," he praises, and john hums in agreement, thumbs some more slick from your cunt just to lick it clean.

"and pretty," he adds, turning you about on his palm so he can show you off properly, callused finger ghosting over your exposed belly. "could use some piercings, though, what do you think? get her nipples done so i don't harm my teeth... get her a nice chain. could turn her into a necklace."

[chknbzkt]

FINALLYYY FIRST CELESTIAL IVE BEEN CHOMPING AT THE BIT TO SHOW THIS-

And a mix of various sketches and drafts!!!

Psst down here v

Since the horrific murder of a nobleman has put many people in the kingdom’s walls off the idea of letting dragons in their midst for the time being, Sundrop’s continued employ under the king as a personal jester and informant has many under the impression that the dragon himself may have had something to do with it, and that his influence is corrupting the monarch in question.

Sundrop, however, thinks the people can believe whatever they want.

While his position gives him plenty of wiggle room to lavish himself with as much luxury as he desires, truthfully he’d much rather be outside the kingdom walls than in them. No, his heart lies with the wilds of Hyde’s Crossing’s ancient forests. His hoard isn’t even as extensive as it should be, consisting of a few plushies, puzzles, and children’s toys here and there, it’s oddly… empty?

So as much as he… appreciates the fluidity, he spends most of his time trying to keep his distance from Farqur Kingdom as often as possible. Before he has to return.

When he isn’t on his perch at the king’s beck and call, he’s running into random adventurers and the odd monster hunter left and right as he continues to peruse the wilds and stir up mischief as per usual. Most of them have been called to action as of late due to the influx of shades razing settlements to the ground when they’ve been left unchecked for far too long, rising to the challenge in the hopes of scoring money to keep themselves afloat.

There have been a few stinkers regarding interactions here and there, but making new friends is still endlessly fulfilling and entertaining on the occasion that they’ll let him get close enough to actually mingle with them proper. He’s content to share stories of his findings and across the land, landmarks, places of interest, the best places to sun oneself and the loveliest fishing spots!!! This boy loves to know people and be known!!!

He never sticks around long enough to say goodbye however. Always leaves in Farqur’s general direction in a big hurry at odd beats in the conversation. Odd fellow. And he never actually clocked where his companion was from, so the chances of them meeting again are slim…

He seems very flighty for someone so pleasant…

[jayaury]

Inn-Dulgence

Another from the archives! And as always, there's plenty more on my P*treon!

#

In some ways, it was the indignity of being caught that grated the most.

Julian Larnd grunted and tested the cuffs that held his arms behind his back once more, but the enchanted steel gave nothing, securing him to the thick support pillar. Damn damn damn! He should have realized the inn was in league with the cult. It was the perfect hiding place for members! But he’d had no indication their influence had spread so far.

He sighed, leaning back and banging his head with a dull thunk against the pillar. Not much of a cell, but secure enough. He glared ruefully at the dim bulks of barrels not far. He could still feel a faint muzziness from the drugged ale they’d given him, but it was dispersing now. There had to be a way out. There had to be! A Ranger of the Silver Bow didn’t just give up. There was a way out of this. He just had to think of it.

A creak of the door had him jerk upright, every sense keyed up. The door swung open at the top of the steps, and the barmaid from the evening before came in.

Seeing her once more, Julian realized ruefully how easily he’d been caught. Any man would have been distracted by the sight of the gorgeous woman. Especially her large breasts, held in her tight peasant bodice, though with a somewhat scandalously low cut. It took him an effort of will to look away from those plump orbs and to her face, which was hardly a loss. She was strikingly lovely in a hometown kind of way, her short red hair framing a pretty face with a small nose and sprinkling of freckles. A short skirt drew the eye to long legs and wide hips, which swung tantalisingly with her lazy stride.

Lizzie. That was the name she’d given him while serving his ale. He felt again a flush of annoyance at how shamelessly he’d flirted with her the night before, never suspecting the drink she served would be drugged.

But her allure hadn’t entirely vanished for him, testament to which was it took Julian a moment to notice the tray of bread and mug of water she carried.

“Hey there, sugar,” she said, shooting him a dazzling smile. “How goes it?”

“Oh, just great,” Julian said acidly. “I’m in raptures.”

She giggled, and Julian tried to ignore how his heart skipped at the sound. “You’re funny,” she said, placing the dish down in front of him. Yet she didn’t go at once, instead crouching before him, looking at him impishly.

Julian eyed her closely. She didn’t strike him as the sort that would be in deep with the cult. Too flighty. Those who summoned demons inevitably began to feel the corruption, becoming maddened as the power and influence of their demonic patrons infested them with their foul magics. She might be new to the cult. Which meant she might be his way out…

“Do you know what your fellow cultists are doing?” he said.

“Why don’t you tell me what they’re doing?” she said coyly.

He leaned forward. “Your ‘friends’ are seeking to feed mortal souls to demons!”

“Gosh! Is that right?” she giggled.

He shook his head. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of this,” he said. “Those whose souls are devoured by a demon soon lose any semblance of humanity. They become little more than mindless thralls, enraptured by the demon who devoured them.”

“Goodness!”

“And those are the lucky ones,” Julian growled, the thought making his blood fire with rage. “The unlucky ones are unable to offer even a token resistance. They give themselves eagerly to the demons, and as a result, are fed upon, transformed into creatures like their patrons. Monsters of cruelty and mindless obedience to the demon who devoured their essence.”

“Quite the expert, hm?” she said.

Julian snorted. “I should be. I kill them.”

“Didn’t do a good job this time, though, huh?”

Julian scowled, the reminder stinging, especially coming from such a pretty woman. “I… underestimated the cult,” he said. “But not again. If I could get free, I could banish the fiend and free its worshippers.”

“You’d do that?” she said.

“Of course!”

“Oh, but,” the redhead said, putting a coy finger to her pouting lips with thought. “What if the cultists didn’t wanna be free? What if they super duper love her?”

“They are deluded,” Julian said sharply. “Drawn to the demon by promises and the allure of the forbidden, and too late do many realize the depths of depravity they will be forced to plunge. Do you really want your friends to face such a fate? Your neighbours? To be little more than soulless, mindless puppets of a demon?”

“And if I let ya go, you could stop her?” the barmaid said, still with that teasing smile.

“Of course!”

“Even if she’s super duper pretty? What if she’s got cute horns and big, bouncy tits like these?”

Julian felt the muscles in his neck twitch as she hefted her breasts through her top. Heat rose in his face and he cleared his throat. “O-of course! Such things would not stay my blade.”

“But what if she’s got pretty golden eyes and is like, just tons of fun.”

“Yes, dammit!”

“But what if she looks like… this?”

Her eyes flashed a molten gold. Her teeth suddenly sharpened with a pair of small fangs. Her body grew, her clothes creaking under the sudden swell of her figure. Her chest tore the lacing of her blouse, her skirt ripping to rags against plump thighs. Her skin darkened, turning a lurid red, and twin horns curved back like those of a goat along her hair.

Julian jerked back, gasping as a scent of smoke and mint suddenly engulfed him. He swooned, but shook it off, squinting and glaring at the creature.

“You…”

“Aw, don’t be like that, honey!” Lizzie said with another blinding smile. “You look much cuter when ya smile. Just a cute, handsome slayer too dumb to see the demoness fawnin’ all over him. Not that you were complaining much.”

“B-bitch!” Julian snapped furiously, tugging at his bindings. “If I were free, I’d-”

“Oh sure. Sure,” she said with an airy wave. “You’d kill me. Slay me and send me back t’ the pit I’d spawned from. Which is super mean a ya, by the by. Because I love it up here! So much fun and pretty boys and girls just lookin’ for a good time. And why shouldn’t I give to them? They loooove it.”

“You are a monster!” Julian snapped. “A creature of darkness and sin.”

“Totes! But that’s what makes it so fun, right?” she said with a twinkle of a smile.

“But hey,” Lizzie continued, scooting closer, grinning wickedly at him. “I’m a fair girl. So tell you what I’ll do. I’ll undo your cuffs in five minutes.”

“You’re lying,” he growled.

“Nope! Cross my heart and hope to burn,” she said.

“Why the hell would you do that?” he demanded hotly.

“Well, so’s you can get those hands of yours on my big, bouncy tits of course,” Lizzie giggled, giving her breasts another bounce.

Julian choked on his rage, the sight making his mouth feel suddenly dry. He tore his eyes from the display and to her smiling face. “I’d sooner cut them off!”

“Nuh uh! You’ll want to touch them too bad. You’ll be desperate to bury that pretty face of yours between my honkin’ tits and just smother yourself like a good human. Just get yourself buried under my big, soft, titties! Just a naughty slayer. So I’ll totes do it!”

Julian tensed. “You’re mad and a liar, and we both know it.”

“No way! See? I swear it. Swear it on the Red Throne and the Black Crown.”

Julian gaped as she made a crossing gesture over her chest, and in the wake of her talon an X mark burned before it faded. An oath to the Throne and the Crown was unlike any other to a demon. To make it was to swear upon the name of the ruler of the hells themselves. It could not be broken by a creature of the infernal realms. To even try would invite a fate worse than mere death or pain.

“But… why?” Julian could only ask.

“Oh, that’s suuuuper simple,” Lizzie giggled as her hands lifted, dropped, bounced her bust before him. “Because I’m plum certain you can’t wait to kiss my big tits…”

Julian glowered, glaring at her, but found his eyes drawn once more to her breasts. To the way her hands pressed those pillowy crimson orbs together. The way they seemed almost to ripple with the bouncing motions.

Gods but those were fantastic breasts.

Not that Julian was an expert, of course. He’d always known that demons were at their best when tempting mortals with sins of the flesh, and thus he’d avoided such entrapping. Quite sensibly, of course. But even so, he felt certain that no woman he’d ever known had such… such perfect breasts. Breasts that seemed almost tailored to the motions. The ups and downs. The way they seemed to quiver as they dropped, nipples stiff and trembling when her bust landed atop her crossed arms.

“Ooooh, a real connoisseur of titties, aren’t you?” Lizzie crooned.

“I-I am not!” Julian snapped. “Such lewd displays cannot… It’s disgusting!”

“Oh you’re soooo right!” Lizzie giggled, her hands ceasing their bouncing motions, instead running over her plump orbs, stroking her titflesh, tracing the curve of her bust, her fingers swirling around the coal black of her areola. “Look at how evil my big breasts are. So naughty and sinful. So dumb and fat. And my nipples ‘r sooooo needy, ya know? Just awful, naughty things! And don’t they look all wrong without a pair of lips wrapped around them, huh? Without some cute, dumb, horny thrall just suckin’ and moanin’ like a tooootal tit slave.”

Julian felt his blush burn again. But somehow, he felt like… like she was right. Her nipples did look so… so lewd just being out there. They should be covered. And yes. A pair of lips sucking them would do that. A tongue teasing. Stroking. He wondered what she would taste like? Would it be minty? Like her perfume? Or something else? Something unique to her. Something he couldn’t even dream of.

Gods but his mouth was dry. His lips quivered and he licked them, trying not to, but not quite able to stop himself.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Still think my perfect tits are evil? Thinkin’ they’re soooo sinful and sooooo bad?” Lizzie cooed.

“O-of course!” Julian gasped.

“And you’re soooo right, sugar! But that’s what makes them fun,” Lizzie giggled as her fingers tweaked her nipples, wrenching a gasping moan from her. “Ohhh! My naughty nipples are soooo fun to play with. Humans just can’t get enough a sucklin’ on them like cute bimbos.”

“You enchant them,” Julian panted, his chest heaving. Gods, he was so hot. He could feel the heat of his body pulse through him like his veins were fire. “You… you use your… your demonic powers to… to…”

“Sure do,” Lizzia giggled. “I totes do. I use my naughty powers to make everyone fall in love with my perfect, bouncy tits! Not that it takes much. They’re all soooo ready to fall for them. Just desperate to become good, brainless bimbos for my bouncy tits.”

“I n-never would.”

“You suuuuure about that?” Lizzie teased.

Wasn’t he? Or was she trying to corrupt him now? It wouldn’t surprise him. She was a demon. But… but so what? He could resist her. Resist her big, bouncy tits. He wouldn’t let them bounce away his thoughts. Dumb his mind. And… and he only had to… had to last five minutes. He could last ten times that long. No big titted bimbo would… would get the best of him.

“Won’t get… turned,” he growled.

“Oooooh, of course you won’t, darlin’,” Lizzie giggled. “You’re soooo strong. My big, soft, bouncy tits can’t make you all silly. All dumb.”

“Y-yes. That’s… that’s right… Yeah,” Julian grunted.

“You’re soooo strong, Julian,” she giggled. “Sooo powerful. You can resist me so well. My big, soft, fat titties could never enthrall ya. You’re much too smart. Much too much ‘f a stud. Much too strong to become a mindless bimbo for my big tits…”

Julian scowled. She… she was teasing him. He knew that. Could feel it. But… but wasn’t she right? He was strong. Strong enough to resist her breasts. Her powers. He could do it. He was doing it.

Wasn’t he?

Yes. Yes, of course he was. He was resisting her. He knew it. He felt fine. A little light headed. Light and… and soft like her breasts. But that was to be expected. It was expected. It was fine. He was fine.

“Feeling dumb yet, handsome?” Lizzie cooed as her fingers squeezed her breasts together. “Feeling your thoughts getting’ all numb and floaty?”

“O-of course not.”

“Oh goooood!” she crooned, hefting her breasts, dropping them. “So goooood. You’re resistin’ me so wonderfully, sugar! I have noooo power over ya. My big tits are totally failin’ to make you fall for them.”

“Exact… exactly…”

“And whoops! It’s five minutes,” she said.

Julian blinked blankly, looked up to her smiling face. “Huh?” he said.

Clink.

Julian slowly brought his arms up from behind his back, looking in wonderment at his free hands. He raised his head to the succubus.

“Oops!” Lizzie giggled, still fondling and massaging her impressive chest. “Looks like ya won, stud! Awww. And now you can do whatever you want with me.”

Julian blinked vaguely. “I… yes. Wh-whatever…”

“Especially,” she said, scattering his thoughts anew, “since you’re clearly so powerful ‘nd tough. Soooo smart you easily resisted my big tits. You’re much too strong to get brainwashed even now. You could do just aaaaanything to me.”

He… he could, couldn’t he?

After all, he was resisting. He wasn’t enthralled. He was still fine. Perfectly fine. In fact, his head felt clearer than he could remember. He could do it. He was resisting her so easily now. He wasn’t even trying and she had no influence over him. He could do anything he wanted…

“Like bury your face between my big… bimbo… tits…” Lizzie crooned.

He found himself staring at them again. At those perfect breasts. Perfect and big. Perfect and soft. Yes. Yes, he could do that, couldn’t he? He had resisted her thus far. She hadn’t influenced his mind. He could bury his face between those flawless orbs. Feel how soft they no doubt were.

“Go on,” Lizzie crooned. “Just do it. I’m soooooo helpless, darlin’.”

Julian nodded slowly, never noticing his nodding head was timed to the bounce of her bust. He leaned forward, shuddering as he inhaled the sweet aroma of her perfume. That spiciness of mint. Closer. Closer. Her breasts filling his vision. His world.

He felt her hand on the back of his head, urging him further forward. He took a shuddering breath as his face was eased into the valley between her breasts, a whimper escaping him as those glorious orbs squished around his face. Soft as clouds. Out of this world...

“O-ohhhhh,” he moaned.

“Isn’t that niiiice?” Lizzie said, her voice dulled by the softness pressing against his ears, yet seeming to vibrate through her and into him. “Ain’t it so relaaaaxing being between my big, bouncy boobs? So easy to relax. And you can toooootally relax, right? You’re super strong and brave and all that stuff.”

He was, wasn’t he? Julian smirked to himself at how easily he had overcome the succubus. Such a simple thing. But that was why he was the hunter, and she the prey.

“Hey!” Lizzie giggled overhead. “I bet you’ve been wanting to kiss my big tits a whole bunch, huh? You could totally do that too! I can’t stop you at all. I’m already beaten by you. Just helpless before the big, strong hunter.”

Julian laughed to himself. She was so dumb! She still sounded like she was teasing him. But that was silly of her. She was utterly at his mercy. But he supposed he shouldn’t expect too much from a dumb bimbo like her.

But she was right about one thing. He could totally kiss her breasts. And he’d wanted to for so long. And why not? He was totally in control. Utterly in command. He chucked to himself and pressed his lips against her breasts. Once on each side. The taste tingled on his lips and tongue. He was right. She did taste a little minty. But again, there was something deeper beneath that spice of flavour. Something smoky and alluring. Attractive yet nameless.

“Ohhhh! That’s iiiiit!” Lizzie moaned, squeezing his head further into her bust. “Kiss my big tittes, mister big mean hunter. Lick my needy nipples! Oh gosh. Oh gosh, i’m sooooo totally at your mercy! Just a poor, dumb bimbo slut who can’t resist the big bad hunter!”

“That’s… that’s right,” Julian growled, his tongue feeling thick, his voice slurring as if with drink. But he’d gotten over the ale. He wasn’t drunk anymore. He was totally in control. He could do anything. She was his. His captive. His… his…

“Wanna fuck me?”

Julian lifted his face from between her breasts, staring at the smirking visage of the demoness. “Wh-what?”

Lizzie giggled, her hands touching his head, pressing him back into her breasts, his mouth and nose sandwiched in that blessed softness. “Wanna fuck me?” she purred. “Want to pound that big, manly cock into my pretty pink pussy? Wanna make me scream and beg for more? Wanna to really conquer me, pretty boy?”

Julian stared, his sluggish mind struggling. There… there was something… something wrong about that. Something bad. He could feel it on the tip of his tongue. It… it would feel good but… but…

“Y… you’ll drink my… my soul if I… if I do,” Julian finally managed to say.

“Noooo, silly!” Lizzie cooed, petting his head, smoothing back his hair and making his nose and cheeks bounce softly against her heavy titflesh. “That’d only happen if I’d beaten you! But who ever heard about a hunter who beat a succubus getting his soul drained? That never happens!”

That… that did sound right. It made sense. Didn’t it? It must. He’d always been warned that if a hunter lost, a succubus would inevitably fuck the soul out of him. But he’d never heard of triumphant hunters getting their soul drained. At least, he didn’t think so. Some detail about that was bothering him. But he was having a very hard time figuring out what that was as her breasts squished around his face. So soft. So warm. The scent of mint and the musky huskiness filling his nose and head with swirly fumes.

“Go for it, cutie,” Lizzie cooed, still stroking his head. Soothing his worries. “You deserve it.”

He did.

He did deserve it.

He’d bested the succubus.

He’d conquered her.

Resisted her.

He deserved some fun.

He deserved some pleasure.

He deserved to take what he wanted from this dumb, busty bimbo.

Yes.

Yes.

He deserved it all.

And he would take it.

He pushed her back, Lizzie gasping, then giggling as she fell to the floor. She gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed an even more lurid crimson. She opened her arms, and Julian didn’t even think twice before pushing forward. Kissing her hard. Fiercely. He felt her hand on his pants, tugging them open. His cock came out, throbbing, pulsing. Yes. Yes! He’d fuck this bitch. This fucking whore. This demonic slut. He’d show her!

“Ohhhhhh!” he groaned as he felt the tight heat of her pussy close around his cock. Squeeze his tender manhood. His body began to thrust, pounding his cock into her, the bouncy orbs of her breasts inches before his eyes, swaying with every frantic thrust into her.

“Yes!” Lizzie cried. “Yes! Fuck me! Make me cum! Tame me! Tame me with your big cock! Oh fuck. Fuck yes! Yes! Don’t stop! Ohhhh! Don’t stoooop! Make me cum! Make me your bitch! Cum in me! Cum for me! Cum for Lizzie!”

Julian panted, gasped, his head throbbing. Pounding. His body rocking as he furiously thrust into her with ever greater urgency. He had to cum. He needed to cum! He had to cum and finally show her… show her what he was made of!

And it was so good. So wonderful! Her pussy was like a perfect sleeve around him. Rippling around his cock. Warm and eager. Pulling him into her almost lovingly. Julian moaned and whined as he increased his pace. His orgasm was so near.

“Cum! Cum with me, pretty boy! Cum with mistress! Cum for meeeee! Ohhhhh!” Lizzie cried as her inner walls suddenly clamped around him, squeezing him.

And Julian came.

His orgasm surged through him like a great wave. It tingled from his toes and fingers, rushing through him and into his cock. He cried out, shuddering as he released inside her. As he spurted his hot load in her.

“Yesssss!” Lizzie groaned, shuddering as he came, her own orgasm seizing her in that glorious moment, her pussy milking him while her breasts heaved at the sudden intensity of orgasm. Her arms grabbed Julian’s head, pulled him into the cushions of her breasts.

Julian moaned, vertigo spinning him. He felt like he had been balancing on a precipice, and suddenly had toppled over. His eyes rolled back, weakness aching through him as his cock surrendered, spurting a last few times. Aftershocks robbing him of strength.

A sudden emptiness filled him. Julian groaned, his head lolling back between her breasts, looking up at Lizzie’s face.

The succubus smirked down at him, radiant. Not just radiant. Glorious. Her skin glowed softly, her eyes sparking with delight and malice, her lips lifted in amusement as she gazed down into Julian’s glassy eyes. Soulless eyes.

She pet the former hunter’s head, and her touch shuddered through Julian like white hot ecstasy. “Who’s my pretty bimbo pet?” Lizzie asked.

“M-meeee,” Julian droned, his jaw sagging in dumb obedience, entranced by the sight of the woman who had devoured his soul.

Lizzie giggled, pulling his head back between her soft breasts. “You know it, sugar! Ooooh, you’re gonna be such a good bimbo for mistress, ain’tcha? I can’t wait to show you off to the other girls.”

Julian glowed from her praise, blushed against her breasts. Yes. Yes, he couldn’t wait either. Couldn’t wait for mistress to do whatever she wanted. Couldn’t wait to show he was such a good bimbo for her.

He nuzzled her breasts, moaning as her pussy squeezed his tender cock once more. Yes. He was going to be a good thrall.

A good slave for mistress Lizzie…

[writers-potion]

When to Use "F" Sounds:

To describe light entertainment such as partes and funfairs

For superficial, flamboyant, foppish characters

To describe the clothes of a fashionista

To show a carefree situation before tragedy strikes

"F" sound words with carefree, unconcerned tone:

flighty, flapper, folly, foolish, flutter, fake, carefree, fete, festive, feast, flirt, fast, fantasy, butterfly, free, affable, flamboyant, flit, fabulous, fliappant, frolic, fun, frivolous, fling, flash, flush, fair, fop, flibbertigibbet, ruggles, frippery, flourishes, flaire, frills, fringe, fashion, frock, feather, flowery, fligree

Other thematically unrelated words:

flock, finger, flag, flank, fill, flow, food, fanfare, filly, fellow, finger, fist, fork, fig, follow, fli,, firght, effort, fish, flask, fever, few, far, fame, fester, ferry, fart

e.g. the character wears a flowery frock rather than a printed dress/ flutter a fan to seek flirtation

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[shirefantasies]

Idk if/what you’re open to writing right now, but can you possibly write something focused on pippin? Maybe fluff or headcannons or oneshots, whatever you want. I’ll put my trust in a fellow pippin girlie 😉❤️

Ahhh I definitely was not when this very first rolled in but barring any more grievous wounds I am always down to write about my beloved 😌

Pie in the Sky- Pippin x F!Hobbit!Reader

(Gif by @lotrcolors! Didn’t see rules about not using them but will take down if they prefer!)

Perfect dough never fails to put a smile on your face. Sticky as it is, even the feeling of it beneath your hands as you knead it is pleasing. Flames to your left tell you the oven is more than ready to receive its eventual bounty. A few rolls beneath your pin and there you have it, a beautiful drape on the tin before the real treasure is stowed away. Twirling in your flighty joy, you turn for the stove, taking up your pot of wonderful sparkling scarlet raspberry filling. Pouring it in, you see you’ve made a bit extra- muffins might just be in your future, too! Last step is cutting the lattice and then your oven is finally presented its trophy.

You already pulled out the right size hourglass when you got your start, so all there is to it is giving it a flip and you’ve got a little time for inventory.

The fishers had a wonderful haul: bright, shiny salmon you had filleted earlier in the afternoon, leaving only the need to coat them in lemon juice and seasoning. Potatoes as well, potatoes fresh as the salmon, though they are to be fried into chips, not grilled. A plate of roasted zucchini and carrot to say you’re getting your vegetables in. Not to mention the pie.

Every voice in your head had told you to just make enough for yourself, but having a visitor is likely enough, is it not? May as well make a bit extra, you think as you reach for a tin of dill weed.

~

Foolhardy, they say. Foolish indeed to leave a pie cooling upon the sill of your hole’s window lest some rapscallion make short work of it. But what is life without a little chance, you ponder as you check up on your treat, glancing out to the passing road…

“Well, that is about as fine a pie as I’ve ever seen! What’s the occasion?”

Peregrin Took. Pippin, just about the whole Shire calls him. Sprightly, smiling, and green-eyed, the young hobbit comes from quite the family. He is the only one you know of so well, though. Oft is he seen alongside his cousin Merry, particularly for goers of the Green Dragon. You are not quite in that guild, though it has been tempting enough of late.

“No occasion, really,” you reply with a smile, glancing up at Pippin through your lashes, “to be honest, I just felt like it.”

“I can see why," he muses, tone dreamy.

"I made extra. Care to join me for supper?" Leaning further upon your sill, you rest your chin upon your hand.

"If you insist," he answers quickly, "then who am I to say no?"

He slips around the remaining perimeter of your yard, disappearing from your view until you hear a knock at your door. At once you abandon your pie, crossing through your kitchen and hall to open it.

"Well, hello there," Pippin jokes with a wide smile, arms outstretched and heels rocking, "fancy meeting you here!"

"Master Took," you play along, waving him in, "what a pleasant surprise! Please, come in."

Hands running over his shoulders faintly, you help him out of his coat, taking notice of how eager he is to strip himself of the extra layers, unwinding the scarf in record speed and glancing around the entry of your home.

"The kitchen is this way," you wave a hand, "Shall we?"

You take the way he practically trips over his feet on the freshly polished floorboards going forward as a yes, holding out a quick hand to steady him, thinking better of it, withdrawing shyly. Leading him to the dining table, you sit him down at the head of it and make for the kitchen to procure all your supper fixings. One by one you set down steaming platters, Pippin's eyes tracking your every movement before landing on the offerings themselves. You hear his stomach rumble as the smell of the first platter of chips fills the room, say nothing but smile and simply compound the feast until his eyes are wide as saucers.

Master Peregrin Took had caught your eye some time ago, from what day you cannot even say, but at that moment and beyond his wide, wonderful smile and lovely singing voice permeate the back of your mind far too often. Often enough, in fact, that you've taken up the peculiar little habit that finally serves you so well, making far more of anything than you need lest you ever are gifted the luck of the Shire's jolliest soul at your door. And as he sits before you, so close your arms brush as they reach for cups and utensils, engrossed in sharing a story his cousin's gardener told him about the Proudfeet's pumpkins, all you can feel is a glow of warmth and satisfaction.

~

"Mmm," Pippin hums in pleasure between forkfuls, "how did I never know what a good cook you are?"

You shrug, suddenly feeling a little shy. "I suppose I never labelled my creations all too well at any festivals."

"Well, if you keep this up," he teases, "I may just have to keep coming to call."

"Be my guest," you wave a hand and smile widely, eyes remaining upon his, "it isn't often I get company."

You barely trust your ears at his next words. "I can hardly believe that! But I'm more than happy to take up the task."

Wit utterly fails you at that, words lost in the fluttering of butterflies filling your entire being and a smile you cannot have hidden for all the gold in the Shire.

~

Pippin greets you by name this time, leaning into your window with eager familiarity. “You wouldn’t happen to be baking, would you?”

“Why, yes,” you smile back even wider, bending down for a moment to collect proof in the form of a steaming yellow cake before you tease, "if you don't mind waiting for it to cool and get frosted I'd be happy to share. Unless you were just hoping I was busy."

Pippin practically runs around to your gate, bringing yet another smile to your lips as you turn from your cake to the strawberries you'd been slicing.

~

“Excellent party, no?”

Glancing up from your tankard, you see Pippin has slid up to your side, leaning an arm casually upon the edge of the table and giving you that easy smile that makes everything within you flutter. His sandy hair is sprinkled with tossed flower petals and falls about his face, which flickers beneath the lanterns set all about. He’d undone his ever-present scarf, this time letting it hang loosely about either side of his neck and down onto a green velvet waistcoat that brings out those eyes of his.

Nothing else but a smile could have broken across your face at such a sight, joy alongside warmth you can luckily blame upon lanterns and the fires on which spits had been roasting and sheer proximity to all the dancing couples whirling by and other hobbits stopping at the table and idly chatting.

“Just grand,” you reply, only aware in post the surefire dreaminess of your expression, “the music's wonderful, everyone is in such cheer, and the spread is great, too! And now I've got fine company as well!"

"As have I," Pippin replies, glancing away from your gaze, then back to it, "and you are so right about it all. I can't wait to dance the night away! And I've just had about the best cookies of my life!"

You giggle at that, fingers tightening around the wooden mug you held. "Oh yes? And what kind were they?"

"Lavender sugar."

"Ah," your eyes light up, "those would be mine! See what I mean about the labeling? Oh, I'm so glad you liked them!"

Seeing as how it's the sole reason you made anything at all for the birthday of someone's aunt you didn't even know too well.

"Liked them?" He leans closer. "I loved them! But enough of that: how would you care for a dance or five?"

Nothing would have gotten your hands off your tankard with greater haste, its base hitting the red tablecloth at your back faster than he could say "South Farthing".

"I would love that," you tell him, and without a moment's hesitation you are swept up into his arms.

Pippin's hold about your waist is tighter than you'd have expected, but you don't complain a mite at the feeling of his hands on your hips, even the twitch of a finger you'd almost suspect to be the beginnings of roaming if you were any more full of yourself. He goes fast with you, something you hadn't doubted for a moment, and you get a thrill from the way he pulls you in so quickly from a twirl, sending you flying into his chest and caught with his other arm each time. Perhaps you aren't so graceful as some of the other, older or more leisurely pairs out on the open grass, but you know as your bare feet struck the soft ground again and again that you would have it no other way.

~

“Oh, now it’s shortbread?”

You put the hand that isn't holding the basket on your hip, fixing the younger hobbit with a look. “Do you want some or not, Marigold dear?”

"Oh, yes," she replies, golden head bobbing and petite hand reaching to loosen the cloth you've wrapped over the bars, "and I will take one for the old Gaffer, too.”

“Oh, he should enjoy them. It’s my grandmother’s recipe, after all.”

“And who else shall?” Marigold muses, fixing you with a positively catlike smile. “How is my advice about a man’s heart going, then, with Mister Peregrin Took?”

Your easy smile melts into something dreamier, grip on your basket relaxing slightly. “Well, all my baking certainly is bringing us together more.”

“And showing him what a good wife you’ll make him, too. He looked very happy there dancing with you at old Violet’s birthday!”

Before you can stop yourself looking a fool, your smile is widening tenfold. “You think so?”

“Oh,” Marigold waves a hand, “you’re incorrigible! Next time you two dance, just lean in for the kiss!”

“Easy for you to say,” you shoot back, crossing your arms and nearly, but not quite, upsetting your shortbread basket, “I could tell you the same about Tolman Cotton.”

Paling then reddening, Marigold gapes at you and sputters. "Now that is quite different! Tolman is a family friend, after all! If I were to- Why, that friendship might-”

“Uh-huh,” you nod in mock sympathy, a sardonic smile upon your lips, “well, then, perhaps you ought to bake him something. After all, a good friend told me the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Marigold grins. “Yours, maybe! Tolman cares much more about a good spot of fishing than all that.”

“Then you come over to sit in my kitchen and make him a new lure while I muse over what Pippin’s favorites might be. I’ve some dyed feathers I could spare.”

“From what?” Marigold asks, tilted head and smile incredulous as you make your way down the lane.

That is all Pippin catches of the conversation, but it is more than enough, he reflects with a brief proud smirk that quickly melts into a wide, dreamy grin as he glances down at the pair of chocolate-covered shortbread bars in his hands. Your grandma had some good ideas, but she’d never get his heart beating like you did.

~

It is not the most common occurrence in the world to hear your bell ring, so to say you shot up from your sewing is an understatement. All but tossing the shirt whose sleeve you’re repairing down, you pad across your planks to the door, mouth widening into an ‘o’ at the sight of Pippin at your door, a bunch of daisies in one hand and a basket slung upon the opposite arm. Today he is wearing a lavender vest; you don't think you've ever seen him wear lavender before, but of course it suits him.

“Hi there,” he said your name, voice lowering, “I thought I could maybe…take you on a picnic.”

“Oh!” You exclaim, habitually glancing down at your dress and feeling a hand shoot up to your hair. “Well, I don’t know if I’m picnic ready, but-”

“You’re as beautiful as ever,” he remarks with a shrug and the most casual smile, as if he’d commented upon the balmy state of the weather.

“Well,” you glance down toward your feet and fiddle with the end of your sleeve, one arm shyly across your chest, “how can I say no to that? Of course I will go, then. Do you need anything for your basket, though? I admit I haven’t made much fresh today, but I can always-”

At that, Pippin shakes his head, curls flying about his smiling face. “This one is my mother’s treat. It’s about time I pay you back, after all.”

“Oh, alright. Because I do have a leftover pie in the-”

“Yes, bring that.”

You giggle as Pippin continues. “Don’t you worry, though- my mother’s cooking is almost as good as yours! Just don’t tell her I said that.” Punctuating his joke with a wink, he extends his arm and beaming, you take it.

~

Pippin leads you down to the bank of a stream and spreads out a blanket you hadn’t noticed him carrying before, probably due to being too occupied looking into those sweet green eyes and fluttering your lashes at any affection that potentially swims within them. The ground is soft already beneath the blanket, making it quite easy to settle upon your little spot across from Pippin and his basket. Water babbles tranquilly at your side by your feet, glistening in the spring sunshine.

Your companion offers quite the spread, for on top of your pie there is cold chicken and hard boiled eggs, sandwiches with salted meat and cress, cheese alongside the end of the sandwich loaf, fresh red raspberries, and turnovers.

“I hope this is enough.”

“Are you joking?” Your eyes light up, glancing from Pippin to the array of food to the sunlight filtering through the greenery at the stream’s edge. “This is perfect. All of it.”

"It had to be," he says, "I wanted our courtship to start off right."

Falling suddenly deaf to the chirping of birds and babbling of stream, you looked up from your sandwich with wide eyes, again seeing Pippin smiling at you like he'd made the most natural conclusion in the world, this time before tilting a fistful of raspberries into his mouth. Blinking, you search for words, failing momentarily in favor of just grinning over the way Peregrin Took never fails in his unwitting quest to always surprise you. Heat creeps to your face, heat beyond even the beating of the sun down to your head.

Pippin, it seems, takes your silence as a form of denial. All but dropping the plated slice of pie in his hand, he wipes one set of fingers off on the edge of a napkin before waving both hands hastily back and forth.

"Unless I heard your conversation with Marigold wrong. I just got so excited thinking that we could be everything I'd dreamed of and that what you were doing was working. Not that you needed to do it because I already thought you were the prettiest thing I've ever seen and why am I saying all this?"

"Because you're cute," you gush, heart still flip-flopping at his words, at the way the sunlight dances off the curves of his sheepishly smiling cheeks, "and you're always managing to find new ways to steal my heart."

"Me?" His voice is so quiet it's all but a whisper of joy. "You think I'm... Well, I think you're just sweet as this pie here. No, sweeter. Besides finding new ways to steal your heart, might I find new ways to kiss you?"

"Smooth," you tease, shaking your head playfully, gleefully, "you might indeed."

If Pippin is thinking anything you made was sweet, not a single delight you could have whipped up in your kitchen stands a chance against the feeling of his lips on yours, dancing lightly against them in the springtime breeze.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 | Reply/Message/Ask to join 💕

[critterbitter]

Ok so you’ve shown how the patrat children + Elesa met but how exactly did all 3 meet Skyla? It was mentioned before, something about her plane crashing into the train station iirc? Super interested in how Emmet and Ingo met Skyla, and how Elesa met her aswell. And I’m intrigued by the graveyard adventure mentioned in the same post the first meeting was mentioned in lol. You’ve infected my brain with submas and I love it. Pretty sure these fellows appeared in my dream last night. Oops this was longer than I thought sorry!

(Does a lil jig)

Writing a oneshot for the Skyla-Twins meeting! I’m posting these funny lil guys in roughly chronological order, so keep an eye out for it. (It will… take a bit. I still have a few comics in queue from the infante nimbasa trio’s adventures.)

But for people who want to know! (Subject to change because I’m flighty and picking up new headcanons every which way.)

A. Skyla and the twins have beef, because in my iteration she runs her homemade plane abomination into gear station’s front lawn.

B. Skyla and Elesa meet at a junior gym soirée, and kept hanging out afterwards in airport coffee shops and electric skateparks.

In the grand scheme of things, the crush they nursed for each other’s borne from mutual admiration— skyla’s drive to keep trying despite public scorn, and elesa’s level headedness with the modeling world’s criticisms. (It also helps they both like emolga.)

But also hahah goofy!

(Thinking about their canon dialogue once again…)

C. The twins have to accept Elesa’s super into short queens that shoot people out of canons.

[riacte]

A little bit re: fanon False characterisation and one of the reasons I want her in Life series - one of False's biggest strengths is that she is flighty and unpredictable.

False comes with a lot dichotomies. (It's kind of comes with the branding.) On one hand, she's a responsible and competent hermit who helps others out. On the other hand, she's a sneaky prankster who wants to kill her fellow hermits. Sometimes she's a soggy wet cat who desperately needs help from friends and one second later she's a cool confident woman who is Tired Of Her Useless Friends. She's scary. She's also very scared. She's confused. She also confuses people. She isn't either a hashtag slay girlboss or a pathetic wet cat— she is both. And she switches between all of these modes quickly. Like, sometimes even in the same sentence.

I was inspired by I think a comment on a HCVH Vodksall clip. The comment said they enjoyed False's unpredictable retorts to Iskall when they banter. In HCVH, Iskall offers help to False, and False either responds with the saddest soggiest "yes please 🥺" or cheerfully bounces away like "byeeeee ^_^". And she switches up very quickly. When one expects her to be competent, she's not. When one expects her to be pathetic, she's not.

You can see this in Demise 2. She both acts as a meticulous scaredy cat evading traps AND an intimidating hunter who's not afraid to go after people (while being afraid herself). She both carefully lurks around her ally Ren and comes running straight at him whenever she feels the least bit threatened. And I think these multiple sides of her makes watching her fun.

She's mean. She's sarcastic. But she's also kind and helpful before she comes back with a roast. And I think combined with her reputation, she would be fun to see in Life series simply because she's unpredictable.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey, headmage!! Grim and I received an invitation to visit Royal Sword Academy! A very kind man said that we were peculiar students, that we would surely be interested in "expanding our options"... I don't know what he meant by that but well... Can we go?! After all it's just a visit.

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

“What’s that?” A twinge of annoyance colored Crowley’s otherwise flighty voice. “An invitation--and from Royal Sword Academy, you say?”

The slant to his golden gaze, the pursing of his lips--he was visibly irked.

“Curse that Ambrose…!” Crowley muttered under his breath. “For him to reach out and attempt to pilfer perfectly good students from right under my nose!! Is he not already satisfied with gloating and rubbing his victories in our faces year after year?"

He quietly seethed at the suggestion--but any idea, turned and examined from multiple angles, had patches of promise. His eyes gleamed, beak scrounging around for opportunity.

"Oh, but... It would be a waste to not seize this chance to gain the upper hand in future competitions. What better way to learn of the winning techniques and strategies than by infiltrating the base of one's rivals? Yes, now could be the perfect time to strike!!"

"Er, headmaster? My question?" you gently reminded him. "Can Grim and I go?"

"Go?!" Crowley abruptly rose from his desk, slamming both hands upon it. He caught his panic and reeled it back, clearing his throat and cooing sweetly. "My dear, dear Prefect! You know me to be a kind and understanding man. Of course you may consider your request to visit RSA granted--on one condition!"

"And what's that?"

"Why, that is for me to accompany you on the trip!" He rested a hand on your shoulder. "Royal Sword Academy is at the other end of Sage's Island. It won't do to allow a student taken in under my wing to travel that far without some form of adult supervision! What's more, Ambrose is my equal in status. Surely he would take no issues with a fellow headmaster visiting on work-related business!"

You arched a brow. "Are you really chaperoning me for work-related business though?"

"I most certainly am!! Our mission is a vital one," Crowley insisted, raising his staff into the air--as if leading an army into battle. "You and I, Prefect!! We shall act as spies for our Night Raven College... and uncover the secrets to Royal Sword Academy's teamwork and camaraderie so that we may replicate their success!"

[streamat4am]

Feel free to ignore this if it’s too dark but-

Wednesday woke up to a strange mix of sensations. Her whole body ached and felt tired and sore, but she was wrapped up in warm, comfy blankets and had the fluffiest pillow in existence below her head. Her body could barely move, but strangely she didn’t want to move. Her mind was hazy and unclear, but she felt absolutely clarity on what was happening to her.

The angel was stuck inside her own mind for so long, it was all she could do at the moment, think. But for all the thinking and thinking she did, she couldn’t remember what had happened before she fell asleep.

Suddenly, a door opened and with it, bright light filled the dim room. For a moment, Wednesday believed it to be the gates of heaven opening and one of her fellow angels coming to take her away. But instead of a literal angel, it was her angel. Enid, the priest who had been so kind to her and so evil took care of her. The woman smiled gently at her and Wednesday once again was filled with such conflicting emotions. She felt safe and yet oh so terrified. Enid sensed it clearly, but didn’t speak of it. Instead, she spoke kindly, “Hi there, sweetie. How are you feeling? You had another rough tumble. My, you’re so clumsy sometimes. Don’t worry, I’ve got some stuff to help with all that pain. Plus, I’ve got some food for you, more from that new place I mentioned downtown! I know you liked it last time. Here, eat up, darling. You’re gonna need your strength for later, we need to have a serious discussion on your flighty behavior. You’re acting quite reckless, I’ve told you it’s not safe out there. You need to stay here, with me. Where you’re safe.”

i kinda posted the art already but oo, that's certainly a much happier end

Honestly, i think itd be funny as hell if Wednesday knows. Like just a tad, like she's aware that something is wrong with Enid and the fact that her wounds are too clean and too-

No no, its wrong for her to think so badly of her saviour.

Enid said she was going to keep her safe and Wednesday trusted her.

She has too.

(she's in denial)

[homeofhousechickens]

Things I like

-Most birds are active and in good spirits

-no beak mutilation

-bedding in the indoor area looks clean and cozy and good for dust batheing

-plenty of natural safe enrichment. You don't want very tall perches for battery hens they could break a bone.

-Communal roosting

-cockerels used for meat rather than culled at a day old

-use of solar for energy

-when the birdflu isn't a threat they have outdoor pastures the birds can access anytime during foraging time.

-natural daylight

Things I don't like

-birds seem dirty due to communal roosting situation, they are getting pooped on basically. Changing the layout to a almost look like stairs would probably help.

-some birds still show evidence of feather picking, obviously not as bad as American battery farms but always room for improvement. They didn't have as much evidence of this when they could go outside but unfortunately they can't right now for their own safety.

-their feed regime might contribute to the feather picking behavior and poor feather quality if they are truly only using byproducts in their feed. Wheat,soy, and corn byproducts are harder on a chickens gut microbiome than better ingredients.

Things to note-

-Leghorns are more prone to neurotic behaviors than other breeds (this can happen when you take a flighty land race and turn it into a production animal) if they had a different production breed they might see less feather picking. I think they chose pure production leghorns on purpose for sustainability reasons so can't fault them for that.

Their feathers will likely always look a bit shit. White feathers are structurally weaker than pigmented ones and that goes pretty much for all birds.

The feathers you see on the ground are just molted not from plucking of anything like that.

What do you think fellow chicken keepers?

[cosmica-galaxy]

Sorry if this has been asked before but where do all the Alliance Mimics like being scritched most? This includes Fellow and Comrade (if the latter agrees to it, naturally) along with the main Mimic Trio.

Buddy loves being scratched on his chin! (Will let friends and trusted people do this.) Pal loves being scratched just behind his frill! (He doesn't care who gives him scritches, just give him some already!) Fiend loves scratches being given right between his antennas! (Must be someone he trusts or he'll bite)

Fellow loves scritches being given to his plates or on the back of his head. (There's gonna be dirt there, so I hope you don't mind that!) Comrade will bap away any attempt to scratch him like an animal. The only way he'll allow someone to give him scratches is if he can't reach a certain spot on his back. (He's elusive and reclusive, even the human can barely touch him without him getting nervous. He's quite flighty.)

[eleanor-bradstreet]

PLEASE TELL ME ANY THOUGHTS YOU HAVE ABOUT ANTOPHIE!!!

Hello my friend!

How kind of you to indulge a dive into my dirty rare-pair ship 😅 Maybe I'm not the only one - I haven't gone poking around AO3 for this stuff to be fair. I completely understand the sacrilege of casting aside both Benedict and Kate, I love them so.

But there's just something about Anthony and Sophie...

(prepare thyself for a tome)

My head canon fascination with them honestly centers around their in-law relationship. I cannot help but believe that even after Sophie marries Benedict with the family's support, she has an intense feeling of inferiority and imposter syndrome around Anthony. He's a titled man and she has NEVER had good experiences with their kind before. She would likely believe that Anthony barely permitted her scandalous marriage to his brother and merely tolerates her - probably looking down on her, ashamed of her, aggravated by having to keep the secret of her true background from the ton, and even suspicious of her honest attachment to Benedict. Anthony may think she was a conniving seducer who latched onto his brother for money and protection rather than love. I would understand Sophie having any combination of these thoughts when she first becomes acquainted with Anthony.

But in reality, Anthony has learned through his own marriage not to judge books by their covers AND to respect his siblings' quests for love and happiness. When Anthony learns about the way Sophie was mistreated by her father, stepmother, the Cavenders, god knows what other abusive employers, he is offended and indignant on her behalf. He's a man of genuine principle and is disgusted to learn how his fellow members of the ton treated a servant, and one who turned out was half-noble and abandoned by her shameful father. Anthony would actually feel compelled to make it up to Sophie on behalf of the ton, to show her that not all of them are cruel. I believe he would most definitely be suspicious of Sophie's intentions and Benedict's flighty proclamations of love at the beginning, and probably felt the migraine coming on about having to deal with his brother's scandalous marriage outside their rank, BUT once he witnessed the genuine expressions of love between the pair, and once he realized he could lose Benedict to ostracization and even moving abroad if he did not help support the marriage and hide Sophie's background, he would be fully committed to protecting the couple. Because Benedict is his closest brother, he loves him, and by extension he will protect Benedict's wife, particularly as she proves to him time and time again that she is a kind-hearted woman with fierce morals who has more in common with him than they each realize.

I envision Anthony will keep Benedict as his closest brother and confidant throughout their lives and thus, the Fab Four of Kanthony and Benophie will have a lot of quality time together. Picture it: Anthony the beleaguered leader, Kate the sassy spitfire, Benedict the flouncing romantic and Sophie the fearless brains of the bunch. She and Anthony will both come to realize that they share a head for numbers. This is canon about Sophie in the books. Sophie will actually be better than Benedict at handling the household accounts when Kanthony need coverage, and Anthony will learn to depend on her counsel for business and paperwork. She also provides the unique perspective of having been household staff herself, which is invaluable to him to make sure he is managing everything with sensitivity and maximum benefit to all. They will also have plenty to commiserate about as they both spend a good deal of time trying to keep Benedict's artistic, romantic feet on the ground. Anthony can give Sophie tips on how to handle his brother, and Sophie can help Anthony navigate any struggles with Kate by providing a woman's perspective.

Not to diminish Kate's painful family history, but the characterizations from the books paint Anthony and Sophie as having suffered much more in their pasts than Kate and Benedict. Anthony was saddled with the weight of title and responsibility due to his birth and traumatized by the death of his father. Sophie was saddled with the weight of shame and toil due to her birth and traumatized by being abused and devalued after her father died. Both of them clawed their way past their trauma and into their happily ever afters through determination, strength of character and self-reliance. They both learned to breathe and enjoy the brighter side of life once they found their spouses. But their spouses are unlikely to empathize with them on these struggles in the way they can empathize with each other.

While Sophie double checks Anthony's calculations in the ledger and Anthony helps Sophie hide Benedict's paint supplies, they will develop a deep and loving familial bond. Seemingly an odd pair - one raised a viscount and one raised a bastard maid - they have so much more in common than they know. I also head canoned a cute shared love of Marzipan in a little fic.

In Anthony, Sophie finds the brother/father figure she never had, a kind titled gentleman who uses his power to protect her rather than scorn her. In Sophie, Anthony finds someone with a refreshingly different perspective; someone who does not hold him to the same level of expectation as the rest of the ton and who does not come to him with the emotional baggage of his blood relatives. She treats him as a person before she treats him as a viscount. He views her as a sister before he views her as a bastard. She is grateful to him for welcoming her into his family and shielding her from her past. He is grateful to her for seeing his better qualities before his flaws, and for taking such good care of his beloved brother. They look behind the pain and strife of their life circumstances to see each other as somewhat kindred souls. They learn from each other, they help each other and they love each other. This is what I dream about for them.

And yeah, as mentioned, I plunged into the depths of my angst bucket and wrote a bit of a fic where they are middle-aged and both Kate and Benedict have passed away. Sophie moves in with Anthony for mutual support and child-rearing responsibilities and after years of grieving together, their existing bedrock of love bubbles into passion and they find a second, gentler, quiet happily ever after together. The title is Some Kind of Love and I will likely never finish it. But the first chapter is written and I've thought of floating it out there as an angsty little one shot. Perhaps someday.

Hope that satisfies your curiosity 😅 told you it would be a dickens! Always happy to talk about Antophie, my beloved rare-pair. 💙

[yomiurinikei]

RYUTARO MAKI!!

okay so i think the reason why asks vanish is bc tumblr won’t load them for me past a certain #. what i get for having unanswered asks ig….

-fucking Sucks at fps games. really good at defense/strategy which he tries to play off as even better and cooler, but. he’s not winning this social battle. lmao get pwned

•^i think kiyoka once teased him and tried to offer to “show him how it’s done”… just to get her ass beat too. it’s calibrated weird!!!

•that said tho i think his soccer interest started getting Serious when his parents bought him FIFA as a preteen. as of the tragedy starting he’d been Deep into football for nearly two years

•knew the Most of Anyone he knew, about Any team. was most fascinated by players and their personal histories, ie when they started playing, etc.

•i think the maki family moved abt a year prior to the tragedy, ryutaro was doing Well socially but he didn’t have a history with any of his friends at the time

•first went ! abt mitch because he’s from a town near where the makis originally lived

•that isn’t all to ryutaros love of mitch though, he genuinely just. Likes him. he’s a Great player. i’m not getting flashbacks to 6.5 intro where we have to hear ryutaro yap. my eye is Not twitching. don’t look at me

•non despair au, has Nooo clue what he wants to do as an adult. i think he spends a while in internship/entry level Hell because he’s so flighty w where he is, what he’s doing, etc. just takes the first job he gets hired at that Works

•did you guys know there’s a difference between an allergy and an oral allergic sensitivity? it’s easier to exposure therapy away an oas…

•ryutaro had issues with a Bunch of fruits, so he exposure therapy’d himself into being able to have them. 

•it was seriously a Lot. he eats fruit salad more often than most because he’s paranoid about redeveloping his sensitivities 

•likes a Lot of different types of music, but like ->

•is So embarrassed abt some of it that half of what he listens to, he listens to via youtube dot com, on a private browser. 

•was sort of clingy to kiyoka as a kid? which she was ^^;; about because she wanted to go play with Her friends. ryutaro got teased for this a bit when he started school

•in general, tended to kinda teeter on the line between liked and disliked? was often in the Background of a friend group. kid who got invited to birthday parties unless the space was limited

•does Really bad living on his own. in canon this is because it was him and his parents post tragedy, not knowing for Sure what happened to kiyoka, for so long. 

•it was scary being somewhere by himself, he hates to admit it but he struggled a lot not being able to walk down the hall to check on his parents in the night. stayed w them for a while after they went to be closer to the foundation post 6.5

•started to live by himself after they expressed wanting to move back to their old home. didn’t want to tie them down… got his own place w/o really discussing it w them

•didn’t talk abt Any of this with Anyone, but did ask minako for help finding an apartment, and i think she talked w his parents casually, as fellow class 79 parents

•…she found a place for him in the same community as she lives in. they never discussed it, and ryutaro doesn’t even know Confidently if it was smthn intentional on her part… but it’s easily the thing she’s done for him that means the Most

•likes the dark in Theory but gets stressed easily. in general, just doesn’t like being alone? he’d like to wander around at night more but doesn’t have anyone to walk with

•tried to work out more post 6.5, both to keep up with the rest of the foundation, and because of how Stressed he was for midori during 6.5. i think he’s p good abt consistency, and his mental health doesn’t explode, but it’s just not Fun for him. not a hobby. he is proud of his progress tho

•also a big fan of dogs, but they’re less of a novelty to him than they are to midori. likes bigger breeds. 

•Geeeenuinely thought kiyokas invite to hpa was a prank. laughed @ her to himself then got stressed for a minute when it was clear she was Really “falling for it”. out of everyone in the family, he was the one who got the most light headed when they confirmed authenticity. 

[defilerwyrm]

if our favourite gay wizards were reptiles, what would they be?

this is one of the best asks I've ever gotten in the 13 years I've been here. I just got done talking snakes with my trainee at work for a solid hour so I am READY for this one

Caleb Widogast: Water monitor (wild-caught rescue)

(image source)

Caleb would be an Asian water monitor (Varanus salvator), specifically a wild-caught adult surrendered to a rescue. Water monitors are beautiful, charming, very large, and exceptionally intelligent. They like (and need) to spend large amounts of time basking, which for the purposes of this exercise is a stand-in for Caleb's navelgazing. With patience, dedication, and expert handling, they can become very docile and even affectionate, eagerly interacting with their owners.

However, wild-caught animals know the fear of life in the field where mortal danger is everywhere, food is only won by force, fresh water can be scarce, everyone has parasites, injury or illness often means a slow, horrible death, and almost no one gets to die of old age. They are flighty and bitey and slow to trust. They can be highly defensive and it takes a long time for them to learn that their keepers are not going to hurt them. Mortal fear makes any animal dangerous. An eight-foot-long, 70 lb predator with strong jaws full of sharp teeth made for ripping prey apart and long claws made for digging and climbing filled with mortal fear is extremely dangerous—not unlike a traumatized wizard.

They can be tamed, but they'll always have an edge to them. It might be easy to forget, when he's laying across your lap like a giant housecat pushing his chin into your hand for scritches, that he is still a dangerous wild animal at heart. But doesn't it make it all the more meaningful, all the more moving, when he trusts you—a fellow predator—with the soft flesh of his throat?

Essek Thelyss: Vietnamese blue beauty rat snake

(image source) (she's up for sale! wish I could afford her & had room)

Essek would be a Vietnamese blue beauty rat snake (Orthriophis taeniura callicyanous), a slender, stunningly gorgeous, and highly-sought-after animal. They too are very intelligent for reptiles. However, they're best-known for their propensity for being defensive, nervous, and secretive, and really not liking to be touched. They are accomplished climbers who spend their active hours up in the trees (much like Essek's floating trick), then retreat into caves to rest (the boltholes we tend to assume Essek's had while he's been on the run).

Untamed, they can be bite-happy and will warn you about this with a threat display. A blue beauty will absolutely hurt you as much as it can if they feel like they have to (granted, not nearly as dangerous as a level 16-20 dunamancer, but still). The important thing to remember is that a blue beauty isn't trying to hurt you because he hates you personally, he's trying to hurt you because he's scared.

But as with water monitors, if you start early, show patience, and are gentle with them, even blue beauties can learn to calm down and trust you enough to be held. Hell, if you do a good enough job at showing them that you're safe, they might even let you introduce them to new people, too.

That was fun! What do YOU think they would be?

[smokescreenimusprime]

still reading through your aus and i am in pain wtf--- that depticon spy au??? THE REVEAL IS SO. OW. BECAUSE SMOKESCREEN WOULDNT EVEN HAVE A CHANCE TO EXPLAIN HIMSELF--- like I. HEAD IN HANDS.

NYEHEHEHEHEH >:33333

that's part of the fun tbh <3

and of course the Autobots are angry. Livid if we're being honest. They feel stupid for not seeing it earlier, after all Smokescreen arrived in a Decepticon pod, he'd supposedly managed to escape a prision ship himself and survive the fall of Iacon, he'd been captured again by the Cons and escaped functionally unharmed, he was always weirdly anxious and flighty around them, and they really just feel like they're been played for fools at what seems to be obvious tells in hindsight

admittedly the humans are a bit more hesitant to believe this sudden change, especially whichever human was the one who was traded for Smokescreen. After all, Smokescreen honestly bonded more with the humans than with his "fellow" Autobots. With the Autobots there was always this lingering anxiety and fear that they would uncover his secret, a feeling he hadn't felt since his early days of undercover work

but with the humans...... there wasn't as much fear. The kids were..... well, kids. They didn't know what signs to look out for in spies, they didn't know what he should and shouldn't know about Cybertron, they trusted him completely, so this apparent betreyal....... it hurts them a lot but they're also somewhat hesiatnt to believe it

but yeah, they don't exactly have too much time to deal with all these emotions regarding Smokescreen's betreyal before all of them get a single message from the guy

Run

then they end up finding out that the Decepticon's new base is Literally Right Outside Their Door and they evacuate

(also, since all five humans were kidnapped, this also means that Fowler and June get to join the Autobots on then run :) June is either going to go with Raf (since he's the youngest) or with Ratchet, but I'm admittedly not super sure about Fowler, either Ratchet or he manages to stay behind with Optimus somehow)

now....... this of course raises the question of what happens to Optimus. After all, Smokescreen isn't there to save him, right?

Wellllllllll

what if he was :)

what if after his "return" to the Decepticons, Megatron sorta...... lets him float around. Sure he's angry about his defection, but right now he's more than aware of how much more pain giving Smokescreen some amount of freedom would give him than simply locking him up. If he's in a cell, he's being trapped, but if he's "free"....... well, then that makes it all the more easier for the guilt to eat him alive :)))

(besides there..... really isn't a whole lot a spy with a blown cover can do right now)

unfortunatly, while the guilt part of the plan does work out, it also accidentally results in Optimus's survival and Smokey stealing the Phase Shifter and Forge and giving it to the Autobots

now...... Optimus admittedly doesn't have the best memory of what happened after the base came down ontop of him. The details aren't super great on account of the whole dying thing

However, there are a handful of things he is sure of with the utmost certainty

The Matrix of Leadership wanted to pick Smokescreen had he died

Smokescreen had a chance to take the Matrix of Leadership

Smokescreen didn't

Smokescreen stole the Forge and Phase Shifter from the Decepticons

Smokescreen saved his life

and suddenly Optimus is realizing the whole puzzle surround their newest recruit has become that much more complicated