#like some with just the skull some with just leg bones some with just tail bones

[erythristicbones]

i don't need another original story universe, but like. what if i was just super self-indulgent again and wrote something literally only for me

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Common Dinosaur Mistakes

you know the "bunny hands" pose everyone does to indicate t. rex? with the hands folded down, palms facing the chest? yeah. almost no dinosaurs could do that. it would break their wrists. only one unique group evolved to do that, which doesn't include any of the Jurassic Park dinosaurs. the term for this is "pronation" and actually the vast majority of land vertebrates can't do it. mammals can. mammals are weird.

not a single dinosaur has claws on their fourth or fifth fingers. not a single one. not even if they're quadrupedal.

most dinosaurs have very stiff tails and can't wiggle them around like a lizard tail. the tails were stiff for balance.

the "tongue flick" thing that lizards do is a lizard thing. dinosaurs wouldn't have done that. they don't do that today (birds, birds don't do that)

"nonavian" dinosaurs with feathered wings had them like birds. they covered the hands. and attached to the hands. stop giving Velociraptor hands. it had wings. and very big ones, too, based on Zhenyuanlong.

dinosaurs with scales don't have lizard scales. lizard scales are a derived trait found only in lizards. they had scutes similar to those of living birds, but much smaller compared to body size, and often in crazy shapes and patterns. dinosaur scales are super weird tbh

sauropods don't have elephant feet. they handled the problem of size in a much weirder way: instead of spreading out the weight, they turned their feet into columns. like pillars. some of the biggest species didn't have any fingers, their front limbs just. end. for maximum column support.

dinosaurs were chonky. you could not see the bones like a silhouette under the skin. some might have been skinnier and some of the features of the bones would be somewhat like with skinny bird legs, but most of the time? no. so stop making the holes in their skulls visible on the outside like damn. jurassic park/world is the biggest offender for this one.

the whole unique feature of dinosaurs is having their legs DIRECTLY under their bodies. they do not sprawl. I can't believe I have to say that, but I do.

hadrosaur (duck-billed dinosaur) front feet were hooves. like, seriously, hooves. not little flippers. not three fingered hands. hooves.

I reserve the right to add more to this post as I think of things.

other people can too, but just research before you do.

[specsthesecond]

Witch Troubles #3

It's a fairly common practice among witches to form pacts with demons.

It's not necessary but it's an age old practice meant to strengthen ones connection to magic. The witch gains a stronger connection to magic and in exchange the demon gains easier access to the mortal realm.

You've debated this decision for awhile and you finally think you're ready to forge your own pact. Worst case scenario is the demon refuses your offer, which would be embarrassing but not the end of the world.

You shut the door of your room, close the black out curtains and light a few candles. Squinting at the diagram of the summoning circle in your grimoir you try to replicate it perfectly on the old wooden floorboards in white chalk. When it's done you dust off your hands and place the candles in the right places around the circle along with a good amount of enchanted salt around the circumference for your protection. You stand up and take a breath before reciting the ancient words in your book while channeling all your energy into the circle.

The flames burn higher, so hot you have to shrink back a little. It takes all your effort and concentration to keep the chant going without misspeaking or burning the house down. A giant fire now billows in the centre of the circle, something large rises from the middle. You finish the spell and the flames gradually flicker away to reveal exactly the entity you were trying to summon. The little candles around the circle are the only source of light now, barely illuminating your guest. Smoke smoulders off its skin as it rises to full height and stares right at you with it's flaming eyes.

The demon, male it seems, stands in the middle of the summoning circle as tall as your book shelf and just about as wide. True to the drawings and diagrams in your texts he stands on two thick furry goat-like legs. The soft looking tuft at the end of his long thin tail swishes against the old floorboards as they creak under his weight. The rest of his body is charcoal black but otherwise fairly human save for the large goat-like skull that is his head. Beautiful horns, much too majestic for a demon, sprout from the white bone and curl into a thick loop on either side of his skull.

In short; he's the definition of tall, dark and handsome.

Two flaming pits behind the eye holes in the skull serve as eyes, they burn red and hot like the flames of hell as he glares down at you. You assume it's a glare, it's hard to tell.

You clap your grimoir shut, unable to look away from the demon yet. He seems the same, quietly observing you.

"Good evening, I'm sure you know why I've summoned you."

You say as calmly as possible. The demon looks you up and down and hums lowly, sceptical.

He grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. You have to use all your self control not to look down at the incredibly distracting package he's carrying between his legs as it bobs with the movement. Obviously you were prepared for him to be naked, demons don't wear clothes but actually having to practice that self-control is another thing entirely.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when the demon speaks, low and gravely like you expected.

"Witches used to dance for us around fires, bathe in the blood of sacrifices, throw orgies. This is all I get for my pact proposal?"

That's not what you expected. You were expecting some doubt sure but he sounds... offended? He's complaining?

"I don't need to do any of that to show you my worth. You can already sense my magic capabilities, I can show you- ."

He growls again. When he speaks his jaw bone doesn't move, the voice sounds like it reverberates around the skull on its way out.

"Its about devotion, witch. You show me your devotion and I'll give mine in return. No one cares for presentation anymore."

Who needs presentation? Sure, devotion is important in a pact but he's being ridiculous. You look around the room for a moment before saying flatly,

"My apologies but I will not be sacrificing anything or throwing any orgies and I cannot dance."

The demon scoffs and adjusts his crossed arms, thick biceps flexing as he does.

"All witches dance. Your ancestors where very good at it."

You scoff, telling him about your magic capabilities definitely isn't going to work. Why'd you have to get a difficult demon? Why couldn't you get a normal power-hungry one?

"Are you truly that compelled by naked dancing women?"

You attempt to needle him in hopes of avoiding what you know is inevitable. He doesn't respond, just stands there expectantly.

Some demons may agree to pacts based only on the power of the witch but others don't care for power and value the devotion of the act much more. You were very much hoping for the former but you're going to have to deal with what you got.

After a few moments of staring at eachother you finally crack and bend down to make quick work of your shoes and socks. You dropped your skirt around your ankles, take a deep breath and slide your panties down your legs. You see the demon shift his weight in your peripheral but you don't look at him as you unbutton your blouse and unclip your bra. You leave your black pointy hat on your head, assuming that's part of the appeal.

You only look back at him when you're completely naked, standing Infront of him and crossing your arms over your tits, mirroring his own stance.

He seems amused at that, You can see the little flames in his skull move up and down in a way that indicates he's soaking in your nude body.

"Unfortunately, dancing naked around a fire was not passed down to me like the magic was."

"A pity."

You scowl and the demon huffs smoke through the holes in his skull, chuckling.

"You're a witch, magic exists in your very veins. Use it. Caress your body. Sway your hips. Feel the power in your body and worship it as you would a god."

He says it like it's incredibly obvious and you actually feel inclined to listen to him. You close your eyes and try to "feel the power" whatever that means. You uncross your arms and place them on your thighs, slowly moving them up your waist and back down again.

Your skin feels especially sensitive being completely bare in front of such a powerful being, who is also naked. Just the light touch of your hand makes your skin prickle as you move your fingers slowly across yourself.

You start to arch and sway, hands moving up your thighs, across your stomach, along your neck. You free yourself, offering your body to this demon. The demon growls lowly and says in a deeper tone than before,

"The point of the pact is the connection. You summoned me, This is your pact to forge so show me your devotion."

His fiery eyes follow your every move, every sway of your hips and bounce of your tits.

You carefully run your hands from your waist up to your tits, briefly feeling the soft fat before moving up your shoulders. You stretch your arms high, now putting your tits on full display for your demon guest, the attention and cool air makes your nipples harden.

You turn around, your back facing the demon and he huffs irritably at being denied the sight of your perfect tits. His grievances are smothered when you bend down and run your hands up the back of your legs all the way to your ass, gripping the fat just enough to make it jiggle for him.

You can feel the room getting hotter, you can see his cock getting harder and you can feel the wetness In-between your legs as you dance.

You give one last tantalising hip sway before slowly dropping to your knees in front of him, on the edge of the salt circle. You look up at him while sliding your hands up your thighs, from here you have a perfect view of his half hard cock, looking so thick and heavy the sight has you nearly panting like a dog.

You rest your hands behind you, now presenting your entire body to him, tits perked and pussy drooling, devilishly tempting.

"Does that satisfy."

You say gazing up at him sultry gaze flicking down to his cock, you swear you saw it twitch.

"You know exactly what would satisfy me."

His voice is deeper than before, more gutteral and it makes you squirm. You might have been embarrassed about being so open about his effect on you if it wasn't for his obvious arousal for you. You're honestly just glad this is going well so far.

You lean forward, shuffle closer to the salt barrier and stick your tongue out, mouth open and waiting, silently begging for him.

The demon's hand goes to hold his cock immediately and he steps towards the barrier holding his cock out, but before he can place the tip on your hot tongue, you pull back slightly with a sick grin on your face.

The demon tries to grab your face but you retreat further, past the salt circle and therefore out of reach. You look up at his collosal frame with a smug smirk as he growls in irritation and the candle flames flicker violently.

"Don't forget, this is a mutual pact, demon. You don't call the shots... I want to be on top."

"What makes you thin-“

"I'm on top or you can go back home."

He grumbles something unintelligible, shaking his head in disbelief. One hand goes back to his cock idly stroking the thick member as he nods his head, accepting the terms.

You stand and steel yourself before wiping away a portion of the salt line with your foot, breaking the circle. You reach out for his hand and he accepts it with the hand not stroking his dick, stepping out of the circle and into your bedroom. His hands are immediately on your skin, thick fingers running along your waist and down to your hip. His skin is so warm, like the blood running through his veins is boiling hot giving the surface skin a pleasant warmth.

He stares down at you in suspense waiting for your go ahead.

You bring your hands up his chest and around his broad shoulders, and pull him down to your height only to push him down your body until his skull face is right Infront of your pussy. You let him get a good sniff of your smell before pushing him down to the ground with your foot, standing above him looking very tryumphant.

He doesn't have much time to marvel at your figure above him because before he knows it you're sitting on his dick, pussy pressing right against his cock, he bucks on instinct, the wet warmth of your pussy against the heat of his cock makes him let out a gutteral moan.

You slowly rock your hips back and forth the length of his cock, an impressive length but one you could manage. Neither of you can stand the foreplay any longer, his hands grip your waist at the same time you finally slide his cock into your waiting cunt.

You both groan at the feeling as you pop the mushroom head into your cunt and you slide your pussy down to the hilt, feeling every vein of his hot cock against your walls. You're so slick and needy the fat cock slides in with surprisingly little resistance. That makes him chuckle, which you cut off with a deliberate thrust of your hips.

Your screams are muffled and gargled but the sound of your wet pussy slapping and squelching around his cock as you cum echos throughout the room. He growls and snarls into your mouth when he gets close, tilting his head back in absolute bliss.

You plant your feet on either side of his waist, moving all the way up back to the tip and then plunging back down again taking him as deep as he'll go. You bounce and hump on this demons fat cock, tits bouncing in tandem, pretty face in the throws of pleasure. It's a sight to see and he loves every minute of it, clutching your hips but letting you control the pace.

The fur covering his legs is soft and warm against your ass as you ride your new pact mate. Your hands rest on his strong chest as you lose yourself even more in the intense pleasure. Panting and groaning, as you approach your high, your thrusts get more frantic as if you're trying to get him even deeper into your cunt. Your eyes are locked onto the way his pretty cock disappears Into to your cunt, the fur at the hilt becoming wet with your slick.

"Ah~ cum inside, cum inside, cum inside me!"

Your frantic pleas are heard when he wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, his other hand firmly on your ass pushing into you as deep as possible. You finally cum around the throbbing cock clenching your walls deliciously, pressed into his chest. He cums seconds after you, shooting abnormally hot cum deep inside you. Your body stills as you cum down, his strong arms move you body against him in shallow thrusts as he bucks up into you, riding out his high.

You limply lie on his massive chest catching your breath as you come down, ignoring the drool you left on his pec. You realise he's eerily quiet and look up only to find he's staring at your face in a manner you think is expecant? Only then do you actually realise that his dick hasn't gone down at all. You can't help but laugh, pussy involuntarily clenching making the demon clutch your hips tighter.

"Is this all for me or is it just a demon thing?"

He huffs out camp fire smelling smoke from his skull and leans up into a seated position. The change in position makes his cock adjust and you moan softly at the feeling while grasping his large biceps.

"You've got jokes."

He looks down at you, you try to read his expression but it's really hard when his hands are massaging your hips so nicely and his cock is touching new spots inside you making your head all fuzzy. He smoothly lifts your thighs and flips you both over so that you're laying on your back and he's hovering above you.

It's such a glorious sight. This massive sexy otherworldly creature staring down at you with such lust. You can't stop yourself from pulling him in closer by the back of his neck and mumbling,

"Do demons kiss?"

The demon huffs again and opens his jaw showing his razor sharp teeth, from the darkness behind the skull comes three appendages, long and wet. Those are his tongues, and you moan a little when you realise that. He leans closer and the prehensile tongues worm their way to your mouth where you greet them, mouth ready and open. All three appendages slip into your mouth to explore and rub against your tongue, it's so messy and gross it makes you clench around his cock.

He grunts and thrusts into you, thrusting his tongues deeper into your mouth making you gag. You stick your head in his open maw, pulling him in closer by his thick horns. You take the tongues with vigor and suck on them like you would a cock. He seems to like this quite a bit as he grabs both your legs and pulls your knees up to your ears, bending you in half and presenting your dripping pussy to him. He starts thrusting his cock much deeper in your pussy than before while thrusting his tongues down your throat simultaneously.

The pleasure is so intense as he gradually speeds up, working up to a brutal pace. He fucks you into the floor, so deep, so good. It's so animalistic it makes you go feral. He tongue fucks your throat with fever, his dangerous maw wide open. Knowing that he could tear your flesh easily if he just closed his jaws around your head turns you on an unthinkable amount as you take his tongues deeper down your already full throat.

You want him deeper in your throat even as you choke and gag. You want him deeper in your pussy even as he pounds you raw and hard, reaching so deep he kisses your cervix. Your brain is mush and your thighs burn, you scratch and claw his back for some kind of grounding as you quickly reach your peak again.

He wraps his arms under your thighs and around your back to lift you up and squeeze you against his hot body. He pounds you even harder now with gravity on his side, forcing you down on his cock as he thrusts up in time.

Suddenly your body gets hot, he gets hot. His hold is like a hot vice and you struggle against it on instinct but he just holds you tighter. You almost scream when you feel a red hot flash in every artery and vein in your body. The heat is gone just as quickly as it came and you sigh in relief before looking up at him in shock when you suddenly realise what he just did.

His tongues leaves your mouth suddenly as he cums hard, groaning loudly as he fucks his seed deeper into your already soaked cunt. With your mouth free you groan like an snimal, tongue out, tears streaking down your face, spit running down your neck. You soak up the feeling of being folded in half and filled to the fucking brim by this demonic beast.

Your moans mix in the hot air between you. His cum is so thick and hot inside you, filling you up once again. You're so full you can't contain it all as it pours out of you and onto the floor. He gives a few slow, deep thrusts, milking his cock with your tight pussy as you lay limply in his hold.

You sit on the floor for a few minutes holding each other close and catching your breath. He nuzzles his head into your sweaty neck and moves your body into a more relaxed position so that he's hugging around your waist and your legs rest around his torso. You feel each other for a moment, his cock still plugging up your messy cunt. Hes quiet, like he's thinking about something. You're not sure you can even speak but if you could you don't really know what you would say.

He leans back to look at your face, you realise you probably look an absolute mess, tear streaked face with spit all over your mouth and chin. He looks into your eyes like he's looking for something specific and you look back into his two small flames. He slightly nods and then holds you close to his chest once more, enveloping you with his body.

He accepted the pact proposal.

You let out a breathless laugh and lean up to place wet kisses all over his skull head.

He growls low and irritable like a cat.

"That's not necessary."

He grumbles like he's annoyed but doesn't move away from you as you give a few more kisses along his jaw. His tail swishes idly behind him.

"Well neither was fucking me. Twice."

You tease him while reaching for your discarded hat and plopping it back on your head. You shakily stand up on wobbly legs, he holds his hands out to your hips to stabilise you. Cum drips out of your cunt and his gaze is drawn to where it oozes down your thighs.

"Not that I'm complaining."

You balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders and clear your throat, trying to seem a little put together as he stares up at you. You very casually lift your leg to rest it on his shoulder, presenting your puffy, dripping cunt to him.

"Are you the fuck and leave type or do you stay for the cleanup? "

The demon chuckles and opens his maw again, wet tongues slipping out and reaching for you, licking up your cum covered thighs and up to the source of the mess.

You're both going to make very good use of this pact.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Cryptid's Keeper | Yandere Obanai Iguro

When you were called to bring aid to an isolated village you were prepared to execute a minor cryptid that was probably picking at crops occasionally. It would make sense for a small town to consider that an emergency: it’s there supply. What you weren’t expecting was the threat to have been ravenously feasting on the residents of the town itself. The town was far too afraid to meet you at the border of their land without all of them linked to one another by each other’s hands. Elders and children, women and men, teens, and young adults alike tightly grasping at each other while they bowed in greeting.

They told of a mighty beast wrapped in pearl white scales with eyes red as the blood of it’s victims. Swallowing hordes of men armed with pitchforks and torches in one single night. The tales they told of this cryptid varied in all matter of atrocities–from swallowing the living to strangulating children to crushing those lucky enough to flee. But the stand-alone trait of ever story told to you was of the ghost eyed witch that’d walk the streets of the town. Without fail this witch would wear a thin veil that had the pattern similar to that of a zebra. They suspected their ghost eyes which they must have plucked from the peach trees themselves and an stone of jade from some treasure hidden deep in the forest. It would appear that any who crossed paths with the witch would be dead before morning on account of the beast, sometimes it’d be their whole family as well. 

The townspeople were willing to pay a hefty sum for your services, practically begging you to save them. Naturally you agreed. This was your job to hunt and trap troublesome cryptids in a world that knew nothing better. The aspect of the witch intrigued you the most. In your many travels you found that witch was just a word to label humans more in tune with their mystical side. Heck your sure if you hadn’t made a career of it you’d be labeled one yourself.

It was easy to track the beast, the clear mark of scales and muscle slithering on the ground led into the forest on an unmarked but used path. It made you wonder if they attempted to investigate at all. Trudging onward you prepared for the hassle it’d be to subdue a creature with track marks so much bigger than yourself.

It led to a cave near a river; a peaceful place for the horror that supposedly lived there. You head in, stepping over a wall of bones sticking up like spikes. Eyeing a few human skulls creating a path deeper inside. This place clearly has a human’s touch, while the decoration was dismal and dark there was clearly a sense of pride present. Navigating with the skulls it eventually led to a large opening where you found the cryptid culprits. 

Wrapped around itself was a giant white snake which reflected the minimal light given by one lone torch on the wall; giving it an orange glow. In the middle of it was a man, with long black hair a scar across his mouth and a single loin cloth draped between his legs. Feeling the heat on your cheeks, you knocked your staff on the rocky floor to alert them. You felt as though you were intruding on something private. Sure enough they startled awake both on the defense at your unexpected arrival. 

“Hello there! I’ve heard you two have been giving the town quite a few problems!”

You smile while dodging the giant snake’s strike, somersaulting over the expanse of their tail. It set you up to parry the primitive spear jutting at you from the wild man. He only responded in grunts and shouts that helped the snake coordinate attacks at you. But none of it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle; ultimately analyzing their teamwork.

“You two seem close,” you made an aerial over the snakes striking maw delivering a kick to the wild man who was charging a new weapon, “Makes me wonder why you’d bother the people in the village in the first place.”

An orange and green pair of eyes widened at that, standing a ways away while the snake hissed at you before attempting to strangle you again. This was getting more and more interesting. “So you can understand me? Then tell me why?”

The snake was getting tired and the man was getting irritated. This–by your prediction–would be ending very soon.

Once again taking the man head on you blocked with your staff as you egged him on. Despite not having the technique you did he had strength and a swiftness that rivaled the snake’s.

“All…deserved to be punished.” 

The voice that came was hoarse, like it wasn’t used often. The voice was so sudden it caught you off-guard, leaving you barely enough time to block and kick him back. The look on your face must’ve said enough.

“All of them deserve death!”

“Why? What did they do?”

He paused his attack, his pupils shaking with the answer to that question–looking down to compose himself. Sensing his distress the snake slithered from you curling around the man to comfort him. You also lowered your defenses your heart preparing for the pain he would hopefully share.

“They made me this way,” he sounded like he was fighting tears as he tightened his fists, “by trying to sacrifice me…for this they all must pay…Including You!”

He launched at you on the head of his snake, using the speed of snake and his own jumping to aim at your head. Like before you dodged this time shoving your staff into the ground. Without your staff occupying your hands you weaved underneath the snake and through it’s coils to strike at the reptile’s pressure points. The cave shook as the snake slammed limply on the ground. Rolling off to safety the wild man shouted running to cradle the snake’s snout, “Kabamaru!?” 

Hearing the light sound of sniffles you cursed yourself for going too far. Sitting down on the ground you leaned along the rocky wall opposite to the two. Pulling out a bottle of sake and two cups you brought with you, setting them down. 

“He’s not dead. Just sleeping.” he turned to look at you his eyes softening from a glare. You continued,”I figured without him egging you on you can tell me a bit more about yourself.” 

Offering a cup to him you took a sip of yours, letting out a happy sigh as the liquid tingled down your throat. Showing him that it was safe you let him down his zebra skin and come in closer to you. 

There you were able to piece lesser rumors with his own testimony. Apparently the town used to be ran by a tribe of women who idolized a giant snake in the forest. Organizing gatherings and practices to honor said snake. This tribe of women for generations had daughters to uphold it’s legacy of a matriarch loyal to this snake. Alas when they birthed a boy those in town deemed him a curse making the women decide that his death at the hands of the snake would be their blessing and atonement for his existence. Part of the ceremony included slicing his mouth wider and tying him with the carcass of the exotic creature—the zebra—in the forest to be eaten by their deity: the White Snake. Come to find that the snake was a peaceful creature that was truly infuriated at finding the poor boy in the state he was. Sheltering him, feeding him, protecting him, and one day attacking the people he identified as revenge for him. 

“I see now, why you attack them so viciously. What you went through was awful.”

You took another swig from the bottle looking at the man who was leaning on a sluggish Kaburamaru. He was watching you intently probably gauging your reactions to his story, it made you wonder when was the last time he spoke with any one properly.

It is then you yawned, standing up and stretching. Disregarding both their suspicious looks you walked to your staff, resting it on your shoulders casually as the both got into a defensive stance. You walked up that rocky path, waving over your shoulder with a smile.

“Tomorrow Iguro. I’ll bring you something sweet from the town. Until then.”

Just like that you returned to the townspeople all eager to know if you’ve slain the beast. Only for you to yawn in their faces and say your still investigating, retreating to the inn you were gifted for your stay here.

As expected violent cryptids were never just that in a world that knows no better. 

And as such it was your job to help.

Whether that was teaching the world or the cryptid themself.

In this case the cryptid and his keeper.

_____________________________________________________________

Obanai Iguro didn’t kill for no reason. 

When he walked through the town he was being gracious. An olive branch extended to an unforgiving people. All he was asking was that he be able to walk into town without injury or insult. Without fail though someone in town would either yell obscenities or attempt to attack him. 

He vowed the day he could freely walk in town would be the day no one would suffer his wrath. 

That day had never come. 

But the day someone looked in his eyes with no fear for him had come. A missionary with dyed hair and smile brighter than the sun was the first. She happened to catch him by his lonesome, asking for directions to the town. 

He cursed himself for letting his naivete consume him. 

Doing as she asked he hoped foolishly that the townspeople could learn. Take the missionary’s optimism and kindness as a symbol for peace. That when they saw the absolute vision of beauty hand in hand with a freak him they’d have a change of heart or at least touch the hearts of a few.

He was wrong.

So so wrong.

The collective gasps were a precursor to the violent screaming that followed. Rocks, fruit, eventually knives were thrown at both of them. He remembered taking the brunt of it turning the nun away from the spiteful horde. Looking down at her, even in the face of their berating she was smiling up at him. It warmed his heart. It made him willing to forgive. Until she caught sight of her convent, fellow missionaries standing silently aside, running to them with renewed vigor. She happily proclaimed that she’d found her mission aiming to help bridge the gap between the misunderstood and the collective. She recited different teachings looking pridefully as she waited for their response. Dropping her smile when they finally spoke.

“You’ve transgressed for the last time, Mitsuri. We had such high hopes.”

They pulled at her hair, they stripped her of her robes before encouraging the town to bring all their aggressions to her. Claiming it was a just punishment for the young and unruly nun who continued to fail with every task they gave her. 

He doubted he could’ve waited for Kaburamaru if he tried. Using his bare fists to pummel anyone who’s hand was raised to attack Mitsuri. Fighting them as best as he could but he was only one man. 

Strong but not strong enough.

By the time Kaburamaru arrived and had begun to swallow majority of the fleeing mob, it was already too late. Poor Mitsuri. The sun in Iguro’s night had set, giving him one last smile and an indirect kiss on the scar across his face. 

It broke his heart further. 

Shuffling his already broken heart, he took it’s shards and made a wall. A thorny wall that took his graciousness and shrivelled it to nothing. Now transgressions he would have chosen mercy for invoked his wrath all the same. Calling on Kaburamaru to help quell his fury. 

Once again returning to his precious solitude with Kaburamaru by his side. 

But fate would refuse this again sending a monster catcher to disrupt his peace. Agile, sly, and a powerful fighter the monster catcher was like no one he’d met before. Iguro did have a few encounters with unexplainable creatures and violent entities but none were like them. Never had he and Kaburamaru been brought to their knees (coils?) by  a single person, all who casually invites him to chat over a drink. 

“Come come its a creation of my own. This game is going to get us drunk so fast!”

Mitsuri was casual too but the interaction was surface. It was their first and last time meeting after all. The monster hunter spoke much more often, returning with another alcoholic beverage and cups to share while talking about nothing in paticular. Once again that estranged normalcy was creeping up again and Iguro refused to fall for it again.

“Oh wow that came out of nowhere, Iguro. Now let’s get back to drinking shall we?”

Holding the tip of his spear between two fingers the monster hunter continued to smile at him. Thwarting his attempts to chase them away or at least save himself the pain he was bound to feel. Even Kaburamaru wasn’t attempting to fight anymore, only watching when Iguro attempted to attack. 

He hated how little it offended them. And how much it hurt him. Already he was feeling the same warmth he felt back then. When he wasn’t trying to attack, the smile they shared was like the moon. Reflecting the light given to him so long ago. But he feared he’d lose it again. Like Mitsuri they were far too kind when regarding the people in town.

“At least the kids don’t know any better. Leave them out of it, okay Iguro?”

The night-terrors would start again picturing his hunter bloodied and defeated at the feet of an angry crowd. Hand-in-hand with Mitsuri as they both smiled up at him with incomplete smiles.

“You’ll forgive them, right?”

“For us you’ll be kind, right?”

He was tired of seeing that image again. The one where the only lights in his world were doused by the same people that bred hatred with every generation. It didn’t matter that the hunter was strong, that the hunter planned to leave. Iguro needed to keep them by his side, away from the darkness that had always engulfed his life. 

“I refuse to let them have you.”

To block out the new sun he needed the warmth of. It didn’t matter that the sun may burn or their anger would be his–they’d be safe. That was all that mattered at this point.

“The rest don’t deserve to feel your warmth.”

__________________________________________________________

You didn’t expect such an adverse reaction. Your plan to finally leave the duo with a warning and spend your time changing the town was going to be shot. You wanted to spin whatever narrative you needed to, to fix the town for good. Give them a healthier outlook and some mock defense against other cryptids would do the trick. But iguro didn’t seem to like that. More seriously neither did Kaburamru, hissing at you as he curled into himself.

“Look Iguro if you’d prefer you can come with me! Leave this town behind and find a place worthy of you both!”

“Not before I end it. They’d never let me have you if they can help it!”

He instructed Kaburamaru to slam his tail near you making you dodge further away from the exit. Already sensing where he was going with this, you stood your ground.

“Iguro. Stop this.”

Kaburamaru was curling around itself blocking the entirety of the single exit, with Iguro standing on his head. He was wielding his spear pointing it at you with a twisted smile. 

“I know we’re no match for you on our own. But you’re so eager to protect those rotten meatbags even you’d have trouble fending me off.”

“Iguro!”

He seemed to laugh to himself as he ducked down low, sliding on the snake’s back as the reptile slid through the exit en route to the town.

“By the time you arrive (Y/n) you’ll find we’ll be on the same level or they’ll all be dead. Either way I can’t wait to see how brightly you’ll burn!”

You immediately followed their trail falling behind; you were amazed at the speed they made darting through the forest. He planned to defeat you, by taking advantage of your divided attention. Running with nothing but the forest around you, you had to applaud him. 

“I’ve got to give it to him he’s greedier than any cryptids I’ve met. The world’s definitely going to learn about him if they survive him first.”

[cyberwhumper]

Imran had already known, going in, that the conditions of the breeding facility where he now found himself standing would be less than ideal when compared to his old employer. He knew the smaller budget would reflect on the conditions the animals were kept, how the entire process was executed, and what the odds of the transaction working out were. Yet he is still shocked when the cages are small, cramped, filthy. His heart aches for each and every single one of the biopets kept within, but he knows he realistically can't possibly save them all.

Just one. Just the one. That would be enough.

With every step further into the facility, the mental image of Horus degrades in his mind. Guilt gnaws at the forefront of his conscience, and it comes crashing down heavily once he sees with his own eyes what had become of the once powerful animal he had met all those years ago.

Tied to the center of the tiny room, the creature barely had any slack to move. Its body is covered in a litany of sores and bruises, and the emaciated skin clings to bone like a tight-fitting suit. As soon as its gaze meets the handler's, a shrill noise leaves its mouth. Terror, it seems, was all that remained. The knot in Imran's stomach feels so tight it's nauseating.

He hopes to appease the animal despite the handler's amused comments over the pointlessness of the effort. Horus doesn't look at him. Doesn't even seem to recognize him. It pulls away from Imran as best as it can, tail pinned between its exhausted legs, tears streaming down its face, body shaking so hard it makes the chains holding it in place clink. Talking to it has no effect. Even touching it, an act that would have always promptly elicited a bite response, does nothing.

Imran barely remembers the rest of the transaction.

At some point money had exchanged hands, the biopet was sedated, and he now found himself clutching the battered creature tight to his body as if it could possibly flee. The walk back to his vehicle feels shameful.

What have I done? No. I couldn't possibly have known this would happen. But it only happened because of me, didn't it?

The device on the back of its skull has been removed. Vandermeer leaves no loose ends. Imran doesn't want to think of what the withdrawals must have been like for the animal to go through. Death would have been a kinder choice than this.

The disgraced doctor swallows his guilt, and gently lays the biopet on the backseat. The drive would be long, but the worst, he hoped, was already over.

I'm so sorry, Horus. I promise I'll take care of you this time.

[OC INDEX]

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @lambofmine // @maracujatangerine // @pinkraindropsfell // @writereleaserepeat // @blood-and-regrets // @littlespacecastle // @snakebites-and-ink // @unforgiven235 // @lonesome--hunter // @atomicsandwichprince // @writereleaserepeat // @whatamidoingherehelpme // @skittles-the-whumpee // @the-blind-one-speaks // @i-eat-worlds // @devourerofcheesecake // @theauthorintraining // @otterfrost // @mommymarichatfurever // @whumpifi // @catnykit // @bitchaknso // @softmutt444 // @yet-another-heathen //

If you’re interested in being added to the tag list, please let me know!

[yandere-sins]

Im loving this naga stuff sm omg and it’s got me thinking.

What if they were to leave reader for a few minutes, only for someone to find them and maybe try and take them back? Or them just talking to the reader in general

Had an idea for a scenario with Ghost! Thanks for requesting ^-^

Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Attempted Non-Con), Violence (Death of minor character, Brutal Death), Monsters

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Thank-- Thanks!"

You barely had the breath to utter a word, but neither did your savior, coughing and panting in front of you. If it hadn't been for the fact that you two were racing through the forest mindlessly, "escaping" being the drive to keep you running, you might have expressed your thankfulness a little more. This had to do for now. Even though you two still weren't in the comfort of a town with big, sturdy walls and guards with weapons, you had gotten quite far in your mad dash through the thicket, every inch away from the hell that was the lair you had been kidnapped to, feeling like you were finally free.

"Thank you so much!" you croaked, your voice hoarse and your mouth dry despite sweating profusely. "You can't imagine," you added, swallowing hard as your throat stung. "That monster in the woods... that... snake... it captured me and held me there for some reason. I wouldn't have been able to escape without you!"

The man—a hunter or soldier, you reckoned, considering he knew the forest so well—waved his hand dismissively, stretching out his back and taking deep breaths, collecting himself. 

"Please, anyone would help when they found someone in such a dire situation as you were," he comforted you. You tried to smile through the pain aching through your whole body, the impromptu workout rattling every bone after weeks of being carried around and doing nothing.

Steadily, the man was regaining his composure, so you tried your best to keep up, not wanting to look lousy in front of your savior. He looked around, scanning the area, before pointing his finger somewhere further south and turning towards you. "There's a hut just a few minutes from here. It's getting dark, and we should stay out of sight in case we're being followed. What do you say?"

Gulping, you wished his suggestion had been more like, "The city is just a few more steps from here. Let's take shelter behind a safe stone wall full of guards and trained soldiers to protect you." Then again, you wouldn't be as ungrateful to his efforts as to suggest you two kept going until you could truly settle into the safety and protection of civilization. You didn't want to stay one more night out in the forest, but a hut sounded better than to be found wandering out and about in his habitat.

There was a lot to unpack, and you weren't sure if you'd ever get over what happened to you. Still, when your savior closed the wooden door, drew the curtains over the windows, and handed you a blanket to bundle up, you felt like the first step towards healing had been made. A fire might have given away your presence, so you wrapped the blanket tightly around you. However, it was barely enough to cover everything, your legs sticking out if you didn't pull them against your chest.

It wasn't comfy or warm, but it was the first time you truly realized you made it out. Things had been rough living with that thing. People would call your stories crazy if you talked about a strong half-man, half-snake, feeding you raw meat and occasionally fruits while keeping you coiled in his tail. They'd think you'd gone mad if you told them about the white, skull-like marks on his body and face or how he'd bury his face in the crook of your neck, jittering happily. The worst part was that he couldn't speak to you, even though you thought he tried a few times, but there were no words spoken between you two ever. You couldn't explain his intentions or thoughts to anyone, not even yourself.

For a while, you two sat in silence, breaths calming down. The man handed you some dried meat and his water flask, sharing what little he had, and you gobbled it up with your gratitude, thanking him again and again. You could feel him watching you, even through the darkness inside the hut, but you thought nothing of it. He must have been concerned for this stranger he found in a ditch, hidden away, crying and begging for help when he passed by accidentally and took them on a run through the thicket. All while they kept whining about some monster kidnapping them. It sounded crazed and suspicious even to you, but you were glad he listened to his heart and helped you despite the wild story behind your misery.

"Thank you so much," you mumbled again, unable to stop thanking him. Tears welled up in your eyes as the realization of your escape settled further, something you had started to fear wouldn't ever be possible after so many days spent with the monster. You sobbed quietly as the relief washed over you in big waves, wishing you could stop and not look so pathetic in front of a stranger. However, he put his arm around your shoulder, drawing you into his chest, and you could no longer hold back your ugly crying.

It felt good to be held again in a warm embrace, hands patting your head, your back. It was different from the claws and scales, the sensations only ever bringing you terror. Instead, you were comforted by the humanness of the kind stranger, so much better than what you had come to know from the monster. Palms rubbed soothing circles between your shoulder blades, and arms that were strong but not as firm as your captors hugged you tenderly. His touch warmed all of your back, fingers slowly dipping lower, massaging the soreness in your muscles until they ended up above your ass, making you jolt.

"Sorry," you apologized, wiping your eyes as you tried to slide away, thinking it was a mistake where his hand landed. However, the arm around your shoulder didn't budge as you tried to slip out, his other hand creeping up your leg instead, brushing aside the blanket.

"I don't mind," the stranger muttered, leaning forward. His nose brushed against your hair, and you heard him taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent that you didn't even want to know what it smelled like. Immediately, goosebumps erupted all over you, your body tensing under his touch as you turned stiff as a board.

"How about you thank me some other way since we'll be stuck here together all night? Let's take some of that tension off you, shall we?"

You could hear the disgusting grin on the man's lips and knew exactly what he was suggesting. Your eyes darted to the door, knowing where it was even in the darkness. Only a small bolt locked it from the inside, and as the stranger's hand crept higher on your thigh, fingers pressing and massaging the flesh, you were planning your way out frantically. The sound of him letting out a long, satisfied sigh was enough to finally put your plans into action while you were filled with disgust.

"Please stop!" you pleaded, pressing your hands to his chest. Still hoping to find reason within him. You cursed the monster for actively encouraging you to do as good as nothing while it had captured you, all your muscles seemingly evaporated as you couldn't even push him an inch away from you.

"Come on, don't I deserve a reward?"

"No! Not like this, please! I don't want that!"

"Don't be like that now! I helped you, didn't I?"

Panic made your blood pound in your mind, pumping you full of adrenaline that you thought had all been emptied out while you ran from your captor. You hadn't realized the man's thoughts, disgusting, vile, and opportunistic, no different from the monster you were with before. But if you had to choose, you chose neither.

Luck was in your favor, and as the man tried to topple you over, the barely helpful blanket gave you a chance to slide out from under him, your nails scratching over the floor as you got to your feet, dashing towards the door. He tried to get up after you, though he wasn't as quick and found less hold on the ground, so you had time to find and unbolt the lock with shaky hands; your breath uneven as you tore open the door and ran into the dark night.

The small clearing before the hut was eerily quiet, but with your blood rushing in your ears, you didn't notice the absence of sounds. Unfortunately, that was also where you ran out of luck, your foot getting stuck on a root, tripping you over badly.

"Come back here, you idiot!" the stranger whisper-yelled after you. On one hand, he had a point: neither of you should be out at this hour, causing a ruckus. But you were way past reason as you knew that going back there would mean he'd do something to you, one way or another. You had escaped one monster, but your fellow human was no better than one. Different, yet just as harmful.

"It was just a joke! Come back here right now! You're getting us--"

His voice was cut off, and you didn't hear his steps behind you anymore, confusion forcing you to look back over your shoulder as you stumbled to your feet. Clouds seemed to break open at the exact moment that you looked at him, letting the moonlight through as you found your footing in a daze, furrowing your brows as you noticed the stranger not staring at you.

His mouth hung open, head tilted back, his eyes wide and filled with unimaginable terror. You were appalled yet intrigued by what he saw when your body crashed into a wall, the unmistakable feeling of scales rubbing over your skin. There was nowhere to run as the elongated body you knew too well started to wrap and tighten around you, a large hand sinking to your back, its palm covering it protectively, keeping you pressed against the monster you initially ran from, his black scales enveloping you in darkness.

"It's- It's real," the man mumbled, his voice turning into yelling as he continued in a ramble, "It's real! It's actually real!"

All you could do was shiver as you heard the man laugh manically behind you. As if he hadn't believed you until he saw the monster you had described. You didn't know what was better: running away alone, staying with the beast, or being with the stranger. Every one of these options made your gut churn. How did he even find you? How could he catch up so quickly despite you two running all day? When you ran out of the hut, you hadn't even seen a shadow, much less a body, so where had the monster come from? 

The creature leaned down, his humanoid upper body hovering over you, palm pressing you against him a little more. And in what you could only describe as monstrous comfort, you felt a rumble go through him, soft and even, his thumb brushing over your back. It was different from the comforting touch of the stranger, but no less ill-willed and a lure into more danger. Even when the monster tried to seem less like the bad guy, you knew it was far from the truth. The trust he attempted to pull out from your subconscious as he protected you, was misplaced and unwarranted. His hands were cold, his body abnormally. Like a ghost, sending shivers down your spine and spooking you to your very core. 

Behind its purr and comfort, he was still a monster.

You gasped and flinched—hard—when you heard his tail slam into the ground, the maniacal laughter dying instantly and being replaced by the cracking of bones and splashing of flesh. You didn't dare to look back, couldn't stomach a glance at the dead body smashed into pulp behind you.

Even when the monster picked you up, your arms wrapping around his thick neck instinctively as you had so many times before, your mind ordered you to be compliant, but you couldn't stop shivering. You didn't want to submit to the monster, nor did you want to end up smashed and dead as well. Just like before, you cried into the shoulder of your savior pitifully as he carried you back into the dark forest, clawing onto you and not giving you the same lucky chance to slide out of his grasp.

He carried you for a long time at a leisure place, ducking under branches and brushing away thorny bushes, and only then did you realize how far you had come—how close you were to escaping the creature. The despair tore your sanity into pieces. He had no hurry while carrying you back, but when he sunk underground, the moonlight fading from your sight, you knew it was hopeless.

The monster laid you down into soft furs, the darkness surrounding you a familiar threat, forcing you to experience every touch and every sound much more intense than before. It had never spoken to you in all the time you two were together, but it didn't let you forget it was there. His face rubbed against yours, tongue lapping at the pulse in your throat, and he purred and hummed, his tail coiling around your leg, scales scrapping over your skin.

He rested his face against your throat, taking a deep, audible breath, and you thought back to the man who had tried to save you, doing the same. Monsters, you thought. Monsters, all of them.

"M-- Mhm--" you suddenly heard, feeling the vibration in the creature's chest, and you held your breath, the sound almost familiar, like a voice.

"Mat-- Ma-tsss--" Slowly, the pronunciation got clearer, strained and uncanny as it was, followed by a hissing sound. You couldn't help the goosebumps on your skin, the scales tightening around you as they felt the change, imprisoning your limbs while the monster kept trying to speak in an unfamiliar tongue.

You saw the glint of his eyes hovering above you, something dripping down onto your cheek. You had no way of knowing what it was, but by the sounds of straining, you guessed it was drool as the monster tensed and flexed his jaw for more mobility. You could only stare in wonder and fear alike.

"Wha-- What?" you uttered, confused and agitated by the whole situation, frightened and unsure what to make of it.

"Mi-- Mine," it finally stammered out, and time seemed to halt as you stared, bewildered. It had never said a coherent word to you, much less did you think it understood your talking. But as the darkness and silence carried one, he repeated it, and you felt like, finally, everything was beginning to make sense.

"Mate. Mine."

[gofishygo]

WEEK THREE [PRIDE MONTH SERIES], SLIP THROUGH YOUR TEETH VALERIA GARZA X FEMALE! READER- UNFINISHED

(i will finish this when i am like. feeling bonita idfk when i wrote this i wanted to make it like fluff and nice but it ended up being straight fuckin TOXIC YURI IM SO SO SORRY i promise i dont antagonise lesbians shes just yk.... lowkey a cartel leader... so....)

notes: valeria lowkey toxic as fuck, violence, obsessiveness, kidnapping, manipulation, yeah shes not very nice.....

Alejandro, especially, tells you not to remember anymore- lose track of the dates that weathered in the coast of time, slip the face and crime of the las almas cartel in between the cracks of walls, let it slip through wooden panels. Because forgetting was easier for you now; it was his job, as Mexican special forces, to face those slivers of crime in it’s snake-like and behemoth form, growing mold and cobweb in forgotten corners and crevices, forming sharp sea glass from sandstone and tide, filthy and sneaky and

wiry.

Valeria thinks you are wiry. It frustrates her, boils blood in the heart she’d scraped out on those mountains when she put on the mask of el sin nombre. How you look at her with no form of recognition, eyes blank, a deer in headlights. What had happened to the shine of your eyes when you’d see her? How you’d hug her in a heartbeat with clammy hands and thin layer of sweat over your skin? She misses the feelings of her childhood, tucked away in whatever nook or cranny she could spare in her mind; one where she’d sit with your hand in hers, try catch fireflies with plastic nets and takeaway containers, where you’d sit in the orchads with her, orange juice running down your chins and juicy flesh stuck between your teeth. A time where you we both were younger, fatter, happier- living- a commodity scarce in what remained of the city she’d known.

But after a while, prey tends to be found in barbed fences, writhing, ensnared by metal teeth, flailing in it’s mental bounds. And that is how you appear now- eyes glazed over in some rabid state, wrists tangled in the ropes, red and tender, nearly bleeding at the friction. Your teeth are bared. (it’s a lovely glimpse into the rest of your skull, the shine of those spit-covered ivory bones. More majestic than those tusks of long-extinct animals, woolly mammoths, sabretooth tigers.) but she slips those thoughts into the back of her mind, buries them with nerve bundles and tangles of neurons. She cannot have those thoughts, not with you. Instead, she forces pity to boil in her chest for her beloved corazon behind that window, scared, alone. It doesn’t slip out- she’d learned how to trap her emotions, meld and twist them over years of military service, but between viper-glint of her eye, some bastard-child of pity smoulders silently, cries for you underneath those glassy layers. You are almost dog-like now, vicious threats coming out as barks at the back of your throat. And she wants to calm you, tame you, put a muzzle on those jaws and scritch the scruff of your neck like she’d used to.

It had taken a while to wrangle you down though

But now, you are finally here, and you are crying, her thumb on your lip, sour stone of spit solid and stinging the back of your throat. “awh, mi corazon..” she tuts, using disappointment to feign something more sinister. “Always been such a good girl, hm? listening to every beck and call. Ran away from the woman you loved with a tail between your legs just because Alejandro commanded you to.” And you have to bite back a whine when she grips your cheek, nails faintly digging into delicate skin. “So, what’s the problem with another order, estimada? You know I would do just as much as that puta did for you, more maybe.” Valeria’s breath sends chills down the veins of your neck, ghosts the shell of your ear. her touch- you don’t want to think it’s love, you swear it isn’t love, but feels like home. You see it, for a moment, cinder walls and timber flooring. “And all I need is just a name.”

And despite how you’d told yourself you hated her, tried to erase her name from your head, way she grips your face feels warmer than any embrace you’d had. “So give me a name, sweetheart.”

[adobe-outdesign]

Have we gotten a houndoom line review yet?

I love how GameFreak's response to Pokemon's Satanic Panic problem was to make a hellhound the next Gen. And not just a hellhound, but a really good hellhound! I like that they went a more subtle route with Houndour than the Cerberus option by basically taking a Doberman and adding hellish motifs to it—black with fire-orange accents and white bones all over its body. Also nice are the shackles, which are likely a nod to how Cerberus is sometimes said to be chained.

Houndoom is even better, and does everything an evo needs to by expanding greatly on the original. Now a full-grown Doberman instead of a puppy, Houndoom has gained a pair of ribcage horns on its head, moved the skull to its chest, added an extra layer of shackles, and added a classic pointed devil tail. These all build upon the base design and themes wonderfully, and both stages are very distinct.

My only (very minor) nitpicks with Houndoom are that the skull on its chest could've been more skull-shaped as it looks more like an alien head, and the head is a weird shape. I hear a lot of complaints that it has no ears, but it has no ears because it has horns and there was no room for both on the original teeny tiny sprite. However, the Diglett-shaped head isn't quite anatomically accurate, making it look a little strange once you separate the horns from it.

(Also, side note: judging by the sprite above the chest skull and ribs were supposed to be a collar, which is a really neat idea that I kind of wish they kept. No big deal either way though, it still looks good regardless.)

I hear a lot of people say they wish [X] mega was an evolution, and like 90% of the time I disagree with them. Megas are generally handled differently than actual evos—evos often make drastic changes to the body shape and progress the Pokemon's theme in a notable way, while megas typically stick close to the original design and just add Stuff(TM). There is some overlap, of course, but generally speaking a good mega won't necessarily work as an evo and vice versa.

All of that is to say that mega Houndoom is one of the only megas where it could (and should) have been an evo. Every theme is expanded upon, the body shape has advanced pretty drastically, and there are about as many changes between it and Houndoom as there are between Houndoom and Houndour. It doesn't technically matter one way or the other, but megas are a rarely-appearing gimmick whereas evos are permanent, and this is a great design that should be used more often.

Anyway, this design is pretty perfect. It has a more muscular body than Houndoom with greatly improved head anatomy and longer legs (especially evident when you see all three lined up next to each other). The bone elements go from the small skull on Houndoom's chest to a giant wrap-around skull with tusks, as well as bigger horns and more ribcage bones. The shackles on its legs have also been broken, which is a great detail, and it's added a pitchfork motif in both the tail shape and the face markings.

My only minor nitpicks with this design are that the red claws feel a little distracting; keeping them orange might've balanced the colors better. Also, the orange on the chest should've gone under the bottom of the skull, as it creates a bit of a tension point as-is. Otherwise, this is pretty perfect all around.

Overall, a great line. There's a clear theme, each stage progresses in a logical and obvious way, and the designs are well-balanced. 10/10 would go to Hell again

[minotaurs-my-beloved]

Wendigos

In reference to this (@0mystic I did ittt)

TW: References to cannibalism, noncon

Body shaking, teeth chattering, your arms are wrapped around yourself trying your best to warm up. It's getting hard to keep your eyes open, face stinging with cold, feet completely numb.

You need to keep going.

You're starving, a deep gnawing hunger in the pit of your stomach. And as terrible as it sounds, at this point, every time you look over at your friend thoughts of eating them pop into your mind, if only for a moment. Just a little bite wouldn't be too bad, right?

You both had gotten lost, it was meant to be a fun trip in the mountains, but a massive unexpected snow storm quickly turned a fun outing into a harsh fight for survival. Everything in your way was trying it's best to kill you.

Nature isn't kind, and you're learning that first hand.

Human bodies are not meant for this, the temperatures are far below freezing and the big coat does nothing to save you from the biting winds. There isn't a chance in the world you won't be at least hypothermic by the time you get back.

If you even get back.

That's when you see it.

Its tall hulking figure standing amidst the trees, jagged antlers jutting out from its wolf skull the long canines coming out just past the end of the jaw, its ribcage protruding grotesquely from its gaunt body, tail of bones sliding behind it, furry goat legs transitioning into hooves.

You stop and stare, fear searing through your veins, blood beginning to pump again as your fight or flight triggers. You look to your side, wanting to ask your friend if they see it too, hoping you're just hallucinating, but they're gone. You blink hard, breathing faster you turn your head back to the creature.

It's looking at you.

It's looking at you with its uncanny, empty eye sockets, tilting its skull as though taunting you, its short fur blowing forward in the wind. You know what it is. You had heard the stories of what happens to those who fall into extreme greed, not just greed but a cannibalistic hunger.

It is a monster. Both inside and out it is a monster. But who are you to judge?

You understand.

Used to, committing such depravity would have been an unfathomable thought. But now, it makes sense. Yet, as much as you understand, you do not want to become its next meal. It's not as though your body would be helping it anyways, cursed with an insatiable, painful, hunger. You can see it in its features, bones nearly apparent under its thin skin.

You want to run, but your body is weak, the extreme environment you've been in taking its toll just when you need your energy the most. You can do nothing but watch as it starts staggering its way towards you, never once breaking eye contact. You can see the gluttony in its piercing nonexistent eyes, as that is now all this creature has become. It comes to a halt before you, slowly lowering its head and tilting it again. You breath becomes rapid, the only movement you can make being the erratic pumping of your chest and the continued shakes from the snow.

It inspects you while your mind races, wondering why it hasn't eaten you yet. Instead, in one quick movement it grabs your leg and starts dragging you, kicking does nothing to stop it, claws digging into your calf from your squirming. You pass out at some point, your body completely giving up on trying to keep you aware even with the danger you face.

Waking up in a dark cave, finally getting a reprieve from the biting wind, you see it standing above you, still staring. Ripping open the crotch of your pants, it cares nothing about your comfort nor protest, greedy, greedy, claws needing to feel you. Leaving marks all over your body, ruining it with its dagger-like nails, long tongue spilling out of its mouth to lick up and down your tits. Ramming its cock inside you with no prep because this isn't about you.

This is all for it.

It is desperate to fill the void that has eternally made itself home inside the creature.

Yet no matter what, nothing will work. It knows this, but refuses to accept it, slamming harder and deeper into you. Your body is stiff, weakly trying to push it off, as it picks up the pace with each thrust. Unable to stop yourself from feeling the never ending hunger it does, lust overcoming your mind as it ravages your body.

The hunger is overtaking your body, if only you could take a bite of the creature. But it doesn't have enough skin on its bones, and soon, you won't either.

You two are one in the same.

You too will succumb to the same fate.

This monster is a glimpse into your future.

[briebo-is-a-dragon]

welp. a tumblr post made me absolutely feral and so i kind of wrote a 2800 word microfic in like 3.5 hours, have this utterly unedited short little thing about a therian dragon rider and her dragon LMAO

Every step towards the stables eased the weight on her heart, allowed her to breathe just that little bit easier. Concern radiated across the bond as she approached, but no words were exchanged. They both knew she’d be there soon enough.

Her keys clinking together were almost deafeningly loud in the otherwise silent hallway, sending her heart racing as she carefully and slowly unlocked the gate. This late at night, there was nobody needed to guard the entrance to the stables – after all, who would be stupid enough to try and break into a building filled with sleeping dragons?

There was a spike of amusement over the bond at that thought, and a smile involuntarily tugged at the corners of her mouth as she slipped inside, locking the gate behind her.

It wasn’t long after she approached the familiar archway, a curtain of beads drawn across it. It was quite massive, as was necessary for a creature of her mounts size, the top of it some four or five times taller than her arms could reach.

She thought she could hold out for longer, hoped that she could at least put on a good face despite the turmoil that the dragon would so obviously be able to feel over their bond, she didn’t want to cause worry.

As she pushed through the beads, parting them with a hand she could not bear to look at, she called out.

“Fa-hir—” Her voice immediately cracked, hitching on just stating her companions name.

The beast was a blur, yanking her off her feet and into an embrace before she could even so much as breathe.

“Oh little hatchling,” the dragon rumbled, “What is hurting you?”

Fahir was warm, and so so much larger than her. From her vantage point, in the creatures arms and on her side, she could only truly see its silver underbelly. In moments, however, its golden snout was pressing into her hair, gently nuzzling her in a way that made the tension melt from her body.

She buried her face into the dragons chest, skin against scales, as she allowed herself to indulge in the bond. Her view of what constituted her became fuzzy, indistinct, blurring and mixing with that of her companions. If she closed her eyes she could almost… she could feel the scales on her skin, the wings shifting nervously, the tail gently wrapping around the soft little things leg in her arms—

“Amara.”

Amara opened her eyes, her vision still taken up entirely by the underside of the dragon holding her. Despite all her swirling negative feelings, she couldn’t help but smile at hearing that name.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, only to be cut off by a snort from above her. The scent of raw beef and smoke tickled her nostrils as the breath washed over her.

“Do not thank me for using your name, little thing, I won’t allow it.”

Nobody else knew to call her by that name, nor to even think of her as ‘she’, but Amara knew that the performative ease with which the dragon presented her acceptance was, in of itself, part of the intended affirmation.

Another gentle nuzzling brought her out of her own thoughts.

“Speak, little thing. Why run all the way here so quickly, and in so much pain?”

Amara could simultaneously hear and feel the dragons words, being as close to her chest as she was. The vibrations of her speech resonated in her bones, causing her brain to rattle around pleasantly in her skull.

It did little to help her answer the question, however.

Her mouth flapped open and closed as she attempted to find how to describe the ache in her soul, to attempt to put words to the vague feelings that haunted her evenings and tore at her heart. It was only when she looked up, into her companions eyes, that she finally began to speak.

“I just- I- Being so far from you, from the bond, having it be so weak—”

Amara caught herself, taking a breath as her eyes drifted downwards and away from Fahir’s snout.

“It reminded me of all the ways in which I’m not like you, and- that… hurt.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt concern swell over the bond, curling up within the dragon’s embrace. Fahir’s voice was a sad growl that Amara felt in her chest, the dragons snout ever so gently pressed into the back of her neck.

“Oh, dear hatchling, I am so sorry.”

The tightness of the dragons arms was slowly replaced by her tail. It advanced from Amara’s ankles, coiling around her in an affectionate, possessive embrace.

“It’s nothing you need to apologize for,” Amara mumbled into Fahir’s scales, “It’s just- well- inevitable when I’m like this. Just because I want to be like you, doesn’t mean that reality can’t have sharp teeth when it reminds me of what I actually am.”

Fahir’s warning growl sent goosebumps prickling over her spine as the dragon tightened her grip around her rider.

“Amara. What have I told you about saying such things about yourself?”

She squirmed uselessly within the dragons coiled tail, letting out a noise of protest before quickly giving up. She’d had this sort of confrontation many times before, she knew she couldn’t escape unless the dragon let her.

… Amara hoped the feelings associated with that thought weren’t too transparent over the bond.

“You told me not to, Fahir, as you wouldn’t accept me being in denial, but—”

“No. No buts, or ifs, or interruptions. I won’t have them. I know what you are, little thing, and I won’t hear otherwise. Especially not from you.”

Amara couldn’t help but feel her exasperation rise as she shot back at the beast.

“But look at me!” She managed to wrench an arm free from Fahir’s grip, and waved it in front of her snout, “How does this at all resemble a dragon? How does any of me? I don’t have scales, nor claws, nor wings- I’m just human, Fahir, as much a-as that might- h-hurt – It’s the truth. It’s just…”

She trailed off as a massive claw was pressed to her lips, stopping her outburst in its tracks long enough for her to realize she had tears in her eyes. Again.

“Did you come to me tonight with the express purpose of harming yourself, Amara?”

The dragons tone was dangerous, a low no-nonsense growl that made her head spin and her hair stand on end. The claw wasn’t removed from her lips, and so she was made to speak around it.

“N-no, I- um, I apologize, Fahir,”

“Hush. You need not apologize to me – I was not the target of those statements.”

The claw migrated to beneath Amara’s chin, and tilted her head up until she was looking down the dragons snout and into her vivid blue eyes.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you, hatchling?”

What poured over the bond was almost oppressive – utter confidence in her words, a demand for her attention, a piercing request for her honesty… Amara wasn’t certain that if she opened her mouth she’d be able to form actual words.

Instead, she gently nodded her head – Fahir had told her before, even if she hadn’t been able to believe it. The dragon’s eyes narrowed.

“Well, I am going to tell you again.”

A second claw joined the first, this time softly tracing her cheek. A hint of adoration zapped Amara over the bond, of utter possessive affection, and it took all of her will not to let out some manner of reaction.

Fahir’s voice lowered until Amara felt it almost entirely in her chest, resonating in her skull and making her teeth rattle in their sockets.

“I see a dragoness, still perhaps unable to step out of her shell – fleshy and human in appearance it may be – but burning so bright and clear that I cannot fathom how anyone else could be so blind as not to see it.”

Amara let out an animal whimper, melting into the embrace as Fahir squeezed her for a brief moment, claw now tracing her jaw.

“It is how I’ve seen you since I first laid my eyes upon you, little treasure, and if I could somehow force you to see it too I would in a heartbeat. However, I cannot, not in a way that won’t stick unless you believe me.”

The claw under her chin dug in just a little bit, enough to remind her of its sharpness but not enough to draw blood.

“Do you remember what I told you when you asked why a dragon as old as I would stay here in the stables, allowing a stranger to ride me, when by all means I had the strength to leave if I wanted? When all the other dragons here are children who still yearn for the thrill of fighting and battle?”

Amara let out another incoherent noise, causing Fahir to break character to chuckle.

“Use your words, little thing – this I’d like to hear you say yourself.”

It took some effort to reorganize her brain, as scrambled as it was, though Amara somehow managed. The process and concentration involved only seemed to amuse Fahir further, if the feelings over the bond were anything to go by, which made it all significantly harder.

“Y-you said that you being here was a choice,” Amara murmured, averting her eyes, “And that you could leave if you chose, but that you staying here was evidence of my being interesting enough to keep you in one place.”

The dragon hummed in satisfaction, right before the claw once again applied pressure to the underside of Amara’s chin once again, and the amusement quickly fell away.

“So then,” Fahir growled, “Do you think that I am coddling you? That I am lying to you, when I say these things? Do you think I’d have any reason to?”

Amara let out a sharp exhalation, thoughts running through her brain at a rapid pace. So many of them ended up in some form of denial, only to meet the surety of Fahir’s words and confidence over the bond together and be overturned.

“No.”

The pressure of the claw under her chin released, coming forward to join the other in gently tracing down the side of Amara’s neck.

“No objections? No buts or ifs, hatchling?”

“No, Fahir. Thank you.”

Finally, then, did the veil of seriousness fall away. Warmth and adoration flooded the bond, and Amara was pressed tightly into Fahir’s chest, where her long neck met her shoulders.

“Perfect,” the dragon hummed, “Thank you for indulging me, little thing, and you are welcome.”

Amara smiled even as she buried her face into the dragons scutes, closing her eyes. However, it wasn’t long before that smile wavered.

“I’m sorry you had to do this with me again, Fahir, I just- well, you know how I feel better than I do a lot of the time,”

Amara melted underneath the gentle nuzzling from above, the dragon letting out a content rumbling noise.

“Do not apologize, little thing. Your doubts are deep-rooted. Though I may need to remind you on occasion, each time they become a bit looser I’d think.”

Amara simply grunted in response, allowing herself to relax into the dragons chest as Fahir gently laid them both on their side once again. The beast was warm, and comfortingly so. Her size meant it came nearly from all directions, quickly allowing one to relax into the tight embrace.

After a few moments – or a few minutes, she always found it hard to tell in times like this – Amara stirred.

“I think I’m going to leave, Fahir, but thank you for your help.”

Wordlessly, the dragon unravelled from around her rider, allowing her to stand up and brush herself off.

“This was an immense help to me, I- yes. Thank you.”

Amara felt stiff, giving an uncomfortable bow before turning to leave the room.

Her companion was oddly silent, simply watching her as she somewhat awkwardly shuffled over to the exit, lost in her own swirling thoughts.

It wasn’t until she felt the tugging sensation around her ankle, when she was just at the archway, that she realized that Fahir had not actually fully let go of her.

The dragon yawned theatrically, tapping the end of her snout with a claw.

“No, I think not, little thing.”

The grip around her ankle tightened.

“Pardon?” Amara whispered hoarsely.

Deviously slowly, the dragons tail began advancing up her body.

“I don’t think I’m going to let you leave, Amara. Not until you actually want to, that is. Did I ever tell you that you were being a disturbance to me?”

“No but- ah—"

Before she could finish her rebuttal, she was yanked off her feet and back towards the dragon.

“Hush, hatchling. You want to stay, yes? Be honest.”

Amara averted her eyes, nodding.

“Alright,” Fahir purred, “Then you are staying.”

She let out a noise of protest, but was quickly silenced as Fahir began drawing her claws over her scalp.

“What have I said about your desires, treasure?”

“That dragons claw at what they want with all their might, and don’t deny themselves,” Amara mumbled as she was reduced to putty beneath the dragons attention.

“Indeed. I think I’ll soon have it ingrained into you well enough, and you’ll be happier for it.”

Fahir hummed with satisfaction as Amara so easily yielded under her touch. Soon enough, however, the dragon yawned in earnest.

“Mm, may I try something with you, Amara?”

She blinked away the haze she’d been under, looking up at her companion.

“What is it?”

A claw traced its way along her jaw as Fahir let out a contemplative growl.

“The bond helps comfort you when you’re feeling particularly disconnected from yourself, yes? I could feel you sink into it when you first arrived.”

Amara nodded, if not hesitantly then embarrassedly.

“Then I would like to try something. Please, relax.”

Then, almost as there was a mental hand grasping hers, Amara felt herself being pulled. Gently and ever so slowly, she was led across the mental link she shared with her dragon, and the edges of her being became fuzzy and indistinct.

She came to the threshold that had already been her comfort prior, the extent to which she was able to sink into Fahir’s side of the bond. Once again, the phantom sensations of wings, of scales, of claws, all began to form. Ghostly and indistinct, but very much present.

The pulling almost seemed to stall at that point, as if allowing her to acclimate – or, rather, to receive contrast for what occurred next. The pulling became a tug, and suddenly she tumbled, and the phantom sensations became so very real.

Amara gasped with Fahir’s lungs, feeling them expand as she breathed in so much more than she was ever used to. Her wings shifted, stretching to the edges of the room she was in. Her wings, her lungs—

Her eyes were sharp in the darkness, what had previously been gloomy and indistinct becoming sharp and bright. The moon played against her golden hide, glinting off each individual scale.

She could feel a draft play over her scales, and shivered despite the warmth emanating constantly from her core. It was so completely alien compared to how it felt against skin.

And then there was the little thing in her arms, sleeping so soundly. The little dragoness, as seen through Fahir’s eyes, curled and wrapped up in her tail. Little treasure. Amara wanted to cry.

She had never felt comfort like this, had never felt right like this.

Fahir’s voice spoke gently in her mind.

“Is this comfortable, little one?”

Amara nodded, only realizing as she did it that she was still being given the reign over Fahir’s body. The chuckle came mentally, and yet was familiar nonetheless.

“I am so, so very happy, little treasure. Now, let us rest.”

Slowly, Amara could feel herself being brought out from being in control, and with it came the reminder of her fatigue. She had not slept at all that night, and it had already been late when she’d come to Fahir’s room in the stables. Rest… Rest sounded good.

Mentally, Amara allowed herself to nestle against Fahir within their bond, a mirror of them in physicality. In this in-between space, she could both feel the dragons chest rising and falling behind her back, while also feeling the sensation of that breathing as if it were her own.

She drank in the hybrid sensations greedily and deeply, allowing herself to truly relax for perhaps the first time in her memory.

Amara slept, and Fahir curled up protectively around her.

[abeinginsand]

Fig and Scary hanging out (old crossover request from @cerealmonster15 and @apricior ) Summarized Image description in Alt and longer one below

[ID: Fig from Fantasy High and Scary from Dungeons and Daddies season two sitting and chatting during a foggy day in Elmville. They are sitting in a wooden site seeing area nears some tall trees tops. Fig has her arms crossed and legs crossed at her ankles. She has two pheonix feathers from Ayda in her long brown braided hair. Fig's bangs are dyed purple and her braid ends in a bright red and orange flame just like her demon tail. She has long light horns, a leather jacket with spiked cuffs, gray shirt with sunglasses wearing demon skull, biker gloves, a red plaid skirt, one fishnet on her leg, and combat boots with mismatched red and purple shoe laces. Scary has one leg folded to rest on her other leg and has one arm outstretched as she speaks. She wears a long dark jacket with tattered short sleeves and tattered ends reaching her ankles. Her top is a short sleeved fishnet cover over a dark tank top that says shit garden with a torn rose drawing on it, a choker, spiked wristband, and dark boots with a red band and tread. Her curly hair is dark brown with pink dyed ends and is in a high pony tail using a purple hair tie and a hair clip with a broken heart in the center of a white bone. Her jacket has a blade pin for herself and four circle pins representing her friends. On the other side she wears a trans pride pin. End ID.]

[idiotmf]

Ur world building is phenomenal ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)

Please tell me more abt xyon :3

Thank you so much! ( ◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡

I am currently working on a story about Xyon (along with approximately fifty other things).

I usually write short scenarios with my characters for myself, sort of like different AUs, but they're in my native language, and I would like to make one that's Xyon x Reader specifically.

MDNI because my blog is 18+, the post itself shouldn't really be NSFW aside from biological aspects.

Uh, yeah... This is rather long for what I meant it to be (around 2.5k words excluding the notes at the beginning and end).

(Edit: Here is a link to the original lore dump for anyone wondering, since I reference it a lot.)

All that aside, here's a more in-depth look at my favorite biologist in the galaxy:

Appearance:

Since this is focused on just one Xenian, I can give a few more details about what he looks like. I really wish I was talented at drawing so I could give a visual representation of what I personally imagine, but I'll provide some images in case my words aren't clear enough (still working on that vocabulary, haha).

Let's start with his body!

As mentioned in the overall description, Xyon is around 2.5m (8'2), and if needed, he, like all other male Xenians, can stretch his torso up to 2.8m (roughly 9'2). If you're wondering which specific part gets stretched, it's the area just below the shoulders and above the stomach. (I'm using human anatomy here for convenience; if you're interested, I can definitely get into more in-depth Xenian anatomy, but I fear it might be boring.)

Whenever stretched, the skin gets damaged, sort of like horizontal stretch marks, but will shrink back to heal normally. Xenians don't do this often due to their high intelligence and lack of predators, causing it to be more of an evolutionary inconvenience these days.

While they still use it for mating displays, much like humans, they just prefer talking nowadays.

His overall body has a pretty slim, smooth look underneath the short fur. The muscles of Xenians are layered like thin sheets (muscle lasagna, anyone?) and don't bulge in the way human muscles would; instead, they just look broader and fuller.

Now, Xyon is considered skinny, even for his kind. I've mentioned it in the lore dump, but Xenians have moved past eating. They consume nutritional gel, which also explains why they are very lean, since they are literally only allowed to consume this gel, which covers their calculated daily needs.

If you know how nutrition works, though, you can probably see some holes forming in that logic. Xyon moves around a lot and therefore would technically require more, hence the skinny body.

His legs are long compared to his torso, especially below the knees (again, using human anatomy for convenience). His thighbones are rather short, the Xenian equivalent of Tibia and Fibula long (around 2/3rds of his legs; also, they don't have single bones but rather thousands of thin, long bones clustered together to form larger structures). It looks rather awkward when sitting or trying to crouch.

Fun fact: Xenians cannot kneel.

Well, technically, they can; once. And then not get back up without serious injuries. Their knees also cannot be fully bent back like a human's, but rather just enough to allow them to comfortably walk and sit. They actually also comfortably stand around in their strange crouching position whenever they are idle for long periods of time. Remember, they have a tail (sort of like this minus the scales) that they use for balance, resting in what I can only describe as a weird, tripod looking stance, sort of like they're leaning back and almost sitting on their tail.

I spent an hour trying to draw a representation of it, but it looked so goofy that I felt too embarrassed to share it. ( ´･ω･)

Anyway, his skull resembles that of an ocelot, complete with rows of sharp teeth, identifying his race as a once carnivorous one. (skull image) However, they don't have the typical cat whiskers, and their muzzle is less rounded.

Neat little tidbit, but technically, Xyon speaks with the Xenian equivalent of a lisp after sustaining an injury to his throat as a child (some of their sounds are formed in the throat, mainly the sheet metal-sounding one). However, since his words are translated into human speech for you to understand him, this doesn't carry over.

Xenian eyes also resemble those of cats; Xyon's are amber in color, but they can have various different ones. Of course he has a long, rough tongue due to their carnivorous roots.

Their entire body, except for their tails, genitalia, soles, and palms, is covered in a short, dark blue fur. (Imagine the fur of smooth, short coated dogs like a Doberman, Great Dane, Boxer, Beagle, etc. Just a bit softer.) If you want specifics on the color, I'd say the closest is #555C6C, ironically called Blue Planet. It looks sort of washed out due to their skin underneath being a dark gray.

His feet and hands are generally very similar in shape to those of a raccoon, except they have retractable claws and four fingers instead of five (a thumb and three fingers).

As mentioned in the species lore dump, they have retractable genitalia that are hidden underneath a layer of skin until they are exposed. It can actually harden while hidden, making their skin bulge. However, this can be quite painful since the space allowing for their phalluses isn't meant to support them in their full size.

If we're taking semen, it looks rather blueish in hue and the consistency is thicker and sort of slimy, designed to stick to a female's eggs.

Sources (cough cough) confirm it has a rather sweet-ish flavour, consuming too much of it does cause nausea in humans though.

Personality:

Xyon is an incredibly curious individual, especially later on (you'll see why in a second). He wants to know anything and everything about this planet and its inhabitants. He likes finding new plants, scanning them, and then observing for a while. He marvels at the strange animals that live on this planet (I should mention at this point that any story including Xyon is post-apocalyptic) and Earth's impressive landscapes.

Despite being very curious, he's still an extremely obedient follower of orders. For example, in one story I wrote, he was running out of his nutritional bio-gel and would simply refuse actual food, despite the scanner clearly telling him it was harmless for him to eat, choosing to starve rather than disobeying the directive to only consume the gel.

He does end up breaking one major rule, which ends up changing his entire life.

You see, while he is a biologist and was sent to earth to study and document flora and fauna for the intergalactic database, he is strictly forbidden from interacting with humans, whether positively or negatively, the only exception being for self-defense purposes. This is largely due to humans being known as primitive and extremely violent.

Xyon shares this narrative at first, since his research partner Xuan was murdered and subsequently eaten by humans after trying to peacefully interact with them.

That is, until he runs into, well, you. A lone human, injured, and on the brink of death. At first, he considers leaving you to die, then he considers observing you while you pass away, only to finally decide that even if you do attack him, he wants to help you.

Another bit of a flaw in his character is his naivety. Xenians don't have concepts like sarcasm; even lying isn't exactly something they do or consider, as it goes against their morals. This ends up with him believing everything you tell him, curiously inquiring about the most obvious of lies.

Not to mention, he speaks incredibly bluntly, which might come off as rude. This does actually improve after Xyon spends more time with you, since he learns to imitate the way you speak rather than sticking to the cold, scientific speech he uses at first.

I like to think this is a product of Xenian society, as scientists and research purpose tiers don't exactly experience individualism or even enough free will to build their own personalities to the point of even having distinguishing character traits.

I'm not sure how much I mentioned in the other lore dump (I tried to keep it short, so I kept cutting things out), but I do remember mentioning that Xenians practice culling unhatched eggs based on desirable base intelligence, health, etc. which is calculated based on your family tree, essentially. One's purpose is also determined by those stats.

Eggs far above the desired base intelligence usually become researchers and scientists, the highest "purpose" you can possibly have in their race. However, that also means that you not only get gaslit into thinking that's the only thing you're good at, you don't even get a chance to consider anything else.

Xyon is a biologist, and he cannot ever be anything but a biologist. He doesn't even have the mere choice of disliking his career, because it isn't just his job; it's his entire life.

Did I mention I love playing with such dystopian concepts?

Over the course of spending more time with you, he does eventually develop his own personality, or rather strengthen the few cracks that were present all along. But he can't help but look at you for guidance, despite being in the Xenian equivalent of his late twenties to early thirties. The concepts of being allowed to experience individualism and freely express himself are foreign to him.

I do want to mention that some Xenians do have their own personalities. This forced conformity is practiced in their general society, but only as bad as this on the higher purpose tiers, like the one he is in.

He does eventually turn into a gentle giant. I like to imagine him like a Disney princess, holding out one claw with a bird on it, like Snow White. Xyon does enjoy providing meat for you, which is a more primitive way to show that he is a suitable mate in his culture (though usually it goes both ways, or it used to, since they don't hunt anymore).

I like the concept of taking a step back from the highly intelligent life form and reverting to some more primitive practices as he develops individuality.

He never gets to the point of actively resenting his culture and planet, but rather accepts that this is one of its many differences from Earth and can be considered a flaw. In reality, he does find comfort in having a purpose, especially after you essentially tell him what life on earth was like. He finds the idea of having the freedom to try anything overwhelming, and not knowing what you're truly made for is terrifying in his eyes.

Beliefs and Values:

While a form of religion does still exist on his planet, due to the forced conformity and his purpose as a biologist, he was taught to disregard such matters for lack of logic.

Despite that, he does actually secretly believe in things like fate, especially in the context of finding one's mate.

Yet, mates are a pretty sore spot for him.

Due to their personalities, or rather lack thereof, and long absence from their planet in the name of science, higher-tier Xenians don't usually find a mate, often either living alone until death or dying during research.

Xyon does eventually express the belief that meeting you was fate and that you two were meant to end up as mates, despite being different in many ways.

He also believes that meeting you was meant to prove that humans weren't as destructive and savage as originally assumed.

(There is a whole other discussion of why earth became post-apocalyptic in the first place, and while the answer is a bit more convoluted than that, Xyon believes that the planetary representatives collectively decided that humans could not go on the way they were, and instead of risking a valuable planet that could host life being destroyed beyond repair, they would simply flatten major settlements and reset them to see whether they would grow from this experience or perish altogether.

Ironically, in reality, this was actually voted against in the end due to humans not having encountered extraterrestrial life yet and the promising scientific progression, but one race, fairly similar to humans themselves in nature (though not in looks), decided it would be for the better, carrying out the invasion on their own accord. While they weren't completely erased themselves, most of the higher-ranking beings from that planet were executed. This, however, is not common knowledge, as the representatives did cover it up in order to avoid other races being encouraged to disobey.)

While the race of Xenians does have values pertaining to open-mindedness and equality, they are fairly limited in nature. They do allow for sexual and romantic expression (on the lower tiers, mostly), but you can never, ever have the same standing as someone born with a higher tier purpose.

This means that even if you end up exceeding your calculated base intelligence by a lot, you will still be stuck in a purpose that isn't for you and have no chance of changing it.

Ironically, while a social hierarchy does exist, lower tiers are usually considered happier and have far more freedom than higher tiers. Because, again, they get stripped of all individuality to become mindless little researchers.

I purposely didn't specify Xyon's values in this case because, as you can imagine, being forced into a certain mindset does mean he has the same values as the collective, though it does change over time, with him expressing that while he does still support the tiers and purpose, he wishes it was less strict.

Family and Social Circle:

Xyon does actually have a family; he wasn't raised in a mating group. Unlike humans, Xenians don't have a close bond with their parents or siblings since they aren't fully raised by them but rather taken away early in life (around 4–7 in human years) to be trained for their purpose, which results in rather shallow bonds.

His father's purpose is to nurse and educate young Xenians that have either lost their parents or were abandoned, while his mother is the leader of their local tribe, which one can become regardless of tier, following an election process similar to that on earth.

Xyon does have irregular contact with them and even occasionally visits them while on Xen'jai, which is incredibly rare.

He had one older brother, who became a soldier and died very early on due to conflict between Xen'jai and their neighboring planet.

Xyon did have one friend, the female biologist Xuan, who was his assigned research partner.

Due to the nature of their work and purpose, social circles for their tier are small, if they exist at all.

This actually affects Xyon greatly. Now that his old partner is gone, he is alone on a foreign planet, and with Xenians being social creatures, it does make him feel lonely.

On several occasions, he has actually tried seeking out other research teams from his planet that were sent to Earth, and he briefly had contact with a male geologist named Xenon, who ended up being killed, or at least that's Xyon's assumption when his signal completely disappeared (hint hint nudge nudge, he is the other one I like writing about, and he is in fact not dead).

There is one more Xenian that Xyon is aware of on earth: a female meteorologist. He does not know her name; however, he has responded to several distress signals relating to her losing her bio-gel rations to humans.

Unfortunately, she was too far away for him to actually help (she is a character I want to write about in the future as well o(〃＾▽＾〃)o ).

Well, technically speaking, Xyon (and at some point Xuan), like any other research pair, does have a ship, but being the rule-following Xenian he is, he did not leave his assigned area (which is roughly central Europe in canon btw), though he briefly considered it until getting confirmation that the situation had sorted itself out.

It is likely due to this that he even considered helping you in the first place, because he was lonely and probably hoping deep down that a human could somehow keep him company.

Which... I mean... it worked out in his favor. Good for him.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Yeesh, this is quite a lot.

Can you believe I still left stuff out? I also ended up dumping more lore for the species itself. I promise one day I'll go back and rewrite both the Species info and probably this one as well. I kind of want to write another big info-dump for Xen'jai as a planet, because there's a lot I want to get into, like the hierarchy, religion, history and evolution of the planet, which felt too out of place here.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Feel free to always reach out for more info or suggestions, I am literally just waiting to write more lore no one really can do anything with. :3

[tinydefector]

So ther was this Australian show that was called h2o just add water and another show called mako mermaids that was featured in the same universe. In the show the mermaids/ mermen had powers and can go from human to mermaid as long as they stay dried. But I’d like they get splash by liquid even something as small as dropping a glass of water on themselves. They had seconds before they transformed into their mermaid selves. Question is if this was a concept that could happen with the future pups or in another version of a merformer au?

These were two of My favourite shows when I was younger outside of the movie Aquamarine.

1. I'm not planning on the mers having powers outside of what the outliers already have and I'm just modifying it so it fits more for underwater. Such as Rodimus can withstand lounging in underwater Volcano's, Skywarp can blip himself further through water, Mirage can go full invisible and uses it to hunt very efficiently. And such on with the outliers in transformers.

2. I'm not a big fan of the oceanides being able to shift into humans, the closest thing they would look like if they were to shift would be the amphibian man from shape of water, humanoid but not the same, and they would be much taller than humans. But I'm not really branching into that side in Marine Centre, might be a cool idea if someone wants a shape of water type fic later on becuase I'd be all for the oceanides shifting into a creature like that, still needing the water to survive but having the ability to walk from pond to pond. Or a crude version of a Näcken.

3. For the pups in Marine Centre I'm sticking with they still look very much like the oceanides with jsut a few different features, such as their eyes are more human like and their vocal range is much better with talking than the main oceanides due to skull stucture. And that also adds into their bone structure. I do like the idea of once the pups get older in their tails you can clearly see the outline of what was meant to be legs but they didn't develop. I might actually have to do some drawings of the bone and cartilage stucture of the mers at some point for people. But I'm keeping with they look pretty much the same as the oceanides outside of a few little changes.

But I'm not aposed to writing tadpole like pups later on for another fic becuase at this rate I'm pretty sure Human Effects, Labratory logs and Marine Centre are my three most request fics.

[citruslullabies]

Oii bom dia!

So, I don't know if you remember me, I'm the girl who said that loved the Catnap x Fox!Reader fic and wanted a part two!

So, here I am, with all my glory (wich it's not much) to make this little request, with some angst if you get me

You've been giving us too much sugar, I don't want to be diabetic/j

(Also, sorry for my terrible english, I'm not using a translator this time, and I suck at writing, I really need to practice it)

I'm a little rusty with writing full blown gore, so apologies!

Trigger warnings: blood, HEAVY gore, all that stuff again‼️DO NOT INTERACT IF EASILY DISTURBED‼️

Romantic/platonic?: unspecified

Requested by: liznarfox (@liznarfox look what you made me do)

Category: heavy angst boysssss

Ship (romantic or platonic): Catnap x fox smiling critter!reader

Word count: 1029 (my longest yet)

A Helping Paw: Severed Hands

You had been made to be of help to Catnap, made to be his best friend and his guide through it all.

That's all the more motivation for him to follow the prototype, to save himself and to save you. A part of him wanted to let you in on the plans but he knew you too well, and knew you'd be far too fearful to go through with them unless thrown in the action. Countless nights he'd stay locked away with only you by his side, tricked by your own feelings to check on your friend growing more and more distant only to fall asleep by his side as he stroked your fur lovingly.

He began to grow incredibly thin, his smile growing larger and his face somewhat distorted with wide disturbing eyes. They scared you, but he knew it'd all make sense to you one day.

The hour of joy was finally here, and all hell broke loose. You were panting and running through your sobs, trying to find the others and a way out. You wanted to throw up at how violent everyone had become, it was sickening. At each twist and turn you saw someone get torn apart, nearly vomiting once you stepped on something squishy and wet looking down to realize it was a tongue still twitching from being freshly ripped out of someone's skull.

Your ears were flat as you ran fast on your feet, tears rolling down your fluffy face as you breathed raggedly. But a glint of hope shined through your eyes when you saw Catnap in the distance. “Catnap-! There you are, we have to go!” You said, running over to him and fast but soon slowing down when seeing how he behaved.

Catnap's jaw unhinged like a snake, his paw down his throat as he pulled out remnants of bones. Your eyes locked on him before they slowly trailed down to the bodies of children torn apart In front of him, one of them still barely alive and trying to play dead but it would only be a matter of time before they were. They were too far gone, with their body practically torn in two and their eye closest to the ground burst like a cracked egg just left on the counter with the yolk spilling out.

The room stunk heavily of blood and tears, the blood in the carpet soaking into your feet and squelching with every step you took away. Your feline friend looked up and over at you, his once friendly face vile and terrifying, with his chin red as if he just finished eating a pomegranate.

“(Your name)...” He purred out, suddenly approaching. The disgusting sound like a sponge being squeezed every time he took a heavy step on the ruined carpet made your stomach twist and churn, but all you could focus on was the horrifying figure approaching you. One you used to call a friend.

You gulped as you looked around, eyes darting the rather large room where orphans used to play but you eventually had to face him again. His eyes were wide and murderous, causing your tail to tuck between your legs. “C-catnap.. why did you do this?” You slowly asked, chest feeling heavy as if you were about to dry heave from the sight caused by your friend. It was a miracle you managed to stomach everything you had seen and smelled.

He was silent, just getting closer and stopping once he was close enough. He pressed his nose against yours, purring despite you having to swallow your own throw up from the smell escaping the hollow shell of your best friend. He looked at you with eyes so cold yet so warm. “I did it… for us… the prototype will save us…” He cooed, once again saying the same sentence he had been saying for months. The prototype will save us. And yet it never made sense, and it still didn't.

You gulped and pulled your face away, clenching your eyes shut as you felt queasy from the smell reeking from him as if the blood soaked into his fur and bones. “What do you mean by that?? Is this what you've been talking about?” You asked in disbelief, taking a step back. With a pur the feline responded. “Yes… isn't it wonderful?” He cooed, watching you shake your head in disbelief and disgust. Catnap fell silent before speaking up again, his voice no longer holding any affection for you as he began to understand that you didn't hold the same viewpoint as he did, that you didn't understand why he did all of this and would only see him as a monster.

“You're meant to help me. To understand me… I see I was wrong.” He said coldly, looking down at you with blank eyes but that same smile he could never seem to get rid. Not even in his most manic times. “Thank you for your care, fox. I will save you in the only other way I know how to.”

Suddenly, a red smoke filtered in the room. He watched as you tried to fight against it, tried to run to the door but you collapsed against the carpeted floor instead. At least this way would be painless for you, or so he hoped. He carefully picked you up in his paws, adoring you like how you once adored him before he carefully cut you open as if you were a frog in a science class. He emptied out everything you had inside, his paws shivering at the feeling of your squishy interior and the warmth that would have at one point comforted him when you were whole.

He left your insides and bones on the floor, but kept your heart. He swore he could still hear it beating, the sound driving him even further into insanity but he kept it close in your memory. With one last nuzzle, he left you there. You had betrayed him in his eyes, and he saved you the only way he could.

He killed you out of mercy, not wanting to see you suffer like any other heretics.

Thanks for requesting! And part one is here

[moss-ridden-owl-creature]

I’m cryptidkin. I know what type of cryptid I am. But I don’t know what it’s called. I want to say w*ndigo but it isn’t and I know that. (As a w*ndigo is a spirit, not a cryptid. And isn’t something to be spoken of lightly) Like- very close in terms of MAYBE appearance. But that’s it. it isn’t a w*ndigo. More likely not-deer ish? I don’t know- closest kind of thing I’ve found is a Deer Man but that’s not right either. Like- I’ll just describe it: patchy dark fur, super tall (prob about 8/9 feet tall), long ground dragging wolf-like tail, looks like its starving with bones visible through its fur including ribs and spine, five fingered long ass claws, elk/deer skull for a head with no eyes just empty black sockets and white glowing pupils, the antlers and skull are slightly brown-ish cuz it’s old as fuck and the prong tips are black like dipped in ink. The kind of being to stare at you from behind trees or just out of reach of camp fire light, it’d probably walk on two legs, maybe four once in a while, and could probably distort its body in some way. Both top and bottom jaw, could probably unhinge and just be like a black void or something down its throat. Fangs, not blunt herbivore teeth, but actual like wolf fangs. Could someone help me figure out what fucking creature this is????

[nerdanel01]

Defender of the Dead

Emmrich Volkarin & M!Rook, mentions of Emmrich/F!Rook | Gen, SFW, 3k+ wc Agnes is still my main Rook but the Mourn Watch origin story is so cool, I absolutely had to create another oc to be my crypt baby. So I wrote a little piece to introduce him. :)

The room looked like the scene of a crime: robes, scarves, books, talismans scattered everywhere. There was far too much for Ichabod to take with him, but very little he felt capable of leaving behind. Add to that the fact that the undead kept bringing parting gifts to his room (incense, candles, mementos of the Necropolis) and the task of packing for the trip was becoming impossible. 

Packing! He’d never had to do it before, and he hated it. It was hard. 

After all—yes—Ichabod was twenty-eight years old; he was well aware they would have candles in Tevinter, if not more magical, spectacular modes and methods of illumination. But these candles had been prepared in these halls, scented with Nevarran oils, crafted by some of the very same skeletal hands that had cradled and cared for him as a foundling babe. Would he not inevitably regret leaving them behind, when he became homesick?

And he would become homesick—of that, he was certain. There was an element of excitement to it, to be sure—this… unexpected trip abroad—but in all his life, Ichabod has never left Nevarra City. Splinters and spleens, he’d hardly even left the Necropolis itself for more than a few hours at a time, and now he was being forced out of it….

His lower lip gave a little tremble; Ichabod willed it to still. 

His momentary melancholy abated at once at the feeling of steady pressure on his thigh. Smiling wide at the sight of the canine skull lounging on his leg, demanding attention, Ichabod reached out to her, smoothing his hands over the bone and scratching behind the holes where her ears once were. 

“Don’t worry, Hepzebah, I’m not leaving you behind,” he told her, reassuringly. The dog’s hips wiggled, the bones of her tail wagging behind her. “But I can’t take you out like this, they won’t let me. I’m going to have to pack you up. I’ll let you stretch out though as soon as I can, alright?”

Hepzebah gave him a mournful look from the two pinpricks of light in the caverns of her eye sockets. Then she made a haunting sound, like a sigh of resignation, and collapsed where she stood: a messy pile of bones on Ichabod’s floor. 

Ichabod did not blame her for not wanting to travel like this. It couldn’t be comfortable, but he really had no choice.He gathered up her bones carefully, arranging them as neatly as he could in a velvet-lined box, leaving plenty of space for her skull, which he cozied in reverently, lovingly, last of all—

“Ichabod Erasmus Ingellvar, what is that?”

He knew that voice. Ichabod affected his most innocent look of surprise before turning around to face the older necromancer. Eyes wide, an unbeguiling smile on his face, he answered: 

“It’s just bones, Emmrich. They do have bones outside of Nevarra, don’t they?”

Emmrich glided into his room, swerving gracefully around the messy stacks of clothes and clutter to bring himself to Ichabod’s side, examining the open box before him critically. 

“They have bones, yes—the ones they don’t burn, that is,” Emmrich answered, dryly, carefully lifting Hepzebah’s skull out of the box. “They do not have fully animated skeletal creatures that run, and fetch, and bark.”

With a traitorous bark of her own, Hepzebah emphasized the older necromancer’s point, letting loose a light yip and clacking her teeth together. Emmrich turned to Ichabod with a pointed look. 

Ichabod gave him his most irresistible, imploring look. “Oh, we’ll be good, Emmrich, I promise. I won’t let anyone else see her,” he said, gently easing Hepzebah’s skull out of Emmrich’s hands and laying it back in the box—where it belonged, Ichabod told himself firmly—before Emmrich could protest. “Besides, it’ll be lonely for me, away from you and the rest of the Mourn Watch. Can’t I at least have a little bit of company?” Ichabod placed a little kiss on Hepzebah’s brow, then closed the lid of the box. 

There was a bit of sadness in Emmrich’s voice when he answered. That wasn’t unusual—he’d been conspicuously wistful and mournful for the past two months—but this was a different kind of melancholy, less colored with despair, more warmth to it. The sadness of a parting, but one made on good terms.

“You should think of it like an adventure. It is in some ways a wonderful opportunity for you.”

“Oh, but I do,” Ichabod answered, with an impish grin. “I am excited to meet new people, see new things. But… well.” He gave a sheepish little shrug, bending to pick a deep plum robe off the floor and fold it into his trunk. “I’ve hardly ever left the Grand Necropolis before. You can’t blame me for being a little nervous.”

“A little caution never hurt anyone,” Emmrich replied, in a tone that suggested a little caution might serve Ichabod, in particular, most of all. “Have you packed your spectacles? And a backup pair?”

Ichabod rolled his eyes. Fat lot of good he’d be in the overworld of the living without his lenses—he was practically blind as a bat in the noonday sun. What long weeks of his infancy he had spent nurtured by the dead before the Mourn Watch found him, those days in the deep dark had left his eyesight permanently sensitive to light. And where he was planning on going, he expected it to be very, very bright.

In fact, he had packed three pairs of lenses, to be safe. 

“I’m twenty eight, Emmrich. I’m not a child.”

“That is true,” Emmrich said, with a nostalgic smile. “But it is hard to look at you and not to be reminded in my heart of the young elfling boy who used to run about my knees.” He slipped his hand into his pocket, presented Ichabod with a small box. “I have something for you. To take with you.”

“Aww, thanks, Emmrich.” The dead had brought him plenty of parting tokens, but the gifts from the living were fewer and farther between. When he opened the box, however, Ichabod’s face fell. 

“Jewelry,” he said aloud, inspecting the clunky pewter medallion in the box. It was hideous. Ichabod hoped it did not show too plainly on his face. “How… expected, coming from you.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Emmrich told him, scowling. “It is not just a necklace, it—”

“I know, Emmrich,” Ichabod said, softening his tone. “I was just teasing. I can feel the protective charms imbued into it, they are most powerful.” Closing the slender box and slipping it into his trunk amongst his other possessions, he turned to Emmrich and threw his arms around him—not quite Emmrich’s shoulders, which Ichabod could not reach, but somewhere between his chest and his waist. “Thank you.”

Emmrich gently wrapped his arms around him. “It’s not forever, Ichabod,” he said, softly. “Just until the nobles find something else to be upset about.”

“I know,” Ichabod said, drawing away. Commander Hezenkoss had said the same thing. It mattered little however, because, “Anyway, I have a plan,” he revealed, with a devilish grin. “You may be seeing me again sooner than you think...”

“A plan?” Emmrich’s entire demeanor shifted at once, from one of paternal affection to suspicion and sticky, dark dread.  “What plan?”

Ichabod’s grin only widened in anticipation of the reaction imminent on Emmrich’s face: 

“I’m going to find Watcher Gallatus, and bring her back to the Grand Necropolis.”

It was delicious: the apprehension fell away into wide-eyed shock; Emmrich’s face paled. Ichabod could practically hear the racing of his heart. “Now, Ichabod—”

“If anyone can find her, I can,” Ichabod challenged Emmrich, before the older mage could protest. “Trust me, I’m as good as my word. I’ll bring her back.”

Emmrich had folded his hands politely in front of him—to stop them, Ichabod suspected, from shaking. He could not,  however, disguise the unsteady, strained note in his voice: “The templars have been looking for her for almost two months and they have found no sign of her. The trail has no doubt gone cold.”

Ichabod only lifted a conspiratorial eyebrow. “Yeah, but you and I both know the templars wasted a lot of time looking in all the wrong places.” He snorted unattractively, then gave a high pitched little titter of a laugh. “I mean, come on. Her father’s estate? Really? Anyone who knew her could have told them she’d eat herself alive before going back there. It’s almost like they didn’t even really want to find her.”

Oh, wait—that was a thought. Ichabod did not like it. “Maybe they didn’t want to find her,” he thought aloud to himself, narrowing his eyes and staring at the floor. “Maybe the fact that she ran away was… terribly convenient.” 

A dull panic mounted in his heart. If they’d never meant to catch her, there would be no glory nor renown nor, most importantly, gratitude enough if he brought her back to the Grand Necropolis for the Mortalitasi to allow him to stay… but Commander Hezenkoss had said…!

“The Mortalitasi will be pleased with me if I bring her back to face their judgment, don’t you think?” He pressed Emmrich, his eyes a little desperate. “Enough to let me come home? Because, because—if the nobles are mad enough to send me away, they must be triply mad at her—”

“No one is sending you away—”

“—because after all, I didn’t even do anything,” Ichabod continued, Emmrich’s words going in one ear and right out the other. It had been a little over two months since the incident, and still all it took was just a few words and the right mood to set him off ranting about this again. “I was this close to brokering a peace between the ancestors of the Pentagahsts and Van Markhams. If anyone could have done it, I could have—they trusted me. And for what? For her to bring down half the Necropolis on top of them and turn them to dust?!”

Emmrich looked a bit uncomfortable. “The war had been terribly vicious. There was some skepticism that peace would hold…”

“So her answer was vandalism and desecration?” Ichabod whirled on Emmrich, giving him a slightly crazed look. Not only had Agnes destroyed the walking corpses of those dignified ancestors of Nevarra’s most noble lineages, she’d also destroyed a part of his home. “It will take a hundred years—an entire Age!—for the thralls to fully excavate the tombs she destroyed; twice that, at least, for their restoration, if any restoration can even be attempted with our rudimentary tools and methods of the present day—”

“That war took many lives,” Emmrich cut Ichabod off. His tone was patient, but that patience was clearly waning; his face had gone dark. “Mourn Watchers you would have also called your family, mourners who should have been safe in these halls to grieve their dead. Should we have allowed more innocents to die, in service of a feud held by those long deceased?”

His mouth twitched. Emmrich was right; Ichabod knew it, but he didn’t have to like it. He paced a few more strides, then threw himself onto the edge of his bed, deflated, defeated. Tracing patterns in the midnight black sheets, he answered, “No. I suppose not.” Then, looking up at Emmrich with wide eyes pleading for understanding, he added, “But what was she thinking? Gaatlock?? In the Necropolis?”

A funny little smile played about Emmrich’s lips, beneath his well-groomed mustache. “Her methods were unorthodox, perhaps,” he said, his voice swollen with that new, characteristic wistfulness, all bound up in pride and affection and… something else, “but you cannot deny they were incredibly effective.”

Oh, Andraste’s sacred tits, was Emmrich blushing a little bit? Gross. Ichabod rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to gag. He liked Emmrich—liked Agnes well enough too, when she wasn’t turning the whole Nevarran noble class against him with her blunt and brutal methods—but he’d never understood the bizarre tension between them. Frankly, Ichabod had no idea what Emmrich was waiting for; it wasn’t like he was getting any younger. And yet for literal years they’d circled each other like teenagers, both of them too afraid to make the first move. By the moony look Emmrich was making now, none of that had been remotely improved by Agnes fucking off and vanishing in the middle of the night two months previously. 

Emmrich cleared his throat, snapping out of his wistful reverie. “How do you even intend to locate her? Never mind convince her to come back, given her clear determination to leave?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Ichabod mused, getting a far-off look as his fingers combed through his inky hair, slowly working his hands through it as he braided it back out of his face for the journey ahead. “She certainly didn’t stay in Nevarra. It’d be too easy for her to be discovered here. And I doubt there’s any chance she went south, to Orlais.”

Emmrich opened his mouth to retort, “It is her mother’s homeland—”

“But still not the most friendly to mages, even after Divine Victoria’s ascension,” Ichabod refuted. “She may go into hiding, but I don’t think she’d want to stomach hiding her magic; it’s too important for her.”

 His words were coming quicker, now. He’d gamed this out for hours in his mind, laid awake imagining all the routes she could have taken, where she could have fled. “Antiva would have fit the bill, before the Antaam incursion there. It is not as prepared to withstand the Qunari as Tevinter is… my money is on Minrathous.”

“A big city, Minrathous,” Emmrich commented, quietly. An odd strain in his voice, Ichabod thought. “Even if you are right, and that is indeed where she went, how would you even begin to look for her there?”

Ichabod tried not to look too proud of himself, concealing his conceited smile by idly shuffling a pile of books into his trunk. “It may be large, but I imagine there are not too many Antivan expat bars—especially ones with live music.” But then he could not resist it anymore, peering over his shoulder to flash Emmrich a smarmy, self-satisfied look. “Now you tell me: would the templars have thought to look for her there?”

And there it was! Brief, but Ichabod caught it—a flash of brightness in Emmrich’s eyes. The slightest spark of hope. Finally, Emmrich was beginning to believe Ichabod could actually pull it off. 

Which, he totally was, of course. He would find Watcher Gallatus and drag her back here, and after that, the Mortalitasi would be so pleased with him, they’d probably never make him leave the Necropolis again.

“As for convincing her, well… I’m certainly not going to try to fight her,” Ichabod confessed, with a nervous chuckle. Great necromancer though he may be, and as prideful as he was, he also was realistic enough to know that in single combat against Agnes, she’d have him leveled in about ten seconds flat. “Commander Hezenkoss… may have equipped me with some sedatives, to be ingested either via the respiratory or digestive system, that I may use to  subdue her and get her back.”

“Johanna gave you what?”

“Nothing that will hurt her!” Ichabod replied, hastily, in reaction to Emmrich’s expression, which verged more on horror than shock. “But, well…” with a shrug, he continued, “Johanna wants her back, Emmrich. Bad. She’s always had a soft spot for Agnes, you know, though she tries to hide it.” 

Then, with a narrowed gaze and only the slightest bit of accusation in his tone, Ichabod added, “Anyway, I would have thought you of all people would have approved of more aggressive efforts to try and bring her home. To her family,” he concluded, emphatically. “Where she belongs.”

Emmrich’s gaze fell. He folded his hands in front of him again, fussing with his fingers to distract himself from whatever pain or regret Ichabod’s words had called to mind. 

“You may think of her as your family. But that does not mean she wants to be found.”

But Ichabod immediately filed those words away as advice spoken from Emmrich’s guilty conscience; nothing he needed to heed himself.

“It does mean I have to look,” Ichabod challenged him. ‘Whether or not it means I get to come back home…’

Because—yes, okay, Ichabod was honestly furious with Agnes for the whole business with the Necropolis… even though, maybe, yes, he had technically known what Agnes was going to do, and yes, he had, maybe, agreed to it (although he had no conception of the sheer scale of the damage she had intended to inflict at the time!), but—Agnes was his family. As much as Emmrich, as much as Johanna, as much as Hepzebah. And while it certainly hadn’t thrown Ichabod into the agonies of despair her departure seemed to have inspired in Emmrich… Ichabod himself still missed her, too.

“She called me squirt, when she first came here, from the Circle,” Ichabod reminisced, softly. “I used to hate that, growing up. It felt so… undignified.” He gave another half-hearted shrug, his posture slumping. “Now I realize it was just her way of treating me like a regular kid, and being sweet to me. I don’t know, I guess not a lot of people had done that before? Treated me like a normal kid, I mean. It was kind of nice.”

Emmrich offered him a smile, but the look in his eyes was still one of fresh grief. “She was sweet to you, wasn’t she?” 

Ichabod hummed, smiling in kind. “She was afraid of the thralls, when she first came here. Afraid of the Necropolis, really. But not afraid of me.” And there had been plenty of acolytes to the Mourn Watch during Ichabod’s childhood who had been afraid of him—who had avoided him entirely. 

Emmrich had never avoided him, either. Had never been afraid of him.

Ichabod did not like seeing him like this, a shade of himself, wistful and pained.

He promised him: “I will find her, Emmrich.”

Emmrich smiled at him in an indulgent, placating way. “Of that, young man, I have no doubt.” The manner in which he said it left Ichabod with the impression Emmrich’s confidence in him was somewhat less than ironclad. But any offense he might have taken in it was washed away a moment later when Emmrich added, “Come. Indulge me with one last embrace before you go.”

So, Ichabod did. 

And everything about Emmrich was so familiar—the smell of the Necropolis on him, the leather of his robe—so comfortable, so homey, Ichabod felt himself tearing up a little bit. Embarrassing. He held Emmrich a little tighter, trying to compose himself before Emmrich could realize just how rattled he was about leaving.

“Tell Manfred I’ll miss him,” he managed, managing to keep his voice from breaking through sheer force of will. “I’ll learn some new games to teach him when I get back.”

“I’m sure he’ll like that,” Emmrich replied. “Be safe. Be well.”

Ichabod took a deep breath, and finally released him. Asked him, while giving him his most weighted look:

“And when I do find Agnes… is there anything you want me to tell her?”

Ichabod watched Emmrich’s throat bob as he swallowed; watched the way it pained him to even consider the chance, the hope that Ichabod might indeed find her. THat he might see her again.

“Tell her I am sorry,” he said, at last, simply. “Tell her that every day I am sorry I did not go with her, when she had asked me to.”

“That’s it?” Ichabod said, more than a little derisively.

Emmrich flashed him a crooked, amused smile. “What else I may have to say to her, will have to wait until you bring her back, and I can tell her myself.” He gave Ichabod one more long look; squeezed his hand. Wished him, “Good luck.”

It wasn’t until Emmrich was halfway down the hall that Ichabod stuck his head out of his doorway, the distance excuse enough to shout; he grinned evilly as he called after Emmrich:

“I’ll send her your love too, yeah?”