#no specific species. just beast

[thr4shgender]

(wip kinda) drew a guy thats NOT jerma for once! hes just a sad wet beast 💔

[twoastricts]

Here are some of the 112 vessels in the story. Though I couldn't possibly flesh out all 112, I wanted to work on some of them so here ya go:

Tonya (3):

their the most important to establish so they come first. See, in the Abyss where all the vessels were thrown down all the vessels were given 2 options: either hold onto your shell and stay a vessel, or return to the sea of void from whence you came. At first, most vessels stayed, holding onto the naive hope that they could become a pure vessel, but over time, more and more of the vessels gave up on that hope and returned to the void. Tonya is important because unlike every other, they didn't only care about being the pure vessel. See, their life philosophy is that life is going to suck, but you can't just give into it, and that if you stare down life with determination while giving it the middle finger for long enough, it will get better, you just need to move on from failure and make the most of what you have. So when they failed to become the Pure Vessel they didn't care and moved on to make the most of the abyss. They were to most mature of the vessels down there, and thus led a group of vessels who followed their lead and stopped caring about being a pure vessel and instead made the most of living in the abyss instead of giving into failure and returning to the void. They were a great leader who cared about everyone in their cohort (as I call them) but secretly really wished they could just take a break. They found one of the few nails in the abyss and were the one who figured out how to use void to repair the shells of vessels when they got hurt, though it doesn't work nearly as well as soul. They also found small puddles of void that were calm enough that the vessels could relax in them, unlike the void sea which was artificially calmed but the light before it forced the poor bug in the lighthouse to turn it off, which then the sea let out it's rage, making it not a good place to relax in it. After the Radiance was dealt with and PK decided to save the vessels locked in the abyss, Tonya was the first to lead the remaining vessels out and, like most vessels, really like their father, though mostly because it means they can take a well deserved break. Overall, their a mama's kid who like to relax at the Queen's Garden with Lady often.

Lux (24) & Nox (25): these 2 vessels are really crafty, and extremely close to one another. They are the craftiest of Tonya's Cohort, great at getting into places they aren't supposed, though they never found a way out of the abyss, mainly cause they didn't care enough to try. While in the abyss, they found a way into lifeblood room, though didn't really do anything there besides stealing the arcane egg. They found ways to use the broken eggshells that the vessels hatched out of to make little homes, were the ones to throw most the vessel corpses into the birthplace as no one really wanted to see them all, made games to pass the time and built up the wall of rocks that helped defend Tonya's Cohort from some of the predators in the abyss, and the occasional predator from the void sea. When the remaining vessels rose from the abyss, Lux and Nox still stayed as close as ever, were fond of their father, and still were crafty and into getting into places they are supposed to be. Sneaking into the bedroom of many people, PK's workshop, where they became really into some of the non-void based experiments he was doing in their, the kitchens, to steal food, and even out the palace entirely. Yes, most the vessels like to escape the palace as they want to explore the kingdom, though they are too young to be out on their own, and so no adults let them leave without supervision, though that doesn't stop them, and when it comes to leaving the palace without permission, Lux and Nox are the best. They help the others escape, and when mass escapes happen it's normally because of them. When exploring the kingdom, avoiding the great knights who went looking for them, they tend to gravitate towards Deepnest, as of all the places they aren't supposed to go, Deepnest is the crowning jewel that they constantly want to explore, though can never seem to cross the border before being caught.

Echo (111):

Echo really likes being strong, while in Tonya's Cohort, they were the guardian of the other vessels, wielding the only other nail in the abyss and using it to defend the others from threats. After leaving the abyss, they are happy that the others are safe, but not really into the fact that they are treated like a child, which they are, but they are also fiercely independent. They run off during escapes to try to regain that independence and protect their siblings from some of the threats of Hallownest, like fool eaters, guards, predators that escape from Deepnest, sporgs, blugg saccs, mantises that are mad at intrusions into their territory, roaming fools looking for a fight, bees that attack anything that comes remotely close to the hive, giant falls, acid, stalactites, spikes, etc. They really look up to the great knights, especially their bigger sibling (bigger, but not older, they are actually one of the youngest), wanting to be a knight just like them.

Oji (101):

A bit of an outcast amongst Tonya's Cohort, they never had many friends, but always wanted them, they were just too shy to talk. After rising from the abyss, they still struggle, having a hard time finding people in the castle, so during escapes they look for friends throughout the kingdom.

Eclipse (30):

She's a special vessel as after leaving the abyss and learning what gender is, she realized she was a girl! She looks up to Hornet, liking to take dance lessons from her, though she has a hard time defining what it means to be a girl vessel. (Also, after she came out, they stopped calling Hornet the gendered child) I imagine that she'd figure out her gender identity in the fic, though I don't think I know how to write that.

Nyx (66):

Another vessel that looks up to Hornet, though they prefer learning to weave from her, making them another part of the Hallownest Clothing Club (seriously, I have so many characters that know how to make clothing in this story, Hornet weaves, Hollow and Nyx learn to weave from Hornet, Hornet has a cousin named Enlan who weaves, Herrah weaves, Lady can weave though she prefers stitching, Seer knits and crochets, Ivyln is a jack of all traits, master of one, that being clothing design, and Illaria (Ze-Mir's girlfriend) is a tailor, (she also plays the harp and violin and knows how to cook, paint and do advanced mathematics, but that's beside the point))

Dawn (54), Dusk(55), and Horizon (56):

This trio of vessels tends to stick together alot, they like to cook, hanging around the kitchens often and helping out wherever possible. They want to learn from everyone in the kingdom, and out of it too, learning dishes from anyone they can when escapes happen.

Null (2):

Null is a special vessel, in that they WEREN'T a part of Tonya's Cohort, in fact, they weren't even in the abyss. When PK first created his plan to end the infection, he didn't believe that a vessel that rose from the void could be impure, so he made one egg, with one child in it, and placed it in the abyss. When the child hatch, he took it to the palace, but immediately realized they were impure, after 2 weeks of study, he decided that he needed to try again with more vessels, giving the failed one to Monomon to raise, as he decided he couldn't raise a pure vessel, be a king, AND be a father at the same time. Null has been salty ever sense, believing it Hollow's fault they got replaced, the only one of the vessels to have never given up on being the Pure Vessel, they really don't like Hollow, and spend their time trying to impress their father by being better than Hollow, who really hates the fact that one of their siblings hate them. Being raised by Monomon, they are the only vessel to be literate, and they helped out around the Teachers Archive though only because they had nothing else to do, they distinctly don't like Monomon, trying to run away to find the palace many times, but always failing. After the infection ended, Monomon gave them back to PK, as the agreement they had was that she would raise them till the infection was defeated. They are overjoyed to be back with their father, but hate that they live with Hollow now. And even though they really love their father and want to impress him, they have a small part of them that resent him for pushing them off on Monomon. They are based on the Broken Vessel.

I guess I should talk a bit about Ghost here, so here I go!

(Little) Ghost (112):

Also was a bit of a loner during the days of Tonya's Cohort, though that never bothered them. They, unlike the other vessels, are mute, and that's not because of any "no voice to cry their suffering" reasons, they would've been mute regardless of void influence and experiments. They were able to find a way out of the Abyss, but came back, as they always seem to go back to the abyss, even after rising out of it, they seem to be drawn their. They get along well with Hollow, and don't remember the moment hanging off the edge of the platform being left behind by them, nor do they care. They also chill with Hornet as well. They don't really know what they enjoy, or want to be even. And are one of the few vessels who didn't return to the void to not be overly fond of their father, not really thinking much of him. They're arch is about finding themself, and learning what they want to be.

I also have somethings I want to talk about that pertains to the vessels as a whole.

The numbers, you've seen em by the names, after bringing them up out the abyss, Wyrm gave them all numbers to help with organization, as he didn't know all their names at first and needed something to help make things easier, and putting them all in an order was one way to do that. The numbers are used for the order they line up in, seating charts, and other stuff where an order of some sorts are needed, they don't go by the numbers. Though when the siblings fight they sometimes call eachother by their numbers (Null just calls Hollow "1" by default), but nobody else uses them.

Voices and talking, all vessels can talk, but need to learn who to, they have a base knowledge of how to understand Hallow Tounge, Wyrmish, and (without  PK's knowledge) can read, speak and understand the ancient and forgotten language of Abyssal Tounge. Ghost is the only one who is mute. Null is the only one who can read and speak Hallow Tounge at the start. Hollow has an issue with talking were they can, but don't like it after years of conditioning not to. They're working on it, but how much they talk depends on the person, talking a lot to Hornet, their siblings (minus Null) Lady, Seer, the great knights, Monomon and Quirrel, Illaria, the traveling troupe, Enlan, and Confessor Jiji, while being quite quiet around Wyrm, Null, Lurien and Lucien (the butler), Herrah, most of the royal retainers, most strangers, anyone who is of the noble rank, and most of Hornet's side of the family.

Next is that fact many people have this vessel/void telepathy they put in fanfic, and I'll just say it, vessels don't normally have telepathy. I imagine that, once Little Ghost becomes the lord of shades, they can kinda do a telepathy thing with the others, mostly just this sort of influence thing were they can compel the others to do something, but the others know that it's Ghost doing it and can deny the order if they want. Then the void entity, which is an amalgamation of all the vessels in one, allows all the vessels to work together perfectly and fluidly till they split back into individual shades, though they each still are individuals in the void entity, each wielding a part of the power, though Ghost definitely heads the void entity.

The question of where they all sleep. Hollow has there own room, all the others share a bedroom full of bunk beds, for a while, I imagine an arch where Lady decides to try to make Null and Hollow get along by moving Null into Hollow's room.

Oh, eating! They don't need to eat, though do it cause they want to. How? By shoving the food into the eye holes in their shell. The void that makes up the shade inside dissolves the food on contact, allowing them to taste it. Each vessel has their own preferences for food, Hollow likes sweet stuff, especially the nectar of the hive, Ghost likes stupid amounts of salt on their food.

Is a vessel the shell or the shade? Definitely the shade, the shell is basically clothing to them, the reason they have them is because shells are perfect at keeping out warmth and light, as shades feel actually pain when touched by light and their void bodies can come apart when too hot (don't worry, all they need to do is go back in the cold to reform, though they won't be able to move during it).

How mutable are they? The games show that PV can shoot out a tentacle of void from their arm, so many people say vessels can somewhat shift their shell around, I imagine that the little ones can't do it, as the shell is basically the corpse of the vessel that died in the abyss and infused with the void. Their essence infused with the void, becoming shades, which puppet the shells around. The shell and shade need to fuse together to allow the mutability to accor, and the vessels need to go through their 2 pupal stages for that to happen, and vessels don't pupate naturally, seeing as that requires to wake up the part of the shell that allows for growth, as the shell, being a corpse, has forgotten it can grow and thus needs to be reminded that it can be it does. Same thing goes with healing. Shells don't know that they can heal, so they don't until they are reminded by soul (the life force of all living things) flowing in them again, in which that soul will be used to heal. That being said, shades are different from shells and are really mutable. In fact, when shades for are made they take no proper form, only filling the space they inhabit. As the shade gets used to inhabiting the shell, they take the form of the shell, the more a shade grows and pupates, the less mutable it becomes. A fully grown shade will refuse to change at all.

This has also made me realize that my idea of vessels are technically undead, so that's fun.

[scoriarose]

i love how much you love your snakes

I can't help but love them! They are just so precious. And honestly they are incredibly loving to me too! Sometimes the world seems so big and impossible, and I'm just one insignificant human among billions. But to my girls, I am their whole world. And every day they show me how much they love me. So I can never let them down. We are just a little multi-species family who loves each other very much!

Earlier today Scoria was playing in my blankets with me laying next to her, and she came over and wanted up on me. I put her on my chest and laid with her head over my heart. We just relaxed like that for an hour- I'm pretty sure she fell asleep for a bit because when I picked her up she did the biggest yawn ever.

Sakura is becoming a little sweetie pie too. She's very timid but usually snuggles me at least once a week now, and has gotten very good at staying calm while she's out. She's also gotten really good at target training! I'm proud of her progress. C:

I love my mommy and my sister thiiiiiis much. You can't see how much? Well that's cuz it's so big! We're inside it, it goes for miles and miles and miles!

You two are embarrassing. I'm not here. Don't look at me.

[fingertipsmp3]

There may or may not be a very rare species of frog living in my greenhouse

[gatorbites-imagines]

Please, please, I'll do whatever you want, just more yautja

Male Elder Yautja OC (Ge'jaar) x male reader

Ficlet

I still don’t really know a whole lot of the yautja lore, but I love them anyways. So, heres me cooking up an oc and hoping it’s somewhat canon because I love yautja and will take any excuse to write about them. Readers somewhat based off of an oc of mine. Reader is also around 6ft 5 inches. Ge'jaar is 9ft or so.

Bako really grew on me for some reason when I wrote this, so lemme know if you guys wanna read about him.

You were old. Very old. You hadn’t kept much track of just how old you were, it didn’t really matter, but you only appeared to be in the 50s or very good 60s. You knew you were a lot older than that, having spent at least 100 years away from earth, hunting. You had returned though, at some point, and settled down in a very defensible cabin far away from much of everything, where you could live in peace with your “dogs”.

Well, you called them dogs, mainly because they walked on all fours and had a tail they’d wag, and followed orders. An ex of yours had called them Kiande amedha, you just called them xenomorphs, or your beetle dogs. Years ago, back when you had successfully killed the bad bloods that kidnapped you and your military unit, you had found this little ugly hissing creature. There was a stereotype that humans would bond with most near anything, and they were right.

You brought the little bugger along on the ship you stole from the now dead bad bloods, which took a long time to figure out how to steer. You named your pet Lucky, and you would later learn she was female. Strangely enough, she seemed to follow you as if you were the queen and not her, so it was all fine. Even if she and her first offspring did kill your ex when he tried to hit and control you. One of her offspring lost a leg in that fight, so obviously his name would be tripod.

Luckily for you, sweet little Lucky didn’t breed like other of her kind. Over the years shed only had about 50 offspring, whom she seemed to raise in the same way you remembered earth dogs would do it, sometimes making you wonder if she was some kind of crossbreed. Having 50 kiande amedha though, made you very dangerous in the eyes of your ex’s species, especially when they learned you controlled them.

Joining the hunt hadn’t been something you had outright planned to do. Or getting juiced up with whatever weird drugs and inventions the clans you were friendly with cooked up. That was why you grew so much taller, and aged so slowly.

Ge'jaar wasn’t part of one of the clans you fought alongside. You two actually met, when a group of young bloods tried to hunt your beetle dogs. Apparently, they thought you would be an easy target, being an ooman and all. Of course, you made sure to show them you weren’t. they successfully killed one of your pets, a spunky one named Hoover because he ate everything. And like any hunter worth their salt, you needed revenge.

It led to some political struggles and conversations between clan elders, since you were pretty much a part of that one specific clan now after so many hunts together.

Ge'jaar wasn’t the leader of his clan, but still counted as an elder. He was handsome, in his own, scaley way. His skin was white and covered in the same dark splotching as all yautja seemed to carry. He wore a lot of the same clothing as most yautja did, and would later on wear a cape you made from the hide of a beast you had hunted.

In the end, Ge'jaar went as far as to apologize and repay you for the dead “hunting hound”. Bako, one of the males from your apparent clan, would later tell you it was because Ge'jaar wanted to fuck you. You were still very salty about Hoover though, so you acted quite nasty and confrontational with Ge'jaar and his clan for a good chunk of years.

The cape Ge'jaar would start to wear, hadn’t even been a gift in your mind. For some reason the elder yautja had followed along for one of your solo hunts, in Bakos words “going on a date” with you. And yes, Ge'jaar was very impressive to watch fight, he was very big and broad, alright? The creatures purple blood sprayed all over his white skin also didn’t help.

You couldn’t even remember what you had said to him, but it must have been some threat or curse as you threw the creatures skin at him, since you only wanted the meat and bones. It made no sense to you at the time why Ge'jaar started wearing the fur, and you hadn’t wanted to ask Bako since the guy had just started cackling at you when he saw it.

It was only years later when you had settled back down on earth, that it really seemed to register to you that Ge'jaar was trying to charm you, in his own yautja way. Still feeling so angry about Hoovers death, even if Ge'jaar himself didn’t do it, you took all the hunting and dead creatures by your ship and hut as a threat or challenge. All the jewelry and armor as harder to explain, and you still had the book about yautja mythology somewhere on your shelf.

At that point, you had just assumed Ge'jaar moved on, since you hadn’t seen him in so long. The only yautja you truly spoke much too nowadays was Bako and those from his clan. And of course, the ones that still owed you favors, just to remind them you were still alive to cash in on it.

You had just returned from one of your trips to the nearest large city, a trip that took you almost two weeks since everything was far away, when you saw him again. Or rather, one of your beetle dogs saw him, a young one named Blue, since his dome of a head reflected blue more than the rest.

Blue had been born, laid? On earth, and had seen very little true combat, so you assumed that was why he was the friendliest of them all. Where most of Lucky’s offspring that had known space and combat stuck to the shadows and settled in the cave system near your cabin, Blue was a real lapdog.

Friendly enough it seemed, to just accept an intruder in your home. Stepping out of your truck, Blue trotted out of your cabin door, which was wide open, looking as happy as a clam with dried meat in his maw. There was a feeling in the air that you weren’t alone, so grabbing at your beloved weapon of choice, you were about to fall back into old habits.

That was until Ge'jaar of all people, stepped out of your cabin, wearing one of your shirts. Well, trying to wear one of your shirts. It was one of the largest shirts you owned, old and worn with some odd shape on the front that might have been a logo once.

The elder yautja looked very comfortable, right at home honestly, his dreadlocks pulled into a bun on the back of his large head, and a damn sleeve of cookies in his massive hand. The confusion must have been so clear on your face, as the retired hunter chittered and laughed, moving closer to help you lug stuff back into your cabin and into your massive basement.

The confusion was strong enough that you just kinda went along with it, moving everything from your large truck and away from sight until you needed it. It was only after you both sat down on the couch that you took notice of the minor changes to your home, it looked very much like Ge'jaar had just moved himself in.

You could have smacked him right then and there, maybe cut all his dreadlocks off and made him swallow his mandibles, but somehow the massive scarred yautja made himself look so innocent and borderline lovable.

Blue, the little fucker, just got comfortable on a large fur Ge'jaar had laid out across the floor, tail whipping all over and knocking trinkets off your coffee table. The little traitor, you knew you spoiled him too much.

It took a lot of explanation from Ge'jaar, and you had a feeling if you hadn’t lived amongst his people for so long you might have lost it, but apparently Ge'jaar had made some plea to his clan leader, and yours since apparently you still counted as one of those, and you two were pretty much married without your approval.

Well, or so you would say, but all your guy’s “dates” and all the “gifts” you passed between you counted as courting. You settling down back on earth just appeared to be retirement in their eyes. It wasn’t like you still hated Ge'jaar, you never really had thinking back, it just… came as quite a surprise.

Ge'jaar still kept on courting you, even when you fed most of the things he caught to Lucky and her offspring. The elder yautja took your claim that Lucky was your child to heart, clicking and purring when she, and by extent her offspring, finally accepted his presence.

Time was a true blur out in the mountains, you only really noticed it by the seasons passing and you needing to go back into town two or three times a year to stock back up. But soon enough Ge'jaar was part of your life, and yes, you still snipped and bit at him sometimes, but this time it was meant as flirting.

Your mate, since that’s what you guys were now, was so patient and seemed to find your human nature endearing enough to pick up on some of it himself. It still felt very weird to be given flowers by a seasoned hunter like Ge'jaar, or to walk in on him watching Gilmore girls with Blue draped across his lap, but you got used to it.

It was probably best that you and Ge'jaar were the ones to get together, since he was older, had already had all the offspring he wanted. The yautja was also confident enough in himself that he didn’t get jealous the same way your ex had. Ge'jaar was hot and he knew this even in his fluffy robe and slippers, though you couldn’t help but miss him in his netting and weapons at times.

It turned out to be a lot more comfortable than you had thought to retire, with your mate who had to be hundreds of years older than you, and your many, many beetle dogs. There were times you debated on going out for a hunt again, as a date, for old times sake, but that was something you would need to discuss with Ge'jaar first.

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: You teach Astarion a spell that allows him to speak to animals ... and unleash chaos. From building a bat army, to coaching spiders on how to have sex, there's certainly never a dull moment when it comes to your beloved.

[Astarion x Tav/Reader]

Genres: Romance, humour, fluff, crack.

Warnings: Sexual humour.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

"I've got to hand it to you, darling. You make conversing with common beasts look ever so engaging."

You glanced over at Astarion and smiled. He had volunteered to accompany you on today's hunt, probably to stretch his legs and enjoy the thrill of the chase.

As nonchalant as he always seemed, you'd noticed that he'd donned a rakish hunting cap over his curls and exchanged his regular clothing for a leather armour ensemble. Let it never be said that Astarion didn't get into the spirit of things.

Dusting off your knees, you rose to your feet.

"It's ... not always as simple as casting a spell. Each species has its own unique behaviour, traits and dialects. You've got to have a fair understanding of what makes them tick. Offend a squirrel and it may lead you to an owlbear cave instead of buried treasure."

He groaned and clicked his tongue.

"Sounds like a lot of work, if you ask me. I've only ever learned the spells and cantrips that get me out of tough spots."

Considering those words, you watched the small starling you'd recruited flit away through the treetops, ready to begin scouting your path ahead after the promise of some delectable insects.

You turned back to Astarion.

"Now that I think about it, I have heard tales of vampires being able to command beasts."

His expression soured and he waved a hand dismissively.

"Oh, that's plain old domination. All the beasts of the soil and air, at your command. Ravening wolves, infected with bloodlust, ready to tear out your enemies' throats."

Pausing, he shot you a quick look before turning away.

"It's nothing like what you do. You actually ... speak to them. Understand them. You don't try to control them, or treat them with ... cruelty."

Without waiting for your reply, he strode forward through the trees, in the wake of the starling. Staring after him, you felt a telltale surge of tenderness in your chest, the kind that you'd been feeling increasingly often in his presence.

Brow furrowing slightly, you hurried after him.

When you did manage to catch up, his equanimity seemed to be restored. Astarion's moods, once you knew him well enough, were positively mercurial.

He slowed down and walked at your side, touch occasionally grazing your wrist. You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again.

After a few more minutes, you felt his little finger curl briefly around yours, giving a small tug.

"What's got you in such a brown study?"

You turned to him, expression serious.

"Well, I was thinking ... would you like me to teach you the spell for speaking to animals?"

He stopped dead, blinking in surprise.

"Well ... I certainly wouldn't mind. But what's this in aid of? You and Halsin have far more mastery over the skill than I do."

"It doesn't have to be for a specific purpose. Just for you to see what it feels like. You can practice on your own after I teach you the rudiments. And maybe ... then we can speak to animals together?"

You watched him, taking in his reaction.

Astarion was an exceptionally handsome man, there was no denying it. Every facial expression and gesture was an extension of his deadly charm and effortless magnetism.

It was when he looked at you like this, however, gaze trusting and guileless, hesitant, a fleeting radiance in his smile, that your heart raced and you knew, with certainty, that you'd made the right call.

"Hm. I suppose ... I'd like that. Yes. Who knows what I could achieve with a skill like that?"

His tone was flippant, cheerful, but you saw the way his eyes slid away from you, the way the tips of his ears twitched. He looked almost ... bashful.

You placed a handle gently on his arm before resuming your tracking of the starling.

"Good. I think you'd be quite talented at it."

Considering Astarion's usual attitude to such matters, you're surprised by how seriously he takes the matter of learning the simple spell.

He appears one evening at your tent, when most of your other companions have turned in for the night. It had been a fairly relaxed day, one focused on receiving deliveries of goods at camp and making sure that stores of valuable items and potions were replenished.

Astarion seats himself before you, hands placed on his knees, scarlet eyes alert and trained on you.

"Well, darling, here I am, at your disposal. It's time to don the robe of spellmaster and educate little old me."

You grinned back at him.

"Please don't let Gale hear you call me spellmaster."

"Why? It might do him a world of good."

"Right before he comes at me with a certified board exam to prove my credentials. Now, raise your hands. Like this. Perfect. I'll teach you the basic incantation first, then we'll focus on channeling the Weave."

He is a remarkably quick study. His eyes never leave your hands, your lips, your eyes, your gestures as you take him through the process. It's hard not to feel somewhat flustered by such rapt attention. You don't fancy yourself the best teacher, but you do try, for his sake.

When you feel that he's mastered the basics, you clap your hands together and rise.

"Right! It's time to put your skills to the test."

He arches an eyebrow.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Cast the spell on yourself."

He complies, eyes closing briefly, the thrum of magical power matching yours as you also speak the words and feel the slow shift in your mind. Astarion flexes his fingers, nodding slowly.

"I think I've managed it. So, where do we take the lesson from here?"

Instead of replying, you whistle loudly. Astarion sits bolt upright as the eager patter of paws approaches your tent. Scratch noses his way in, tail wagging furiously as he spots both you and Astrion waiting for him.

"Friend! And Fang Friend! Both here! What are you doing? Do you have something for Scratch? Are you doing magic like wizards?"

You watch in silent fondness as Astarion's eyes grow wider and he leans toward Scratch as if he cannot believe what he hears. His voice is low, hesitant.

"Scratch? I can ... hear you speak now. This feels ... rather odd."

The white-furred head whips in Astarion's direction and Scratch's tail stills for a minute.

"Fang Friend? You can hear me?"

Clearing his throat, Astarion seems to regain some of his composure. He offers Scratch a charming, if superior smile.

"Of course. I've just learned the appropriate spell, thanks to my sweet dove here. So, this is your voice. It does seem ... nice, I suppose."

"Oh, Fang Friend!"

Without further ado, Scratch launches himself at Astarion who lets out a decidedly undignified squawk at his actions.

"Wait! Stop at once! What do you think you're ... why are you slobbering all over ... excuse me!"

"Fang Friend learned to speak, just for me! For Scratch! Oh, great day! Happy day! Fang Friend is the best!"

"I certainly did not learn the spell just for you, you mangy little - "

Astarion pauses, one hand braced on Scratch's probing snout, as your laughter fills the tent. The dog instantly switches his attention to you, pouncing on you in delight.

"Thank you for teaching Fang Friend!"

"It's always a pleasure, Scratch."

Cradling his soft flank against you, you scrub at his belly, causing him to roll over in blissful abandon. Glancing up, you see Astarion watching you with that rare warmth, the kind that kindles his eyes to the soft hue of a sunrise over the sleeping forest.

Of course, it isn't long before Astarion's new knowledge starts to be employed in ... unique and innovative ways. You'd expected it, naturally, but he still manages to surprise, vex and amuse you at every turn.

One one such morning, you turn your tent and its contents upside down searching for your missing boot. Brow creasing in consternation (because you just knew it had been beside your bedroll the night before) you step outside, scanning the ground.

And spot Scratch, standing a few paces away, your boot clasped in his teeth. You frown, puzzled. He's never done that before.

"Scratch? May I have my boot back?"

Instead of complying with his usual obedience, he trots off, pausing at the edge of the clearing to ensure that you follow him. When he is certain that you're on his trail, he darts off into the trees.

Muttering under your breath, you push your feet into the spare pair of sandals you own, wondering what on earth had gotten into the canine.

You catch glimpses of him up ahead on the forest path, and he runs off each time you get close, leading you to something.

Eventually, you hear the rush of water up ahead. It must be the small waterfall where you sometimes go to bathe for a touch more privacy. Stepping out of the foliage, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight which awaits you.

Scratch has paused before the edge of the water, tail wagging happily now that he'd completed his task of luring you out here. Under Astarion's direction of course. That much is obvious.

Lying shirtless and seductively posed on his elbows, the vampire in question regards you with a coy smile from his vantage point on a rock. His pale skin glistens with water, the rivulets running tantalizingly over sculpted pectorals and the ridges of his taut abdomen.

"Oh, look who it is, Scratch. Our darling who'd been far too busy yesterday evening to spend time with us. Isn't it lovely that they're here?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Really, Astarion?"

He sits up, the razor-tipped smile exhibiting no remorse whatsoever.

"Well, you're here now, aren't you? Climb up here. The view is quite splendid."

"We have important things to accomplish today, you know."

"And Shadowheart won't be awake for another half hour. We both know that. Now hush and get up here."

Reluctantly, you clamber up beside him, Scratch following you, your boot still clutched safely between his jaws. Astarion insistently pats the rock surface where he wants you to sit, and you do, your side pressed against his rather damp one.

In spite of his provocative pose, you know that he simply wants companionship, the sweet affection only you can grant him. That much had been established during your conversation in camp, that night after encountering the drow merchant.

He turns to you, nose inches from your cheek, taking you in. You laugh and flush slightly under his intense scrutiny.

"Stop staring."

"I can't."

His voice is low, rough-edged with sincere affection. You turn your head and your lips slot perfectly against his. He draws you in, one arm curled around your waist, kissing you tenderly, softly.

The moment is broken when a furry head butts in between your forms and Scratch drops your boot into your lap.

"Fang Friend said you'd be happy, and you are!"

You lean across and pinch Astarion's side.

"Fang Friend had better watch himself. Abusing the power I've given him already is a risky business."

Surprisingly, Astarion didn't seem to mind Scratch's intrusion. His fingers drift down behind the dog's ears absently, his gaze taking in the waterfall, the sun over the treetops, you.

You decided that the little distraction was worth it, when he looked like this, like an ordinary man enjoying the morning air, the wind tousling his unruly curls, the corners of his eyes and mouth upturned in relaxed amusement.

Speaking with animals certainly had its merits.

The next time he makes use of his newfound power, it's obvious that he's been practicing without your knowledge in order to surprise you.

A convoy of Absolute cultists is making its way towards the main encampment, caravans laden with valuable supplies throwing up a cloud of dust from the road, heavily guarded on all sides.

Squinting out from your vantage point on a rise nearby, you bite your lip. You are heavily outnumbered, and the guards look like no slouches. Attacking head on would be out of the question.

Lae'zel shifts restlessly beside you, but she can clearly tell when strategy takes precedence over brawn. Astarion taps his fingers against the boulder you are crouched behind before a sly smile tugs at his lips.

He glances over at you and signals that he'd like to handle the distraction. You pause, uncertain, but he seems sure of himself, and Astarion never takes unnecessary risks in such perilous situations. Nodding, you watch as he slips into the shadows.

The caravan trundles along, undisturbed, until you begin to hear exclamations at the rear and front. Raising your head over the boulder for a quick look, you can make out many small, dark, darting shapes, pouring in a steady stream from the nearby trees.

They wheel, flap, buffet their wings against the faces of the guards who swing their weapons in wild arcs and hit nothing. Shadowheart turns to you, eyebrows raised.

"Those are bats."

Bats?

But wasn't that-

You had no further time to process that thought, because you'd spotted Astarion. The increasingly dense flock of generally nocturnal creatures had surrounded the entire caravan, preventing his passage from reaching the guards' attention. He cut the lines holding the wagons together, darting back out of sight as the heavy vehicles teetered and pitched backward, rolling down the hill towards the water below.

Shouts and desperate cries from the guards and merchants now reached your ears. They scrambled and tripped, swiping at the bats, trying to stop the passage of the errant wagons.

It was all in vain.

Astarion slipped away, into the shade of the trees once more, while Shadowheart readied the appropriate incantation. She focused, drawing on the weave, freezing the water just below the surface of the river so that the caravans would be submerged, but not so far down as to be unrecoverable.

As the team on the road below stamped, swore and made arrangements to call in assistance from the encampment to help them salavge the goods, bats streamed into the area behind the boulder where your party still remained hidden.

Dark wings took on a more corporeal form, and suddenly, Astarion was with you again. He smirked at your collective expressions.

Keeping your voice low, you hissed incredulously at him.

"How did you manage that? I thought ... that only - "

He completed your sentence, smug.

"That only full vampires could conjure animals like this? You'd be right, sweetheart. I haven't conjured any of these fine fellows."

Lae'zel was now looking supremely confused.

"But they're clearly following your lead, elf."

"Well, that's only because I've been getting to know them quite thoroughly over the past few weeks."

Now you were truly stumped.

"Getting ... to know them?"

"Why, yes! They inhabit a cave nearby. Granted, I've had to wade through my fair share of bat droppings, but it was certainly worth it."

He pointed to the bats that had perched on his shoulders and on the nearby branches.

"This is Balthazar, that's Bella and here's Brissinger. They were the first to approach me. And over here is Hilda, their second cousin, once removed. Here's Gerald, Jarvis and Phillip. They're triplets, would you believe. And this one is Laila. She's awfully shy, but she's partial to berries."

A silence followed this introduction. You coughed slightly.

"Astarion ... did you ... get to know each and every one of these bats? You befriended them?"

"But of course! Isn't that a lot better than commanding them to do what I want? We're all happy acquaintances and they'll help when we're in a pinch."

Shadowheart was staring at him a little less politely.

"And you keep telling me that I'm touched in the head."

Lae'zel snorted.

"Seems like you've found a work-around for vampire powers. Useful, if somewhat laborious."

She peered down towards the road, where the remaining Cultists were slowly trekking further away towards the encampment to obtain the help they'd been speaking about. The smaller guard that remained would be easily dealt with. She patted her sword and grinned.

"We can take them. Let's move."

As she descended the slope, Shadowheart following closely, you turned abruptly to Astarion, gripped him by the collar and pulled him into a swift kiss. One of the bats gave what was, unmistakably, a hoot.

Parting with him, you spied his pleased, if confused expression.

"What was that for, my sweet?"

"For being marvelous."

"Ha! Just wait until you see my bat cave."

After most battles, Astarion could generally be found at his tent, having cleaned up and tended his wounds. It was during these more relaxed evening hours that he would bring out his special spark lantern, burning brightly with a near-blue flame, to illuminate the repairs he effected to his clothes and armour.

Even though you'd assured him that you could afford to replace damaged items, he insisted on darning the torn edges of cloth, mending the split segments of leather, fixing metal plates into position. The activity seemed to provide him some means of relaxation.

When you sought him out, you certainly weren't expecting him to have company. And yet, there it was.

The sound of voices, engaged in what seemed to be a most riveting conversation.

"Well, how very rude of them!"

That was Astarion's voice. The reedy-sounding answer caused you some confusion. You didn't recognise the speaker. 

"Rude! Rude! Rude humans!"

"But you must have done something about it, surely?"

"Pecked holes in all her pumpkins, I did."

"You didn't! How wicked!"

A raucous laugh sounded from within his tent. You sidled closer, now infinitely curious. Astarion was speaking again, tone low and confidential.

"You know, I heard from Titchwittle that she doesn't even maintain the thatching on her roof. All kinds of vermin nesting in there."

"Ooh, he's right! He's right! We won't go near it! It's crawling with nasty things."

"I suspected so. I saw her haggling the life out of the vendors at the market, so one would think her husband's managed to save up enough by now to mend things, but there we go."

"Have you been on any roofs? Ingis said he saw you! Saw you! Sneaking at night!"

"Well, how very perceptive of him. As a matter of fact, we did raid an arms dealer last week. He must have seen me then."

"He did! Ingis did! Said your hair looked like a wet cat's fur in the rain, he did."

Astarion gasped, scandalized.

"He said what?"

"Wet cat! Wet cat!"

"Oh, I'll give Ingis a piece of my mind when I see him next. Who is he to judge? His feathers look as healthy as a zombie's scalp."

Unable to resist the burning curiosity, you pushed the flap of Astarion's tent aside.

There he was, surrounded by the paraphernalia of his sewing kit, the fluorescent light from the lamp illuminating his pale features and the ... companion he was clearly enjoying a fruitful gossip session with.

A raven.

It was perched on a nearby wooden stand, eyes bright and watchful. Astarion looked up at you as you entered, expression mildly outraged.

"Darling, did you hear that? Can you believe someone would call me anything other than beautiful?"

Perhaps, the most memorable occasion during which Astarion had put his animal speaking ability to use had been the time he'd attempted to tutor the spiders.

On the subject of how to have sex.

You'd returned from the city one evening, having purchased some supplies, expecting a hearty meal to sate your ravenous appetite.

What you found instead was a cooling cook pot and Gale hunched over in despair, begging Astarion to stop, please stop, for the love of all things good in the world and didn't he even care about Gale's appetite?

Hands on hips, aspect stern, Astarion was firmly ignoring the wizard's pleas. He rapped the stick he held against one palm.

"Gale, stop your whinging. Just look at them. Such poor form! No finesse, no stamina, a series of anaemic in-and-outs and they're done! How atrocious! This isn't acceptable."

"They're spiders, for the love of - "

"You there! That isn't how you hold your mate! Wrap your legs around her further. Yes, that's it. Now reach. Yesssss. You can do it. Put your back into it, fellow."

"Oh Gods, please, someone make it stop - "

"And you! Do you think I can't see exactly what you're doing? Keep your fangs away from him until he's done. Hells, control yourself. Bite off his head and his pedipalps won't reach your opening, I can tell you that."

Gale's haunted gaze met yours and he hurried over. You tried your best to control your features as he grabbed you by the elbows to steady himself.

"Can you ... do something about this? He's got these... spiders lined up over here doing mating drills."

Patting Gale's arm reassuringly, you made your way over to where Astarion was watching his eight-legged disciples with a critical eye.

He spotted you and beamed, walking over to plant a sweet, searing kiss on your lips. One the spiders couples, having witnessed this, promptly went into overdrive. Astarion tutted fondly at them before wrapping his arm around your waist and gesturing to the spiders arranged before you in ... various stages of copulation.

"I saw a few of them going at it in the woods and darling, I was appalled. No wonder their population is dwindling. Their courtship rituals and mating strategies are deplorable."

"I'm certainly not complaining," muttered Gale, who was busying himself with the stew again to blot out the sight of the writhing arachnids.

You nodded earnestly.

"Oh, I understand. Without balance, an ecosystem cannot function."

Behind you, Gale whipped around, ladle pointing at you accusingly.

"Gods, you're no better than he is."

Astarion took you by the hand and led you closer.

"And now, my sweet, it's time to lavish these ignorant souls with your own knowledge. Go on, tell this one here how it's done."

You knelt and observed the attempts of the much smaller male, scrambling to find purchase on his chosen mate's back. Shaking your head, you raised a hand.

"Now, listen here. Sometimes roles must be reversed during mating. Sometimes one partner must be dominant, and other times, they should switch. Try a new position, maybe with you behind and under, instead of on top. That way, your pedipalps can reach her better."

Astarion clapped his hands, expression positively ecstatic.

"Oh, did you hear that, students? That's my darling for you! Always so perceptive. They knows exactly how to undulate their sweet waist when they're being dominant too - "

Gale had well and truly had enough. He strode over to the two of you, energy crackling along one finger as he pointed it at you like a weapon.

"I'm going to count to three. And this class had better be dismissed by the time I'm done."

Astarion hurriedly scattered his ardent pupils, calling after them.

"Same time next week. But we'll meet in the forest. Wouldn't want any of you getting singed by a certain someone while you're in the throes -"

"Astarion."

"There. They're gone. Not a single trace of them, Gale."

Gallantly offering you his elbow, Astarion escorted you to your tent with an air of wounded dignity. As soon as Gale was out sight, you both collapsed, wheezing with laughter.

"Did you see his - "

"Oh hells, his face."

"And the way he looked when those two spiders really started going at it - "

"Shhhh, he's making stew. And I'm starving. Don't distract him any more!"

Astarion straightened and swayed a little from side to side, expression playfully miffed.

"My treasure, all that teaching has worked up an appetite in me too."

"Come here."

You wrapped your arms around him, cradling him against you. It had been a long day, and you hadn't been with him for most of it. You did miss him, even though you'd only been away for such a relatively short time.

Burying your nose into his shoulder, you spoke, voice slightly muffled.

"First bats, then ravens, and now spiders?"

"I'm a vampire, darling. I must cultivate a certain ... aesthetic."

He bit down gently on the side of your neck, fangs scraping across the surface of the skin.

"But before I drink my fill, you need to eat. As hungry as I am, I can hear your stomach rumbling loud and clear."

You leaned back and regarded him mischievously. 

"Not as hungry as some of your pupils, it seems."

"Oh, they're hungry enough to eat each other, my love. And not in the nice way, either."

The corner of his mouth curved as you laughed, that devastating smile now filled with a warmth that had been glaringly absent when you'd first known him.

How far you both had come, how much faith you'd placed in this blossoming love that somehow continued to raise its delicate head through the crushing weight of peril and conflict.

As with all his endeavours, Astarion had taken your gift and made it his own. Be it gregarious ravens, or lustful spiders, you knew that nature would answer Astarion's call.

How could it not?

It had watched him struggle, despair, overcome and flourish, and if your years in the wild had taught you anything, it was that nature rewarded its most glorious survivors.

[cookies-after-dark]

I am the anon that talked about the Human Witch! Reader licking Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk, not the same person as 🐟-non, I think you just have two anons who really like the dynamic of two small freaks and their giant witch/deity of a partner I'll use ⭐👑 to help differentiate us.

I AM GLAD YOU LIKE THE PV AND SM BEING SO INTO THE HUMAN WITCH! READER THAT DEATH CANNOT PREVENT THEIR LOVE AND LUST FOR THE READER.

I'll give the rest of my thoughts that I held back on since I was not sure if the freak I brought was a freak accepted here (lighthearted)

So like, I was thinking Shadow Milk would want to tempt the Reader in going further than just licking, encouraging them to drag their teeth against his body, he loves the canine specifically cuz it plays into the slight predator/prey dynamic a Witch would lowkey have with a Cookie. Surely the Reader doesn't think he's some weak Cookie, pressing that canine into his dough gently isn't going to crumble him. How mean that they think he's fragile, they need to make it up to him by proving him wrong~

ALSO AFTERCARE. Like, SM and PV are small, SM can float around and use his strings to get Reader stuff so he might actually be in charge of that, might use the fact he's in control of that to mess with the Reader a bit. PV probably sits by the Reader, or more so sits on their forehead gently kissing and rubbing it while talking sweetly to them, he isn't really able to do much more I think but it's very sweet he still does try. Sure his dough and robes probably get a bit wet and stained from the beads of sweat he wipes away from your forehead but he can take a shower. He loves you more than the inconveniences that such a size (and species) difference would create. -⭐👑

additional tags: macrophilia, exophilia, predator/prey dynamics, whatever kink involves dragging giant teeth across a cookie body, gender neutral!reader

ships: witch reader x shadow milk cookie x pure vanilla cookie, beast x ancient

I'm so glad I waited until the newest update to answer this ask. Just in case nobody wants spoilers, I won't get into it here and will ibstead make a separate post tagged with spoilers, but just know that this is unreliable a very genius ask. Apollo's dodgeball of prophecy skills right there.

You and 🐟-non are onto something with cookies being lustful with witches. In their universe, imagine that being considered a monsterfucker. An exophiliac for giant gods that eat cookies. Depending on who knows about Shadow Milk and Oure Vanolla's love for you, that could be quite disturbing!

But really, they're too in love to care. Shadow Milk Cookie really just has no shame regarding how his cock perks straight up at the mere thought of you baring your fangs at him, perfectly capable of breaking him in half.

Pure Vanilla Cookie might be a little bit more shy about it in my opinion, but he can't deny the jam that rushes to his head and down below at being at your mercy.

Really, the love and trust those two have in you make it so much better. You could crumble them, you could eat them. The risk is there and everpresent, it looms over them just like your hulking figure. Your fingers made of flesh feel so strange but so good against their rough cookie bodies. Sometimes they get so horny that Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk even make out and play with eachother's bodies right on your palm in full view.

Shadow Milk Cookie loves to roleplay being chase by you, only barely dodging between your outstretched hands and nimbly slipping through your fingers. He's already breathing hard and fast by the time you have him 'cornered' on your large table, right up against some cook books. You even rub your hands and cackle, he's really, really into that silliness.

Pure Vanilla Cookie just loves to lay bare in your outstreched palm. Naked in every sense of the manner, his back is arched and his cock is standing straight up and throbbing before you. Letting your tongue and teeth gently scrape his body, dipping in between his legs and ass, that makes him shudder and cum all over your hand in mere minutes. It's euphoric for him to feel so vulnerable. To have his live literally in your hands.

And the best part? Afterwards, you're so gentle with the two of them. Shadow Milk Cookie loves to poke at you, taunting you for how soft you're being with a Beast such ad himself, but he loves being pampered by you. Dressed in new robes and drying safely from their treatment, you tuck them in and gush over them. Telling them how strong and capable they are. Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla aren't some pansy pushovers, no matter how they love to pretend to be.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Blood-borne

Azriel x reader

synopsis: When reports of attacks from strange beasts increase up in the desolate Illyrian Steppes, both Azriel and Cassian are tasked with clearing out the malicious creatures. But when Azriel is bitten by one and sweats break out, the High Lord realises perhaps he should have put more time into investigating the ancient species. More specifically, why the attacks started after a millennia’s worth of peaceful cohabitation, and what the consequences will be of their venom once again mixing with Illyrian blood.

warnings: blood, illness, eventual vampire! Az, generic healing descriptions

a/n: so this started off with I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead, then switched to Lust For A Vampyr, and finally ended with Sour Switchblade. Who knows where the next one will start 😔

word count: 7,975

It’s the dead of night. Peaceful. 

The moon is high in the sky—a gleaming, crooked, slash of a smile—and the city is dark, revelling in the beloved starlight far above, twinkling like millions of glazed, porcelain teeth, cast into a murky black sea and stitched into the heavens. Your windows are ajar, a cool night breeze circulating your chambers, keeping the air fresh and crisp even while you sleep. 

Azriel and Cassian will return in the early morning, eager to be rid of Illyria as soon as possible. Between the two of them Azriel will likely be the one more insistent on a swift departure, though you can’t imagine him ever voicing his distain. Luckily Cassian will be there to pick up on his non-verbal signals. 

You’ll have to check in with Feyre too, make sure she’s recovering well after her birth. Physically, the damage was extensive—if it wasn’t for the healing blood in her veins and Nesta’s intervention… Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose, rubbing to soothe the growing headache before your arm slides across your face, elbow hanging crooked over your brow. She’s been on the mend but it’ll be a long while yet before she can even think about shifting again; longer yet before she can fly. As for her son…he’s healthy. Practically brimming with life. Everyone’s seen the twinkle in his round eyes. You’re certain he’ll grown into a menace soon enough. 

As for Elain… 

Guilt is a ball of iron in your chest. With everything that’s been happening as of late there’s been little time for either you or Madja to keep a proper eye on her. You just hope the two of you haven’t been too preoccupied with the more obvious matters to disregard the internal ones. It’s hard to gauge where she’s at, and you often have to rely on Nuala’s reports to hazard a guess at what might be going through the young female’s mind. Externally, she’s doing exceptionally well—keeping herself busy: baking, reading, walking, gardening, knitting, sewing, stitching, studying. She keeps herself fresh and put together, skin healthy and strong, hair lustrous and long, a vivid glow about her. No eye-bags nor sallow complexion, she communicates with the twins fine and only has rare days of reclusion where she retreats to her bedroom. By all means she’s doing well. 

It’s worrying. 

There’s so much to keep an eye on within this family, so many minor tensions to understand—more so than any other setting you’ve been placed in. Each day has its own set events to overcome, a new detail to examine, whether that’s a shift in expression as another family member enters the room or as blatant as the simmering hatred that so nastily permeates any room the High Lord and his eldest sister-in-law, Nesta, are placed in. 

Inhaling a dragging breath, your focus slips to the raindrops glittering over the window pane, the piercing light of the moon shimmering like tiny stars, the inky darkness of the city itself reflected upward from below like tight, vicious pupils, hundreds of tiny eyes pressed up to the glass. 

A thunderous crash comes from the floor below, the thump pulsing once through your chest, jerking you awake. 

At once your feet find the cool wooden floorboards, a nightgown strung over bare shoulders, not a second of movement wasted before the glowing faelight is cupped in your palm and the cold iron of the door handle is twisted, opening up into the yawning darkness of the corridor. A gust of rain-soaked wind funnels down the hallway, whipping hair from your face and the faelight flickers, shuddering once before pushing back against the looming shadows crowding the space. 

You hug your thin nightgown tighter, hurrying barefooted down the hall to the staircase, skin tightening to gooseflesh as a second gust of icy wind flushes through the house, howling from the front door that is cast wide. The rug is soaking beneath your feet as you press it closed, following the low light at the far end of the corridor to the kitchen, tiles colder than ice and soaked in puddles of water. 

Blood roars through your ears, pausing only for a second of analysis as you take in the rain-soaked scene. Shards of ceramics scatter the floor, a body splayed across the dining room table, two figures stood either side. It’s all you have time for before rushing forward, only now catching the sickening tang of iron in the air, the wind having previously blown the scent away and you tap the fae light twice in your palm before releasing it high above the slumped figure on the table. It’ll have to do for now. 

Sour, pale-yellow light fills the dining room and blood gurgles from Azriel’s mouth, wet gasps bubbling up from his chest. Rhysand is stood at one head of the table, hand clutched tight around Azriel’s, the High Lord’s towering figure curved crookedly over his brother’s, close enough their brows are touching and it’s clear enough Rhysand is doing what he can mentally, relieving pain, sorting through panic and adrenaline to find his shadowsinger some order to cling to. 

“What happened?” You ask Cassian, darting forward to closer examine Azriel’s state. As far as you can see there are two main wounds, one on the thigh of his left leg and a second having broken into his ribcage on the opposite side. By now the blood flow has already begun to wane, a countdown to his life force bleeding dry. If the wound had been gushing you would have felt more reassured. There’s far too little blood coming from wounds as deep as his. 

“There were more than we anticipated,” Cassian grits out. “Their nest was supposed to be on the far side of the mountain. Most of them got cleared out but two we’d already cut down must have been playing dead and bit on our retreat.” 

“The chimeras?” You ask, noting the splay of teeth marks that are puncturing the right side of Azriel’s torso, the fleshy grey of broken bone visible through one of the upper gouges. 

Cassian nods grimly and you seal your mouth shut to prevent from cursing. It’s bad luck to hear a healer curse—your job is to know what’s going on and get things better, not worse. Adrenalised panic only helps in temporarily keeping pain away. For now you have to do what you can, sealing the wounds, and hope that there’s no fractured enamel trapped inside. 

“Has he begun healing yet?” You ask, pressing the second and third fingers on both your hands either side what you guess must be the puncture mark of the beasts’ canine, two significantly larger than the others. 

“No. I think he’s lost too much blood to manage anything like that. He wouldn’t stop bleeding the entire flight down,” Cassian replied, voice raw. You wonder how long he was shouting to Azriel over the screaming storm outside in order to keep him conscious. Cassian’s dark eyes shift to his brother’s face, thick brows growing heavy as they stitch together, chest still heaving as adrenaline doubtlessly begins to seep away, leaving stagnant fear to lean on. “I thought he was going to die,” Cassian murmurs, so low you doubt either other male can hear. 

“He’s not going to die,” you assure, pushing growth into the surrounding tissue, guiding his open flesh back together like shaping clay. “Hold the wound on his leg until I can let these ones breathe.” 

A pulse of rejection seizes Azriel’s chest, blood flecking his sour-toned skin, Rhysand’s own knuckles turning bone white as he grips tighter to his brother. You’re lucky he’s here, or else things would be much worse. You don’t linger on the thought, your own breath beginning to labour as you move to the second puncture gouge in his chest, bone protruding from deeper in the flesh. 

A twinge of fear pieces your mind. 

Azriel groans on the table, wings deathly still where they’re splayed off the sides, the joints at their ends beginning to curl inward like a spider’s legs on the verge of death. Breath whistles in his lungs, blood no longer gurgling from his chest—barely moving at all. 

“Rhys!” You shout, pulling him from that mental bridge he’d been tending Azriel upon, gripping his shoulder roughly. “Pull away! Pull away!” 

The High Lord’s chest heaves as he forces himself back, releasing the soothing hold he’d had on Azriel’s mind, hands still clutched together. 

The Shadowsinger jolts on the table, body writhing as fresh pain blazes through flesh, senses no longer muted. It’s probably going to be the last thing he can hold onto. 

He’s fading. 

You look at Cassian, bloody fingers still pressing down on the wound, the miniature, magical stitches sewing tissue back together slowly making their way back to the surface, flesh returning to its healed state. “Fetch Madja,” you instruct, “We’ll have a better chance with both of us. Quick. And Rhys, I want you to find-”

A gasp comes from the doorway and the High Lord’s expression drains. It’s far from ideal to have her within such a high stress environment but it’s really a last resort. 

“Feyre, your blood,” you request urgently, feeling the weight as violet eyes cut into your side, but it’s necessary. It’s the boost that will save Azriel’s life, or at least sustain him until Madja arrives. “Only a small amount,” you say calmly, “he just needs enough to keep him alive until I have Madja to help.” 

Feyre swallows only once before she’s hurrying forward, blue-grey eyes rushing over the male on the table, tension in her jaw. “How much?” She asks, taking the blade Cassian hands her before he heads out into the night. “A slice across your palm. If you feel faint stop immediately.” 

She doesn’t hesitate, an excess of blood swelling in her hand before spilling into Azriel’s open mouth, pale lips soaked red. His throat works and you rush round to his other side, now pressing one palm to each gash. 

There’s no time to pace yourself in this encounter. 

It’s a one-time brawl, not a long-spanned battle.

————

Come morning your hands are aching, lungs tired and stretched, throat parched. You haven’t had such a long night since the end of the war. 

At least now you have free access to water, which you’d taken full advantage of when returning to your room. 

By the time Madja had arrived you’d had all the immediate injuries patched but there had still been little colour to Azriel’s complexion. Pallid save for the blood staining his open mouth. If Cassian hadn’t flown so swiftly; if Feyre hadn’t been there; if Azriel hadn’t the strength to hang on… It’s a small miracle he’s still alive and breathing. 

As soon as the sun touches the horizon you get yourself up, preparing to take over Madja’s shift after she’d seen him through the night. There’s still a drained pit where your magic should be, the small amount of sleep you’d managed to grab doing little to aid its replenishment, but it should be enough for today. 

It’s only upon seeing the bloodstained bandages wrapping Azriel’s body and leg that you realise all the rainwater from the night before must have been blood, soaking the rugs, the tiled floors, the bare skin of your feet. It’s a good thing those clothes had been stripped down and tossed into a pile before falling into sleep the night just past. 

“How is he?” You ask, stepping into Azriel’s room. The thick curtains are drawn, but even so it’s too light. 

“Asleep, for now,” Madja replies, raising from her chosen seat at the bedside. “Once I administered the pain reliever he settled down and hasn’t stirred since.” Worried eyes flicker over the male’s body, dark hands tucking her pencil away. You step forward, hand cupping her elbow carefully, “You deserve some rest, too.” Brown eyes don’t leave Azriel for a few moments, but eventually she nods, meeting your gaze, returning the touch on your arm. “You’re a competent healer, you know. You did well last night.” Madja smiles, nodding. “Good work.” 

The words remain in your mind all morning while you’re overseeing Azriel, routinely checking his temperature, keeping an eye on his breathing patterns, and pulse, but it’s not until well past midday that he stirs. 

You sit silently at his side. It’s his breathing that changes first, a deeper breath than the ones before bringing air deep into his lungs, lips peeling themselves apart. Then it’s a twitch in his brows, lifting once then furrowing over his eyes which screw themselves shut. A low groan rumbles in his throat and you allow yourself a subtle sigh of relief. His eyes are next, blinking open by less than a hair’s breadth, pupils gradually contracting to filter the light away until he can look around freely. It takes him longer than usual to get his bearings, but that’s to be expected. 

You wait until he’s ready to speak. 

“How bad is it?” Azriel rasps, his vocal cords chewed up. A smile curves your eyes, “You aren’t dead.” Air rattles in his lungs, a wheezing cough stuttering once from his chest and you offer the glass of water from his bedside. Azriel tilts his head to the side, and you retract the glass. 

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” you tell him, turning to the notebook Madja had left for you. “First of all, what’s your name?” Azriel is silent and you look over to him, concern welling in your chest, but instead his mouth is pursed, expression flat. You sigh, fondness pushing up into your voice, “Come on. It’s routine.” 

“Azriel,” Azriel answers, giving you a deadpan look. You nod. “Do you remember where you were going yesterday?” 

A pause, then, “Illyria. Cassian and I were returning.” 

“Good, but you’re jumping ahead,” you warn, making hazel eyes brighten within the shadowy room. “Can you tell me the names of your two brothers?” 

“Cassian and Rhysand.” 

“Do you know where you are?” 

This time Azriel pauses, eyes darting around the room, his brow furrowing. “The River House?” 

You nod, “You’re in a guest bedroom since it was closer. I’m afraid it’ll probably be some time before we can move you to your own room.” But Azriel tips his head to the side again, “It’s fine.” 

“Alright,” you reply quietly, keeping your smile to yourself. “Next question. Just a few more,” you add when Azriel exhales heavily. “Do you remember what happened to you?” 

“Cassian and I were supposed to be investigating the recent attacks up in Illyria. There was supposed to be no contact.” 

You nod, smile faded. “Do you remember how you got your injuries?” 

“We thought we’d cleared out the ones that had found us, but we hit their nest by chance and there were too many. On the way out one that had been dead bit me.” You wait for him to continue but he stops, looking back to you. 

“Is that all?”

Azriel nods. 

You note down his story, along with the point his memory cuts out. “You don’t remember the second bite?” You inquire. Azriel tilts his head, no. “Do you remember getting here?” Azriel tilts his head again, no. 

You nod, sitting straighter. Pushing a reassuring expression to your features. “Well, the good news is you aren’t dead, as you’re aware.” Azriel rolls his eyes, then hisses, groaning as something hurts. “Your wings are also unscathed, which I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear.” The Shadowsinger grumbles something you don’t hear. Of course you’re glad he’s okay. 

“Right,” you announce, pushing the glass of water to him again which he drinks from reluctantly, “Are you feeling right enough to answer a few more questions for me, or would you like to rest?” 

“What time is it?” He asks. 

You glance at the clock on the wall, “It’s coming up for four in the afternoon.” 

“I can answer a few more questions,” he decides, allowing you to take the glass from his hand once he’s done. 

“Firstly, how are you feeling? Any pain or numbness? Changes in temperature? Aches?” You prompt, pencil at the ready. “My head is pounding,” he answers, eyes remaining only half open though you doubt it’s entirely from fatigue. “My lower body is numb, but my left foot feels cold. A dead cold.” You nod, pencil scratching. “My throat is sore, but my eyes and teeth are the most piercing.” 

Your brow furrows, “Eyes and teeth, huh… Are your eyes hurting as a part of your headache, or do you feel it’s different?” 

“It’s like I haven’t slept in two weeks, and something’s trying to suck them from my skull,” Azriel rasps. Scritch scratch. “And…you mentioned your teeth are hurting… Toothache? I’ll ask Cassian whether your jaw might have had a collision.” You glance over to Azriel who’s still pale. But alive. “What does it feel like? Bruising? Broken?” You’d know if it was broken, though. 

Azriel tilts his head. “More piercing. Here.” Azriel guides his tongue to his left canine. “And here.” He touches the right one. Your brows furrow then you remember to keep your face neutral. Azriel wheezes a sound that might have been a chuckle. “Anything else?” You ask, moving quickly past your error. Azriel tilts his head again, no.

“Alright then. It would be best for you to try and rest for a few more hours—think you can fall back asleep?” You ask, closing the leather-bound notebook and setting it upon the side table. The Spymaster sighs, tilting his head. You aren’t surprised. “You should try. Your body needs the rest.” You pause, considering. Then, “Do you feel well enough to try eating something? It would be good for you.” 

Azriel’s eyes slide shut, lips curling miserably and you have to muffle your laugh. “I don’t want to be eating plain chicken for the next few days,” he mumbles. 

“We need to be careful of your stomach, and your body needs nutrition. Protein.” You reason, “Be happy you aren’t having to drink your meals after mentioning that toothache.” Hazel eyes crack open just enough to send you a piercing glare, but it only results in an upward twitch of your lips. “Would you like me to fetch you anything in the mean time?” You add, knowing it’s not nice to be resting when there’s work that one could be doing. 

“My notebook should be on my desk—can you bring me the stack of reports that will be in the uppermost drawer on the right hand side? There’ll be the first thing you see when you look inside.” You raise a brow, mouth pursing. “Already trying to get back to work?” 

His lips twitch. “I have a lot of work to do.” 

“Well it’s going to have to wait,” you sigh, standing from your chair. “I can fetch your notebook and a book of your choosing—so long as you promise it won’t be work related.” 

“All my books are work related.” 

Your eyes narrow on the bedridden male, waiting for his mask to slip but it remains firmly in place. “Seriously? Not one?” 

Azriel shrugs. Or tries to. It’s more a light twitch of his wings. 

You sigh, nodding to yourself. “Alright. I’ll find something.” 

You turn to leave but a small shadow stirs in your periphery, dragging your attention back to him. Hazel eyes twinkle as the darkness lifts the silky dark hair from his brow, damp enough to appear like ink even in the shadowed room. You roll your eyes, pacing back over to his side, gently laying the back of your fingers across his brow. A beat passes, then Azriel’s eyes slide shut the rest of the way. Your touch lingers on his forehead, taking longer than necessary to gauge his temperature. 

“Your fingers are cool,” Azriel murmurs. Eyes only opening once you pull away again, silky hair flopping back into place. 

“You’re still a little feverish,” you tell him quietly, wary for his aching senses. “Hopefully it’ll pass swiftly enough, but if not your recovery will only take a few extra days.” A pause passes through the room, and you should really be writing that temperature down as your hourly mark. 

As if on cue, a warmed plate appears on the bedside table, and a look of sorrow dims Azriel’s already dismal features when he spots the plain, boiled chicken.

You offer a pitying smile which earns you a grunt of displeasure before you’re turning for the door, pausing on the threshold. “I’ll make sure it’s a good book,” you offer. 

Azriel’s expression turns dour, brow pinched, mouth thinning, and you can practically see his shadows beginning to brood. 

‘It had better be,’ he mouths, voice too worn out to reach you across the room. 

————

The next morning is the same routine, waking up as soon as the sun bleeds over the horizon, trickling pale gold into your bedroom on the first floor. It’s a swift execution of movements, washing, combing, and dressing before you’re out into the house and heading down the hall to Azriel’s temporary room. 

The handle twists before you have a chance to lay your hand on it, Cassian stepping out from the interior. Hazel eyes shift to you, worn and fatigued—usually it’s Azriel who accessorises with the hints of mauve beneath his eyes. “Did you get to speak with him?” You ask, voice kept low in case Azriel’s resting inside. The General nods, leathers stretching as he pushes the dark hair back from his brow, not yet tied back for the day and curling around his shoulders. “Thank you for keeping him alive,” Cassian says, equally quiet. 

“It’s my job,” you smile. “Besides, it wasn’t just me. If you three hadn’t been there it could just as easily have turned bad.” You nod to the door, the room where Azriel’s staying, “You helped more than you think, Cassian.” 

Cassian offers a stiff nod, then he’s straightening, about to leave. 

“I wanted to ask you something about that night,” you say, catching his attention. “Azriel mentioned his teeth hurting, specifically his canines—do you know if he might have collided with the floor after the first bite?”

“Not that I remember,” Cassian contemplates. “He stayed upright and ambulatory until we reached the tunnel exit.” 

You nod, thinking. “Alright… Well, we’ll be keeping an eye on him anyway. Hopefully it’s just a side effect of sinus pressure or headaches.”

Cassian nods his head once, then you’re going your separate ways. 

The curtains are still drawn, and Azriel still appears pale despite the shadows dimming colours. He’s asleep however, which is good, at least. 

After a brief exchange with Madja over how the night went you’re all ready and seated at his side. The plate from yesterday had been removed but the book is still on the side table, no sign that he started it that you can see. 

Like the previous day, Azriel doesn’t wake until long past midday, only rising to consciousness around sundown. 

His eyes are thick and heavy as they blink open, a darkened tinge to the whites that you can’t quite make out the colour of in shadow. The skin of his lips is cracked, peeling at the bow of his mouth, pulling back from his teeth. Despite the long bouts of sleep the dark smudges beneath his eyes don’t seem to be going anywhere, only further deepening, contrasted against the waning colour of his skin—the once rich brown now turning grey and ashen. The fever will be surfacing, regardless of suppression and attempted appeasement. 

His temperature had begun rising overnight, just tipping into the twenties as the moon slipped away.  A sure sign the burning flesh is on its way.

Azriel’s chest lifts and lowers shallowly, breath rasping from desiccated lips. A sheen runs across his pale features, brows appearing closer to oil than ink. Heavy lids slide shut as you guide the slick hair over his forehead to the side, the backs of your fingers laying tenderly down—it’s nowhere yet even near the breaking point.

“Azriel?” You whisper, “Can you hear me?” 

The restless flutter of his lashes alerts you to his awareness, eyes stirring beneath near translucent lids, mauve capillaries webbing through the thin flesh. He creeks himself apart—he’s gotten abruptly worse. Bloodshot hazel tries to shift about the room but he groans, eyes choosing to remain stagnant in his skull instead.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur, fingers retracting, splaying the notebook across your lap, pencil in hand. “My head…” Azriel rasps, voice more ragged than when you last heard it, like something’s come along and ripped it to shreds, “…it’s splitting.” Your brow furrows—Cassian reported he hadn’t received a blow to the head. He seemed appropriately injured yesterday, but for some reason he’s so much worse. Could the meat have been off? Surely not. 

“Madja told me she administered a balm to your skin before dawn, is the rest of your body aching?” You inquire, considering applying a fresh layer to ease the pain that’s begun to bubble back up. 

“My stomach’s starving…” Beneath the cream cotton covers his arm passes over his abdomen, resting. “It’s like someone’s grinding me up between stones.” 

“Okay hold still, the balm might feel cold but I’ll apply some more.” Already you’re pulling back his covers, preparing to begin warming the cream between your palms to encourage its goodness to act swiftly but something catches your attention. While there’s no need for bandages over his torso, his thigh has been wrapped and sanitised, now mottled with something dark and not-quite blood coloured. More concerning is the black tissue stitching together the sections where his stomach had been gauged open, thin threads of necrotic flesh lacing his surface. 

Your jaw bites itself together, cold overtaking your spine. Whatever’s happening to him is different from general infection. 

Lips part as a soft curse slips out—venom? Impossible. The beasts have never been reported to posses glands like that. But it’s the only explanation. 

Considering explanations though…was the reason for their seemingly random switch in nature ever understood? Before now the chimeras never bothered the Illyrians, cohabiting up in the steppes peacefully, as far as you’re aware. What catalysed this sudden shift in nature? 

Another noise of deep-rooted pain groans through his chest, oil-black brows condensing to a point in the middle of his forehead, skin shining with the movement as feverish sweat breaks across his features. Your own brows furrow, heart beating frenetically, “Azriel…?” 

His teeth grit, jaw grinding as if in pain, and his breathing becomes ragged; irregular and torn at the seams. Again you lay your fingers across his brow, and he’s noticeably hotter than before, almost burning in comparison. 

Water. He needs water. 

“Azriel,” you try but his eyes are shut tight, the fabric of his sheets darkening in a close perimeter around his body, sweat staining the cloth. “Azriel I need you to drink some water,” you urge softly, taking the glass and sliding your palm beneath his head, inclining him from the pillow and bringing the chilled glass to parched lips. He drinks deeply, polishing off the water swiftly and you stand to go in search of a rag to lay across his brow. It brings only a temporary reprieve before he’s panting once again. Teeth worry your lower lip. 

Whatever’s happening, it isn’t normal. 

“Azriel, I’m going to speak with Rhysand briefly. I’ll be back in three minutes,” you tell him gently, pressing the glass back into his palm. “Drop this on the floor if you need me sooner; I’ll hear it.” 

Then you’re off into the hallway. Either male will do, but something was wrong with those creatures, and your instincts are telling you it needs to be gotten to the bottom of, and swiftly. 

A life might depend on it. 

————

It must be the goodwill of the Mother than allows both Cassian and Rhysand to be at that moment in the latter’s office, heads turning when the door is thrown wide. 

Apology passes briefly through your eyes but as soon as you step foot in the room it vanishes, door clicking shut as you hurry into the room. “Cassian, I need to you get me one of those chimeras. Dead or alive, but preferably dead. Something’s wrong with Azriel and I think it’s to do with the change in behaviour we’ve been seeing from those animals.” 

Violet eyes flicker, “What’s wrong with Azriel?” 

“I don’t know,” you inform, expression hard. “His flesh is turning necrotic in places around the wounds and his fever isn’t breaking. Madja reported his temperature increasing around two o’clock this morning and the way he is now makes it seem as if he’s on the third day and untreated.” You turn to Cassian. “I need one of those Chimeras to examine, as quick as possible. They aren’t supposed to carry venom but it seems a mutation is the only reasonable explanation, in which case we need to figure out what that means and fast, or else we won’t have enough time to figure out what that means for your brother and to cure it.” 

The General glances once to the High Lord, sharing a nod before Cassian’s making a swift departure, urgency underlying his movements in a way you hope won’t get him wounded. It makes you call after him. “Whatever you do, don’t be reckless. If you get hurt up there or bitten then both of you will be at risk. This isn’t a time to be cutting corners.” 

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “I know.” 

Then he’s gone. 

Sweat glides down your spine, if he’s as swift as he was the night they returned then the journey there and back should take under an hour. Add on the time to locate and kill a chimera…a few hours, tops. With the rate Azriel’s fever is developing, it’s all you can spare. 

Violet eyes are strained when you next meet them, but you’ve little time for further apology as you ask, “How is Feyre doing?” 

“Resting,” Rhysand replies, the stern grit of his voice telling you he already knows why you’re asking. Your jaw tightens, shoulders tensing at that tone, something inherent wanting to turn away from that fiercely protective look in his face, warning you not to suggest what you know you have to. 

“If worst comes to worst,” you say, quietly. 

Rhysand’s expression doesn’t give for a long while, and you fight to keep firm. Until tension flickers through his violet eyes. “It’s her choice,” he relents, tension taut, the whites of his knuckles disagreeing with his words. “But if she tries to give too much, if you don’t stop her then I will.” 

You nod grimly, understanding the order well enough. 

If Feyre tries to give Azriel more blood than she can afford, you’re to pull her back.

Even if it costs his brother’s life.  

————

The sun is down, and Cassian still isn’t back. 

The rain lashing at the windows and snarling round the house feels like an omen, shadows dancing like snakes across the floor every time a bolt of lightening fractures the sky. Deadened leaves whip through the howling winds, a deluge crashing down on Velaris. 

On the bed, shivering and drenched, is Azriel, pallid skin glistening with a deathly pallor. His surrounding sheets have been doused in sweat, a sour, sick smell filling the room, the stagnant odour of the ill. The black threads of flesh have begun spreading further, thickening into sluggish stumps, streams of necrosis reaching across his stomach; snaring his far leg. 

If Cassian isn’t back soon, you’re going to have to try and cut it out from the roots. 

Madja lays her hand over the slope of your shoulder and you exchange glances; she’s come to the same conclusion you have, her normally warm features for once showing a grim set. You turn your body from Azriel, dipping your head so he won’t be able to hear, though you doubt he’s in any state to eavesdrop. 

“How much longer?” You whisper lowly, eyes glued to the dark floorboards, unable to lift them any further. Madja glances once over her shoulder, a heavy silence filling the air. “Minutes,” she answers. “He has minutes to get back here.” You swallow—those are near impossible chances. The odds were steep enough without the crashing storm outside hindering visibility. 

“You’ll take his stomach?” You whisper, pushing past the lump in your throat. Madja nods, “Fetch two bowls of water. I’m going to speak with Feyre; see how she’s holding up.” She’s probably quickly becoming the last gleam of hope to give Azriel a fighting chance of surviving until Cassian arrives. 

Or until he bleeds out from the incisions you’ll be forced to make to cut away the rot. 

Azriel stirs in the bed once you return from the washroom, setting the second bowl down and approaching his side. Once more, you lay the backs of your fingers across his dampened forehead, sticky sweat smearing your skin but it’s nothing compared to the fierce heat radiating from his skull. His temperature has been teetering into the forties for a while now. 

Something like a groan strains through his chest, the tendons in his throat flexing as he swallows, and you lift his head from the pillow, bringing the chilled glass to his peeling lips. He’s too weak to push the drink away, hardly strong enough to swallow, and a cool trickle slips from the side of his mouth, streaming over his jaw and into the cushion. Azriel tilts his head when he’s done, and you pull away, setting the glass down upon the cramped side table. 

Hazel eyes crack themselves open, except now they’re a mix of yellow and black—pupils blown so wide they’re practically swallowing his irises, the whites of his eyes souring to a sickening yellow, like the congealed scum of rotten milk, red rimmed and watery. 

‘Hot,’ he mouthes. Barely. It’s the near silent touch of his tongue to the roof of his mouth that gives the word away. 

You don’t know what to do anymore. There’s nothing else you can do, besides offering water. 

“Azriel, can you hear me still?” You ask, crouching down to be by his side, mixing your hand with his. He groans, fingers weakly flexing around your own. It’s a small piece of hope,  that he isn’t yet completely gone. You lean closer. “Just a little longer, Az,” you whisper, thumb swiping back and forth gently over his burning skin, “You need to keep going. You can’t leave them behind.” 

His hand is silent in your own.

Where is Cassian? 

A shadow careens past the window and a flashing red thud slams into the front garden, the doors being blown open a few moments later as fresh rain and howling wind whips inside, sparing not a second in removing mud-caked boots or blood-slicked leathers before he’s marching into the house. From the floor below you hear his name called out, but there’s no cause for relief. 

Voices murmur and footsteps hurry, boots clumping about on the lower floors and you hurry to the bedroom door, looking just in time to see Rhysand near the top of the staircase. “Does he have it?” You call, the pound of your heart making your voice breathless. Rhys nods but his eyes are dark and unusually shadowed, “He has it.”

 It’s only when he descends the case that you spot the thick book he had clutched beneath one arm on his far side, as if anxious to keep it as hidden as possible. You want to follow, to see the chimera for yourself, lend Madja a hand in trying to understand what’s mutated within the beast to cause such a drastic shift but that’s not your job at the moment. Your job is to look after Azriel. Even if all you can do is sit by his side and watch as he dies. 

Tension stitches your jaws together, but you force yourself to turn away, shutting the door once more to return only for a scream to claw and rip from your throat. 

Blunt teeth are digging into the flesh of his forearm, biting and gnawing as blood paints his lower jaw, spilling down onto his chest, trickling along his arm. You run forward, trembling fingers searching for that point that will spasm the muscle enough for his jaw to unlock. 

“Azriel!” You scream, “Azriel stop! You need to stop it!” 

Thick blood oils your fingers, his teeth releasing the bitten flesh only to clamp down a fraction of a second later, locking themselves in place as muscle flexes in his jaw, straining beneath the pressure he’s clamping down with. You fumble, hands shaking as he tries to rip himself apart. You search again, fingers digging into his jaw but he writhes on the bed, wings flaring wide enough to send everything on the side table smashing to the floor, throwing you to the ground in a mess of fractured glass and gushing, freshly bloodied water. 

The leather-bound notebook is soaked, ink bleeding across the pages but that’s not what you currently care about. Instead you grip the book from the floor, flying to your feet as you surge forward, nails screaming out in pain as you try to forcibly pry his teeth apart, pushing the spine of the book forward. 

“Azriel…!” You hiss, straining against his sudden display of strength. “Bite! Bite down on this…!” 

For a few dreadful seconds it looks like he’s going to bleed himself to death, but then his teeth release just long enough for you to shove the hard leather of the thick notebook into his mouth, vicious canines stabbing through the outer layer in one swift bite. Clamping down firmly. 

There’s no time for relief, no time for fixing the jagged mess on the floor, nor for celebration, as you take in the fresh blood staining his lower face. Azriel’s wounded arm tries to lift from the bed but more blood gushes out and you have to pin it down until the message reaches his pain-twisted mind and he uses the other to change the positioning of the book in his mouth, angling and biting, slowly chewing the leather to pieces, digging his canines into the notebook repeatedly as if he’s teething.

Footsteps pound along the corridor just as you finish forcing Azriel’s flesh back together, door flying wide as Madja bustles through, a glass vial of pure black liquid grasped in her weathered hand, Rhysand just a step behind. Neither ask what’s happened, why there’s so much blood staining sheets and flooring and sallow skin. 

Dark brown eyes flash once over the Shadowsinger before Madja’s figuring her order—one both you and Rhys know before it even leaves her mouth—“Hold him down.” Rhysand takes the side the Azriel’s leg wound is on while you stick where you’ve remained, but even with you leveraging all your weight over his bloody, shredded arm it’s near impossible to keep him down. 

The book comes away in tatters when Madja manages to pry it from his mouth, jaws snapping, black ruby teeth glittering wildly as he searches for something to bite, all the while the storm roars on outside, thunder rumbling through miserable grey skies, so deep it’s in the floorboards. 

“Rhys,” you hiss out, “can you do anything?” If he can slip inside and provide even a temporary moment so Madja can get the remedy down the Shadowsinger’s throat. The High Lord’s jaw tightens with the effort it’s taking to keep his brother down, teeth gritting as he shakes his head, “there’s nothing to go into. It’s just wind and shadow in his mind.” 

“We have to do something,” you force out, looking between them. “He’s not going to drink it like this-”

“And we can’t waste this vial,” Madja finishes grimly. 

Rhys’ head lowers, hair falling over his brow like dozens of spider legs, tension gripping his shoulders, then he’s bellowing Cassian’s name, the roar so loud you’re surprised the room doesn’t collapse in on itself, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. A few moments later heavy boots are lopsidedly clumping up the stairs, the General swaying as he hauls himself through the door. “Take her place. Keep him down,” Rhysand orders through gritted teeth. It seems Cassian’s barely keeping himself conscious, but still he manages, no time to pause. 

As soon as Cassian’s hands have taken over you retreat, darting around Azriel’s thrashing wing to be at Madja’s side. His blackened eyes are wild, back arching from the bed as pain lances through his body, teeth still flashing with furious hunger. 

“Azriel,” you yell, crusted palms laying either side his mouth, cupping his jaw as you attempt to still the wild thrashing of his body without losing any fingers. “Azriel, look at me. Look at me.” Blown out pupils stare up at you, yellowed eyes sore and so, so wrong. “That’s it,” you manage, forcing your voice to calm, “You know us. You remember us.”

His upper lips curls in a snarl and blood seeps from the broken skin, so dried out and desiccated that it splits at the slightest stretch. 

“You remember us,” you repeat, thumbs stroking back and forth, swiping the edges of his mouth tenderly, “Don’t you? Remember Cass and Rhys? They’re your brothers.” Oil-black brows narrow, but the two other males are having better luck holding him down than before, so you push forward. 

Your hold tightens and you lean closer, almost sharing breath. “Do you remember your name?” You ask softly, soothingly stroking his cheeks, ignoring the blood soaking your hands. “It’s Azriel,” you whisper, “You’re Azriel.” 

His eyes shutter, struggling again but you hold firm. “You just need to hold on a little longer, Azriel. We have a remedy, but you need to drink it first.” Sharp, black eyes scan your features, cutting back and forth across your expression, his face still twisted in partial fury, shadow and wind roaring outside but his struggling has lessened enough for the antidote to be administered. 

Yet as soon as you pull away his wings flare outward, the bed creaking as the powerful limbs thrash, a vicious snarl ripping from his throat and both Cassian and Rhysand are nearly knocked back from the force of his retaliation. 

“Azriel…” You plead, nails digging into his cheeks, dragging his attention back. “Azriel, please,” you beg, “hold still.” Icy breath repeatedly hits your chin, his panting becoming shallower and shallower by the second, yet he shows no signs of giving in. Pure panic drips down your spine, hands shaking as you hold onto him for dear life. 

“We have to try,” Madja whispers, not directed at you. In your periphery, Rhysand nods in agreement, but it won’t work. He’ll send the vial flying, just like the glass and the bowl, shattering on the floor, destroying the precious cure with it. 

A hot tear splashes down onto Azriel’s bloody cheek, a second droplet falling soon after, soundless compared to the raging storm outside. Thunder and lightening zeroing to silence as you look at him.

Thumbs swipe back and forth across his skin. He can’t die. 

You swallow, sparing a moment to look at Madja. “Give it to me,” you whisper. 

Madja hesitates. 

“Let me give it to him,” you plead, able to feel Azriel’s sluggish pulse beneath your hands. 

Silence hangs in the air, then Rhysand nods. “Try.” 

Beneath all of you, Azriel begins to stir again, the soothed state you’d gotten him into already so quickly slipping away. Slipping through your fingers. 

Madja offers you the vial, and in one movement you’ve poured the contents into your own mouth. 

The liquid is thick and congealed across your tongue, vile and putrid but then you’re pressing your mouth to Azriel’s, his bloody lips freezing beneath your own, peeling and ripped in places but they part for you, your thumbs still stroking as you tilt yourself over him. 

Your mouth opens for his, and the remedy flows into him, spilling down his throat. 

This time both Illyrians are ready and braced as Azriel writhes and thrashes on the bed, lip curling in revulsion as the foul tasting liquid is swallowed down his throat, wings flaring and flapping, knocking back and forth so violently the bed groans like it might finally give way. Fury twists through Azriel’s features and you recoil as his fangs sting at your lips, hot, fresh blood bubbling into his mouth before you can even realise he’s bitten you. 

You pull away, forcing your hands over his chest, Madja now beside Rhys as you all try to keep him down. Heaven knows what he’s mad enough to do with the pain carving his mind apart. 

By the time he settles, you’re all breathless. But it’s done. He took the remedy. 

Slowly, you stand, each of you bracing as if he might start back up at any second and you need to be ready to jump back into place. But he remains still. Dead still, but you can pick out the small pulse in his throat. You cling onto that pulse, desperately.

At last you all pull away, and Rhysand drags a hand down his face, you and Madja glancing to one another with a mix of emotion. To your left, Cassian sways, then his legs give out, body thudding  as his knees his the floor, the rest of him giving out now the task is complete. You’ve each done everything you can; pushed to the limit, and possibly beyond.

“Mother’s grace,” Madja whispers in thanks, and you do the same, sending a prayer to the sky, hoping it will be enough. She nods to herself once, twice, three times. Easing in a few steadying breaths before straightening, swallowing. “Cassian,” she names, addressing the body on the floor and you don’t fault her for her breathlessness, “we need to find him a bed.”

You nod, panting. “Rhys and I can manage,” you breathe, exhausted. “Can you take cleanup in here?” You ask, moving with Rhysand to grip Cassian beneath his arms, only now spotting the blood on his leathers, though it’s too much of a mess in here to judge who it belongs to. 

Madja nods solemnly, and between you and the High Lord, you manage to lift the fearsome General from the ground, hefting him out into the hallway, taking the room immediately next door and laying Cassian on the bed there. 

You slump against the wall, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand when you realise the foul taste is still there, having been obscured by the metallic flavour of your own blood. 

Rhysand remains stood over Cassian, looking down at his brother with an expression you can’t read. It’s none of your business, either way. 

Your nose wrinkles, pulling your sleeve over your hand and spitting into the fabric, wanting to rid yourself of the vile taste. “Fuck. What was in that?” You gag, looking forward to a glass of water to clean your mouth out and a wash. 

The hairs at the nape of your neck prickle, and you lift your head to find dark violet watching you from across the room. You’d apologise for cursing, but that doesn’t seem to be the reason for his look. 

Tentatively, you straighten. “Do you know?” 

Silence hangs in the air. Then he relents.

“Blood.” Rhysand murmurs. “Chimera blood.”

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[threepandas]

Bad End: Snake Bride

There were pudgy little yellow creatures everywhere, here. As common as squirrels, it seemed. They looked like squishy, somber, ditto-faced Pikachus...sorta? I made a note of it. Stopping to make a few sketches. Not that anyone here would ever get the reference, mind you. And they didn't have the iconic tail. More of a nubby little hamster tail?

I'd have to figure out a better description. For the bestiary. Not to mention a suitably cute name, assuming they weren't deadly, after all...

You never knew, with hidden realms like these.

Throughout my training, the other disciples and I had been beaten over the head with countless tales of "it looked cute/pretty/beautiful/holy/or otherwise harmless AND THEN TRIED TO KILL US. Do NOT make our mistakes! I will pull you from the jaws of death! Just to kill you myself!!" by our Shizun. The man could rant for hours.

He still couldn't let go that a glowing, flower patterned, butterfly tried to rip his throat out. And? Since he technically for them "first"? (As far as anyone can find.) He got to name then poor creatures.

Which is why, there exists a very beautiful species of highly deadly butterfly... called the "flying demon rat bastard spawn".

(God, I love Shizun so much. He is so, SO petty. Hilarious, vengeful, the man's the living manifestation of "target sighted". Man has beef with specific TREES for god sake. I wish I had HALF that kind of energy. Even if it DID get us banned from like... so many places.)

I tried to get a good look at the little guys mouth, seeing one yawn. Hmmm... the teeth suggest venom. Better not startle any of them... but NOT I'm gonna need to catch one to milk it. Great. They seem fast...

A knock out array? No. Need them to want to bite me, so I can get a venom sample...

Crouching, I mulled over the problem. Admiring the little creatures as the clambered up and down the strange flora of this realm. It was fascinating. Humbling, in a way. When, I considered that? No one else had DONE this before. I knew it for a fact. Every single reference to this hidden realm? Was from either the immortal who created it... or four hundred years later, the immortal who sacked the placed.

It was hard to get into, hard to find, didn't boast any supposed ten thousand year treasures or legendary beasts. Just? A humble pocket of life. Started and left to cultivate. Shift and change. Grow!

Who CARES what uses the creatures or plants have?! This place should be STUDIED! All these realms should be studied! They're amazing!!

I spot a moss I haven't collected yet and carefully take a sample. Noting it's location on the map I've started (which is a mess, I fear I definitely have no future there). Of course, as is so often the case? Finding one sample leads to another. Moss leads to "oh hey, a mushroom" to "is that bird or a leaf?" And so on and so on. I nearly forget to make camp.

(It was a bird. It just looked like leaves! Fascinating camouflage!)

Only noticing the light shifting qualities, drags me from my hyperfocus. A nasty (or, I guess, productive? For an immortal.) habit. I had lost days to it, before. Disappearing into the library or some work room, back on the peak, for time blurringly long periods of time. Inedia keeping me from hunger. Younger disciples bringing me tea.

There was a reason, after all, I never made Head Disciple. Even though I got along great with Shizun. I was about as responsible as a goldfish. Entirely too focused on my own studies, to be honest. But to be fair? Let's see YOU focus! When there is so much... I don't know, Xianxia bullshit?

(IS it Xianxia bullshit? Or is it Xuanhuan bullshit? Fuck. It's been a life time. I literally can not not remember. Let's see YOU remember the differences! After literal decades!!)

(God, I miss my books. And the internet. And TV. Honestly? I miss everything.)

Fuck! Side tracked! Again!!

Careful not to step on any of the marshmallow-y not-pikachus, I scramble to collect the last of my samples. Reach out with my Qi, to feel how the ebbs and flows around me shift. I should? Be able to sense any nearby predators. As well as posdibly find a nice qi rich spot to set up camp. Maybe meditate.

Just because I'm exploring hidden realms, doesn't mean I should grow lazy, after all! Whole point of cultivation it to ascend. God hood and all that. And, yeah, I'm still sceptical as fuck. But... count me curious. Why not try?

Oooh! That's a nice ca-! Hmmm?

Something... not-brushes against my senses. As though it should be there. I should sense something. An almost taste and nearly smell of... something? Someone? Kinda like the faintest hint of someone's cologne, lingering in the air, as you move through a crowd that isn't touching you. But... warmer. Like it's still on the skin. Not a lingering remnant from someone who passed through?

It's... weird. I can't sense anybody.

Maybe if I try harder? I pump more qi into my technique. More then is technically polite, honestly. But maybe they are farther out then I think they are? I hadn't exactly expected to be sharing space. This Realm isn't exactly BIG. Just a ring of mountains and the valleys between them. One big, lush valley. Many smaller ones.

Again, it's not a popular realm. Not to mention already looted. And not even particularly Qi rich. So meditating here would be a strange choice. But... maybe they want the relative isolation?

I still can't find them. Dispite knowing they are there. (That technique does not give false positives.) So I risk rudeness. Figure I can always apologize. Maybe they are deep in meditation or something? Pumping more qi, frankly appalling amounts, into the technique, I am damn near half blind as I walk. (For all that I can see better then anyone in this valley at the moment.)

The sensory input is cacophonous. Beautiful. Terrible. Like balancing atop a single hair thin thread. Suspended carefully, above a raging sea, made of wonderous light and churning pains. I use my foot steps to anchor me. Balanced and even. Yet... find nothing. Pull back.

Are they... hiding?

Why?

Up ahead it the qi rich cave (more an over hang, cave is generous) that I sensed. A good, defensible place to set up.

It's only as I'm setting up? That I notice the little Marsh-a-chus? (Is that a good name? I really do need to start thinking of a good name for them.) Have followed along. Crowd the trees and settle thick in various bushes. And... part of me? Wants to go "away, I made friends!" But...

The rest of me? Was drilled in horror story and horror story by my Shizun. And that's so mighty fine "unusual interest" behavior going on there. Might even go so far as to classify it as hunting behavior!

Mmmmhm! Don't like THAT! No sir! Time for some nice and cozy warding talismans! Shall we? The STRONG ones.

Under far too many beady little eyes, I slap down security talismans. Full three sixty. Against the ground, the stone, the mountain behind me. I am taking no chances. Just as I was taught.

Which... as I am settling in for the night? Dinner done and dishes drying. Sleeping mat, out and reading to go. Light and warmth talismans, positioned just where I need them? Turns out to be for the best.

Because there is something in the dark. Big. Predatory. And coming towards me.

It's not so large as to show above the trees. But that is small comfort. They are fairly large trees. And honestly? I know only too well, massive size does NOT indicate lethality. Sun turtles are mountainous after all, and THEY photosynthesize! The problem is? There wasn't supposed to be a predator that big in this realm.

Did someone fucking shove a spirit beast or monster in here!?

What? Out of sight out of mind?! No longer their problem, right!? Why kill it, when you can put it in a hidden real to LET IT GROW BIGGER! Destroy an ecosystem! MOTHER FUCK-!!!

The night is silent.

It should NOT be.

Gripping a sword I am only kinda decent at wielding, I pray to the gods, I don't have to use it. I am a spiritual cultivator! Not a martial one! This is BULLSHIT. I don't have anything on me for "unknow predatory mega-fauna" because there WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE ANY! Oh, this is the LAST time I-!

Foot steps. Crushing through the underbrush.

Into the circle of light my talismans cast, fades a pale young master. Graceful and pale in the moonlight. Very... very pale in the moonlight, actually. No better in the light of my talismans. Near ghostly, in his white silks. Touches of pale gold and stark black. Curls of ink wash grey. Like a painting brought to life.

Just a touch too perfect. A touch too beautiful.

With a grace to his movements that... that is too smooth.

It's not until he all but stands in the light that I am certain. His hair. Too lovely and well kept, for it to be an accident or some sort of shaming. Those are NOT bangs. That is the entirety of it. Nothing held back, in a crown or subtle styling. No... no it is SHORT.

No Human Wears Their Hair SHORT Here.

Entering the light? His eyes reflect. Grey like blades. Like storms and death. No pretty silver things. No, it is far too deep a color. Far too dangerous. Slits, that contract with the light. Half hidden by a heavy expression, that I can not begin to interpret. I desperately try to identify the creature before. Feline? No. Lacks the savage edge. Too cool... serpentine. Snake!

"Like a panicked little mouse, honored cultivator. This one might begin to suspect you weren't happy to see me~" they...? He? Says; his voice a low, honeyed rasp. "But how can that be? When this humble servant has been hunting for so long?"

"Surely, my dear little mouse, has been anticipating this day~! Dreaming of the day when her lord would catch her?"

There is something... mean, in that tone. Vicious and victorious. The silent echo of a madman laugh, as he burns the world to ruin. Seizes and achieves all that he desires. Strangles all that he can not possess. Covetous and ugly. Dancing, dancing, dancing around the edges. Demonic, indeed.

Yet... I do not recognize this creature. This demon. He certainly recognizes me, as horrifying as that is. What past does he speak of? Hunting? What HUNTING?! I try to find something familiar, in this strange form. Unless, of course, he is simple insane? Not impossible... but...

"Ah~ my poor little mouse." The demon coos, mocking in his indulgence. His eyes still dance with laughter. Mad and unable to feast. "You don't recognize this poor servant, do you? How cruel! To be forgotten. A passing fancy, barely held, in my mouse's fickle heart."

He's laughing me. Knows I could not possibly recognize him, yet plans to punish me anyway. Somehow. Fuck! This seems genuine. But how? Why!? When would I have-!?

Then, he shifts.

Gone is the beautiful young man. In his place? Rising, rising, RISING? A behemoth of a bandy-wolf king snake. Black, white, with occasional bare traces of that pale gold on the under belly. Hundreds of thousands the times it ever should have been. But... but? There. A scar. Oh gods.

I recognize him now.

A snake got into the village I was born. Absurdly poisonous, unthinkably venomous, it should have been left alone. Gathered very, VERY carefully and taken far away from people. But... people panic. Get stupid. The adults didn't fucking listen. And over sixteen people died that didn't have too. I was sick at the sight of it. They captured the poor creature and were going to burn it alive.

For the crime of being afraid. Hungry. Getting attacked and then protecting itself.

I couldn't bear it. So... I stole it. Hid it in a cave, half way across the valley. Didn't my best to nurse the poor, injured, creature back to health. At least... I tried. The injuries were too severe. I was able to close the wounds. But sickness, blood loss...

Shit. That cave was incredibly qi rich. It's why I chose it! To make up for what I couldn't do! If he had already started cultivation and then... or just resented enough...

It was entirely possible to become a snake demon. Easily, even.

"Sss Sss Sss, ah, recognition~" the massive creature laughed "Why so fearful? Little mouse~ It's not you I want dead. Kindness for kindness, a debt for a debt. And aren't we be grown? Look how strong we've become!"

The booming, breathy cackle did not fit snake lungs. Silibant and painful. Hissing and near silent. It was more pressure in the air then anything. A madness long coming. As demons born of resentment energy tended to be. All burned villages and the screams of those who wronged them. Hatreds and obsessions made manifest.

I... I could barely breathe. Oh gods. Oh gods! What do I do? I.. I can't-!! Tears threatened to choke me. Fear, shaking my limbs and fogging my mind. W-what do I DO?! I'm scared. No. No, no, NO! Please! I'm SCARED!

"Ah~ so cute, so cute! My little mouse grew so lovely~"

Like the world sighing, as fluid and graceful as his steps, the snake became a man again. His grey tinted lips curled in a fang bearing smile. Hands up and braced against the barrier, his full weight leaning forward as he leered. He loomed. My talismans casting odd shadows across his face, giving the madness in his eyes a terrible glow.

"This husband truely did pick his trap well, didn't he? My sweet little mouse~" he purred, eyes unblinking, above a terrible smile. "My little wife has no where to run~! No where to hide! Her husband has trapped her quite cleverly, hasn't he~? Poor, poor, little mouse. Your husband is so mean!"

My heart felt like it was going to burst. Cold. T-trapped. Can't breathe! Oh gods. Is this a panic attack? I.. I think this is a panic attack! Can't think! Static. Legs, refusing to hold me. Sink. Crawling backwards. Away. G-got to get away! Trapped! TRAPPED!

I horror, I watch as he sinks his nails in to the barrier. Hands no longer resting, but digging into it. He-! He shouldn't be able to DO that! Oh gods! PLEASE gods! Tell me he's not strong enough to BREAK barrier talismans of this level! Please! PLEASE!!

"Ah~ acting this way, you make this husband want to bully you, little wife~♡ And ah, such big, fearful eyes~ Am I being mean? Is husband being cruel? Poor thing~"

CRACK.

In horror, I watch as his nail push through the barrier. Like driving stakes through stone. Cracks shooting from the holes, as he digs and digs. Hands closing around the shards he has created, ignoring the blood that spills from where it cuts into him. As the barrier itself whines and crackles in protect. Tryinging desperately to maintain its integrity. Slowly... cracking... failing...

"Let me kiss it better, hmm? No use in trying to run~"

"So be a good girl~♡ my little Mouse. Come to husband~♡"

[w2beastars]

Waezi2′s thoughts on “Beast Complex” chapter 25

So, I know we were all disgusted by the freak South who dated a lizard who was the same species as him(ewww). So I am happy to tell you all that we are going back to some good ol' freaky furry romance.

Better yet, this chapter is about Haru and Legosi!

The main couple of Beastars now practically live together since their universities are pretty close to each other. Haru is doing her third year in college and Legosi, now with a clean criminal record, is doing his first year in college, studying entomology.

Good for you, Legosi :) It is never too late to get back to school!

So, the wolf and the rabbit has been together for three years now and (for the most part) live together. You know what that means...

Oh yeah! They sleep together!

... In separate beds! There is no sex whatsoever!

Haru asks the same question as the rest of us: HOW?!?!?

Well, the first night Haru spent at Legosi's place, the ussual happened:

Like most wolves, Legosi makes small bites when he gets overly exited. Haru didn't get hurt, she got a scratch behind her ear, it's not the end of the world.

But afterwards, their relationship has been... well, casual.

There is no sexy atmosphere between them since the biting incident. They still spend their free time together, but it is almost like they are a middle-aged married couple where they brush their teeth together and everyday stuff like that. It bothers Haru a great deal since she is a college girl and it makes her feel old, makes the two of them feel old. She would like to get wild while she is still young... But to be fair, don't you think you had plenty of fun already, Haru?

I'm not slut-shaming or anything, just saying.

Anyways, Haru contacts Juno. Yep, everyone's favorite queen wolf is back!

Two things I noticed is that Haru now calls her "chan", implying a bit more friendly relationship between the two of them. Second is that even though Juno is here to give Haru input and advise about wolves, we don't get to learn anything about what her life is like right now.

YOU ARE KILLING ME, PARU!!! YOU ARE TORTURING ME SPECIFICALLY BY NOT LETTING US LEARN WHAT HER LIFE POST-LOUIS IS LIKE!

As I was saying, Haru wants Juno to give her advice to kick Legosi's wolf instincts into high gear. Juno is unsure if that's such a great idea(no duh!) but share what would normally make a male wolf... excited.

There is just one problem... Legosi is... well, Legosi.

He is a terrible mix of extremely polite, concerned and dense.

Nothing Haru does triggers Legosi, he misreads the signals completely and Haru starts to wonder if they have simply lost their spark.

Then, one night as Haru goes to bed disappointed that she haven't unleashed the beast so to say, she sees that Legosi is awake.

It's full moon, and Legosi can't help it but to stay up and watch it. Even if it is bogus that the moon should somehow affect wolves, Legosi and his fellow canines are still emotionally attached to it. Haru says she can relate to this to some degree, probably because rabbits have a religious connection to the moon.

This is possibly the first thing their species have in common. So the two of them goes for a late night/early morning stroll, enjoying the beautiful moon.

The two of them just enjoy each other's company, it's nice and quiet. They are not tired from class or trying to study or doing everyday tasks, meaning they can actually connect on a emotional level.

And then we get the twist:

As stated earlier, Legosi accidentally scratched Haru's ear when he got "excited" and Haru assumed it killed the vibe between them. But this seems to imply that he was waiting for the wound to heal completely.

Or maybe it is because they are both relaxed that Legosi feels less anxious.

Either way, they don't spend this night in separate beds.

I'm gonna be honest, it was not the best Haru x Legosi story I read, I would have liked a bit more of the classic Paru insanity. But I very much enjoyed it, and this specific story shouldn't have that much crazy because it is about the lack of insanity in the wolf and rabbit's life. We get to see that Legosi can finally get a real career and even achieve his dream of working with insects and how much they have evolved as an actual couple, not just furry angst and tension between the rabbit and wolf. It also feels like Paru is ending Beast Complex for real this time to focus more on her other projects, and if that's the case then this was a nice way to end it.

I'm Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: giant Pacific octopus

Its actually wild to me that's I've been doing this series for almost 2 years and somehow haven't covered a single octopus yet. I've done squid, cuttlefish, nautiluses, and the vampire squid, but somehow the most famous corner of the cephalopod family reunion has eluded me. Time to change that. And why not go big and cover the biggest (maybe) octopus of them all?

(Image: a giant Pacific octopus crawling on the seafloor. It is a large, red, soft-bodied invertebrate with wrinkly skin. A bulbous head contains the eyes and opening to the mantle. Attacked are eight long arms lined with suckers. End ID)

Enteroctopus dofleini is the giant pacific octopus, though genetic studies have indicated that there may be multiple distinct subspecies based on location. They are considered the largest octopus species in the world, though that may not actually be the case. Adults usually reach an arm span of 4.3 meters (14 ft) and weigh up to 15 kg (33 lbs), with some large specimens getting up to 50 kg (110 lbs). That held the record for a long time, but in 2002, a dead specimen of Haliphron atlanticus, the seven-armed octopus was pulled up and while it was incomplete, its size while alive was estimated to be 3.5 m (11 ft) from top to arm tip and 75 kg (165 lbs). Seven-armed octopi are much more elusive than giant Pacific octopi, so we don't have nearly as many specimens to go off of, but if that sample is anything to go by, they are even bigger than the GPO.

(image: divers next to a giant Pacific octopus shown from below with its arms spread, showing off the suckers and the radius of the tentacles, which is larger than the diver. End ID)

The giant Pacific octopus's anatomy is typical of an octopus, just scaled up. It has two body segments: the head and the arms. The head is bulbous and contains the organ systems, including the brain, digestive system, renal system, and all three hearts, and is covered by the mantle. The arms (not tentacles as commonly thought) are eight limbs lined with powerful suckers, each of which can be moved independently. The only hard part of an octopus's body is the beak, used to chop up food. Because the rest of the body is so malleable, an octopus can squeeze its body through any hole large enough to fit the beak. The beak is also venomous, though only a few octopi possess venom potent enough to harm a human and the GPO is not one of them. Octopi (I can rant about what the proper plural is later, but as far as I'm concerned, octopi is perfectly acceptable) along with their squid and cuttlefish relatives, have special pigment-filled cells called chromatophores lining their skin. Using muscular action, the octopus can individually widen or shrink each chromatophore to radically change its color. This is used mostly as camouflage, but can also be used as a threat display in some species (such as the blue-ringed octopus) or for communication. The GPO is usually a ruddy red color when resting. Skin texture can also be altered with muscles, but in the GPO it is usually uneven, with long lateral folds that give it a wrinkly appearance. Octopi have a siphon concealed in the mantle that is used to pass water over the gills and for propulsion.

(Image: a GPO crawling through an aquarium tank. Purple sea urchins and anemones are in the background. End ID)

The giant Pacific octopus live in (surprise, surprise) the Pacific ocean. Specifically in the northern regions from the Yellow Sea in southern China, up through the eastern coast of Russia, across to Alaska, and down as far south as southern California. They are found in reefs and rocky bottoms with plenty of places to hide. The GPO occupies a middle portion of the food web. They are predators who feed on hard-shelled invertebrates, fish, and smaller cephalopods. They hunt prey as large as the spiny dogfish shark, which can grow up to 1.2 m (4 ft) and have been reported to attack and drown seagulls. In turn, they are fed on by sharks and marine mammals. Octopi are especially skilled at eating hard-shelled invertebrates like bivalves, as their powerful arms and suckers allow them to pry open the shells to get at the meat within. Octopi need to bite their food into small chunks as their brains are donut-shaped and circle the esophagus. Swallowing something too big can give them brain damage. The GPO prefers to dwell in dens, but will also hide amongst kelp or camouflaged among rocks. Dens can be spotted by looking for the discarded shells of meals piled up outside them They spend most of the day motionlessly resting (something anyone who has ever been disappointed at the octopus exhibit in the aquarium can tell you) and are most active between midnight and early morning. When active, they hunt and search for new hiding spaces. Large GPOs can travel lond distances in search of habitats and mates. Populations in Asia are known to migrate to shallow water in winter and deeper water in summer. They can remember where they've been by using visual stimuli. When threatened, they can release a cloud of toxic ink to blind attackers while they flee.

(Gif: a GPO crawling along the seafloor, showing off how the arms work together to move it. End ID)

Giant Pacific octopi live for up to five years, which makes them ancient by octopus standards. Most species only live for one year. Like all cephalopods except for nautiluses and possibly the vampire squid, giant Pacific octopi are semelparous, meaning they reproduce only once in their lives. This happens in fall and males will seek out females to mate with. Males have a modified arm called a heterocotylus that they reach into a hole in the female's mantle to deposit a packet of sperm that can be over a meter long. The female can then hold onto the packet to fertilize her eggs up to several months later. Genetic testing indicates that both males and females will mate with multiple partners. The female must find a suitable den and will lay up to 400,000 eggs in clusters attached to a hard surface. For the next 6 months, she will stay with her eggs to protect them, blowing oxygenated water over them and cleaning them of algae and other contaminants. She does not eat during this period, subsisting on her internal fat stores. By the time the eggs hatch, she will either have starved to death or will do so shortly. Males also do not survive past mating season. They also stop eating and become more prone to acting in the open, leaving them more vulnerable to predators. The newborn octopi are called pseudolarvae and are roughly the size of a grain of rice. Once hatched, they enter the water column and live amongst the zooplankton. Only a very few of the peudolarvae will survive to adulthood. The majority will succumb to disease or predation. Sexual maturity is regulated by a gland called the optic gland, which is analogous to the pituitary gland in vertebrates. Experiments have shown that females whose optic glands have been removed stop brooding their eggs and resume hunting. They also resume gaining weight and have longer lifespans.

(Image: a female GPO in her den. clusters of small, white eggs hang from the ceiling. End ID)

(Image: GPO eggs about ready to hatch. They are transparent, oblong capsule with the juveniles visible within. They have similar anatomy to the adults, but with visible ink sacs. End IS)

Octopi are the most intelligent of all invertebrates. They are capable of solving puzzles based on trial and error. Indeed, those living in aquariums are often given puzzles to solve as a form of enrichment. Aquarium workers have reported that giant Pacific octopi can recognize individual people and can hold grudges. Captive octopi are notorious for doing things like disabling mechanisms in their tanks, pranking certain people, and even escaping their tanks to visit other ones, then returning to theirs before anyone comes by to catch them. They are capable of tool use and can use shells and human-made objects to build defensive structures around their dens and some small species use shells or other objects as armor. Brain surface area often correlates to intelligence in areas and octopi have the highest ratio of all invertebrates. They are a rare example of an invertebrate whose brains are wrinkled the way those of tetrapods are. Only about a third of all the neurons within the nervous system are located in the brain. There are also major nerve clusters in each arm. It has been said that the arms have brains of their own, though this is not entirely accurate. The arms are capable of independent action, though learning happens in the brain. The arm brains also work to process the massive amount of sensory data they gather. Even a severed arm can act independently until it starves. There are videos out there of uncooked or undercooked octopus arms moving around on plates or grabbing onto diner's faces.

(Image: a GPO in an aquarium being given food in a jack-o-lantern as a form of enrichment. End ID)

The giant Pacific octopus is classified as least concern by the IUCN, meaning they are not at risk of extinction. They are considered abundant through their range, though they are at higher risk in some locations. GPOs are also harvested for seafood, being popular throughout their range and beyond. The GPO, along with the big blue and common octopi, are the most commonly eaten species in the Pacific. Pollution, climate change, and ocean acidification are also known to be threats to octopi. A threat that doesn't exist anymore is the "sport" of octopus wrestling. This involves divers grabbing octopi and trying to pull them to the surface, with GPOs targeted due to their size. The octopus was an entirely unwilling participant in this, they are very shy animals that prefer to flee rather than fight. Fortunately, this form of recreational animal abuse doesn't really exist anymore.

(Gif: a GPO in an aquarium crawling along the glass. This shows how each sucker can move independently and work together to move the animal. End ID)

[watsittoyah]

The Devils Playpen

A Obsessive!QIMIR X BLACK!FEMALE OC STAR WARS SMUT FIC

NEXT

This is complete fiction, I do not own any characters of the star wars franchise however I own all characters of my own creation, as well as plot.

That being said, the themes will be dark, Qimir will have obsessive and possessive qualities. This story will be borderline grey morals, there will be trigger warnings in the beginning of every chapter that will be gruesome/sexual.

You’ve been warned little flower if you’d like to continue, please read forward, if not put this work of fiction down and go read the holy word…welcome to the Devils playpen…

Chapter 1) When The Predator Becomes Prey…

(Song: Obsession By Exo)

Warning: Mentions of suicide. Stalking, choking of non sexual nature. Oral sex, shibari, threats of r*pe, Light Saber play (don’t be dumb you know what that last tag means)

I walk past a woman with long and short locks but she brings no excitement to my inner beast.

How lucky she is.

I hiss internally as I walk inside of the apothecary. Once I’m inside I inhale deeply, letting the poison I desire call to my senses.

However I smell something else. Something sweet? Sticky? I let my eyes fall onto a man hunched over in a corner. I don’t bother with manners of averting my eyes.

My curiosity has a scratch and I want it itched.

“Hello?” I call out to him in a soft voice. The man appears to be sleeping and I walk closer but keep my distance. His scent still smells sticky and sweet. Like those man eating plants over on Plexart.

“Hello, sir? I’m here to buy some supplies.” I say as I stare at his sleeping form. I flick an empty bottle over and it shatters causing him to finally stir from his slumber.

“Oh, sorry.” He stretches and does a big yawn before he looks over at me. When our eyes meet, he runs his fingers through his mop like hair and gives me a lazy smile. “Oh, hello. And you are?” He asks as he stands fully.

I take note that we have a significant size difference. He looks to be 5’11 while I stand at 5’4.

“I’m here to buy supplies, unless you aren’t the owner of this shop.” I ask in a gentle yet bored tone. He clears his throat and nods. “I am, I am. So what can I get for you? Ah, pick your poison.” He jokes. I however don’t laugh or crack a smile.

“I just needs a few things on this list. Whatever you don’t have, I’m sure I can find on my travels.” I hand him a piece of paper and our fingers brush against each other. He feels cold to the touch.

Interesting…

“Hm, this is quite the list. Might I ask what are all of these for?” He asks as he looks at me.

No, he’s studying me. Which makes my inner beast stir.

“Just some tools on helping me hunt. Nothing major. I don’t mean to be rude but I do need to be on my way.”

“Right, I will get on this for you now.” He starts on my list and I decide to look around and figure out if I’m going to kill him or let him live since he brings a spark of something out of me.

“Can I ask you a question?” The man asks, which causes me to give an internal sigh. “What is your question sir?”

“Qimir, you can call me Qimir. Anyways my question for you is, what methods do you take to hunt your prey?” This question peaks my interest because the way he says prey I think he knows I hunt a different kind of species.

“There’s many ways to do that. Poisons, bare hands, even a simple isolation tactic. But the best method…is simply a mental attack. That works on any kind of prey.” I say with a hint of a smile on my lips. I look up and see Qimir staring at my lips.

I bite my plump bottom lip, which makes his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

“Forgive me for prying, but the items on your list, they are interesting. Bunta Root? That grows-”

“In one specific place I know, but I figured this place would have it here..” I look away from him and glance out the window.

In a matter of days, I will be at her door and I’ll she can’t escape me. I can’t wait to see her eyes widen by surprise. She’ll think how did a beast like me, hunt her down to the very last of her days.

Will she beg for her life?

Will she plead that I do it quickly?

The possibilities will be endless when I finally get my hands on Zen.

Zen…

She was once a great ally to my people at least until she got them killed.

Genocide, her and those moral less Jedi committed genocide to my people and I need to make sure they pay. She’s the final one and I just know, she knows I’m coming for her. Especially when the word went around on how her partner’s body was discovered.

I’ll never forget how his eyes had ballooned in his skull after I cracked his head open. I can almost picture his head hitting the concrete over and over and over. His brain matter was all over my hands, staining my nails with his blood.

If I close my eyes tonight will his ghost haunt me?

Will his soul ask me why I took him from his lover so soon?

I blink and I’m no longer in that glorious gruesome memory.

I turn and Qimir is standing close to me, almost making me flinch. “Excuse you.” I snap at him. He looks me up and down and cocks his head to the side.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…you remind me of someone I once knew. The resemblance is just uncanny. You look…exactly like her.” He whispers softly as he takes in my entire appearance.

Instead of stepping back, his scent makes my stomach grumble which makes me flick my split tongue against my inner cheek.

“Trust me Qi, if you knew me…you wouldn’t be standing so close.” I say to him letting my split tongue slither past my full lips. I notice his eyes darken from my movement for a split second.

“Why is that? I find you quite the interesting creature.” He says as he reaches out to touch my coiled curl. I jerk my head back not from his attempt to touch me, but from his scent.

I want to split my jaw open and take a chunk out of him. His scent had changed somehow. He smells like spiced sweet fruit.

I see a smirk on his lips and I want to bite him. I want to bite his flesh and rip i-

“Excuse me?” We break eye contact and I see a woman, she looks exactly like the woman I had passed when I came in here but her hair…it’s short. And she smells… sour.

I grow bored with her and move away from Qimir. But as I move away he grabs my wrist. I look down at his hand and then at him. “Don’t go anywhere. I’d like to finish this.” He lets my hand go and he moved away from me swiftly.

I narrow my eyes at his back as he talks to the woman. As I glance at her with boredom I can smell that she’s anxious? Scared?

Oh, maybe I can have some fun with her after all.

As Qimir talks to her, which tells me something is going on, I run my hand along the counter and ‘accidentally’ bump into her, causing her things to clatter to the floor.

“Oh I’m so sorry, Miss. Do forgive me I am not myself.” We lock eyes and in that moment, she’s frozen in place. Her pupils dilate. I can hear her pulse quicken. “I..it’s okay.” She stutters as I hand her her things.

“You are so pretty.” I say as I take in her whole face. I see her blink a few times and I study her presence.

She’s nervous, hmm her body is smart to be nervous, but is her brain?

“Oh! I’m sorry, I give compliments before I even give my name. I’m Akasha. And you are?” I see the apple of her cheeks deepen in color after I compliment her.

“I’m-” She looks away from me and at Qimir but I clear my throat and she looks back at me, trapped in my spell. “I’m Osha.” She whispers with a small smile. “Such a pretty name. I don’t mean to over step, but would you like some company on your travels?” Before she answers me, Qimir clears his throat.

I cut my eyes at him and he’s staring at me, in a way that makes me want to challenge him. “I thought you wanted your things in a hurry, Akasha.” He says my name as if he’s accusing me of something .

“Suddenly I am in no rush, especially when it comes to making new friends.” I stand as well as Osha and I step towards her. Inhaling her fear.

Her scent is starting to ripen, oh I need to sink my teeth into her, before she spoils. Before she-

“Mae, if you don’t mind. I’m just handling this customer and then I can get back to you.”

Mae?

I look back at the woman and she looks down at her fingers, fidgeting with them.

“Okay, Qimir.” She says with hesitation in her voice. She looks at me and I wink at her. “So, pretty one, might I ask, what brings you to an apothecary?” I ask as I lean against the counter, looking her up and down.

I wonder how her teeth taste.

“I’m just here to thank Qimir for the item he gave me. It helped me greatly.” I listen to her pulse and it quickens.

Oh you little liar.

Now I’m excited to know why she’s lying so much.

“You’re welcome. I hope I can help anyway I can to help you please your Master.” Qimir says as I feel him behind me. I look back and he was leaning forward, playing with one of my curls.

How did I not notice him this close to me?

I flick my hair from his touch and he sniffs his finger tips.

Did he just sniff his fingers?

“Akasha, since you’re making friends, how about being my friend?” Qimir asks as he stares me deep into my eyes.

Hmmm…

“I like being friends with girls, Qimir. They’re are nice and sweet….” I look at his lips and I can imagine biting them.

“But with boys? I tend to be a bit too rough with them. And you?” I look him over his slim athletic build. “You look like you break easily.”

I see him lick his bottom lip and I swear I hear a slight groan in his throat. He then lowers his voice so only I can hear.

“You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Akasha. I tend to play rough with my things. Sometimes they break and sometimes they…turn to ash in my clutch.”

Excitement licks my veins as I inhale his scent.

Mmm it’s mixed with sweet, spice and arousal.

“Sounds like a threat, and a fun time. Maybe…” I lean in close to his ear, as he leans in to hear me. “…I can teach you how to play with your toys nicely by making you my new toy. Would you like that, Qi?” I flick my tongue against his ear and I hear a deep groan vibrate from his chest.

He’s about to answer me but Osha/Mae clears her throat and I feel both Qi and myself glare at her.

I look away and take a deep breath. “How about you talk to her and I’ll be back for my things. I have something to grab on that list that I know you don’t have here.” Before he can stop me I leave the shop and place my hood back upon my head.

••••

“I need Daroon moss for my special powder. Maybe if I’m lucky I can find some on the outer banks of this place.” I mutter as I continue to walk further into a crowd but my muscles tense as I feel I’m being followed.

Who would be stupid enough to follow me?

I decide to cut the chase short and duck further into the crowd.

They continue to follow me and that’s when I notice his scent.

The sweet spicy arousal.

I slip into an alleyway and I stand there counting as his scent get closer. That smell. If I were an addict, I would beg for a hit of that scent on a daily.

As soon as he is in arms reach I snatch him in close then push him to the ground. I then quickly take my boot and press it firmly against his throat.

“I don’t know about your other customers but I don’t like to be followed around stores or crowds.” I press down with a bit more pressure, just so he can answer me.

He winces in pain. “S….sorry. But I did…tell you I wanted…to finish this.” I go to step down harder but he grabs my ankle and twists, causing me to lose my footing.

He then pins me under him and I feel his full weight on top of me. “Get off of me.” I hiss. “Not until we finish this, conversation.”

“This conversation is over!“ I scream at him. He looks deep into my eyes and he gives me a wicked grin. “I’m sorry, but you seem to still think you have control of this situation. When clearly I’m the one on top. But I’ll be nice. The conversation will end after I tell you this…I’ve decided that I want you to be my new toy. And when I want something I take it.” I see a flash of something wild in his eyes as I feel his hands go for my throat.

His strength takes me by surprise as he starts cutting off my air supply. “Let…me…go!” I scream knowing it’ll cause at least someone to come find out why I’m screaming.

But…

No one comes.

Not even a curious onlooker.

He squeezes tighter and I try my best to fight him off. But it’s like an animal is wearing his skin and attacking me. I can feel him clearly aroused as he chokes me out on the ground.

Wait no, it can’t end this way.

I can’t die this way underneath this sick son of a bitch.

My vision starts to blacken around the corners. Qimir slowly starts to fog up into darkness, and just when I’m about to pass out, I hear him say these haunting words to me.

“You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for, Akasha, why would I ever let you go?”

•••••

I jerk awake and cough to clear my throat. I go to move except my body is tied up. But in a way that makes me look spread out like some attraction.

I glance around and see I’m somewhere unknown. And I’m completely naked. The panic starts to set in but it stops as soon as I smell his scent.

“QIMIR!” I scream his name as my eyes try to look for him. “I know you’re near! I can smell you! Show yourself!” I scream, in hopes that someone will hear me.

Someone did…

He did…

“I see you’re awake. Good.” Qimir says with a soft smile on his face. “What the fuck is going on! Where am I? Why and I here!” I shout at him, ignoring the cutting sensation from the ropes.

He pulls up a chair and sits down right in front of me. He stares at me as if I didn’t just ask him a barrage of questions. “You know you are a heavy sleeper. It was like I was dragging a dead body in here. Oh! This is my place by the way. It’s on a remote island so no one can disturb us.” He smiles big as if kidnapping me was something to be proud of.

“Why am I here?” I spat at him. Qimir looks at me as if I’m a piece of art to be gawked at. The way the ropes bite into my skin, I know they’ll leave marks and burns.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re here because I want you here.” He brushes his thumb against his bottom lip and continues to stare…study me. I begin to feel uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Why am I tied up like this? I’m not some prized piece of meat!” He leans forward and strokes his hand against the fatty flesh of my thigh. “Because you look pretty….You are a female Venus Fly. Rare even when your people were alive and thriving. What was the ratio? For every fifteen boys, only three girls would be born. And I do like to collect rare things. But you? You, Akasha not only are you rare but you’re deadly. I have great use for you.”

I give him a bewildered look. “You’re fucking craz-” He gets up knocking the chair over and he had his hand gripping my jaw. “Don’t call me that, I’m not crazy. I see we have to start some lessons on teaching you how to have manners and respect for others.”

“GET OFF OF ME YOU BASTARD!” I scream at him, but all he does is smile. “You know now you’re screaming and yelling but soon you’ll worship me like a God. And I’ll be sure to reward you.” He takes his other hand and he trails his three fingers down my bare flesh, slowly getting closer to my exposed pussy.

“Stop.” I say as I feel him near my pubic hairs. “Do you know how much restraint I had to have, tying you up like this? The temptation I had to open this pretty little thing and slide anything it in just to watch your reaction?” He parts my wet lips and I feel my clit spasm.

“You wanted to sodomize me? You’re no better than-“ He makes me eat my words when he slides his middle finger inside of me while he uses his other two fingers to rub my lips.

My body responds to his touch which makes me angry. “S…stop.” I stutter to him. He leans in close to my ear. “Your lips are telling me to stop but these sets of lips seem to be telling me another story. As a matter of fact, how about her and I get better acquainted.”

Qimir slides his finger out of me and my pussy misses the violation. I see him get on his knees for me and he looks up at me, as if I’m a deity of some sort and he’s is there to worship.

I watch him lean in close to inhale my sex and I want to shrink back from him but in my attempts the ropes dig deeper into my skin.

“You smell so sweet, I wonder if the taste is the same.” He leans in and I feel his tongue flicking across my clit.

I clamp my lips shut to keep from moaning but he makes it a challenge as he grips my roped hips and buries his face deep into my pussy.

My eyes roll back as I feel his tongue twirl and flick across my clit. He presses his tongue flat against my pussy and my body tries to rock to find more friction.

“Careful, one false move and you could cause more rope burn, Akasha. But you like a little pain and pleasure don’t you?” Qimir asks as he opens my lips wider and slides his tongue deep inside of me.

This time I let the moan slip out. I feel him smiling against my sex and I don’t care. I need a release. I need to use his face.

“P…please.” I moan out as I look down at him, eating me out. He shakes his head and now he’s only using the tip of his tongue. “If…you…want something…then…say…Master.” He says lazily twirling his tongue.

“Please Master.” I whine. “I need to come.” He gives a deep guttural chuckle. “Look at you, moaning like a bitch in heat. I won’t forgive you for calling me crazy. But I’m not that cruel of a master.” He gives a hard suck to my clit causing me to groan and then he gets up off of his knees.

I was breathing heavy as I watch him grab something from his table.

A light saber.

My body tenses from the memories in my past of how much damage something like that can cause.

He lights it and the hue is blood red. He brings it close to me and I fight the urge to flinch. The heat from the saber could melt even the finest hairs on a person or animals skin.

“Don’t worry, my little flower. I’ll never use this part on you…just this part.” He turns the saber off and flips it so the handle it near me.

“Tell me, will you let me be your master? Will you let me teach you how to be the perfect predator?” As he asks me, I feel him rub the handle of the saber against my swollen clit and I shudder as I stupidly nod.

I don’t say a word from the fear and in his eyes I can tell he knows I’m afraid of the saber. “Akasha…you had a lot to say earlier. Why aren’t you being so colorful with your words now?” He slides the handle in slowly causing my eyes to roll back but my body stiffens again.

“Does this scare you? Does this give you pleasure?” He strokes the handle against my entrance and I let a nod go. “Pl-”

“Ah, what do you say?”

“Master…please. Don’t do that.” I moan out as he slides the handle in slowly. “Don’t do what? Slide the handle of my saber inside of the needy plump pussy? You don’t want me to make you feel good?” He whispers against my ear as his hand finds my throat.

The fear I have gets clouded when starts to slowly fuck me with the saber. I feel the build up in my lower stomach as I moan.

“See? Your body likes to feel good. It likes when I do this, but imagine how it’s going to feel when I use the real thing. When my cock is penetrating deep into your walls.”

He goes faster and my moans become more lose my from lips. My thighs burn from the rope and from the tension I have in them.

You can hear the wet noises coming from my soaking wet slit and I don’t care. I want a release.

“You’re taking it so well, my little flower. I bet you want to come don’t you?” I nod quickly as he slows down the pace. I try to buck my hips but I can’t from my restricting position. He raises a brow at me then. “Yes! Yes I do Master. Please!” I beg and plead.

He loosens his grip on my throat and he fucks me harder with the saber making my climax about to hit the tipping point.

“I’m gonna come.” I breathe out as I feel the anticipated tingle. But he stops, he yanks the saber out and tosses it across the room and I give out a shriek of frustration.

“Now would a crazy person deny a creature such as yourself the pleasure of coming? Don’t answer that, you might tell me the wrong answer and piss me off-” He grabs me by my tangled curls and yanks my head back, causing the rope around my shoulders and shoulder blades to tighten.

“You belong to me now, Akasha. Your pleasure, your pain, your very existence is mine. And when I see fit to let you come, it will be on my cock, my mouth, or my fingers. Do you understand? You can speak.” He orders as he looks me in my eyes.

“Yes.” I say through clenched teeth. “Yes what?” He asks with a raised brow. “Yes master…”

“Good girl.” He lets me go and kisses my temple. “Get some rest, we have some training to do tomorrow.” He lets me go and simply walks away, leaving me strung up like some prize that’s been won.

The very second I get the chance, I’m going to kill Qimir. I should’ve known that his scent would lead me to the devils playpen…

[giuseppe-yuki]

i promise

daniel ricciardo x mermaid!reader

w.c.: 4.9k

warnings: curse words, mildly graphic violence/abuse, fluff with angst

summary: ever since you were a young mermaid, your father only had one rule, and one rule only- don’t go near the surface.

picture credits from pinterest :)

ever since you were a young mermaid, your father only had one rule, and one rule only- don’t go near the surface.

again and again, from before you could barely swim, your father would remind you and your sisters of the horrors that were above the gentle waves that you called your home- giant flying objects that whistled, great iron beasts that launched boulders, nets that scooped your fish friends into the great unknown, and the worst one, humans that hunted your species for fun. you recall curling underneath your weaved seaweed blankets trembling with fear when your father told these stories, imagining how these monsters could even bear to do such horrible things. your sisters, however, only laughed at you for being a scaredy fish, and instead begged for your father to tell them about the famous sirens that dragged the evil humans to their death.

afterwards, when all your sisters were sound asleep, dreaming their silly dreams of having their names scrawled in the books of myth with the famed temptresses like pisinoe, thelxiepeia and aglaope, you hugged your father tight and promised to never, ever, go to the surface.

you kept your promise from when you were little like an oath. in the mornings, after your father went to work treating the local sea life, you and your sisters swam out from the secret opening behind the kelp forest that was the entrance to the hidden cavern that you called your home. they always told your father they were out hunting for new accessories and jewelry, but you knew better. the minute you passed the long green strands of seaweed concealing your home, your sisters would flip their glittering fins and swim up, up, up. they would linger at the surface, with just the tops of their heads to their eyes peeking out, studying, waiting, for just the right moment to push an unsuspecting sailor into the water. meanwhile, you opted to dive lower towards the sandy floor towards the shipwrecks that littered the ground. there, hidden underneath the crumbling floorboards and in the broken cupboards, hid shiny gold coins and colorful rocks that you were so fond of.

when the water darkened and glowing orbs twinkled like distant fish scales above, you would swim your way back to your home, alone.

in you and your sisters’ shared bedrooms, you would carefully place your day’s work- several rings or a pretty pearl necklace, next to your growing collection. your sisters would swim in moments later, giggling about how they almost successfully drowned yet another vile man. to their own collection, they would add yet another golden compass, hand knife, or scrap of cloth. and when your father swam in, giving each one of you a hug and asked about your day, you would excitedly tell him about the gems you found while your sisters lied through their teeth about all the little sea creatures they visited. internally, you scorned your sisters for lying to your father. you would never do such things- you were obedient and a good daughter, after all, weren’t you?

of course you were. that’s why, on your father’s birthday, instead of following your sisters to the surface to try and hunt down a sailor for a trinket, you decided to swim to the lush beds of oysters next to the shore to collect pearls for a pretty little necklace. everyone knew that these specific oysters, albeit a teensy bit closer to the surface, held biggest, shiniest pearls that the ocean world has ever seen.

you sling your kelp-weaved bag over your shoulder as you weave your way through several schools of colorful fish towards the oysters. you even wave a ‘hello’ to emmy, the giant whale shark that you had grew fond of over time. emmy uses her echolocation to send a ‘hi’ back. the swim is brisk, and you arrive at your designation in no time- a spread of shiny gray-black oysters sat on a seabed of waving green kelp. tiny bubbles flow out of their shells, drifting towards the mysterious blue surface world.

reaching your hand out, you take one, then two oysters carefully and place them into your bag. honestly, you would probably need at least ten to make a decent necklace for your father. oysters number three and four plop gently into your bag after brushing away a few pesky blue crabs that had decided to infiltrate your serious harvesting session.

you are about to reach for a fifth oyster- a ginormous one that was guaranteed to house the centerpiece of the necklace, when suddenly, a weaved web descends upon you.

almost immediately, you drop your bag. fear flashes through you- hot and sharp. you hurriedly kick your fins, propelling yourself away from the net, but all it does is for you to knock sand everywhere and scatter the once-peaceful colony of oysters throughout the shallow bed. before you know it, the net ascends up, up, up towards the only place your father had said not to go- the surface.

the first thing you notice when you are above the calming waves of the place you call your home was how cold it was. gusts of air cool your sensitive skin, making you tremble. the sky, now clearer without the frothy waves of the ocean distorting it, looked strangely pretty. as you are dragged unceremoniously through the strangely dry sand, you look through the holes of the net to find an expanse of white sandy beach, littered with purpley-pink seashells. it is framed by rocky cliffs that are lined with stringy seaweed-like plants.

you come to a stop.

footsteps sound behind you, a thump-thump sound that makes your heart race. you try to turn in the net, but the rough fibers restrict your movement by digging roughly into your flesh.

“wow! looks like i caught a fat fish!” a voice exclaims.

it sounds masculine, a deep rumble with a slight lilt of an accent. a soft rustle above you sounds as the being untangles what you assume to be the top of the net.

when you feel the strands of the net fall away from around you, you whip around, as fast as you can.

to your surprise a man stares back at you with deep whiskey-brown eyes that are wide in surprise. his curls stick out every which way a worn brown tricorn hat, and his slightly parted lips are framed by a slight stubble.

you can’t help but look down. his toned chest peeks out his dirty linen shirt, and his muscular arms are frozen, still holding the damp net. he wears a rather ragged pair of trousers that are rolled up, showing off his legs. legs… legs!

he was a human.

a shrill scream erupts from your throat, and you leap back towards the surface of the ocean.

“please!” you cry, desperately trying to claw your way through the sand that coated your wet skin. “please…don’t hurt me!”

the mysterious man immediately drops the net, hands raised in a gesture of peace, a concerned look crossing his face. he looks as shocked to see you as you are of him.

“hey! hey! it’s okay!” he shouts. “i won’t hurt you now- i promise!”

true to his word, he backs up away from you, simultaneously yanking the offending net away behind his back.

you glance at him wearily, your father’s warnings and stories bouncing around your head. he had always told you that humans were evil, greedy creatures that would stop at nothing to capture your kind.

but now, looking at the human man standing in front of you, for the first time, you started to doubt your father.

yes, he was a human, but did it really matter? he was pretty, and you liked pretty things. your horde of glimmering gems and jewels at home would vouch for you. how could a gorgeous being like him ever do any wrong?

the man in front of you hesitantly opens his mouth.

“i’m- i’m daniel,” he says, reaching a hand out for you to shake before changing his mind and rests it awkwardly to his side. “i’m sorry i called you a fat fish earlier…i didn’t know you were a-“ he gestures vaguely to your shiny tail- “mermaid.”

you brush the guilty thoughts of what your father would think away from you, and instead, scooch closer on the hot sand towards daniel.

even when the setting sun the paints the both of you a luminous orange hours later and you both lie at the edge of water, you still continue to chat idly. it’s honestly mostly daniel talking, but you don’t mind. his voice is enchanting in a way, like how you assume the sirens that your sisters always dreamed to be would sound to sailors in the water. your fingers swirl shapes in the sand as daniel continues to tell you how one of his silly shipmates named lando broke their captain’s most beloved magnifying glasses after he knocked it off a table.

“…and then, lando just leaves the mess hall as if the max’s magnifying glass wasn’t just broken in like, four pieces on the ground!” he says, moving his hands animatedly.

you giggle, fins flicking a little bit of water into the air, but you aren’t listening to his story, and instead, studying his face.

noticing your stare, daniel lets out a laugh and a toothy grin that you have come to be familiar with quickly. “what? do i have something on my face?” he asks, tilting his head in question.

”well…” you say teasingly. leaping up as best as you can, you place a kiss on his cheek before diving into the waves in front of you.

when you emerge from the foamy tides, daniel now stands, stunned, one hand lightly pressed to the place where you pressed a kiss.

you can tell his face is dusted with red, like the smooth coral near your home. there’s no doubt that yours is too.

“it’s a goodbye kiss,“ you explain. “because i have to go- it’s getting dark. it was nice talking to you, danny!”

you wiggle your fingers in a goodbye and are about to dive back into the water when daniel lets out a shout.

“wait!” he yells, hurriedly patting his pockets.

you hesitate, turning back to his figure on the shore.

from his left pocket, he draws out a beautiful patterned handkerchief.

“for you,” he states, extending his arm towards you.

when you grab the soft material from his hand, you swear you feel an electrifying buzz that flows from him into you.

god, how were you going to hide this from your father?

cursing yourself for forgetting the time, you practically dash home through the kelp forest and into the secret entrance that led to the cavern you called your home. your sisters are home already, carefully wrapping various items, like a gold compass and silver eyeglass in shimmery jellyfish-paper.

selkie, one of your older sisters, approaches you with an smile when she sees you float in.

”well? where’s your gift for father?” she asks, eyes trailing over you to see if you had brought anything special in.

quickly, you reach to your side for your kelp bag full of oysters. however, it isn’t there.

fuck.

it was probably still sitting on the oyster bed, abandoned, after daniel had mistakenly reeled you in with his net.

you scratch your head.

”well, i- er…”

selkie wrinkles her eyebrows, perplexed. “where were you all day, then, if not finding a gift for father?”

your other sisters look over, temporarily pausing from wrapping the stolen knick-knacks from the sailors.

”let me guess,” your other sister, marina, says from the messy table. “you went to go peek at the hot mermen down by the underwater cove, weren’t you? and then you lost track of time?”

if only she knew that you were looking at a gorgeous man, just not one that lived in the sea.

“no!” you screech, cheeks feeling a little warm from the thought of daniel in the sun. ”i wasn’t! i swear!”

your sisters laugh, fully convinced they had caught you in a lie. suddenly, selkie stops laughing and narrows her eyes at you. her slender arm reaches out, quick as a swordfish, and snatches daniel’s handkerchief from your hand.

“what is this, dear sister?” she says, holding it up to the algae light source at the top of the room to study it better.

panicked, you snap your hand towards the valuable cloth and try and rip it out of your sister’s grasp, but she is quicker. the cloth flicks out of her hand in a perfect arc and is caught by marina, who had stopped cutting the jellyfish paper. your other sisters stop what they are doing and crowd in as well, wanting to catch a glimpse of the fabric.

“give that to me!” you exclaim, pushing your sisters aside to take back daniel’s handkerchief. they had no right taking it away from you.

marina lets out a gasp before you are able to reach her.

“this…this is a human handkerchief!”

whipping her head towards you, she raises her eyebrow and smiles at you in amusement.

“so, you’ve finally broken your silly little promise to father huh?” she balls up the material and throws it at you. “did you finally get the guts to go up to the surface and steal something special for father?”

“yeah, and she didn’t even succeed in getting anything either- all she stole was a piece of cloth,” one of your other sister interjects.

you ignore the giggles of your sisters and sniff angrily at marina before picking up the fallen handkerchief from the ground shoving it into a chest on your shelf of shiny treasures.

that night, you give your father a small necklace made of the rubies and diamonds you found on the sunken shipwrecks. it is a far cry from the pearl necklace you had promised to make him, but he thanks you appreciatively and gives you a big hug. after dinner, he makes a big speech about how he is so thankful for such kind, obedient, and beautiful daughters, and you feel just the teensiest bit guilty for lying to him for the first time ever. however, the thought of daniel’s smile wipes it all away, and you fall asleep that night with his handkerchief tucked under your sponge coral pillow.

when day breaks, you often find yourself traveling upwards towards the forbidden surface in the same direction as your sisters. while poke their heads up near the massive wooden ships with plenty of sailors to prey on, you instead glide your way towards the bed of oysters. daniel is always there, in his scraggly linen shirt and brown tricorn hat, when you pop your head out of the bubbly tides. when the sun above him creates a halo around his head of curls and he smiles at you with twinkling brown eyes, you swear he must be an angel of some type. you both talk about every topic in the book, about daniel’s shipmates on his fishing boat, about your silly sisters and their siren dreams, and about life in general. and when the sun sets, like the first day, you press a kiss to daniel’s rough stubble, and he gifts you with a new trinket for your collection. as time goes on, your usual collection of gems and jewels are overshadowed by the many items from daniel. your sisters question you from time to time, but you never answer them. daniel was a secret- an oath- that you vowed to keep to yourself forever. your sisters could never appreciate daniel the way you did.

it’s just like any other day when you swim out of the secret entrance, past the seaweed forest with your sisters. like always, they drift towards their normal spot near the big mighty human ships and bob in the water, watching as the little sailors on the boats raise their sails and tie their ropes. taking a sharp turn, you leave them there as you head towards the oyster bed towards danny. when you pop out of the lazy tides of the water, the familiar muscular figure of daniel is standing there on the sand, like he always is. he gives you a smile and a wave, making your heart leap in your chest. you waste no time in gliding towards the shore and pulling yourself onto a low-hanging flat rock near the water.

danny practically leaps through the dunes of sand to take a seat next to you, not caring that the right sides of his linen shirt and brown trousers grow a little damp from the water on your tail. carefully, he undos the laces on his worn-out boots, before tossing it aside and sticking his feet in the cool water of the ocean.

a minute of comfortable silence passes over your figures on the rock. even without looking, you know his eyes are trained not at the endless expanse of ocean in front of you, but rather, on you.

”what?” you question him, without breaking your gaze on the beautiful surface world.

daniel doesn’t flinch from being caught staring. instead, he just smiles, eyes crinkling.

“you know, you do kind of look like a siren sitting on this rock,” he declares, not hiding the way his big brown eyes rake over your body appreciatively. you see how his gaze lingers on your glittery tail for a slight moment, probably admiring the sheer rainbow scales.

your cheeks heat up, unused to compliments from men (a human one, at that).

“well, you better be careful, danny,” you joke, using your fin to splash some water at him, “i might just lure you in with a song and drag you into the waves to drown you.”

he laughs, using a tattooed hand to shield himself from some of the bigger droplets. “well,” he admits, “i might just let you pull me in- how can anyone resist your pretty wiles?”

to that, your cheeks flush even more, and you become a little shy, looking at daniel timidly through your long lashes.

it’s weird to think about it- a year ago, an offhand mention of coming into contact with a human would have sent you into a frenzy. what if they captured you? what if they hurt you? you can’t help but feel silly at your past thoughts. as if your danny would ever do that.

”oh! i forgot,” he says quietly, reaching into his pocket. “i have something for you.” from the depths of his pant pocket, he pulls out a silver ring set with moonstone, a beautiful cloudy white gem that sparkles in the midday sun. gently, he places it in your lap. the jewel is shaped like a perfect circle, reminding you of the glittery white pearls that your sisters often wore in their hair.

“d’ya like it?” he inquires, eyes scanning your face for your reaction. “i found the gem, and asked my mate yuki to set it in this ring, especially for you!”

especially for me? this was just another reason why danny was better than all of the rather plain mermen down below the waves. when had they ever made a pretty ring- just for you?

you slip the ring onto a finger to find that it fits perfectly- not too tight and not too loose. in a burst of emotion, you reach up and cup the side of daniel’s face and pull him into a deep kiss.

when you pull apart a minute later, with flushed faces and swollen lips, daniel looks at you slyly.

“i take it that you liked it?”

you whistle a sweet tune as you do a flip in the water, leaving the oyster bed and daniel behind. you can’t help but keep glancing at the ring on your finger. it now glowed red, sparkling in the rare reddish rays of the setting sun that penetrated the water, a polar opposite of the pearly white from hours ago on the surface. when you reach the ships, you swim barely below the surface, teasingly flipping your tail into the air once in a while. he loves me, he loves me, you giddly repeat to yourself. a sudden thought of you leading your father to the surface to meet daniel flashes in your mind and it sends a shiver of scandalous delight through your body. you giggle to yourself quietly, but that’s when you hear it.

an awful scream, one that sounds awfully like- selkie.

you pop your head hesitantly above the water, alert and on guard.

like you predicted there, a distance away, was selkie. she was being hauled up into one of the towering ships by her tail. to your horror, your sister flails uselessly against the side of the boat as a grinning sailor pulls on the rope wrapped tightly around her body, hefting her up one pull at a time. your eyes meet your sister’s just as the evil sailor pulls her onto the deck of towering ship, effectively cutting off any possible chance of you communicating to her.

what the fuck?

you don’t even have a chance to react before you find yourself leaping through the water towards her. what the hell just happened? your sisters had to be around here somewhere. how could they let selkie get captured just like that?

when you reach the boat, the absence of the rest of your sisters is obvious. you only see marina bobbing half-hidden underneath the surface, face streaked with tears. even if she looked like she was in visible distress, you can’t help but reach toward her roughly, shaking her.

“what are you doing hiding under the surface??” you demand. “didn’t you see? selkie was just captured! we have to get father, and- and- everyone, and save her!”

marina pushes you away, face contorted with obvious fear and anger. “don’t you understand?” she yells, “they took father and everyone else, okay?? if i go up there, they’re gonna take me too, and they’re gonna take us and chop us up and sell us and-“

unable to continue the sentence, marina breaks into uncontrollable sobs.

you aren’t even sure how to even begin to comprehend your sister’s sentence. father…? your sisters…? how…?

before you can react, a brown net blocks the line of vision of where your sister was. it yanks upwards with surprising speed, pulling the blurry shape of marina with it.

”NO!!” you shriek, desperately trying to grasp the net before it pulls away. alas, you miss it by a centimeter, and it lifts up, up, up, out of the water. you don’t even think before leaping out of the water, catching onto the net with one hand, your last hope of rescuing your sister. she peers down through the holes of the net with teary eyes, but makes no attempt to move, as if accepting her fate.

no, no, no, you think desperately, tears blurring your vision. you ignore the burn of the rope cutting deep into your fingers as you use your free hand to slash at the net while it swings in place, too heavy for one sailor to lift. your nails breaks a few strands of the hard rope, but truthfully, you and your sister both know it’s no use. above you, a sailor with blue watercolor eyes peeks over the railing, spots you dangling there, and laughs. the ribbons of his sailor’s hat shake as he laughs, and a gold-lined brooch, with a grotesque image of mermaid in the center, shines brightly, as if taunting you. he disappears back behind the railing, and the footsteps of several other sailors slap across the deck before the net begins slowly lifting upwards again. you know you can’t keep this up for long. your strength was slowly fading from clutching to the net.

reaching up, you attempt to hack at the net holding marina one last time when she slips her hand through one of the holes and squeezes your hand.

“go,” she says, strangely calm, eyes meeting yours. “go and save yourself. it’s too late for me, okay?”

you start to refuse, words clogging your throat as your emotions overwhelm you. it’s not too late, you want to say, i can do it! i’ll break the net and then i’ll save you, and then- and then- i’ll get on the boat, somehow- and then i’ll save father, and then selkie, and then everyone else, i swear! i can do it! please!

marina snakes her hand onto your shoulder, and pushes.

against your will, your grip falters on the net and you fall down, down, down, back into the ocean.

and when you swim back towards to surface, wanting to tell marina to come back, come back, please, she has disappeared over the edge of the towering ship.

the salty tears that you cry disappear in the ocean around you as you flee like you never cried at all. the fish around you swim gleefully, as if you hadn’t just had your father and sisters ripped from you. the orangey-reddish glow of the setting sun continues to filter through the water, and the calming red glow now taunts you. the seaweed on the bottom of the ocean floor waves side to side in a calming rhythm, but all it does is remind you of the front door of your secret home, that you once shared with your sisters and father. emmy, the whale shark, blows a bubble ring at you in hello as she swims by. you don’t know why, but you punch the bubble ring, as hard as you can, shattering it into tiny bubbles, causing emmy to swerve away in fear. it’s weird, how fast your life can change. one minute you were sitting with daniel, one hand in his curls and his lips glued to yours, and the next you were- wait. daniel. he could help you! he was human, wasn’t he? he could talk to the evil sailors and convince them to release your sisters and father! they’d listen to him- he’s so nice and charismatic, he’s bound to be able to persuade them.

daniel was sitting on the beach where you had left him half an hour ago, when you approach the shore, drawing shapes in the sand. he seems surprised to see you, but immediately jumps up from the sand and waddles into the ocean. his boots and the bottoms of his pants become drenched with seawater, but he continues deeper into the water until he meets you in the middle.

smiling from ear to ear, he starts to say, “you missed me so much that you came back?” in a teasing tone, but his face immediately drops into a concerned one, once he realizes the droplets of water on your face are not from the ocean, and are in fact leaking from your eyes. he immediately opens his arms, as if inviting you in.

you swim into his arms, hands clutching to his muscled shoulders for dear life.

“hey baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, patting your back in an up and down motion comfortingly.

as memories of the traumatic kidnappings of your family flash through your mind, you begin to sob even harder. you are sure that your steady stream of tears could fill an entire ocean, at this point.

daniel doesn’t pry, like the kind-hearted person he is, and continues to run a hand gently down your back until your sobs have quieted down to occasional hiccups and you are ready to tell him what has happened.

he carries you gently to the upper shore, and sits with you, chest deep in water, while you tell him the events that occurred after you left- selkie being hoisted up onto the boat, marina getting caught in the net, the sailor with the brooch laughing at you, and marina pushing you away. when you finish, you grasp his hands, and plead with him to save your family from whatever awful fate was awaiting them on the ship, fresh tears rolling down your face.

he agrees almost immediately, and assures you, tomorrow- tomorrow, we will go, and i will save them for you, i promise, i promise.

and you believe him. the sun had set, and there was nothing you could do in the dark of night. all there was to do was to wait for tomorrow. so, when your quivering body calms, curled in deep sleep by the rocking waves of the shallow water and the comforting embrace of danny’s arms, he reaches up, and adjusts the collar of his linen shirt, making sure the gold-lined brooch, with a little mermaid engraved in the center, is still hidden. he then reaches down and gently slips the moonstone ring off of your finger and slips it into his pocket for next time. his work here was done. now all he had to do was to wait for max and lando to come haul you into the ship, and then they could go to the next location. he smiles, looking at your peaceful body entwined so willingly- so trustingly- against him, and can’t help but laugh. mermaids were so easy to trick.

a/n: i think i am just incapable of giving my fics good titles ;-; someone save me and help me give this one a better name please 🙏

[kingratmilk]

You know what's interested me most about Zenless Zone Zero? Thirens

As of rn, there are (soon to be) 6 playable thiren characters:

Nekomiya Mana (Cat)

Ben Bigger (Bear)

Von Lycaon (Wolf)

Ellen Joe (Shark)

Seth Lowell (Cat)

Jane Doe (Rat)

From looking through the story, trust events, character profiles, in game news articles, and Inter-Knot, we can find out the following about thirens:

- Some thirens can't have coffee because it causes heart issues

- Thirens that are fully covered with fur are called "beast thirens"

- They have sensitive hearing (most notably seen with Nekomata)

- Their tails are pretty sensitive

- They usually only let people they trust touch their tails (most notably seen with Ellen and Lycaon)

- Their fur is affected by their diet (tail fur included)

- Animals are naturally attracted to them (as seen with Lycaon and Seth, possibly others too but idk)

- They naturally have a higher ether aptitude than humans

- There are specific shampoos and massages for thirens

- Soap can cause their fur to knot

- Their ears/tails may move/twitch depending on how they feel

- They share multiple other traits with their normal animal counterparts, such as agility, dexterity, and more

- Thirens can shed

- Thirens can have allergies to their own fur when they shed

- Some thirens enjoy neck/head scratches

- There may be a law specific to protecting thirens, though I'm not 100% on this

And that's not all, as there is actually quite a bit of obvious discrimination against thirens such as:

- Sterotypes are casually said to the faces of thirens

- Some people view them as "dangerous creatures"

- Some accommodations aren't available to thirens (most notably the issue with movie theatre seats when it comes to bear thirens)

- Being harassed on the street by people who want to touch their tails (or even in Lycaon's case, a child wanting to ride on his back)

- Thirens in movies often don't get played by actual thirens, and instead by humans or bangboo

- In these movies, they're often times shown as dangerous

- Maybe I'm looking too into this one, but I find it weird that a large majority of bear thirens work at Belobog Industries

There are just so many things you can find out about thirens in this game and it makes me wanna ask so many questions. How do they exist? Why are only some thirens fully furred? What's with all the casual discrimination against them? Why are there so many different species of thiren? Why does someone like Nekomata have 2 tails instead of the standard 1? I genuinely hope the game goes more into the factors of thirens and especially the discrimination of them as I'm curious just what the full extent of it is

If there's anything else I missed about thirens plz let me know! These guys interest me so much so I'm trying to gather as many facts about them as possible

[kasarasun]

what if I made a thing or it already was that while Airplane wrote the world, Peerless Cucumber illustrated it (only the animals. And Binghe, fighting the animals.) And then then then

He'd totally do it on an alt account, right?? Peerless Cucumber can't be seen making fanart!! (And he's good at it. Like, wiki is using his art in the monsters and beasts pages (that Peerless Cucumber volleyed for. He also separated it from the plant section.) Because 1 its good 2 the artstyle is consistent 3 there isn't a lot of monster official art, other than that one with the black moon rhinoceros python and those other ones and 4 it's really that good)

Haha incomprehensible parenthesis nesting aside, Airplane is watching the forums, right? Not sure about other stuff in canon but he looks at the forums and the fanart and the fiction and most of it is probably corn and binghe and just a little bit of mobei-jun and also the wives tm but!! There's also that guy!!! The monsters guy!! (People would probably suspect 'Drawing the Beast's Ire'- or some other sex euphemism I'm not good at making those- of being Peerless Cucumber because 1 the writing style is the same 2 Peerless Cucumber is the number 1 contributor to the PIDW wiki and a lot of it is the monsters and beasts section and it makes sense, yes??) Anyway, Airplane shooting towards the sky suspects but not too seriously suspects Mr ire of being cucumber's fanart alt but uh uh that ends pre-transmigration section

So, Shen Yuan starts running about, right? Things seem really... familiar, maybe thats the word?- for some reason. This is because every animal and plant he's ever drawn, sketched- maybe even thought about but that's a stretch?- is his design. The firefly parallels hold their forelimbs like butterflies. That is how far down it goes. Maybe it doesn't come up until later, but beasts and monsters from fanfiction get involved, oc species, too... anyway,

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky transmigrates 30 years (iirc) before Peerless Cucumber. He was an avid enough follower of Drawing the Beast's Ire to recognize that these are their designs! Here's where it gets really crazy. Xiao-Mobei comes along, and while he's still pretty young, Airplane can tell that this is Drawing Ire's design! Some aspect, maybe his ears or teeth, (this isn't a well built theoretical tangent) of Mobei isnt canon. Its Drawing Ire's. From that one Northern Kingdom collection. Whatever stretched his world building into coherence, completion, didn't just pull from fanwork, official art, whatever it could find, it went for Drawing the Beast's Ire's designs specifically. Damn that's crazy Airplane ahahaha moving on,

This is getting really long so I'll be a bit more concise, (want to know more? Talk to me. Please talk to me. I want to interact with the fandom. Ask me questions. Poke your fingers into my cage.) This all comes to head at the Immortal alliance conference. The monsters and beasts really start pouring in! And Shen Qingqiu/Yuan remembers his creations. However, he assumes that this is because like 1 other person maybe was Drawing ghost head spiders.

Hey, Peerless Cucumber really liked the monsters, right? The deadlier, crazier, more intricate, the design the better! So maybe, when he was drawing, he... added some things, really believable, logical additions, really just small creative decisions...

Anyway, the monsters that Drawing the Beast's Ire made were where it came to a head.

Lets have another Canon divergence. Maybe, during or after Binghe gets pushed in, out of the rifts comes a species that Drawing Ire created. It's beautiful, poisonous, beloved, and really quite deadly. Shen Yuan/Qingqiu, Peerless Cucumber, Drawing the Beast's Ire... realizes, quite like airplane before him, that he's illustrated, practically sculpted with his own hands, monsters from the Endless Abyss with claws and teeth and poisons as deadly as Peerless Cucumber thought that the really cool monsters could deserve. It feels like he's the one cutting, biting, poisoning his sweet little sheep. It feels like he's digging out the marrow from his little white lotus disciple's bones.

Ok it is shut up time 👍