#return of the fearsome fangs

[ash-looks-like-snow]

So i'm watching batman brave and the bold my newest hyperfixation and we get to the episode that has furry transformation and i get super excited because furry, and then the design are actual cool and i'm so ready to see what batman looks like designed as an actual bat because I Like real bats their adorable and then I get this !?! WHAT. THE. HELL. why... why.. does he look like that ? all the others look like there animal but anthro he looks like Nosferatu why doe they always go more vampire then bat ????? is it because real bats are to cute and they want him to look scary? how come he has no real muzzle ? what's with the weird fang lips, and his nose. WERE IS HIS FUR ??? 

[babybeel]

— violent

“shut the fuck up! you don’t know what you’re saying, shut up!”

your voice is thick with anger as it bounces off the walls, bitterness echoing through. mammon feels his blood boil before he can even see you, hoping for the best though fearing the worst. his talons have begun to peak through, sharp claws digging into the meat of his palms as his hands close into tight fists, and he feels his shoulder blades stiffen as his wings strain and ache against his shirt.

rounding the corner, the older brothers bear witness to you shouting at a group of lowly demons, teeth bared and gaze sharp. your pacts are glowing, piercing through the night as you let loose, emotions controlling you. beelzebub stands protectively in front of you, expression vicious though solemn, and belphegor holds a wary arm before you, though his tail whips behind him in similar anger. the brothers wonder with churning stomachs just what had been said.

“oh look,” one of the lesser demons dares to sneer, clearly thinking high of itself as a ugly smirk rises onto its face, having caught sight of the others, “maybe the avatar of greed isn’t so stupid after all, he can come when called. though, you better put him on a leash before he wanders off and fucks everything up again.”

the brothers don’t bother to hide their demon forms any longer, turning into a fearsome flurry of wings and fangs and claws. lucifer takes a furious stride forward, ready to quash anyone who insulted his younger brother and a terrifying aura rolls off of him in suffocating waves.

you beat him to it.

“sounds like you’re stupid, so thick you can’t even listen when someone tells you to shut your fucking mouth,” you snarl, entire body pushing against belphie’s arm, “you’ll never be worth a shred of what mammon is. he’s not an avatar for nothing. he’s reliable and dependable - he completes his duties, protects his brothers through everything and takes care of me too. you dare speak about mammon whilst you’re trying to amount to anything and i promise i’ll be there to stop you getting anywhere near his level.”

your breath is ragged when you finish, venomous threat weighing heavy in the air. you finally take a step back from belphie’s hold, decidedly having said enough. still, your expression doesn’t relax, eyes fierce and teeth on show.

the group of lesser demons begin to cower, shuffling uncomfortably as their ringleader swallows thickly, suddenly realising what it’d done as your severe words sink into its skin and the seven avatars of sin surround you. it opens and closes its mouth a handful of times, lower lip quivering as its earlier confidence abandons it. it’s only a second after that the demons scramble away, feet panicked as they slap against the floor. they’re slower than the avatars that follow them.

a call of your name dissolves the remaining tension, gentle and familiar and only just above a whisper.

“oh, mammon,” you turn, eyes softening at the only brother who remained with you. “oh, my mammon,” you murmur again, wrapping yourself around his torso, as tight as you possibly can. his open arms quickly return the hold, your body still trembling ever so slightly against his. but the anger soon gives way to relief and mammon lets out a sigh of his own as it floods through his pact.

“it’s ok,” mammon hushes, “i’m ok.”

against your every fibre, you pull back and the loss of your cheek against mammon’s chest leaves him uncomfortably cold. your hands snake up to cup his face, stark tenderness so blatant it’s hard to picture that you had been snarling and spitting a few minutes ago. “you sure?” you ask, staring straight into mammon’s eyes that glimmer gold at the contact.

mammon nods, taking the chance to lean into your touch, “course i am, you and my brothers look after me too. i’m your first man and you’re my first human.”

“you promise?” your tone is adamant and unrelenting, despite how mammon’s words had left you melty warm.

mammon lets the smile break onto his lips, lets your hands pull him downwards until your foreheads are pressed against each other. “promise,” he hums, “i’m ok as long as i’ve got you.”

[viviennevermillion]

Enemies to lovers where you constantly fight with General Lilia Vanrouge on the front lines and then one day you both just have enough, yelling at each other and then somehow you end up with his lips on yours, pouring all his frustration and the emotions he can't show on the battlefield into the kiss. His words are cold and distant but you can feel his expression soften when he looks at you. He doesn't want you to notice so he just keeps distracting you with his kisses. Imagine burying your fingers in his long hair and he nibbles at your lip gently with his little fae fangs. He has his back pressed against a tree with his legs wrapped around your waist and you can feel him sighing into the kiss. For just a moment he doesn't have to be the general anymore, now that he's away from all eyes but yours. He's still confused about how he feels but he's locked his emotions deep inside his heart below his armor because there's no place for them on the battlefield. Every kiss has him yearning for another because for months, maybe even years on end he's only known wounds and pain. You separate your lips from him to take a breath and he's almost instinctively trying to pull you into another kiss. He's touch-starved and lonely and angry and so terribly confused. Baul calls out for him to discuss the strategy for the coming day, unaware of how much the fearsome general just let his guard down in the shadow of the trees in a desperate attempt to feel something other than whatever cold emotions war brought along. He doesn't leave without pressing a kiss to your forehead, softer than all the previous ones and he returns to his cold expression and leaves without a word but you can't help but feel like this is the start of something troublesome.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Tooth and Claw (M!Dragon x F!Reader)

Pairing: Male!Humanoid!Dragon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Explicit Content ahead (18+ ONLY), breeding kink, mentions of blood and bruises

Word Count: 1500 words

Summary: You're partner is as loving as they get, despite what their fearsome appearance may suggest. Never the less, who says those large teeth are a bad thing?

Request: nsfw male Draconic Humanoid (with human male face) x female reader with biting, breeding kink, soft to rough sex.

You’d think with a bed so large, large enough to fill the center of your large room in the horde, there would be ample amounts of space. But in these heated moments, when you and Callyx are a tangle of limbs desperate to kiss and touch and suck, it feels like there is not even room to breath.

All it takes is a look, that is often how you two end the night. A full dinner from a fresh hunt, some soft words, a tender look, and you are racing to the bedroom. Your clothes are flung to the side, too busy kissing and grabbing onto each other to notice anything else.

There is something very satisfying about the feeling of his scales, especially those along his side and back. When he presses you down into the bed, layering your neck in kisses and caressing your hips, you like to run your nails up and down them. They are always cool to the touch and catch the low firelight in the most beautiful way, the dark blue shining with aquamarine and turquoise.

You only loose focus in your exploration when he bites your neck with a low chuckle. You gasp and he returns with fervor, sucking and nipping the skin. Now your fingers run through his thick, black hair, pulling him in closer. You moan in his ear, knowing how much he loves to hear the noise.

“You always taste so exquisite, my love.” He says, barely pausing to breathe as he continues lavishing you. Callyx’s thumb rubs deep circles in your waist, slowly traveling up your chest. He pulls away to kiss at your lips, pulling at your bottom lip with a mischievous shine in his eyes. You return the energy, yanking down on one of his horns and nuzzling his face into your breasts. He soaks up the attention, quick to cup and lap at the skin.

Your fingers only dig deeper into his scalp when he sucks om your nipple, using a calloused hand to tweak the other. He devours your moans, eyes rolling back at the taste of your sweat. His thick, corded tail sways behind him, betraying unabashed excitement. A fang grazes the skin of your breast, but doesn’t break skin.

You yank on his hair, pulling his lips off your body.

“My love,” You whisper, rubbing his jaw with your thumb, “I think I want it rough tonight. Really rough.”

His smirk widens. “Are you sure?” You nod. “And you remember our safe words?”

You nod again, eyes drifting down to the glistening fangs in his smile. You can picture the marks he’ll leave all over your body, biting your lip.

Callyx gives you one last gentle kiss before his hand wraps around your neck, forcing you down into the mattress. His grip isn’t tight enough to cut off oxygen, but definitely enough to leave a nasty bruise tomorrow.

“Then you’re mine, bitch.” Callyx purrs, rushing down to your chest to resume his ministrations. But this time he bares his fangs proudly, lapping and biting with a desperate hunger. He still doesn’t draw blood, but the sting of scrapes and broken capillaries shoots right down to your pussy.

Callyx licks a long stripe up your chest, in between your breasts and ending at your jaw. He nips at the skin, growling pure filth into your ear.

“Of course you’d like this. After all, you’re just my little whore, aren’t you? My delicious fucking slut.”

Callyx uses one hand to press your chest down as he works his body backwards, slotting himself in between your thighs. His claws dig threateningly into the skin, leaving flushed patches, hot with bood,

“With how long I’ll be breeding you tonight, consider this a gift.”

He languidly sucks on two of his fingers, shooting a cheeky wink before shoving them inside your cunt. The sudden intrusion has you gasping, as does the gentle rub of the scales of his knuckles. The digits curl, Callyx letting out a deep breath when he hears your moans. “That's right, sing for me.”

With his palm rubbing against your clit, Callyx begins fingering you in earnest. Each thrust feels like a zap to your lower half, making your thighs clench around his waist. He reaches down with his other hand and slaps your ass, only forcing you to jerk towards him and force him inside you deeper. You throw your head back and dig your nails into the sheets.

“I’ll let you off now, slut. But when I’m blessing you with my dick, you better keep your eyes on me.” Callyx taunts, changing up the rhythm of his fingers and slowly stroking the inside of your pussy. You can only nod, moaning instead of responding properly. He laughs again, grinning fiercly when you whine as he pulls out his fingers. “Don’t worry, baby, the main course is coming.”

Callyx shoves down your chest again, using it as leverage to pull himself upwards and line his cock-head with your cunt. His other digs into the pillow by your face, unsheathed claws ripping it open and exposing feathers. That tail thumps on the bed behind him, only stilling when his tip finally presses against your pussy lips. Callyx groans, looking down at you under lidded eyelids with a smirk. “Get ready to be bred, mate.”

With that, Callyx thrusts in you with gusto, stealing the breath from your lungs. One of your hands immediately finds a hold on his horns, the other across the scales of his back,The pace he sets is brutal, the bed frame creaking with every hump of his hips. Your bouncing tits enthrall Callyx and he leans down to suck on your nipples. The sting of his teeth is overwhelmed by his cock pounding against your g-spot, your legs trembling and spasming around his hips.

“F-fuck!” You shout, throwing your head back and exposing your succulent neck. Callyx takes his chance and immediately nuzzles in, finding that sensitive patch of skin and sucking on it. Your pussy juices gush around his cock, the erotic sound of skin-on-skin leaving none to the imagination. The bedframe protests under you, the headboard slamming into the wall, but your mind is utterly elsewhere. With your ankles locked around his back, Callyx grinds his hips in a circle, lickinh a long stripe up your neck. You’re halfway through a moan when he bites down, the hardest he can without seriously injuring you, the shock and pain only making your stomach spasm in all the best ways.

The best way to tell that Callyx is about to cum is from his face. His brow scrunches up, he bites his lip, and for a second he loses the control on his shifted form. His fangs become a bit too big for his mouth, the scales begin to pop and climb down his jaw, his third eyelid nictitating across a golden iris. He likes to pull you in for sloppy kisses, especially whe he can pull back your lip and draw a little bit of blood. He’ll lap it up like an animal, his hips stuttering as he gets closer and closer. But not before you.

That infernal tail of his drifts up across the bed, under his abdomen and down to your crotch. Callyx purposefully shifts his hips to give it access, the ribbed edge teasing your clit. At this point, black spots are coming across your vision and you’ve just about lost all manners of speech. You’re limited to swears and moans, you're tongue lolled out like a drooling mess. “You’re gonna look so good stuffed full of my cum.” Callyx pants out, the sound of ripping bed sheets as his claws dig in deeper. “Full of my seed, full of my litter.” Callyx grabs hold of your jaw, those sme claws leaving half-moons in your cheeks. “Thats right, cum in my cock. Cum for me, cum.”

It's the culmination of everything that snips the rubber band in your stomach, that makes you pussy clench and your nerves burst. Callyx’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Sh-shit.” He stutters, barely holding onto his rougher persona. “Take it, take it.” Callyx says with a growl, puncturing his final thrust with a final bite to your neck. He explodes inside you, the warmth of his seed spreading throughout your abdomen. Callyx quickly collapses on top of you, the two of you still trying to catch your breathes. The normal heat of his dragon body is only amplified, reminding you of snuggling up under a warm, weighted blanket.

“Was that…tough enough?” Callyx sighs, mind still a bit too pussy-drunk to focus. You simply nod, kissing his cheek and sighing contently. He chuckles, giving your but a loving pst as he nuzzles into your neck. This sweet aftermath is always the best, just the two of you basking in each other's touch and comfort.

Right before the bed frame cracks in half, sending you both toppling to the ground.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

MDZS AU in which Mo Xuanyu is a severely bullied queer kid but nobody is willing to help him in any way because his bullies are stinking rich, sponsors of the fancy rich kid school and also some are even his cousins.

He's at his wits' end and downright suicidal when he stumbles upon this page online about summoning demons and selling your soul to them in exchange for something (kind of like Death Girl)

Except you have to call onto specific demons or nobody will answer the summoning

So Mo Xuanyu goes onto a dark, caffeine-fueled rabbithole of mythology and demonology for a few days and nights until he finds the legend of the fearsome evil Yiling Patriarch

Dude sounds unhinged enough, the flute playing is a thing they have in common (even if MXY's shitty aunt pulled him out of his flute classes a while ago due to "financial issues") and apparently people rumor he was gay for some Lightbringer guy.

Perfect.

So Mo Xuanyu prepares the ritual and... nothing happens. He's so angry and disillusioned he's about to take his own life in frustration because not even this worked, nothing does, he'll be bullied and abused forever - but then, out of black smoke, finally emerges nome other than the scary Yiling Patriarch, only he's a bit... disheveled? And has a white ribbon around one of his hands??

"What is it, kid?"

"...y-y-you're the Yiling Patriarch...?!"

"In the flesh... err, kind of. Anyway, what do you want with me?"

"In a moment, but, um, why did it take you so long to show up??"

Mo Xuanyu swears the Yiling Patriarch turns red a little. "I was... busy! Underworld stuff, very important. So now care to tell me why you had to just pull me out of that super important stuff?"

"Iwantyoutokillmybullies!"

"Slower, kid, I am like 15 centuries old, my hearing isn't the best anymore."

"I want you to kill my bullies... i'll give you my soul in return!"

The Yiling Patriarch sighs softly and pats the kid's head. "Your soul is very precious, kid. Don't give it up just like that."

Mo Xuanyu screams, frustrated tears in his eyes. "I'm not! I've been bullied and abused all my life and I'm so tired of it! I want them all to pay! So take my soul and do it! That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it?!"

"You'll die in 10 years if I take your soul as payment. Do you really not think you'll want to live in 10 years?"

"No! There's nothing in this world for me! Everyone hates me and I hate everyone and everything in it! If you don't take my soul, I'll just kill myself anyway!"

"Hm..." and the Yiling Patriarch takes a few seconds to think. "... how about this? We make a deal but not for your soul. I'll help you with the bullies thing pro bono, no payment, and then I'll come see you in 10 years. If you still want to die, I'll take your soul. If not, consider my help just some random act of kindness."

"Why would a demon be kind??"

"I am not exactly a demon per se. Complicated stuff. Anyway, you in or not?"

"What the hell, let's do it!"

Next day, Mo Xuanyu's bullies wait for him in front of the school gates ready to taunt him and beat him up again.

Except he rolls up in a black Lambo with two super buff looking guys that he calls "uncle Wei Ying" and "uncle Lan Zhan" that see him off to class - before uncle Wei Ying puts a very friendly hand on one of the bullies' shoulders and only slightly lowers his sunglasses so his red eyes shine.

"I'm a really nice guy so I'll warn you. Once. Mess with Mo Xuanyu again and I'll make sure it's the last thing you do." And he smiles a fanged smile. "Or I'll let my husband turn you into a memory. He's very good with his sword and I mean that literally."

"H-H-Husband?!"

"What, any problem with that?"

"No sir you two are an amazing couple!!"

Mo Xuanyu's bullies not only leave him alone but also transfer schools to the other side of the country. Their donations to the school are now replaced with Mo Xuanyu's "uncles" support and so nobody is impacted.

And this is the story of how Mo Xuanyu was adopted by two demon king husbands.

[pursuitseternal]

“Thickening:” spicy morning after for Astarion x Cordehlia (f!oc) in “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x F!OC | E | 3.6K morning after smut

Summary: Cordehlia wakes the next morning for another bout of eager Vampire between her legs, and as they return, the camp reacts.

CW: a hint of somnophilia, oral sex, flirtatious banter, sweet little hand-holding, camp reactions, jealous!Gale, and a journey to the Underdark underway.

Previous chapter | Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Chapter 7: “Thickening”

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️

Cordehlia woke shivering, not just from the cold dawn breeze. Something wet lapped between her thighs, gentle and deliberate, licking through her drenched seam. Shifting, she spread her legs wider, making more room for those all-too-familiar arms to curl behind her knees. As if she wasn’t already wet and slick enough from the three times they had coupled during the night… she smiled anyway, breathing a sigh, a noise of pure bliss as he swirled his tongue over her clit to great effect.

Astarion chuckled, low and deep and delighted at her body’s response, his fangs catching slightly on her folds as he smiled. He was beyond happy. Beyond filled. Even as his hunger for blood gnawed at his belly, his body finally felt warm, if only in his mind. Warm, relaxed, sated.

Cordehila scratched her fingers into his hair, no words from her mouth. Only the little mewls and breaths she sighed louder the closer he pushed her into climax. Waves rippled down her spine with each suck and swirl he made. Gods, for all the times he had tasted her, little ways they had joined before, the explorations of one another in their foolish youth… he was never this good.

She would bite her tongue and never complain over this, she giggled.

Long and cold and crooking, he slipped his fingers deep inside her clenching walls. Pumping them in and out and teasing whatever other pleasures he could from inside her.

Already so swollen, so wet and aching, it was more than enough to throw her back into orgasm. Her thighs clenched hard around his head, squeezing and trembling as she lost all control. The world around her blurred, her vision speckled with stars, her jaw clenching shut to keep the keening cries quiet in the silent dawn.

Those dexterous fingers, that eager tongue, he kept them gently pleasuring her until her body relaxed, limp and hot against the ground.

Then and only then, he looked up. “Good morning,” he purred, stroking his hands over her legs as he eased them back down.

Cordehlia only gave a deep, contented sigh in reply, a soft shake of her messy red hair as he slunk his body to lay beside her.

“I figured that you could use one more before we have to head back to join…” he grimaced in petty disgust, “the others.”

“You have to be cautious doing that, Astarion, my love,” she finally found her voice, quiet and thick as it was. “Do you know how many enemies of mine have had their necks snapped between these thighs in battle?”

His face lit up like she had offered him the most delicious of sweets, eyes wide and handsome features lifting in delight. “Hundreds? Thousands?” he nearly stuttered excitedly. “As if I couldn’t adore your body any more than I already do, my fearsome darling.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything,” she smirked, withholding her full smile and laughter even as it pained her. “I doubt if we begin again, it would go unnoticed this time.”

“Oh please,” he quirked his brows and licked his lips, “given the noise you made, I’m sure they already know…”

“And what about the noise you made, hmm?” she let that smirk spread, grabbing right for his softened cock, softly holding his balls as he groaned. Feeling it twitching back to life, she craned her head in for a kiss.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, darling…” he rasped into her kiss. “But I think if that is your wish, I will need an extra little something on my tongue to keep me going…”

“Blood, you mean,” she feigned an irritated grumble, craning her neck, tempting him with that pale skin already punctured and marked fresh from the night.

He ran his tongue over the artery beneath that beautiful alabaster flesh. “My dear, nothing gets me harder than the taste of you, each and every time… so quickly too.” Pressing his lips over the recent wounds, he sucked gently. A groan sounding from her mouth. “Why, would you like a demonstration, with that hand of yours still holding my…”

“Shut up and suck, if you’re hungry,” she managed to say, a wriggle of her body beside him more as he pressed his lips closer. “But we really better be going…”

Asrarion lapped, just sucking enough to make those two little bite marks begin to bleed once more.

“But whatever happens, we are returning to the camp before every single person awakes to watch us walking back disheveled and…”

“Properly fucked?” he whispered between deafening sucks on her neck.

“Yes,” Cordehlia giggled. “Very properly fucked.” His cock stiffened in her hand, her fingers almost feeling the flow of her blood filling him in every vein, hardening his whole body, even as that length twitched to life.

“Sure you don’t think you’re a bit shy yet from properly fucked?” he asked, so slyly, so eagerly as he raised his bloodied lips from her again. A little thrust of his erection against her hand was to just add that little extra level of persuasion.

And Cordehlia just gave a low chuckle, gripping his length in that hand for a few little teasing strokes. “Mmm, perhaps better to leave you wanting so you’ll have a reason to invite me for another visit to your bed tonight….”

“Or perhaps I would be ever so more eager if you give in to me just once more, darling,” he purred right into her ear, letting the brush of his lips and the whisper of his breath tickle her.

Her moan, the way she twisted beneath him made him smile; she was giving in, that resolute little warrior melting away as her hand began working all the more attentively on his cock. The sweep of her thumb over his seeping slit sent a jolt through his body, his hips grinding into her hold.

Suddenly, she shifted beside him, scooting across the ground, sliding down his body, a mischievous grin on her perfect lips. “Since you’ve woken me with that talented mouth of yours, seems only fair I attempt to return the favor,” she rasped, a kiss against his belly, hands splayed on his hips to push him above her.

“I’ll admit,” he replied, a shiver of anticipation down his body, “I’m not always one for fairness, but this, I’ll enjoy…”

Cordehlia laughed, “Whatever pleases you, my love.” And with that, she softly licked the seed already dripping into the earth. That bitter tang, she had missed it. Not that she had tasted it since last they had…. Well, she tried not to let her fear make her stumble over her inexperience. Closing her eyes, she just savored him, the way his skin was oh so smooth… every little jab and twitch he made inside the heat of her mouth…

And then, he thrusted. Her throat closed around his length, making her swallow. A little gag around his cock.

It made him groan at the contact and pressure.

This time, she was ready, taking him in as deep as she could, pursing her lips around that long, veiny length. Giving him something to take pleasure in. “So good,” he rasped between his groans, “Gods, Cordehlia.” His body began to shake, his cock thickening the more he thrust into that entrancing warm wet.

She gave a laugh, the little extra vibrations of her voice running along her tongue as she swirled it along that little groove as he pumped in and out.

“You keep that up,” he groaned, leaning down to watch how she took him in her lips, “and you’ll return to camp with me already having broken your fast. A full belly, darling.”

She laughed again, wrapping her hand around what couldn’t fit inside, slowly stroking him. With a long, hard suck, she popped off his head, keeping her fist deliciously tight. “You’re one to accuse me of hunger, my love.”

Oh, he was close, her taunting enough to push him at last, one more time in the dawn. That warm, teasing damp of her mouth taking him back in, it consumed him, flooding him with that release, his body hitching, groaning, spasming until he filled her mouth and throat with his seed. But even more delicious was the feeling of her throat rippling, swallowing him down. Her tongue licking every last little pulse and squirt of his cum until he was empty. That beat of familiarity humming through him, body, mind and soul, once more.

“Feels… divine…” Astarion finally gasped enough air to speak. “Familiar again.”

He shifted to lay beside her, fixated by her smiling lips and bright eyes.

“Well,” she grinned, secretive and proud, the cat that ate the canary. Or the one who guzzled down her love’s spew. “Considering it was one of the first ways we came to… how would you put it… indulge one another? I’m not surprised it feels familiar.” Her fingers wiped the corner of her mouth. “I probably swallowed you down more than I had my first drinks of fairy wine by the time we were to be…”

Married, she choked on the unspoken word.

That sudden sadness turned at the corner of her eyes. No tadpole was needed for him to feel the slice of pain in her body. “Well, your experience came in handy…” he whispered, wrapping his long arms around her shoulders, drawing her to lay across his chest. Then he looked at her with all his teasing wicked mischief. “Handy… and mouthy too,” he taunted.

That little, cheap, plebeian humor did the trick, he breathed with relief, watching her pain turn to a slightly-peeved smile. “Now, I think we better not leave the others to suppose anything nefarious has happened. Well, nothing more than a good solid fucking…” He stood from her prone body, reaching that elegant hand out for hers. Pulling her to her feet, he planted a little kiss on the back of her hand before reaching for his discarded clothing. Cordehlia did softly giggle to herself, watching him shoving his softening erection into the top of his breeches. Laughter that made him twist those breathtaking features to give that stomach-fluttering smirk.

In the light of day, those scars were clear, the Infernal script covering almost every inch of his flesh. She shuddered even as she completed them, dressing herself.

Suddenly her mind ached, remembering that flash from the tadpole the moment they had met on the beach. It still felt real, fresh as if they were connected. But her mind was clear. The pain lancing through her back, the darkness and isolation, the imprisonment. Wanting to just be numb instead of having hope…

Now she knew.

She crossed over, catching him just as he was shuffling on his shirt. Pressing her fingers to the thickened rises and ridges, he stopped, frozen. Arms shoved in the sleeves about to shrug it over his body. “What does it look like?” he asked, so quiet, so strained. As if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “The poem Cazador carved in me…”

“I never learned Infernal, but it doesn’t look like a poem…” she traced over it, letting her fingers map out the design. “Can you feel it?”

He nodded solemnly, swallowing loudly as he turned. “I’ve always felt it, but I have never seen it. Mirrors are of no use when you have my… condition,” he replied, a blunt edge of defeat in his silken voice.

“Well,” Cordehlia murmured as she finished tugging her own clothes on, “your eyes are not the only set that can look at your body…” she reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Eyes to see and a willing heart to help you, Astarion…”

His face quirked, as if such words of love, of support were so unfamiliar to his ears. So strange. “Thank you,” he managed to reply after a moment.

They began walking back down the trail like that, hand in hand. Astarion didn’t want to look too closely, barely moving aside from letting their clasped hands sway in time with their ambling strides. Holding his breath and waiting for the moment she would free her fingers from his hold. To pull away from him. Inevitable.

But even as they approached the camp, their companions already seated around the fire, she didn’t budge.

Not even when they all turned to watch them stroll back into their midst. Touching.

“Well,” Gale cleared his throat. “I assume you’ve worked up the appetite.” His face grinned, a bit embarrassed perhaps. “Good morning walk?”

“You idiot, they totally fucked,” Karlach cackled, a slap on the wizard’s shoulder.

Crodehlia grinned slyly, the secret between them dancing on her swollen and thickened lips.

“Not a late night sparring session?” Wyll grinned, his scarred face twisting in taunting amusement.

Astarion gave that giggle of his, fueled by the way her hand seemed to clasp even tighter on his. “Either way, after three, four rounds, it’s amazing either of us is able to meander back to grace you with our presence.”

Gale’s jaw dropped, and Karlach burst in a fit of cackling.

“We have much to do,” Cordehlia grinned, her voice lilting, stiffened with command and expectation. “First and foremost, we need to get the Underdark and find our way forward…”

“Always the commander,” Wyll nodded with approval before turning to begin packing for the journey.

“Won’t you give me a hand, my dear, with our tent?” Astarion grinned, turning his head to look down at where she still stood at his side. Emboldened, he pulled her hand to wrap around his waist.

Gods, she let him.

Then, she turned that ethereal face up to his. A little smile on her lips, she raised on her toes to place a quick peck on his smirking lips.

“I shall get my things, first,” she replied, calmly and steadily. Pressing her tone, as if she was swallowing down so many more emotions than what managed to sneak through in her expression.

“Don’t linger too long, my darling,” the words fumbled out hastily, before his body launched of its own will. His hands wound to the back of her head, his mouth working furiously to taste her. To caress her.

To claim her before them all.

With a gentle tug in her hair, he pulled her back. Kiss snapping loudly apart. That little edge of pain making her shiver against his body. Her lips smiled softly, her eyes half-lidded and begging silently for more.

But he slowed himself; they would never find an answer to these tadpoles, an answer to the scars on his back or an agonizing vengeance against Cazador if he couldn’t keep himself from dragging her to his bed day and night. He smirked to himself as he let go and turned back to his tent.

Cordehlia watched him leave, drinking in the graceful, silent way he stalked. He looked happy, sated, meandering his way back to his abode, pleased and pleasured in every way. But her rapt attention was suddenly drawn by someone at her elbow, clearing his throat with obvious disapproval.

Gale looked at her, his mouth flat, his shoulders bunched and tensed. “So,” he mumbled, “the Underdark, as Master Halsin suggested…”

“That is not the question that burns your tongue, is it, Gale?” she raised a brow, arms folding before her. Resolute.

“No, but I fear giving you offense, my friend.”

“None more than I most likely gave you,” she replied, collected and calm.

But Gale just shrugged. “I can’t say I’m flabbergasted that the Lady Corvus would take the Vampire Spawn as her lover,” he snipped. And instantly, as if he was shocked by his own caustic tone, he raised his hands, “My apologies. I… I speak out of turn. That is not fair to you, Cordehlia, or all you have gone through.” He tugged the collar of his tunic down, showing the full design of that strange sigil in his chest. “We all do foolish things for power and… love…”

Her mind recalled the long-winded story of his love for Mystra, of the risks he took to win her affection and a shred of her power. And all that it cost him now. And all the loot it cost Cordehlia too, just to keep him from suffering terribly.

“You may be relieved to know that over the course of last night, Astarion…”

Gale shoved his hand in her direction. “If it’s anything along the lines of what he will undoubtedly be gloating about later today, I don’t know if I can stomach it before breakfast has settled.” He gulped.

“No, no,” Cordehlia laughed. “He’s, he’s remembering. He’s returning to himself, well,” she shrugged her shoulders, “returning to more of what made him… him.”

“That is good for you, I’m sure,” Gale gave a feeble smile, “but it won’t undo two centuries of what he did… of what he was made to do as a slave, a spawn to Cazador.”

Cordehlia looked him square in the face, her silver eyes narrowed, trying to read his meaning. No magic. No tadpole. Just the shape gaze of an ancient being. “I am not trying to undo anyone’s darkness. Gods know, if I could, I would undo my own first. But perhaps, you were right that day we first found him on the beach.”

She turned, looking across the camp at the flurry of activity to make ready for a long road. A sigh heavy from her little chest as she undoubtedly watched her rogue scuttle about, stashing his luxuries to be transported on the road. Then she turned to level that intensity right at her wizard.

“It is not just that blood runs thicker than water, Gale. His and mine are one and the same now. Bonded. Tethered. Purified in the darkness we each walked until we found one another once more. It is our blood that is thicker.”

Gale nodded and furrowed, “Thickened by bloodlust, by abuse from being the weapon of others, and the need for more and more…”

“Revenge?” that honey-dripping voice sounded almost out of nowhere. “I think that’s the word you were going for, Gale,” Astarion mused, leering at the wizard from over the top of her fiery red hair. “Don’t you know it’s rude to discuss other people’s private… bedroom matters?”

“Bedroom?” Gale scoffed in disbelief. “You bedded her in the dirt by the looks of it,” he was scowling.

“Lady likes to get dirty with her rogue,” Astarion shrugged, cool and collected and flashing his fangs. “And the lady is always right…”

“Hush, you both, there is too much to do to have such dissension,” Cordehlia, first thrusting a finger in Gale’s face before turning around to plant a good, hard slap on Astarion’s shoulder. She pulled him by the collar, thrusting her face into his, a slight baring of her teeth as she gave a feral smile. “Play nice, or next time, it won’t be your shoulder I slap,” she hissed. Then her eyes flashed to those full, smirking lips, catching them in a ravenous kiss. “And I won’t be so gentle,” she added as she broke away. So pressed and quiet.

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep, darling,” he rasped right back.

Her brow quirked, her jaw clenched as she eyed him. “Won’t you be surprised, then.”

“Thrilled,” he purred in response, and already, even after all they done… last night… this morning… he couldn’t ignore that thickening below his belt she conjured now. Every time.

But she just smiled and sauntered right past him. Observing that determination down her every inch, he rolled his shoulders. They wouldn’t stop today until they reached the Underdark. So whatever it was that thickened and needed release would have to wait. It would be bloodlust over lust for now.

It only took a few moments to pack it all up and start the journey. Cordehlia walked in the front of the pack, a spring in her step everyone knew was caused by the vampire who sprang right behind her. He seemed even closer, if that was possible.

He kept those crimson eyes on her at all times, even if it was a single corner, the edge of his periphery. Which is why, as a smoke cloud burst in their path, he leaped right in front of her, daggers drawn and fangs bared. But it wasn’t enough, not as some swarthy, handsome figure swayed his way forward. His voice dripped with temptation, in a deep and rich baritone. “My, my,” he smiled, “the Lady Corvus in the flesh. May I just say…” his trick brows canted in dark amusement, “…I’m your biggest fan.”

Cordehlia’s frame went taut, her body brushing past her lover to stare this intruder down with that iron gaze of her. “Can’t say I recognize you, fan or not,” she sneered.

“Well, why wouldn’t I be? You’ve sent me so many thousands of souls in your conquests and victories, but I do suppose I remain a nameless, faceless admirer of your handiwork.” The stranger extended an arm, fingers unfurling in her direction. “But introductions are better suited for less… humble places… And I shan’t keep you from your feeble search for a cure. Besides,” his leer deepened in that deep-set face, “you’ll want to hear what I have to say, for you, your tadpole-infested companions, and your Vampire Spawn lover.”

Astarion seemed ready to spring, muscles bunched, fangs bared and wide as he hissed at the threat. But before he could unleash any undead fury, the world turned to smoke and ash, the stink of sulfur and brimstone filled their noses.

And darkness swallowed them all at once.

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Wednesday's new court mandated therapist is having her keep a journal of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday finds this to be a complete waste of time and decides instead to use it to record her observations of her unusual roommate Enid Sinclair. Wednesday POV.

——————————————

Entry 23

Current Moon Phase: Third Quarter 🌗

Sure enough, Enid took several days to recover from being wolfed out for so long. She slept almost an entire 48 hours straight. Ushering her through the airport as well as on and off an airplane was most challenging. Her eyelids drooped and threatened to close constantly as if a great weight were pulling upon them.

Enid was excited to be back in our dorm and to see the decorations still hanging up. I informed her that I still wished to celebrate Yule with her but that there was no rush as her current wellbeing was of greater importance. She smiled appreciatively before pulling me into a fearsome embrace and dragging me back to her bed.

I do not know for how long I was trapped in the sleeping werewolf's clutches, only that I savored every minute of it. Despite being in her human form once again, many wolfish characteristics still lingered. Enid occasionally huffed or growled during her slumber. I was scented and rescented numerous times. Her fangs found my neck repeatedly as it soon became her new favorite chew toy. I must admit I suffered most favorably as she refused to relinquish me.

Once she finally awakened after having received adequate rest I began to retrieve her Yule gifts. Mother and Father had sent theirs along with a banquet's worth of food upon our return. At first I believed it to be rather excessive but upon seeing Enid's ravenous hunger I began to reconsider. Her appetite mirrored that as if she were still in her wolf form. I kept that in mind as I assume it also affected her diet, for Enid had made the remark in passing that she wished she could partake in hot chocolate. I made her atole as a substitute which she took much delight in.

After Enid had finished opening her gifts from the family I left to prepare my gift for her. She was perplexed at first but understood upon my return. My gift to Enid was that of me wearing certain attire from the Poe Cup. If I had thought Enid wolfish in nature before it was nothing compared to her when she laid her eyes on me as I reentered. Her pupils dilated significantly and she remained frozen where she sat. The intensity of her gaze was overpowering and I could not maintain eye contact.

I averted my eyes before striding over. Her nails shifted to claws but only partially. Her hands extended towards me and I understood. I sat upon her lap and wrapped my arms around her. Enid's body temperature was exceptionally high, as I could feel the heat radiating off of her in waves. I rested my head under her chin and my cheek against her chest. I babbled aimlessly about everything I admired about her. I felt her claws grip me tight. I felt her lips trail down my neck. I felt her heart thundering against her chest like an animal trying to escape its cage.

I was lifted so effortlessly before Enid slammed me up against the wall. I gasped at the ferocity with which she began to devour me. She claimed my mouth with her own and her claws raked down the thin fabric of the suit. Her hands quickly entered the slits she had created to explore the body of her prey. I knew death soon awaited me as her bare skin met my own.

Mi amor's bliss was overwhelming. I presume the family curse is to blame for I could not get enough of her ecstasy. Regrettably I shall have to return home to accept Father's offer of retrieving one of Great-Aunt Calpurnia's rings. I can no longer risk another claiming Enid's affections. If my life and death is to be so irrevocably tethered to hers then I wish for it to be bound in every other conceivable way as well.

I am filled with an excitement and dread I have never known before. With Enid's consent I shall bind myself to her will and forever be hers. I will have to thoroughly consult my mother's tomes to ensure the rituals are conducted with the highest degree of accuracy.

I shall have to record my thoughts at a later date as I make the necessary preparations.

Dear Diary,

I am still SUPER tired but I have to tell you everything! Okay, so once we got back to our dorm, which I forgot was still decorated (and like after a power nap), Wednesday starts pulling these presents out of nowhere! Babycakes was like some sort of magician (Or I mean I guess she's like a witch right? Or sorcerer? Or something? Like I know she's psychic but she's got all these like ritual/spell/magic books? Anyway!)

I guess her family, being as super sweet as they are, sent me gifts and like so much good food! 😭 I'm not crying! You're crying! Plus Willa made this one really good drink for me since I can't have hot chocolate. Everything was perfect but it somehow got even better? So Wednesday says she has to fetch her Yule gift for me. I was a little confused but then she comes back a couple minutes later - and do you know what she's wearing? 😳

She's wearing the cat suit from our first Poe Cup, ears and all! 😫💕 asdfghjkl! I swear I like blackout for a moment because the next thing I knew we were on my bed and wearing a lot less than I remember.

I know I already announced I was going to marry Wednesday after I became the Christmas Werewolf but like I'm going to marry this girl! 💕

OMG I can't even think straight! I have to buy Willa a ring but I can't let her know. I think I can do that next weekend when Willa goes back home to visit her family (I think she missed them over the holidays). I wonder what kind of ring I should get her? I mean, she probably wouldn't like anything too flashy but I also don't want to get anything too simple either. 😥 Also also - I don't exactly have a lot of money to spend on a ring 😭 I don't know what to do but I have to figure something out. Maybe I'll ask Yoko for help?

[murtagh-thorn]

Dark Legacies Part I: A New Shadow

Pairing: eventual Murtagh x Rider!Reader Summary: Your and your dragon's arrival at Eragon's academy on has long been expected - and feared. After being on the run for several months from men in masks who want you dead and your dragon as their slave for unknown reasons, you're finally safe on the newly hospitable Vroengard. But what do these men in masks want, will they follow you into a den of dragons, and are you truly safe from the rumor mill and politics of those around you? Warnings: mentions of past trauma, canon-typical violence, reader and her dragon both have trust issues, Vrael is present and annoying. A/N: This is a series of one shots and drabbles that all take place in the same universe. You can read most of them out of order (except for the first two parts that will set up the series) and still understand what's going on, and some elements will be taken from other Murtagh x reader one shots of mine. You can find this series listed in chronological order the Dark Legacies masterlist. PSA: Gormlaith is an Irish name (meaning “illustrious princess”) pronounced GORM-lah.

***

Elves, students, and hatchlings alike scattered as a large, dark shape blocked out the sun. The younger students who hadn’t lived through the torture of tyranny lingered to get a closer look at the giant shape above them, some of their dragons pulling them to safety and others baring their meager fangs in an attempt to protect. Some elves ushered their wards towards the safety of the buildings that made up the island’s academy while others tried to put on a brave face and say it was just some new students arriving – no cause for alarm. But of course, the new students noticed the ruckus below all the same.

All the images and emotions of those under his watch flooded Eragon’s mind as he stood on a grassy knoll a ways out from the campus he and his delegation of elves, dwarves, and humans had built with their own hands. Unable to tolerate their panic any longer, he opened his eyes to watch the already large black dragon grow in size as it flew closer.

“I…heard she’d be large,” Vrael said from behind him, “but not quite…that large.”

Eragon tried to exude an air of calm, standing still as stone with his hands clasped behind his back. He felt Saphira shift behind him with a low growl in her throat.

“Now, now, you two,” he said. “We cannot punish the child for the sins of the father.”

Vrael scoffed. “Well, the closer she gets, the more she definitely looks like her father.”

Eragon finally turned to his companion. “I would respectfully remind you that you’re here to oversee and take information back to your queen. Not pass judgment.”

The elf stared at him for a moment before nodding his head. “Of course, Shur’tugal.”

Eragon turned to watch the duo’s approach once more. “You said some elven scouts had seen them wandering about the borders of Du Weldenvarden?”

“Yes, but they seemed intent on us not getting too close. How long has it been since Guardian Borvaris delivered the egg to her village?”

Eragon drew in a breath as the dragon neared, finally able to realize her sheer size. “Not very.”

The grass flattened as the dragon spread her wings and settled onto the ground, already sending out a low warning growl and baring her head to block her rider from view. She was much larger than either Eragon or Saphira had anticipated and just as fearsome as her sire: eyes wild, teeth bared, and the haggardness from several months of being on the run only added credence to the rumors that she was wildly unpredictable. Morbidity and beauty reigned in equal measure to bear what many who had spotted them throughout Alagaësia had feared returned – a new shadow.

Just as Saphira bristled to assert dominance, the dragon calmed and lowered her head. Still a few yards away, she settled flat on her stomach, head still alert and legs still tensed to rise again at any moment. The form of a young woman who looked close in age to himself appeared and slid off the dragon’s back to walk towards them.

“Will the dragon not come any closer?” Vrael whispered.

Be silent, Saphira warned as the rider came to stand in front of the group.

~***~

You shoved your hands into your pants pockets, playing with a coin you always kept stashed for moments just as these. Unsure what to do or how to address anyone, you subtly bowed your head at the famed Eragon Shadeslayer. “Shur’tugal.”

He gave you a slow, cautious smile and returned the gesture, placing a hand over his heart. “Welcome. I’m only sorry it took you this much time and strife to get here. We sent some of our trackers and students after you, but to no avail.”

“We’ve become…well versed at evading most people.”

“A truth I’m very sorry for.” He craned his head to look at your dragon, who hadn’t moved from her spot and was taking in the surrounding scenery. “Greetings, friend. Would you allow us to come closer?”

Your dragon gave a low warning growl again, but you could feel her fear and need for reassurance through your bond.

“I think she’d be more comfortable with one at a time,” you advised.

Eragon nodded, again looking to your dragon. You could feel her surprise through your link. No one had talked to her like she was her own sentient being beside you in…well, ever. “May I approach?”

The dragon lowered her head in a slow nod and you watched Eragon descend the hill to meet her. He was dressed well, like the elven scouts you’d scared off at their lands’ border. He wore mostly blue and grey tones to match his own dragon, with an impressive sword hanging off his hip and an expensive looking cloak over his shoulders. It was a much darker blue than his shirt, but both had matching twisting silver designs bordering its edges. You self-consciously looked down at your own beat up clothing and were sure your skin and hair didn’t look any better. Your dragon even could do with a bath.

An elf who had been hovering behind Eragon remained aloof as he eyed you with an air of disdain, occasionally throwing nervous glances at your dragon. You turned to see Eragon reaching out a hand towards her nose only for her to flinch back in surprise. He said something you couldn’t hear, keeping his voice soft and warm, before she slowly sniffed him and let him touch.

You sighed, inspecting the lush grass covering the hill. It had been so long since either of you could trust anyone – and for your dragon, she’d only had you since she hatched. What if her sense of trust was permanently damaged? What if yours was?

I am sorry, little one, an unfamiliar voice rang through your mind.

You glanced up at the blue dragon in front of you. Although much older and wiser, she was smaller than your own fledging dragon. You sensed comfort and warmth from her and sank into the feeling, unsure of the last time you’d felt it. You knew she didn’t need to enter your mind to feel the grief and exhaustion rolling off the pair of you in waves.

I am Saphira, Eragon’s dragon, she continued, and I will be teaching your own dragon – sometimes alongside you, sometimes separately.

“What are your and your dragon’s names?” the elf finally interrupted.

You sensed annoyance flowing through your brief connection with Saphira. “I am Y/N, and my dragon is Gormlaith.”

“Can she really be that young to need teaching? She looks to be a few years from her size, at least.”

You shook your head. “No, she’s only six months old.”

The elf turned wide eyes to you. “Six months?! She’s huge!”

Feeling your own annoyance grow, you crossed your arms. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

The elf seemed offended and puffed out his chest. “Ambassador Vrael of the elves of Du Weldenvarden, and trusted servant to Arya Dröttning.”

You glanced mischievously at Saphira before returning to the elf with a shrug and slight shake of your head. “Never heard of you.”

Vrael spluttered as Saphira grumbled something that could’ve been mistaken for a laugh. A light hand on your shoulder distracted you and you turned to see Eragon. “Saphira here will take Gormlaith for a quick flight. It seems neither of you has had a decent meal in ages, so my dragon will show yours the hunting grounds while I show you where you’ll be staying. You can wash up, then join me in my quarters for something to eat and we’ll discuss training and answer your questions. Vrael, you are free to go.”

“But—”

Eragon grabbed your shoulder and turned you away from the elf, giving him a stern and empty smile. “Enjoy your stay here, Ambassador.”

The wind danced around you as both Saphira and Gormlaith took off. You followed Eragon down the hill to the nearby woods, glancing back to see your own dragon giving Saphira a wide berth, but following nonetheless.

It will be all right, you said. We’re where we were always meant to be. They’ll protect us here.

For how long? Gormlaith replied, worry coloring her tone. Before or after the rumors spread of who sired my egg?

You hesitated as you followed your new teacher to a stone path. The light cutting through the trees suddenly felt more ominous than comforting. I’ll always have your back, no matter what happens. I won’t let them torment you.

A powerful wave of love and gratitude flowed through your mind. And I you, my friend.

“I again apologize that we couldn’t locate and bring you two to safety sooner,” Eragon said as the sun disappeared behind some clouds. You couldn’t help feeling grateful, as if you were out from under a spotlight.

You habitually stayed a few steps behind him to protect your back. Although there were likely no plans for backstabbing in these woods, it was a hard habit to break and one could never be too careful. “It wasn’t your fault. We had to constantly be on the move to avoid capture – or torture, maiming, killing, whatever they had in mind.”

Eragon slowed to match your pace, his dark eyes concerned. “The reports I received were mixed at best. Would you mind telling me exactly what happened while we walk?”

You swallowed hard, concentrating on the breeze, birdsong, and smell of incoming rain. You’re here not there, you repeated to yourself. Here not there. As she flew further away, you could feel the bond between you and Gormlaith weaken and tried your best to cling to it. You could feel her doing the same and sent a wave of comfort, forcing a deep inhale.

“This is the furthest you’ve been from your dragon, isn’t it?” Eragon broke the silence.

You nodded, letting out a breath that was much more shuddery than intended.

Eragon stopped and gently took hold of your shoulders, turning you to face him. “I promise you, you’re both safe here. I won’t let any harm come to you nor let rumors spread into a forest fire.”

You were sure your fear was evident all over your face. “But…her sire is—”

“I know.” He let his arms drop down to his sides, gripping the pommel of his sword. His eyes turned distant and his knuckles went white against the hilt. “Shruikan.”

As if the air itself was reliving the terror of the king’s dragon, the sky grew dark and the wind chilled. You closed your eyes, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets and hunching your shoulders as if to protect your neck. Just as suddenly as it appeared, the darkness and cold scattered away. You opened your eyes to see your mentor staring at you with a heavy gaze.

“But Gormlaith is not her father. She’s committed no crimes, and neither have you. I can tell she trusts and loves you wholly – which, of course, all Riders and dragons have these bonds, but it feels…different with you two. As if you’re already on solid ground like an experienced Rider and dragon.”

You frowned. “Are you saying you and Saphira didn’t get along at one point?”

Eragon chuckled, gesturing for you to follow him down the path once more. “We’ve had our arguments and squabbles. We’ve always had and will always have a steadfast love, as well as trust and respect for each other. But I think it’s a bit normal for younger Riders and dragons to take some time finding their footing with each other, so to speak. It’s a strange shift, suddenly having another being privy to your inner thoughts and feelings all the time. As it is to be privy to all their inner thoughts and feelings as well.”

You laughed. “Tell me about it. But for so long, all we’ve had is each other. I didn’t exactly have many close friends or family left before everything happened, and then after Gormlaith hatched, neither of us were sure who to trust. People in strange masks were constantly trying to kidnap her, kill me, and we were just trying to make it here. Of course, I could only hide her in a jacket or vest or cloak for so long…”

You emerged into a long, narrow clearing that followed the path and lost your train of thought at the buildings before you. A large, stone building stood directly in front, its massive double doors open to the forest. Even from your distance, you could see the detail in the stonework as well as the massive gargoyle of a dragon, wings spread in flight, right above the ornate wooden doors. Flanking both sides to create a loose semi-circle were neighboring buildings that seemed somehow woven into the trees themselves, all with large covered balconies that smaller dragons flew in and out of. A few larger dragons – but none as large as Gormlaith, or even Saphira – raised their heads to get a good look at you from their high perches as their young riders played some games in the grass with all sorts of different obstacle courses, balls, bats, and nets. You nearly teared up seeing the utopia Eragon had created. You were finally among your own people – well, if the rumor mill wasn’t already too vicious.  

You hadn’t even realized you stopped until Eragon put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “These are the Riders’ quarters. All of these balconies are made to house dragons.” He pointed to your left. “There are a few rows that are hidden by trees and other buildings, but normally we’ll have younger riders bunk together and have several hatchlings share a balcony. Obviously, once dragons become bigger, they’ll need a balcony with fewer roommates or all to themselves. Which is over on this side,” he turned to gesture to your right. “Gormlaith is obviously formidable size, so she’ll get her own balcony just on the end there, in this first row. Which means you will also receive your own private quarters. They’re modest size, but quite comfortable, if I do say so myself. This stone building in the middle is a common area for all the riders and is where we serve meals and have more general offices for myself and the other teachers here.”

No matter how long you looked at everything, it felt impossible to take in every detail. “It’s incredible what you’ve built here.”

He smiled. “Thank you. I hope you’ll find your stay comfortable.”

You turned your attention to him. “Forgive me, but…how exactly does this whole…system work?”

“Well, I can tell you more later, but,” he gestured for you to follow him towards the impressive tree on the end – your quarters – as he continued, “most students come to us as children with their fresh hatchlings and go through training as they grow. Once both they and their dragons are adults, they usually either stay here to help run the academy or go off toward Alagaësia to serve their respective leaders. But our academy is young enough that – ”

You both jumped as a ball narrowly avoided your head, bouncing to a halt at your feet.

“Careful now, Bronvir,” Eragon chuckled. “We don’t want to concuss your new classmate.”

You picked up the ball as Bronvir – a human child who couldn’t have been more than ten – stared at you with wide eyes. You gave him a small smile before handing his ball back to him.

“Do you ride the big, black dragon that just flew over?” he asked. A few of his peers who had been playing with him stopped to stare as well.

You took in a sharp inhale, prepared for the worst. “Yes.”

Bronvir smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. “Can I ride?”

You sighed in relief, laughing quietly as Eragon lightly scolded him. “Of course you can ride – with her permission, of course.”

A chorus of “oh, me too! – can I ride second? – no I want to be second! – how many can they carry at once? – can we go on a group ride? – can they breathe fire?” erupted as the children began to crowd closer into you.

“Now, now, let’s calm down,” Eragon yelled over the cacophony. “They’ve only just arrived, let’s all give them some space to rest from their travels.”

The children groaned synonymously before going back to their game, excitedly whispering about riding a full-size dragon and how they couldn’t wait until their own dragons were that big. Eragon continued leading you towards the large tree at the end of the row, which you could now see had an archway leading to a wide spiral staircase. “My apologies. They can be a bit excitable.”

“I’ll take that over what I was expecting.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “As I was saying, our academy is young enough that we don’t have too many who have already graduated to Shur’tugal status. Three of our graduates have stayed here to help care for the young, while four others have taken their services elsewhere. Although not all are riders – we train budding sorcerers in the art of magic and herbalism as well. We’ve only been a functional school for four years now and those who have graduated came here when they were much older than most students – much like you.”

“I got the impression when one of your guardians originally brought the eggs to my village that they mostly aim for children and teenagers.”

“Yes, but it’s ultimately up to the dragon. But older students are a bit more rare.”

The conversation stilled as you passed under the archway. The stairs seemed to branch out from the inside of the hollow trunk, but were still intricately detailed. You’d heard stories about how the elves did this with their own architecture as a way to preserve nature, and with how many elves were here as teachers and helpers, you couldn’t say you were surprised. By contrast, the common building looked more influenced by the dwarves and you’d recognized many of the games on the lawn as popular among human children. It was more soothing than you’d anticipated to see all the races who had isolated themselves during the war come together again.

You followed your new mentor up the stairs and past several landings that led to their own floors – all within and part of the tree itself. Most had archways with full views into the rooms, but at the top stood a closed wooden door with a dragon knocker. Another archway stood behind you, leading out of the tree and onto a series of bridges connecting the top floors of all the other trees that held riders’ quarters and balconies.

Eragon pulled a small black key out of his pocket, the handle carved into a dragon’s wing. “This is the key to your room, color-coded to your dragon. All the doors have wards placed on them so that they cannot be unlocked with magic by other students. However, if I or the other teachers suspect there’s something in there that’s a danger to either you or others, we reserve the right to lift the ward and let ourselves in.”

You nodded as he turned to unlock the door and stepped in after him. The room was a bit small, but felt like luxury compared to your travels and growing up in your small village. The furnishings were modest, but good quality, with a divider in the corner painted with an ornate tree that you assumed hid the bed, and a door on the opposite side leading to a small washroom. Once passed the bed, the floor dipped down into a small sitting area that led out to what would be Gormlaith’s balcony. The ceiling was high and domed with plenty of room for your dragon to move around comfortably. The balcony dipped down to create a reverse dome with part of it covered by what you assumed was a heavily padded dragon bed. The whole space had many warm tones, with plenty of hardwood accompanied by blue and green cushions, blankets, some small paintings on the wall, hanging shelves, and an overall demeanor that already felt safe and like home. You stood as Eragon moved towards the balcony to breathe it all in.

“Now, there are a few things to show you.” Eragon walked along the side of Gormlaith’s bed to the edge of the balcony. “These have doors that wrap around to provide you with privacy and protect from the weather. If you don’t already know the spell for this, there is a pulley system on the wall here that closes them.” He opened a small panel in the wall and pulled on a chord. Circular doors began to slide shut around the balcony until they sealed with a great boom, leaving the room dimly, but cozily lit from the lantern light on the walls. “They seal here in the middle, so you shouldn’t have to worry about any leaks.” He pulled on a different chord and the doors slowly opened again. “There are some minor wards over the balconies to keep out less intense weather. But if you just want privacy or if there’s a particularly bad storm, I’d advise keeping them closed. And now, over here – ”

Eragon returned to walk past you towards the washroom as you took a quick peek at the bed. It looked so comfortable, you almost wanted to ignore him to just flop straight on it. It was a double bed with a frame that looked again like it was somehow flowing out of the tree with a dark green duvet, two white feather pillows, and a small chest for belongings at its footboard. You forced yourself to Eragon’s side, but couldn’t help hoping he’d leave soon so you could test it for yourself.

He stood in the doorway to your washroom, where you noticed the accompanying tub was already full of steaming, soapy water. “This is your washroom and a bath is all ready for you. I assumed you didn’t have many belongings, so I’ve taken the liberty of decorating your room a bit for you. You have a few changes of clothes in the trunk at the foot of your bed, and also hanging here.” He gestured to a simple, but comfortable set of clothes hanging on the wall with a small insignia at the breast that looked like the mark on your palm. “The gedwëy ignasia symbol here marks you as a student. Once you get settled in, if you need more clothes, we can measure you and get you some, as well as test you and Gormlaith to see exactly where your abilities fall.”

You nodded and sighed, slightly overwhelmed.

He gave you a small smile. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Dinner won’t be for a few hours, so take the time you need to wash up, rest, and get used to your new surroundings. My office is in that stone building we saw earlier on the top floor. You can climb the stairs, then turn around and head into the door directly before you. Or there is also a balcony attached, if you’d prefer to land with Gormlaith. She and Saphira are almost done hunting and bathing in the lake and will return shortly.” He gestured to the small table between couches in your sitting area. “I’ve had a bowl of cheese, fruit, and bread prepared for you to tide you over until dinner. And with that, I’ll leave you to rest. Welcome again.” He gave you a small bow and dropped your room key into your palm before heading for the door.

“Wait. What do I call you?”

“I and the other teachers are referred to as ‘ebrithil’ here. It means ‘master’ in the Ancient Language, which we will teach you. Enjoy your quarters.” He gave you one last parting smile before closing the door behind himself.

You stood for a minute, soaking in the silence and sounds of the forest floating through the open balcony before moving to lock the door. Just as you did, Gormlaith’s connection suddenly became clearer in your mind, strengthening until you heard the telltale beat of wings. Your friend swooped onto the balcony, her claws gripping the railing that somehow seemed to hold her weight, before taking in the area. You felt her elation at seeing her very own bed and immediately settled into it with happy chirps and hums. You’d gotten so used to seeing her road-haggard look, the shine and sleekness from her bath amazed you. She truly was an illustrious dragon to behold.

You went to inspect the balcony yourself, placing a loving hand on Gormlaith’s nose as you passed. The view from your balcony was much more secluded than you anticipated and was sheltered by the canopy of the impossibly large trees that surrounded you and made up the rest of the riders’ quarters. You could faintly see and hear what went on in the yard and in others’ open balconies when the breeze parted the branches just right or the younger children screamed in delight at their game. You glanced up at the balcony doors and reached toward them, pulling from the magic you had even before Gormlaith hatched. You had a mentor in your village for a while, but she was strange and didn’t really use the Ancient Language much like you’d heard most riders and sorcerers do. But that was how she taught you and how you practiced. You used your hand to slowly pull the door partially closed to allow Gormlaith some privacy before joining her.

Comfortable? you asked.

Mmm, very. The bath helped. She leaned over to gently nuzzle your shoulder and you wrapped your arms around her nose to give her a big squeeze. As had become your tradition, Gormlaith gently lifted you several inches off the ground before setting you back down. You should take your own bath, friend.

Are you saying I stink?

Yes.

You laughed as she let out a stuttered exhale through her nose that could’ve been a laugh. All right, I’m going, I’m going. I’m assuming Eragon and Saphira would both rather us tell them our story when we smell nice.

Stay tuned for part II!

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @the-ethereal-god

[justatouristhere]

Hi everyone! First time following and sharing on a character week. Looking forward to all the art and stories!

Day 2 Warrior

My short fan fiction for @tamlinweek

~An Unexpected Encounter~

Tamlin crosses paths with Rhys for the first time while on a mission

Tamlin peered through the thicket trying to make out where for Cauldron’s sake he was. His sense of direction was usually impeccable but since he got to the Middle, something about the magic here felt off - made his senses go haywire. He kept low while stalking through the forest, shifting into his beast form, his senses sharpening as he did so. The first stars were already showing in the sky when he finally got a glimpse of what he was looking for and halted. He crouched low and surveyed his surroundings keenly. Soon all sorts of creatures would be prowling around in the dark. It was one particularly vicious one that he was after. Once again, he had been sent to do his father’s dirty work.

”I have a special mission for you and I expect you to keep this quiet” his father had said when he had summoned him from the Spring Court borders where he was patrolling with his war band. “It has come to my attention, that there has been a breach at the Prison” he continued. One of his spies had informed him that something had managed to break out of the highly guarded prison island. And it was making its way across Prythian. “Have you ever heard of the Weaver’s demon?” his father asked. “I have heard the stories” Tamlin said frowning. It was a dreadful being, its venom capable of overpowering even the most formidable of Fae, and it only obeyed one master. One that harboured resentment for the Fae that trapped her in her abode in the Middle. What would his father want with such a fearsome creature? “Hybern’s General is due to visit soon” his father added as if guessing his thoughts. Amarantha. The very thought of that female made Tamlin’s skin crawl. He never understood why his father was so keen to make her an ally. “She does so delight in taming a wild creature” his father’s tone was laced with wicked amusement. Tamlin did not miss the insinuation, but ignored it. His father’s notion was not misplaced however. Amarantha was an avid collector of such monsters and had an array of creatures she used to torture her enemies with. His father took out a map and proceeded to show him the trail of the last sightings of the demon. “It travels by night, hides by day”. “I’ll get on it” Tamlin had said, turning to go. “Stay away from those fangs, they say the venom works faster than faebane” his father had warned as he left the room.

Tamlin pushed the memory to the back of his mind; it wasn’t wise to let himself get distracted; he needed his wits about him. According to his father’s spies the demon had left a distinct trail and it was clearly making its way back to its master. Tamlin gazed at where the Weaver’s cottage stood in a small clearing of the wood. It looked almost ordinary. Gnarled trees grew so close at its back, they nearly formed a solid wall. Tamlin cast his look around for a good vantage point that afforded concealment and opted for a particularly thick assembly of shrubs to the south of the trail leading up to the cottage. He gave a low sigh. This was going to be a long night. ***

“What?” “Shhhh…”. Be quiet Rhys shot a pointed look at Azriel who gave him a pained look in return. It will never not freak me out to communicate with you like this. Rhys grinned. A low growl like earth rumbling sounded in the woods and echoed off the side of the mountain. They both stood still for a moment, waiting. Nothing happened. “This should be fun, just like old times” Rhys said jokingly trying to lighten the mood. Azriel gave a snort in reply. They had been camped out in this forest for a couple of days now, lying in waiting, and had become increasingly restless. His father had sent them to retrieve the escaped creature and it was of the essence that they recaptured the Weaver’s demon before it got to its master. The Weaver may be contained to her cottage, but united with her demon she would have a weapon that could cause all sorts of strife to the Courts of Prythian. But this wearisome task wasn’t really what made them feel so on edge.

“Do you think they managed to restrain her by now?” Azriel whispered, sounding more fearful than Rhys had ever heard him before. “I don’t know…” Rhys was trying not to think about it. The truth was that there had been an even greater breach at the Prison. One that the Night Court has gone to great lengths to conceal. A more cunning and dangerous captive had managed to escape. And had sprung the neighbouring cell containing the demon on their way out. Rhys had nearly fainted when he heard that Amren had gotten loose.

I need Azriel his father’s voice growled in his mind, full of irritation. We have not yet concluded our mission in the Middle Rhys answered. Now the order boomed in response. “Az, you are needed back at the Night Court” Rhys said, giving Azriel an apologetic look. Azriel’s face paled but he didn’t hesitate as he stood immediately and shot to the sky. Rhys looked on as Azriel’s form grew smaller and then vanished from sight. It was their jurisdiction after all. The Prison. A monumental headache passed on through generations. Rhys sighed and settled his gaze back to the small clearing where the Weaver’s cottage lay. He and Azriel had chosen to find shelter in the trees, just off that clearing. Shrouded in shadows he was nearly invisible as the night grew thicker and the stars brighter. The forest seemed to come alive in the night, growls and snarls filling the air. Rhys occasionally got a glimpse of a pair of eyes between the trees. It was going to be a long night.

Tamlin heard it before he saw the creature. Not the demon itself but the silence that suddenly fell across the forest. The night was filled with sounds one moment and went completely still the next. As if everything living, including the trees and the shrubs, held their breath all at once. He strained his eyes looking for movement between the trees. Only moments later he saw it crawling on all fours, making its way towards the cottage, its skin smooth grey, nearly translucent, covering the eye sockets completely. He felt disgust twisting his stomach but didn’t stop to give it a thought. He leaped out of the shrubs and directly into the demon’s path.

Rhys spotted the demon creeping along the line of trees, but before he could make a move, a majestic beast crowned with antlers burst out of nowhere and stopped the demon in its tracks. It was massive, almost the size of a bear, with wolf-like features that were twisted in a menacing snarl. It had golden fur and gleaming emerald eyes that looked completely at odds with the dark grey forest that seemed devoid of all colour. For a moment Rhys stood frozen, watching enthralled as beast and demon leapt towards each other, colliding in midair and tumbling out of sight into the nearby thicket. Rhys finally shook himself from his stupor and sprang from the tree going after them, his shadows veiling him in darkness as he went.

Tamlin tumbled onto the forest floor; his grip still locked around the demon’s throat. The demon thrashed its legs and arms frantically, sharp talons drawing blood from Tamlin’s golden fur. Struggling to immobilise the creature, Tamlin reached for his earthly Spring Court power, but the response did not come from the ground, as if it were devoid of any spark of life. He strained with concentration and finally vines sprouted from the ground. But as soon as they appeared they grew ashen and crumbled to dust. Tamlin felt panic rise in his chest, just as a citrusy scent filled his nostrils that hadn’t been there a moment before. Even the demon seemed to pause its struggling for a heartbeat. Tamlin whipped his head around, two star flecked purple eyes meeting his. He started and snarled and his grip loosened for the smallest of seconds. That was all the demon needed, it seized its chance and slipped through Tamlin’s grasp, leaping for his neck with its long poisonous fangs. Tamlin growled and fought the hissing demon when black tendrils took hold around its neck and pulled it back. A blade flashed and a spray of blood landed across Tamlin’s face. He rolled away, shifting into his Fae form just as the demon, its head impaled by a long knife, dropped dead to the ground.

Tamlin braced his hands on his knees and stood panting, watching the raven-haired male now crouching over the dead demon. Night Court he thought. The male grabbed the hilt of the blade that was still stuck in the creature’s head and pulled. Clear liquid trickled down the shining metal and onto the ground. Tamlin had never seen a knife like that, its blade curved slightly and adorned with an intricate carving. The male turned his purple gaze on him in an assessing sweep. “What were you trying to do?” he said, cocking his head onto one side. “I was… trying to capture it” Tamlin answered with uncertainty. “Capture it?” the male’s eyes widened in surprise “Whatever for?”. Tamlin didn’t know what to answer, he didn’t know this male and didn’t want to give away any intel to another Court. “Just following orders” he said finally. The male frowned at that response, no doubt trying to figure out who in their right mind would want that demon alive and in their vicinity. “Looks like that didn’t work out for you” the male said thoughtfully. “No, it did not” Tamlin said grimly. The male gave him a weak smile. “I’m Rhys by the way” he said. Tamlin nodded and stood straighter. “Tamlin” he said in response.

Rhys regarded the panting male standing in front of him, his long hair the same golden hue as the fur of his beast form. Shape-shifter. Spring Court. He felt intrigued by him. There was such frankness in those green eyes. “We should probably cover our tracks” Rhys said, pointing the Illyrian blade at the dead creature before sheathing it at the bandolier on his chest. “I can take care of that” Tamlin replied, crouching next to the demon and touching his hand to the ground. Rhys took a step back as a large crack appeared in the ground, swallowing the demon in its dark abyss, then closed neatly back up. “Impressive” he said, smiling. “Thank you” Tamlin answered, smiling back nervously. A hiss sounded from a nearby brush and they both whirled around, bracing themselves. Whatever it was it must have decided they weren't worth the risk, because it took off, the bushes rustling in its wake.

Tendrils of shadow started whirling around them and Tamlin backed away apprehensively. “They won’t bite” Rhys said in a teasing tone. “I’m just trying to make us less conspicuous' '.  “Are they, like, solid?” Tamlin asked, contemplating the tendrils that snaked around him. “Oh, I can make them as solid or transparent as I like” Rhys said and a tendril rose gently at the level of Tamlin’s arm, who tentatively raised his hand out to reach for it. It felt like a silky breath at first and then took on a more solid feel, like a ribbon smoothly flowing over his hand, over some of the scratches the demon had left with its long talons. Tamlin flinched. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… does that hurt? You should get cleaned up” Rhys said. “Yes” Tamlin agreed, inspecting the blood and mud smears on his arms and chest, the gashes that were not quite healed.  He had been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed. “I should probably-“ he started, “There is a creek nearby, I can show you if you want” Rhys interrupted. Tamlin looked at him surprised. “Just over there” Rhys said, pointing to the East. “I… uhm… sure, ok” Tamlin said in an uncertain tone and they started walking in the direction Rhys had indicated. “Don’t you need to get back and report or something?” he asked. “I’m not in a hurry” Rhys shrugged. Tamlin eyed Rhys thoughtfully. He felt wary of this male, but going back to his father seemed even less appealing at the moment. He gave a long sigh “I suppose neither am I”.  With a sidelong look, Rhys patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. The first light of the day was breaking in the distance as they walked on, Rhys’ shadows shielding them both from lurking predators.

[bougiebutchbinch]

Things I wanna write: a cute T-rated crew &/ Izzy fic where during the Kraken Era, the Trauma Crew realised that stroking Izzy's hair and cuddling him really calms him down.

To the point where, after Stede returns and Ed starts actually taking steps to improve as a person and they all sail away happily from the British attack on Nassau (AND EVERYONE LIVES), Izzy tries to reassume his status and reputation as The Fearsome Hardass First Mate. He maybe goes a little ham with it, due to deep-seated fears about no longer being able to fill the role due to his disability (and his quiet yearning to drag it up with Calypso again). But whenever he goes too far with insulting Bonnet's lot, one of the Trauma Crew sneaks up behind him and just engulfs him in a hug.

Inevitably, Izzy freezes, eyes huge. Everyone tenses, expecting the stabbing to start. But then the hugger - usually Fang or Jim or the new quartermaster Frenchie - murmurs 'shhshhshh' to the side of Izzy's neck and stroke up and down his sides, and the crew get to watch their first mate fucking melt.

Bonus points: Ed is kinda freaked out about this (and more than a little jealous, because Izzy's never been that comfortable with anyone but him before. And nowadays, despite the two of them having civil conversations and Izzy treating him relatively normally, Izzy is super tense whenever Ed tries to touch him... >:3c)

[lulu2992]

Exploration of the now-offline Far Cry 5 official websites

Part 24: Cheeseburger

Recovered content

According to the available archives, Cheeseburger had the same description on the American website for at least two years, from February 9th, 2018, to February 7th, 2020:

FANGS FOR HIRE CHEESEBURGER Cheeseburger was found as a young cub, snacking on greasy leftovers in a dumpster behind The Grill Streak. He’d been left to fend for himself after his mother was shot by poachers. Wade Fowler found him and brought him back to the F.A.N.G. Center, an animal sanctuary, where he was bottle-fed and nurtured back to health. When the cult moved in, Wade quickly realized that Jacob wanted Cheeseburger for his experiments. Rather than letting that monster get his hands on his beloved bear, Wade decided to let him loose to fend for himself.

You could indeed “Learn More” if you clicked on these words and read “The Hope County Resistance”, a News article from February 8th, 2018:

CHEESEBURGER - The Fearsome Grizzly - HEAVY Name: CHEESEBURGER Role: Fang for Hire Bio: Cheeseburger was found as a young cub, snacking on greasy leftovers in a dumpster behind The Grill Streak. He’d been left to fend for himself after his mother was shot by poachers. Wade Fowler found him and brought him back to the F.A.N.G. Center, an animal sanctuary, where he was bottle-fed and nurtured back to health. It turns out that a diet of burgers and fries does terrible things to a young bear’s body: Cheeseburger developed diabetes, which requires daily insulin injections. This, combined with his emotional attachment to Wade and his brother, meant that Cheeseburger could never return to the wild. Instead, the Fowler brothers built the bear his own home at the F.A.N.G. Center, making Cheeseburger the star attraction and a local celebrity. When the cult moved in, Wade quickly realized that Jacob wanted Cheeseburger for his experiments. Rather than letting that monster get his hands on his beloved bear, Wade decided to let him loose to fend for himself.

He was called The Bear on the European website, and his description said:

CHEESEBURGER THE BEAR Hope County’s furry, hungry tank Cheeseburger. He got that name on account of it being his favorite food. He was found as a young cub in the dumpster behind The Grill Streak, snacking on greasy leftovers. When the cult moved in, Wade, his owner, quickly realized that Jacob wanted Cheeseburger for his experiments. Rather than letting that monster get his hands on his beloved bear, Wade decided to let him loose to fend for himself rather than be subject to Jacob’s tests.

There was (and still is) no trailer specifically dedicated to Cheeseburger to include on the websites.

Commentary

As was the case for Peaches, the descriptions are consistent with what we learn about Cheeseburger in Far Cry 5... and I wish he had his own Character Spotlight trailer.

Under the cut are all the available source files, saved directly from the website, of the images you see in the screenshots:

[mslanna]

What do you think would be going through Raphael's mind if Tav, during the first time they see Raphael in his ascended form, just stares at him with wide eyes for a moment, then, right as he contemplates changing back, Tav reaches up (either to cup the skulls of his face or to reverently brush their fingers over whatever they can reach of him) and they murmur, "You are magnificent..." - revealing that the wide-eyed silence was not from fear but rather genuine, profound admiration and awe?

Hi Nonny, I really LOVE this prompt. When I got it I was already cooking on that scene in A Mortyingling Ordeal. So here it is. (A Part of chapter 11).

"One, one thing maybe." Tav hesitated. The longing on their feature was exquisite. "Your ascended form. It's, I mean, it is part of you. I, can I, see it?"

Such stumbling words. Raphael felt inclined to indulge them just for the fumbling faltering. On the other hand it was a fierce and fearsome form. Tav had not seen it, true to their deal as they were. It was from that game that they knew about it. Their impression was off.

Yet. Raphael looked down at those pleading eyes. How, no, why refuse them? He opened his arms once more, receiving his little mouse to move them to any place he desired. Almost any place. But soon, soon he would return the both of them back home.

For now, Raphael returned them to the comfortable suite he had obtained. He led Tav outside again where the sun sank in deep reds and a gentle wind brought the smell of blooming jasmine. Cupping their chin in one hand, Raphael called upon hellfire that rose in a slow dance around him to give Tav time to anticipate the change.

His fingers holding Tav's chin elongated into sharp claws, his body writhed in flame and the world changed colour. Tav's scent became almost overpowering as they stood, unmoved, before him, their small form glowing with heat. Their eyes were wide and Tav didn't move, not even to close their mouth that fell open slowly.

"Oh but you're magnificent," Tav breathed and reached out with soft fingers. They ran them over his black bones in a cool tickle. Unafraid, Tav reached as high as they could. Their palms pressed against the burning carapace and where Tav's reach ended, their eyes roved.

Raphael lowered himself. The ascended body at least twice as tall as his little mouse. So small. So fragile. Their hands reaching for his skulls immediately. He leant into their reverent touch. Tav already worshipped his body in the other forms. It was a pleasant surprise to see them this enthralled with the fiend.

Tav ran their hands up the sides of his horns and their lips touched down on the middle skull. Raphael inhaled sharply. His tongues lolled out and Tav didn't recoil. They even tilted their head into the slow lick up their throat with a little moan.

Their scent burnt into Raphael's nose. Not scared, not frightened but aroused. His enhanced sense of smell drowned in their readiness. Yet Tav's touches remained gentle and chaste. Small kisses along his blackened ribs. Fingers playing in the fire of his mane. A slow dance around his fiend form that held Tav's whole attention.

Raphael watched. Tav's blissed out face felt different in this form. Something to be devoured. Something to swallow whole like the sweet morsel they were. The hunger didn't match the gentle touches and fingers feathering over his bones.

Tav pressed a cool kiss on the side of the base of his tail. Raphael growled and they moved on, the top of the base, the other side and when he lashed out, Tav caught his tail win soft hands and pressed another kiss to its tip. Not satisfied with that, their tongue curled around the flared end.

Where the soft worship had stirred something in him, the purposeful exploration of the exoskeleton with fingers and tongue gripped Raphael with iron fangs. His inside burnt as hot as the fires of his ascended form and need pooled like lava in his groin.

Oblivious, Tav kept on fanning those desires with lips trailing up his tail again. Their cool tongued explored the other side of his tail's base. That they smelled of desire did not help. The prospect to fuck them into shreds was a fiendish delight that disregarded all consequences.

[merlin-emrys-wyllt]

The dragon thief

Finding out that he was half dragon was quite the revelation for the young Warlock. Learning that his father was alive and a dragonlord had been enough of a shock for him. Then, after his father had died and the gift was passed on to him, Gauis gave him the even more shocking news. Not only could he communicate with and command dragons, but he was also half dragon. Then, not only did he have to hide his magic, but he also had to try even harder to hide his dragon like traits. Traits that only began to arise after the death of his father.

If he became particularly enraged, he would turn into his full dragon form. A completely black dragon with golden eyes. He wasn't particularly large, but he was still fearsome. If he got too emotional, he would take on some physical attributes of his dragon self. Such as claws, fangs, horns, scales, and golden eyes. He had a good hold of controlling and containing his magic by then, but he had to work extra hard to contain his emotions since learning of everything.

It took a while for him to realise what his hoard was. Gauis told him those like him also hoarded things like dragons did. A lot of them hoarded shiny things, or gold, or sometimes just pebbles. Merlin's hoard, of course, had to be just as unique as he was. He'd figured it out when Gwen had to go away for a few days without him. After just a few hours of her being away, he became grouchy. He couldn't sleep at all while she was away and couldn't sit still. Everyone had noticed his odd behaviour until Gwen finally returned, and he rushed to give her a huge hug. He'd finally been able to settle after that. Thus, he realised his hoard is his friends. If he didn't see them often enough and make sure they were okay, he wouldn't be happy.

It became harder as he gained more friends over the years. Their group grew even more when Arthur became king. Now, he had all of the knights to keep track of as well. He couldn't possibly get around all of his friends in one day. He refused the urge to just grab them all and keep them locked in a room where he could keep an eye on them. He wasn't going to do something like that to them. So he had had to figure something else out.

Eventually, he found out that having something belonging to his friends on him or in a little hoard in his room helped. He'd come to ssid conclusion when Lancelot had given him a gift. It was just a simple bracelet for him to wear, but he found that when he had it on, the urge to watch the knight at all times went away. He still needed to see him every few days, but his urges had lessened.

Therefore, he had begun stealing things from his friends. It started out small, a ring here, maybe a bracelet from time to time. This satisfied his needs for quite some time. A year to be exact. Then, one day, it just wasn't enough. He was unsettled once again, and he had to up his game. He began stealing things with more sentimental value to his friends. He felt bad, but he couldn't reveal anything to them. They'd hate him if he did.

Eventually, people began to notice, of course, and Arthur had to do something. He tightened security and put other measures in place to try and find the thief. None of which detered Merlin, of course. Currently, he was searching through the king's wardrobe for the man's favourite jumper. Arthur, of course, was the favoured of his hoard, so his urges were much stronger with him. He needed to steal things from the man much more often. It confused Merlin. With his other friends, the urges came because he wasn't seeing them enough. So why was it happening so much with Arthur? He saw the man all the dam time after all. He had a satchel hanging over his shoulder to put the jumper into once he found it. His back was to the door as he searched.

[reds-skull]

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Like I said, I already wrote 2 chapters, and this is the second one, called "The Death-way"

Page 5 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 2:

A fine trader finds upon his path a great Beast,

Dark and terrible, unsated by battles long and fierce,

Armor fallen, wounded by fangs, lays a final time,

Under the malefactor, you will not see life,

The trader leaves the harsh thing, he laments,

Then walks a path, which beasts cannot bear.

A maiden finds upon her path a fearsome Beast,

Eyes spat flames, fangs reach for heavens,

Perishes all surroundings, small birdsongs and prey,

All bow to the daemon, a creature of pain,

The maiden returns, from whence she came,

On her lips nothing more, but words of pray.

It was an extraordinary thing - shaped for fighting, a strong, solid body, adorned with black. It blends into the night, its enemies wouldn’t see the shadow until it was too late. It was perfected in battle, forged from the worst humanity has to offer.

Its name was the Ghost. A weapon to be picked up and discarded as needed.

And he is needed tonight - to kill a target, and collect intel. Covert, solo op. His speciality.

Ghost silently sneaks across rooftops, nimbly avoiding the cracking shingles. His CO for the mission didn’t give him much info on the target themselves, but they had plenty on their location. If he’s honest, the whole thing has an air of wrongness to it, and it all starts and ends with the person commending him.

“The Hunter”. Virtually nothing is known about the commander - not that Ghost has really tried looking into it. He doesn’t concern himself with a temporary arrangement. If he researched every odd fuck he encountered, he’ll never have time to actually do the damn job.

It is a little off-putting that the Hunter seems to try and copy Ghost. Specifically, in the mask department. Blood-red skull mask, with a jaw and all. If the Hunter wasn’t paying well, Ghost would’ve ripped that thing right off their face.

He feels like it’s taunting him. Mocking him.

Ghost exhales, ridding himself of all thoughts but those pertaining the mission. He unpacks his sniper rifle, provided by the Hunter, and sets up on a high roof. The roof overviews the building his target is in. The city is quiet, almost unnaturally so, but as it helps the mission, Ghost doesn’t complain.

All he needs to do now is wait.

As he does, he can’t help but wonder again about this strange mission.

Several days earlier

“Ghost”, a soldier calls beside the Hunter. “Right on the dot. I guess the rumors about your professionalism aren’t unfounded, are they?”

Ghost doesn’t grace the man with a response, instead glaring at the Hunter. The person is about his height, tactical gear marked with red streaks making them look imposing. Ghost thinks it looks a little tacky. 

“You got the brief, I assume?” the soldier asks. Ghost nods, taking his eyes off the Hunter to inspect the racket around him. Soldiers carrying boxes upon boxes of ammunition, guns, and gear. It makes him squint.

What kind of mission are they going to that needs this much preparations? He thought they’re going to a civilian city, not an active war zone.

The soldier draws his attention back, “we will infil you in 3 days. We have accommodations for you on base-”

“That won’t be necessary.” Ghost drawls. Hell will freeze over before he bunks down in a foreign base.

The soldier sputters, opening his mouth to argue, but the Hunter stops him. They exchange hushed words, and the soldier relents, “as long as you’re here when the helo takes off, we don’t care where you are.”

Ghost sharply nods. At least someone here has a bit of common sense. “And Ghost?” The soldier calls behind him.

“We’re very glad you’re here.”

Ghost doesn’t look back, but he can feel the physical weight of the Hunter’s gaze on him. It makes his spine shiver in a way things really don’t do, not after what he’s become.

This whole business reeks. Better finish this quick and clean.

The target entered the house 6 minutes ago. Ghost watches the lights turn on in various rooms as they walk around, unaware of the man that haunts them. The target isn’t in his sight just yet, but Ghost can be quite patient.

A light turns on at a bedroom facing his position, and Ghost moves his scope to its window. A few moments later, a middle-aged man enters, taking off his coat. He seems a little frazzled, Ghost absentmindedly notes.

Ghost inhales, lines up the shot, and pulls the trigger on exhale.

The man drops dead on his second step into the room. Ghost leaves the sniper rifle on the roof, and jumps down to the balcony of the target’s building. Stepping around the broken glass, intending to leave no traces of himself in the scene.

They don’t call him a ghost for nothing.

He spares a glance to the target. If it weren’t for the clean bullet hole in his forehead, he would’ve looked like he’s just sleeping. Ghost moves on.

Searching the house yields no results - and an irritation begins to rise within him. The Hunter’s sources were wrong, it seems. Ghost is about to radio it in when multiple soldiers enter the house from the ground floor.

He waits until the Hunter and their communicator climb up to level them a glare, “your intel was a bust. There’s nothing here.”

The Hunter glances down at the body between them, and back up at him. They tilt their head, examining Ghost. For what, he’s not sure-

There are eyes at the back of his head. Guns pointed at him. Ghost swings around.

Nothing. The soldiers are busy ransacking the house for any drop of information.

The communicator’s voice makes him turn again, “it seems so, unfortunately. Either way, you’ve done your part.”

The shifting behind him stops.

It feels wrong it feels wrong he needs to get out.

“Thank you for your service, Ghost.”

The Hunter dashes at him, lightning quick as they grab his neck. Ghost tries to retaliate, but hands come from behind to restrain him.

Betrayal. How could he be so bloody stupid.

The Hunter sinks a sharp needle into his pale flesh, cold metal squeezing a freezing liquid into his bloodstream.

Poison.

Ghost manages to release one arm, punching the Hunter, feeling his knuckles burst open on the sharp mask.

He puts distance between himself and the several soldiers trying to grab him again, pushing the Hunter forward.

They’re not shooting, he frantically realizes. They want him alive.

He can’t. Not again. GET OUT.

Ghost growls as he gives a final push, toppling both him and the Hunter over the balcony railing and onto the cold harsh ground.

The body beneath him crashes with a sickening crack, Ghost wasting no time, taking out their pistol and spinning to shoot a few heads.

Soldiers fall around him, the ground painted red, and Ghost pushes off the Hunter to run.

Horrifyingly, he knows the commander isn’t dead. And he damn well knows they won’t stop until they have him.

It comes and goes in waves, Ghost discovers in the next few hours. Sometimes, he feels completely fine. And others… his left arm is barely functional, certainly not enough to hold a pistol.

He hates every second of it. Hates that he can’t predict when his arm will suddenly become useless.

It… scares him.

The Hunter’s soldiers are killing everything in their path. Ghost doesn’t understand why they bother. Why go through the effort to kill all civilians, when they don’t even want to kill him?

The only thing that makes sense here is what they would do with him. Ghost knows too much, is too valuable to discard. If they catch him, nothing but torture waits in Ghost’s future.

He hears nearby screaming. Time to move again.

Ghost has been trying to rest, to slow the spread of the poison as much as possible, but the endless waves of hostiles keep pushing him out of the abandoned houses he holes down in. Right now, he can’t even begin to think of a way to get an antidote, not when he has no allies anymore.

And the fact the poison might paralyze him, leaving him unable to move but so achingly conscious as soldiers find him…

He can’t think about it right now.

He sneaks out of the back door, careful but hurried as he speeds to the next.

Scanning around him, the coast appears clear. Ghost slowly pushes the door open, when he hears a clank. A hiss of a smoke follows it, instantly filling the narrow hallway with thick haze. 

What the fuck…? This is not the work of the Hunter, why would he set such a stupid trap-

Ghost grunts when something catches his ankle, lifting him off the ground, “FUCKIN’ HELL-”

He swings up, dangled off of the ceiling by a wire. Ghost frowns when he notices what the trap is made of - junk and odd household appliances. 

The stairs creak as someone steps down. Ghost tries to make out the silhouette, but the man is still in shadow.

“If ye want to live, ye better start fuckin’ talking. Who sent you here, and what are yer orders?!”

Ghost blinks. His attacker is… Scottish?

The man steps into the light - built, but wearing civilian clothes, now marred with blood and mud, with the stupidest haircut he’s ever seen. But that doesn’t interest him as much as the rifle he’s currently pointing at him.

The man snarls, “answer me!”

He thinks he’s losing it a little, when Ghost has to suppress an urge to laugh. This entire day was such a fuckin’ shitshow, and now he has to deal with a Scottish bastard that apparently specialises in crafting traps right out of Indiana Jones.

“I’m not with them.” Ghost eventually breathes.

That makes the man lower the gun, “the fuck is a Brit doin’ here?”

Ghost would’ve leveled him with a deadpan if his body didn’t swing around again, hiding his face from the man, “the fuck’s a Scot doing here?”

The man huffs, “aye, suppose I should’ve expected that. Yer military?”

Ghost considers his answer for a moment. “Affirm. SAS.” he feels the blood rushing to his head uncomfortably, “you?”

“Ex-military.” The man says almost bitterly, “SAS too.”

Ex-military? Interesting… “Rank?”

The man steps around to face him, “Sergeant- the fuck are ye wearing?”

Ghost looks the man up and down (well, down and up in his current predicament), “a mask, Sergeant. They discharged you for being blind?”

The Sergeant squints, “I’m perfectly fit, ye weapon. Got booted out.” He lets the rifle rest by the strap, “ye a Sergeant as well?”

At that, Ghost does smirk, not that the man would be able to tell, “Lieutenant. Now, care to let me off your bloody contraption?”

The Sergeant startles like he forgot about that, before pulling out a knife and cutting the wire. Ghost almost falls on his head, getting his arms under him just in time.

“Fuckin’ bastard…” Ghost glares at him.

The fucker actually grins down at him, offering a hand that Ghost bats away, “So, what was yer mission here?”

Ghost straightens his back, now towering over the Sergeant, “was working under a commander named “The Hunter” to take down a target. They stabbed me in the back.” the man’s face darkens.

“Why are they killing civilians then?” 

Ghost cracks his neck, “don’t know. Was trying to get outta dodge when your bloody trap got me.” he walks forward to examine it. Looked damn convoluted. This man is surprisingly resourceful…

The man follows, “been stuck in this city for three days. Tried to get intel, caught you instead.”

Ghost stares at him. Why didn’t he run away?

Doesn’t matter. Ghost is not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The Sergeant might be his ticket out of here.

He takes out the pistol he stole from the Hunter, “you still know how to shoot?”

The man makes an offended noise, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Good.” Ghost clicks the clip back after check how much bullets he had left, “on me, Sergeant.”

The Sergeant sputters, “what?”

Ghost puts on his commending tone, “we’re going to get out of here, call for backup, and finish off the Hunter. I’m broken, so I’ll need someone on my six.”

He looks down at him, “unless you got a better plan?”

The man sighs, pouting like a child. He offers a hand to shake, and Ghost reluctantly takes it. He has to play with the team for now.

“Soap.” the man says as he lets go.

The fuck’s kinda callsign is Soap? “Ghost.” he grumbles.

Soap grins, “really going hard with the Halloween vibe, eh?”

Ghost sighs, “Take point, Sergeant.”

“Yes sir.”

As they walk out of the house, covering each other’s six, Ghost can’t help but feel a sort of sickness within him.

The stab in the back, the callsigns and ranks, the fuckin’ handshakes and introductions…

This is a song and dance he went through a long time ago.

And he doesn’t know if he’ll survive an encore.

[absolutely-normal-about-x]

Manatee Encounter

X and Marty have lovely time in their date :)

For X and Marty, an underwater date is the ideal kind of date. Privacy is just needed, as they aren't ready to make their relationship public yet. A high-ranking Maverick Hunter dating the Pirate Queen? Asmov would be a mess to deal with, which they eventually have to deal with in the future. But for now, it's just to spend time in each other's company.

Another reason for the date being underwater is not only to admire the sea's beauty but also for X to brush up on his swimming lessons. X’s swimming ability is often questionable at best; he can’t even doggy paddle to save his blue tush. He splashes around helplessly in the water; it’s embarrassing to witness. Combined with how he moves around underwater, it’s a miracle that he survived his battles against marine-based mavericks. So Marty took it upon herself to teach her blue dummy how to properly maneuver around the water. But since then, X’s swimming ability has improved, but he has a long way to go.

But it was break time, and X was hanging onto Marty. Traversing the ocean floor with ease, it became a fun dating activity for the two of them. Especially that he clings to her shoulder while she swims in mermaid mode.

His face was closer to hers. Tenderly rubbing his face with hers, he added a sweet peck to her cheek. His arm wrapped around her shoulder in an affectionate manner. Marty lets out a satisfied hum, enjoying the blue hunter’s affection.

“Ay, Bluey is already getting so lovey-dovey? So cute, I could have just easily chewed that adorable face of yours right now~” purred, returning the affections by nibbling his face in a playful manner. Holding his hands with her own and facing him with that gentle smile.

“Can’t you blame me? I love you with my entire soul, and being with you helps my heart feel at ease. Your heart is the bright light of my soul, taking me away from all my doubts. Reminding me that life isn’t just surrounded by endless battles, finding adventure, and finding joy in things I didn’t think about before! Learning how to properly swim, viewing the world from a different perspective, and learning how to do proper CPR without accidentally shattering a human's chest,” said that last part sheepishly

It did help X understand how ridiculously fragile humans truly are.

Marty increasingly flustered the kind words that were spoken. Unlike others, X’s words have such tenderness that they overwhelm a soul.

Everyone always saw her from the surface as a crass, fearsome pirate queen, showing her real heart to anyone not to be seen as helpless and weak. Only very few are allowed to see her; among her most vulnerable are individuals who are extremely important to her. That includes the Neo Blue Bomber himself, who’s basically the most precious treasure of her life.

She turned around, showing off her signature fanged smile.

“Gosh…you…fucking blueberry, always on that mushy shit. I can’t really say much with words alone, but you're also extremely important to me. My sweetest Azure, what am I going to do without you?” she chucked

Pulling the blue hunter into her arms, tenderly embracing him, as for X to return the hug full-heartedly. Enjoying the warmth that their hearts can provide.

Was it dumb to hug on the seafloor? Pretty much, but are they enjoying it? Fuck yeah, it was.

X raised his head before catching a glimpse of an unusual sight that caught the hunter’s attention; behind Marty was a particular sight of sea creatures that he had never seen before. These tuskless walruses have a strange shape, resembling blimps. However, they seem to be focusing on eating the seagrass like cows on a field.

"Marty? What is that? Never seen this animal eating plant life underwater before," he asked, staring at the creature before him.

While X's knowledge of sea creatures is just the basics,. Most of the time, he just spends his duties and daily life on the surface, only going underwater on specific missions. It's unfortunate he never got the proper time to admire the seas, only in brief moments of peace.

He stared at the creatures with fascination, admiring their particular plumpness.

Marty glances at X before looking at him with a puzzled expression. Looking in the direction that he was looking, her expression changed from confusion to delight. She is smiling wildly at the sight that is in front of her.

"Oh! Well, look at that! It's a group of manatees! Or, well, an aggregation is what is called! I haven't seen them in a while! Perfectly harmless herbivores, I still can’t believe these adorable bastards are still in the wild. Oh, this is great!!" she exclaimed

"Oh, so that’s a manatee interesting; you say they are herbivores? But also, is a group of them all an aggregation? For a second, they resemble walruses; I assume they are related in some capacity. Because of how they look'' glancing again at the aggregation.

Marty smirked at that comment on how naive her sweet, dear blue can be.

"Mmm, nope, it's quite common for some folks to mistake that manatees are related to walruses, but the funny thing is that they aren't related, but rather related to elephants!"

"Elephants?!"

"Of course, ya silly blueberry! Elephants and manatees, along with other hoofed animals from that ancient animal line called...fuck whatcha called again, shit-gotcha! Ungulate, yeah, that!” Her tail twitched from excitement upon seeing the group of sea blimp

“If you pay attention to their faces, they share a similar prehensile upper lip to get food. Behind those adorable lips are horn-like ridged pads that help break down their food into smaller pieces. They don't exactly have necks, so they mostly look front and back most of the time. So they have to put a shitload of effort into moving their whole body so it can just turn around. They also have these pectoral flippers that are actually pretty flexible despite being joined; they mostly help them to crawl, steer around, and put food in their mouth. Also, did you know?" She babbled on

Marty continued to explain more about the creature itself, surprisingly having such deep knowledge of it, leaving the azure hunter stunned. He never knew Marty had so much knowledge about sea life, and yet he can't stop being amazed by it. Absorbing the information intently and hearing her gush about sea life in such depth, it never ceases to amaze him. It’s hard to forget that she's a pirate.

“Gosh, you know so much about these guys, don’t you? It’s incredible to have this knowledge of marine life itself; I'm almost jealous, you know.”

She froze, letting out a surprised squeak, then turning crimson from the compliment.

“H-hey! I told you a while back that I used to be a rescue type, specifically from a marine preserve in the Pacific sector. My job is to help out at the preserve and do rescue work. It’s kind of mandatory for the reploid folk that work there to have knowledge of marine life and the ocean’s ecosystems. Not like 100%, but more like the important parts that are required to be learned. I was so curious about marine life that I spent more hours gathering information than I was supposed to. It made me admire the sea even more, and it motivates me even more to protect it! Ya know—fuck said to much, didn’t I?” Turning away from him, she covered her face with embarrassment.

X chuckled, smiling in his beloved’s flustered state.

“Oh Marty, what am I going to do with you? My sweet mer-“.

*Thud*

“Ah! What in the world?” X turned around, feeling the light bump before his back. Before he could react, he froze in sight and was responsible for that.

“Oh!”

He’s now facing a manatee, who’s just very curious about the blue hunter, still investigating this strange metal thing before it.

Then the group of manatees followed the curious one’s lead. Departing from the sea grass that they were originally consuming, then surrounding X, staring at him with their beady eyes.

Marty couldn’t believe what she was witnessing before her eyes. But at the same time lovingly grins the sight.

"Well, I’ll be damned! It looks like you caught their attention there; it looks like they thought that you were one of them, knowing how sweet you are.” She teases.

Understandably, in an era where wildlife habitats have been destroyed by the hands of humanity and the wars,. That’s why the preserves were created in the first place: to help the wildlife either be reintroduced to their remaining habitats or preserve their species to prevent their extinction. These creatures don’t really approach humans and reploids that often.

X being able to attract these animals makes sense to her. After all, his pure heart is what draws them to him in the first place.

It just felt right.

Meanwhile, the poor hunter stood still, not knowing how or exactly what to do. Being caught off guard by the animal that is still inspecting him. Turning towards Marty, hoping that she can aid him in this predicament.

“Ummmm Mar-Mar!? What should I do? Should I step away? I don’t want to hurt them.”

Marty snorted, then turned into laughter, the legendary X being nervous, not wanting to harm the innocent creature by accident.

“Don’t worry, Bluebell, just stay calm as long as you don’t harm them. Just stay calm As long as you don't spook them, you're fine.” Marty said reassuringly

X nodded as he then looked at the manatee that was still inspecting him, poking him with their muzzle. Nervousness soon was replaced with wonder; he had never been close to an animal like this. Closing his eyes, he gently petted the animal’s head, gently rubbing it.

“Amazing…They have this leathery feeling, and yet it's rough; it feels like I'm touching an old rug from an antique store.” mumbled, still in awe of the texture of their skin

The manatee is leaning toward more of the hunter’s hand, enjoying the rubs that he's giving. Moving around allows the hunter to feel its whole back. Now seeing their kin allowing the blue bomber to rub and scratch its back, they soon began to get close to him, wanting the attention and rubs.

“H-hey! One at a time, please! hahahahahah! Wait no, that tickles!”

Being ambushed by their adorable mobbing of him, there is no escape from them. Yet despite being mobbed by them, he's enjoying it very much, unable to escape from their attack. He tried to give the aggregation as much attention as he could, but it's not enough.

Their cuteness was too much help!

“It looks like they're surrounded there; you're not going to have all of this love for yourself. Here, let me show you how it’s done there, Bluey.”

In his relief, Marty finally stepped in or well swam in, relieving some of the load of sea blubbers that were overwhelming him. Her hands started to lovingly scratch the backs of two of the manatees; the blimps were rolling, loving her scratches.

“Ay, such cuties look like you guys want nothing more than getting some love!” She giggled, gently patting the manatees.

X beamed with love at the sight of his dearly beloved rescuing him from this predicament, but also showed the same amount of gentleness toward the creatures. He’s now sitting on a rock, rubbing the manatee that is on his lap.

“Thanks, Mar. For a moment, I thought I was going to be a goner.”

“You're welcome, ya big sap. Once again, saving your blue tush as always. I can't have you nearly got defeated by manatees. You're my precious treasure; you can’t have anything bad happen to you!”

“I know; i'm pretty sure that if something were happen to me, Zero would of turned you into sushi,” he joked

She lets out an overly dramatic gasp “How rude! Tell such a comment to your savior!”

Both of them stared at each other for a second before letting out a heartfelt laugh echoing through the seafloor, with the manatees not caring much about being focused on the pets that they were receiving.

An hour passed, and aggregation parted ways with the couple satisfied with the pets and the attention that was received, swimming and seeking to go somewhere else to rest. Leaving the couple alone, laying on the sand, cuddling together, and smiling together.

Marty sighed dreamily, looking at her Sweet Blue

"Well, that was fun, eh, Bluey? You got the chance to interact with sea life this closely in the wild like that.” She chucked, booping his nose “I still can't believe you were almost piled on by them.”

“Yeah, it was almost embarrassing. But I had a good time; interacting with such majestic sea creatures and learning from them was an experience that I'll never forget.” He murmured, lightly drawing small circles on her back

“You say that to every date, we went, but this one was pretty fun. I have to admit it, but being with you is the best part.” She embraced him even closer

They wanted this moment to last an eternity, enjoying this quiet yet soft moment together. Especially for X, this peace is too precious to be lost—a precious peace that he swore to protect. Soon gentle emeralds meet fearsome amethysts, their faces closer then…

“My Azure Light...”

“My Beautiful Que-”

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

"Oh, what now?! I'm on a day off!” exasperated

He picks up the transmission call from Zero. This better be important.

“Zero, What’s wrong? Are you serious?! I told you, yes! I'm with Marty. I told you last week where I'm going... Alright, I’ll head out and see you there.” X hanging up

“Judging from that, we gotta cut this short then; shame the crimson bastard sure knows how to ruin a good moment.”

X sighed

“It looks like they need backup for a mission coming up. They gotta get ready. Im sorry, Mar” remorseful for the interruption of their date

“Hey! Don't apologize, Bluey! I need to get back to the ship anyway; I don't want Gale Albatross and Vice Captain on my ass again after the last time.” Grimacing the time that she was chewed out by her closest friends from that one time she took a long time to return without letting them know about the complication.

But at the same time giving X a mischievous look

“But also, ya might want to get cleaned up after all; you don't want to repeat the ‘Throwing up a starfish on my best friend incident’ after that extreme swimming lesson.”

“Ah! How did you-“

“Alia”

“Of course, but before we go, there's something I want to finish.”

“That is..?”

“This”

Pulling her in, he kisses her under the beauty of the sea. Marty was at first caught off guard, then went deep into it, closing her eyes and enjoying this moment. Their helms gently touch under the tender kiss.

“I love you.”

“I know…”

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Deal with the Devil

When Simon woke up, he found a gaunt face looking down at him. Its head was turned upside down so the top of its skull rested against its clavicle. Ah. This must be another one of the Crown's hallucinations.

Simon idly reaches up to push the face away. Of course, he fully expects his hand to simply phase through the creature because the creature isn't real. But his palm smacks against an eerily smooth skin and a pair of slitted eyes blinks at him.

"Well, that's rude. Do you always slap people when you wake up? What does my baby girl see in a dweeb like you?"

Simon pulls away, waving his hand as if burned. The thing - creature - demon - whatever wasn't hot to the touch. Actually, it carried the chill of something unalive, something from beyond the grave.

Scrambling backwards, he knocks his head against a rough concrete wall. He's in the remains of a ruined city, right at the spot where he ambushed Marceline. And yet he doesn't have the Crown. He had been so close! The chilled gold was at his fingertips! And then! And then!

He doesn't remember much. Something hard hit him. He can feel an ache in the left side of his skill. Did she hit him? How could she? After all he did for her, this was how Gunther repays him?

A finger snap returns his attention to the creature in front of him.

"Hey, hey, hey! Did you hear a word I just said? You didn't, right? Tsk, tsk, tsk. I'm here, tryna do you a favor but you're not even paying attention?"

The head rotates into a more natural position. The creature clambers over him and rises to its feet, towering over Simon. It uses all of its height to loom and effectively too.

"Wh-Who?"

The creature squints at him. "Buddy, pal, my guy - you summoned me here!" It knocks him on the head a couple times. "Remember?"

Summoned? Simon summoned him? He could - How - Wh- Oh!

"Marcy - Marceline! You're here for Marceline! You're - You're - You're -"

"That's right!" It - He grins, wide and full of pointed teeth. "Daddy's back, baby!"

Heat happens in an instant. Simon barely has time to breathe - much less to think. His body basically moves independent of his input. He launches himself up and forward, hands grabbing fistfuls of the demon's suit.

"Where have you been, you ding dong??? Do you know how old Marceline is??? Do you know how old she was??? When I found her?!?!"

The demon has the gall to raise an eyebrow.

"She's eleven now! Turning twelve soon! And she was six when I found her! SIX!!! Where the knick knack paddy whack were you?!?!"

"The Nightosphere, duh. You opened a portal. You saw me there. I saw you here. C'mon man, how are you this-"

Simon shakes him hard. "Don't you c'mon me! You have no right! No right!"

"Hey! Hey! Easy on the threads! The very essence of chaos tailored this for me, yanno? It's couture."

"WHAT?!"

Simon gets thrown back as the demon - Hunson, that was his name - he remembers now - Hunson straightens out his suit. Before Simon could lunge again, Hunson appears inches from him, one clawed hand pinning Simon to the concrete wall.

"Listen old man, my girl told me to stop you from going crazy. But why should I? Huh? I'm her Dad but all she talks about is you? Now that ain't right. That ain't right at all. I won't have it. So, here's what I'm gonna do..."

Hunson's mouth opens wider. Within his fanged maw, Simon could see another head nestled where the tonsils should be. Huh. Well. That's something.

Simon slaps Hunson, forcing the fearsome mouth shut. "Don't even bother! I'm not sticking around anyways. I summoned you here for Marceline. Just let me go, man. I'll get outta your way."

Hunson appears stunned, remaining silent as he stares at Simon.

"I know that you're a demon and all. But she's your... she's your daughter."

Hunson's eyes narrow. "Yeah, that's right. She's my daughter. I'm her father. I know what's best for her."

"And it sure isn't me. You may be a demon but I'm... I'm no good for her. Never was in the first place. So just put me down and I'll walk away. I won't even say goodbye."

Hunson doesn't drop him. He continues to study Simon like a particularly strange insect trapped beneath a pane of glass. He even shoves his face closer until the tips of their noses brush against each other. Simon tries to move away but the concrete wall is unyielding behind him.

"Nah, you know what? Marcy doesn't get that you're a total loser. And if you're gone, she'll never know. But if you stick around - she'll see how pathetic you really are. And, more importantly, how awesome I am! Especially compared to a lame-o like you!"

"Wh-What? No! I have to leave!" Simon shakes his head furiously. "I could hurt her!"

Hunson starts nodding eagerly. "Yeah, yeah! You can be my hypeman! My hype-dad!"

Fury overheats Simon's brain, leaving only white noise. In this blank lull, a whisper crawls forward from someplace unknown to him. It has the voice of falling snow and growing frost.

"No... No... I must build my kingdom of ice and snow... I must go north - North!" Simon's body begins to jerk left and right but he's distantly aware of this. All of his senses - touch, smell, taste, sight, sound - each one is feels far away, muffled as if covered by a thick blanket. "Unhand me, you freak!"

A sly grin forms across Hunson's mouth. From a hidden pocket (pocket dimension?), he pulls out the Crown. Its gold twinkles in the dying light of the day. Simon jolts as if an entire city's power grid electrocuted him. He flails his hands, trying to snatch the Crown.

"You're probably gonna need this if you wanna go North, right?"

"That's mine! MINE!!"

With a twist of Hunson's wrist, the Crown vanishes from Simon's sight.

"Relax, I'm just borrowing your funny little hat. I'll give it back. But..." Hunson shifts his hold, pulling Simon clear off the ground. "You have to stay. You're gonna make me look good in front of Marcy, so once she's over you, she'll run straight into my arms. And then, I'll give your stuff back. Cross my heart but I can't die. So stick a needle in my eye."

Hunson proceeds to insert the whole length of his pointed nail into his eyeball. Simon flinches but doesn't look away.

"I don't got a needle but that should do, right? That's how humans swear oaths?" Hunson pulls out the nail out of his eye and it barely bleeds before the puncture seals up. Then he sticks out the finger he used - it was his pinkie finger - out to Simon. "Now we pinkie swear on it!"

Simon searches him up and down, left to right. But he can't see a sign of the Crown. Whatever this demon did, apparently only the demon can bring it back. That means... That means... Well, there's only one choice to make here then.

Simon lifts his pinkie finger and wraps it around Hunson's.

"Fine. Deal."