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wheneclipsefalls · 1 year ago

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Little Gift- Feast

Dark Adult Neteyam x Fem Human Reader

Adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2 <3

Last Part Masterlist AO3

Summary: Your stubborn attitude isn't getting you much. Or perhaps...too much

Warnings: dubcon/noncon read at your own risk, MDNI, kidnapping, oral, jealousy, possessive behavior, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance, swearing, aged up characters, etc.

Your one woman hunger strike is not going as planned.

Twenty six hours in and you are hungry.

So fucking hungry you are ready to bite off the hand of the next Na’vi to come into your space. Not that you would need to with the delicately cut berry spread before you. The same one that Neteyam had meticulously prepared that morning. Others may think of it as a sweet gesture but you see it for what it really is- a temptation.

In the same way last night’s mysterious, but mouth watering, meat had been. The beast that Neteyam had hunted, cleaned, and prepared with his own hands. The aroma had been so intoxicating that you broke skin from biting your bottom lip as you stared down at your share.

The first time you refused a meal you expected the Olo’eyktan to throw a fit, flip you over his knee, or even jam the food down your throat but he has done nothing of the sort. Instead, he revels in this little competition the two of you have. Because that’s what it is to him.

A game.

Sitting beneath a low hanging tree as you watch him train warrior diligently, there is nothing to entertain yourself with but the food in front of you.

This strange purple fruit in front of you has been cut down into smaller pieces. The inside looks similar to the videos you have seen of peaches and the juice runs down onto the leaf below as if it’s trying to seduce you into finally taking a bite.

Your stomach grumbles as if it’s tearing itself apart.

Fuck, why did you choose to resist food of all things?

The meals at Bridgehead were the furthest thing from a proper meal but you had always enjoyed scavenging out into the forest for various fruits and vegetables to spice it up. It’s one of the best parts of your day. And now that you’ve had a taste of the wonders the Na’vi can create with them, it feels like locking yourself out of heaven.

Neteyam’s gaze is heavy upon you.

Sending him a fierce glare you make a show of nudging the fruit away from you, even as your body screams at you to shove it down your throat.

Neteyam tilts his head, glossy braids swingings over his shoulder as a crooked smirk twitches at his lips. He isn’t frustrated, and isn't deterred. If anything those lips curve as if they hide a secret you are not privy to. So confident he knows who will be winning this tug of war.

You exhale a breath when he finally turns around to correct one warrior’s footwork.

A thump sounds from your side and you almost let out a scream before you realize it is Lo’ak who has dropped down from a tree. With a sigh he comes to sit beside you.

“Looks like fun, doesn’t it?” He gestures to the group ahead of you, eyes rolling as he looks at them in pity.

“Go away, Lo’ak.”

“Jeez what’s crawled down your loincloth?”

You look at him in disbelief. You will never understand where Lo’ak find the audacity to poke fun at your imprisonment.

“Besides Neteyam that is.” He chuckles and your cheeks heat instantly.

“You pervert! Never in a million years-”

“It’s not like I have to take his word for it either. You’re quite loud.” Lo’ak ignore your heated ears and agape mouth as he notices the cut up fruit before you. He reaches forward and plucks a piece with a delighted ‘ooh”.

Shiny juice escapes the seam of his lips as he chews and it makes your own mouth water.

Suddenly a hand is yanking Lo’ak to stand with a fistful of braids.

“What the hell?!”

“You skxawng! Those are not for you.” Neteyam hisses, releasing his brother with a huff.

“Alright alright. Damn, I was just keeping her company.” Lo’ak mutters, arms crossing over his chest with a frown. “Besides, I hate to see food go to waste.”

Their eyes lock as a silent line of communication strums between them. Eventually Lo’ak lets out an irritated sigh before nodding and jogging off into the treeline. Neteyam’s shoulder’s visibly relax, hands casually placed on those sinful hips as he looks down at you.

“You should’ve let him eat it. I’m not hungry.” You lie confidently, jutting your chin up in pride.

“Is that so, tiyawn?”

His deep voice ripples through your body.

“Yes.”

You go to give him a sneer, maybe even the middle finger, but looking up at him from this angle proves to be problematic. His loincloth has a bulge and it lights your curiosity. Despite all the vulnerable and exposed positions Neteyam has put you in you have yet to see what lies beneath that scrap of clothing. Averting your eyes doesn’t save you from witnessing the smirk that dances over her lips.

Stupid observant bastard.

His shadow looms over you as you fiddle with the strings of your loincloth. And then his braids are tickling your neck.

“Perhaps it’s not fruit you are hungry for.” That simmering whisper blossoms a blush once more but nothing in comparison to the one that emerges when he grasps your small hand and places it along his inner thigh.

He doesn’t let you pull away, not before you can feel the corded muscle and smooth skin. Not before your eyes cave into temptation and sneak a glance at the increasing size of that bulge.

“I know your little body has been enjoying our time together but if you’re good, I’ll let you play with me too.”

And then your fingers are traveling over the exposed skin until the silk fabric is beneath your tips. You can’t even look at him. You pray that this aversion will read as nothing more than pure revulsion, because you don’t know what will happen if he senses your underlying lust.

You can feel him twitch under your palm.

Eyes forced closed and heart racketing at your rib cage, it takes all your power to control the rise and fall of your chest.

And then the heat is gone. Neteyam releases your wrists, stands up, and sends a dark smile over his shoulder before rejoining the group. You want nothing more than to hide your face in your hands and scream but that would only show him your hand.

You need to be strong. Keep your mouth shut, fry his patience, and get the hell out of here.

Lo’ak is right about the training. It’s undeniably brutal and strict. While you stare in awe at the rate the young warriors can scale trees and shoot a target, Neteyam shakes his head and sighs before correcting them. You’ve studied a bit of Na’vi throughout your life but there’s no desire to translate his strict reprimanding.

You do, however, find it hard to keep your interest away from the various rippling muscles and shifting loincloths. You’re ovulating. You must be and if you were only in your bedroom back at Bridgehead you would actually be able to take some medication to tamper down this insufferable flood of hormones.

Still, you are stuck here and a group of nine foot tall walls of muscle are fighting, wrestling, shooting, and inadvertently showing off their physical prowess with ease. You swallow a lump in your throat when one Na’vi male tackles another and you get a perfect view of his ass.

Pandora is so hot.

So so incredibly hot and that has to be why you feel the temperatures rising along your cheeks.

Neteyam’s back blocks the view, a stream of instruction flowing from his lips as the two struggle to get the upper hand. Your hungry eyes start to travel up his body instead but you tug them away.

You’ll be on your deathbed before ever admitting to ogling these men but you’ll drink acid before letting Neteyam catch you ogling him.

Another shorter male’s abdomen tightens as he pulls back an ax carefully. Sweat glimmers along his blue form as focused eyes narrow at the target. Within one powerful swing the ax is chucked from his grip and pins a leaf the size of your thumbnail to a tree.

He sighs before reaching back to tie his hair. The stretch accentuates the contrast between his narrow waist and broad shoulders. And yet you catch yourself sneaking a look at Neteyam’s form.

For comparison purposes only of course.

It’s too risky though to notice the slope of his back or the way one strap of his loincloth has shifted dangerously low along one hip. Or note the way his dark stripes smoothly curve over and accentuate his v line. Because that is something you would never do. You would never look. Would never think about him outside of plans to escape. Never dream of his deep voice with that heavy accent or even think about how it sounds in his native tongue. And you most certainly would never anticipate the view of Neteyam between your thighs nightly.

Suddenly the ax-throwing Na’vi has become boring so you veer the focus as far away from Neteyam as possible.

You shift your body to your left, letting your hair create a curtain to block the view of Neteyam pulling back a bow. It takes a bit longer this time to immerse yourself in these next two who spar with long sticks.

All at once your body is ripped from your spot, legs dangling and kicking as you are roughly set to stand. Neteyam’s arm snaps around your waist as he kneels behind you.

“Do I need to put you in time out?” It’s not a joke. Not when his teeth are skimming dangerously closer over your ear. “I would be able to smell you halfway across the forest.” He growls.

Your thighs press together subconsciously as embarrassment floods in.

So maybe you had forgotten about the Na’vi advanced sense of smell.

“Which I wouldn’t mind were it not for your eyes being trained on other men” The ground slips beneath you and suddenly Neteyam is throwing you over his shoulder.

“Wait! Let me go!” You’re not even sure why you try at this point. It’s not like he has ever listened before. The hope of being heard dims even lower when you see his thrashing tail and feel his heavy footsteps as you're carried further into the forest.

But dammit you are hungry and hot and your loincloth is stained with your arousal so you let your emotions bubble over.

“You fucking brute! Put me down right now!” You scream, nails scratching harshly over his back. It doesn’t draw blood but wow those fading marks look so pretty over his blue skin. Not to mention the beauty of his ass swaying with every step. “I’m so sick of this shit!”

Neteyam is quiet.

So very quiet and it doesn’t sit right with you.

“Open.” He commands but you remain still.

Body frozen as you stand before him, his massive member at eye level. It’s almost as if your brain simply can not process the sight before you. The way his cock is so different from the ones you have encountered with its purplish blue hue, speckled glowing dots, and even the precum that shimmers in the fading light. Curiosity sparks once more and for a moment you consider reaching out to touch it.

However, the real shock is the massive size difference. You are no virgin. Bridgehead does not have a plethora of great men but you’ve found partners in the past to satiate your needs. So standing here staring and blushing feels out of the norm but with the way Neteyam is hung, how can you not?

Even at peak arousal, or what you hope is peak, it’s unable to sprout fully, the sheer weight dragging it to hang lower by his thighs. You’ve always assumed the Na’vi would be…bigger but this….you’d never imagined something like this.

The idea of ever fitting it in your mouth let alone inside of you makes your stomach coil.

Are all Na’vi males this way or is this something specific to Neteyam?

Something tells you that thanks to the Olo’eyktan you will never find out.

“Open your mouth, tawtute.” His voice is sharp like a drawn dagger, slicing through the wind to threaten obedience.

“B-but it….it won’t fit.” You try not to think about your choice of complaint.

Not that you don’t want to.

Not that he shouldn’t make you.

No, you simply complain about the logistics.

“You’ll learn, pet. Now open.” The nickname is anything but endearing coming from his lips now, honey eyes darkening as he stares down at you. This is retribution.

Shaking like a leaf, your lips ever so slightly part. It appears Neteyam is tired of giving verbal commands when one large hand grips either side of your face, pressing to force your mouth open wider.

“You won’t let me get any food past those pretty lips, fine. You will take my cock instead.” That growl reverberates through your body until it swirls into a low seated passion and desperation. Neteyam’s nostrils flare, soaking in the scent of your betraying body.

To your surprise Neteyam doesn’t immediately choke you on it but instead guides your open mouth to his base. Prying your jaw open wider, your lips are smeared along the heated skin. Hesitantly your tongue flickers out.

“That’s it, pet. Don’t be shy.”

When your tongue smoothes out to drag along the length of him you remind yourself that this is something you are forced to do. For survival. For escape.

And you prepare yourself to later bury the memory of your desire and curiosity in this moment. To forget how salty sweet his precum tastes as it dances along your tongue. To forget the way his pupils dilate as he purposefully paints your pillow lips with that glowing substance like it’s your own personal lip gloss. To forget the way his abs flex when the head of his cock is finally enveloped by your hot wet mouth.

But most of all, you promise yourself that you will forget how gorgeous Neteyam looks from this angle with his silky braids hanging loosely and glowing eyes devouring you whole.

The back of your throat is reached within record time. Your gag reflex immediately kicks in and Neteyam pulls out while cooing at you.

“Poor little pet. Not used to taking such a big cock, are you?” You take the condescending words without fight, trying to clear your throat and prepare for more. “But then again I’m sure Jeremy has never made you cum until you cry.” Neteyam smirks and your breathing halts.

You look up at him with wide eyes.

Oh God, when did he find out about Jeremy? A dark twinkle shadows the Olo’eyktan’s demeanor, his upturned lips promising an evil fate to your old flame.

“What di-”

“Down you go again, pet.” Neteyam interrupts, prying your mouth open once more and shoving himself inside harder this time. He doesn’t let up this time when you sputter and choke around him. “Relax that throat for me, tiyawn. I know this isn’t your first time doing this.” He chuckles.

Reluctantly you force yourself to follow his instruction, urging your heart rate so slow as you breathe in through your nose. Inch by inch, he slides down your throat until all you can taste and feel is him. A tinge of soreness already sparks along your jaw but stern eyes whisper the consequences of letting your blunt teeth even close to him.

A part of you yearns to get lost in the moment, let your arousal that has shamefully not disappeared since Neteyam’s confession take the wheel and give your mind a break. However, that is not the Olo’eyktan’s design. He means to drive a lesson home.

“I was under the impression that you simply didn’t enjoy giving oral, not with the way your scent soured every time that pathetic man had you on your knees.”

Your whimper of distress only turns into a hum that vibrates along him. Neteyam’s grins, toes digging into the earth below.

“But now I see that is not the case.” His hips roll forward, hand crawling to cradle the back of your head. “Staining that little loincloth for me. You just needed the right man to fill that pretty mouth didn’t you?”

Your protests are nothing more than high pitched whines as he picks up rhythm, only half of his cock fitting inside yet still more than enough to fill your throat.

“No need to deny it, oeyӓ tiyawn. Your body has been loyal to me from the very beginning.” That hand fists into your hair, holding you down on his cock as tears gather over your eyes. “Even when your mind has a hard time catching up.” All sweetness dissipates from his voice, left only with a hard steel.

“Like today for instance.”

You suck in air as soon as your mouth is empty, coughing and crying as he keeps that grip in your hair. A firm yank has your neck straining to look up at him.

“I thought you would know better, little gift.”

You subconsciously grip his thighs in order to keep yourself standing upright.

“But it looks like I need to spell it out for you.”

Suddenly your mouth is filled again but instead of waiting to let you suckle and explore, Neteyam immediately sets pace spearing down your throat. Nails digging into his toned thighs, you focus on keeping your breathing steady and relaxed.

“Good pets do not stare at other men. They do not let them smell their arousal.” Neteyam grinds out, a groan lacing his words as you feel him twitch. Your throat convulses around him, the urge to breathe through your mouth ever increasing. “Because good pets know who they belong to.”

The trembling in your legs skyrockets as your knees threaten to buckle. Suddenly Neteyam’s grip in your hair is not just there to keep you swallowing him down but also as an extra support.

“Do you know who you belong to, little gift?” A shudder ripples over his toned body, balls drawing up tight. And yet he pauses, keeping you frozen but still stretched around him.

He wants a response.

Nodding doesn’t appear to cut it, not when he tacks on a ��and who is that?”.

You go to scoff at his persistence but it’s only another choked cough around him, tears spilling down your cheeks. He hips slant forward pressing himself even further down your throat until you are gagging.

“Say it.” The Olo’eyktan demands. “Say my name.”

He pulls out and airs hiccups through your lungs so fast you almost swoon backwards. But his name is still the first gasp to escape your lips.

“Nete-..Neteyaaaam.” It’s come out as almost a complaint but the Olo’eyktan’s joy is not diminished. His tails coils and flickers at the sound of your wrecked voice.

“Good girl.” That praise wraps around you, head lulling to rest against his palm. “Now come here and let me fuck your throat.”

It shouldn’t turn you on. The crude words are the furthest thing from what you should want but Neteyam’s accented voice purrs them like a lullaby. So dark, smooth and alluring that you find your mouth opening on its own accord.

Neteyam’s grins wider than the night that he first saw you tied up with that pretty bow. You push the implications of what you have just done to the back of your head.

Despite his satisfaction, Neteyam doesn’t take it easy on you. The length of him can never fully make it down your throat but that doesn’t stop him from trying. An obscene wet sound is made every time he thrusts back in and you can feel him shiver.

“Aww so pretty like this tiyawn. Wish you could see yourself right now.” His head throws back for a second when your airpipe contracts around him again. “Crying so sweetly for me.”

His gentle tone is a great contrast to the way his cock bullies itself into the tight space. So sweet in comparison to the way he fucks your throat like you’re his own personal fleshlight.

“Maybe we will have to steal a mirror from Bridgehead soon. Let you see what a wrecked masterpiece you are.”

Even as you struggle to breath and your throat aches, his dirty words burn the flames inside of you higher and higher. You will feel ashamed later, you know it, but for now you let him fill every crevice in your brain. It keeps the fear of Jeremy’s safety at bay. It keeps the reality of your situation from catching up with you. It keeps you as his pretty little pet that is doing oh such a good job.

“Fuck! You feel so good around me, tiyawn. Good fucking girl!” Neteyam’s groan is gravely, muscles along his abdomen erratically flexing and you know what is coming before his warning ever reaches your ears.

With a deep groan of your name, thick seed spurts down your throat. It’s too much to fully swallow but luckily Neteyam lets you off halfway through, the remnants painting your cheeks and lips. Your own thighs clench together as you watch him recover, his impressive physique inflating and deflating heavily with every breath.

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you collapse against him, head nuzzled against his hip as you cling to his right thigh. Neteyam’s fingers fondly stroke through your tangled hair as he congratulates you on learning your lesson.

You almost bite his finger when the next piece of meat passes your lips but this time it is by accident. Your habit of grinding your teeth together when nearing climax is becoming a problem. Three massive fingers tease and massage at that spongy spot inside of you as you drool around Neteyam’s fingers.

The Olo’eyktan chuckles and plucks another piece of meat to feed you.

“Remember to chew.” He says with a smirk when his thumb flicks over your clit and you almost choke.

Perched in his lap, smothering his fingers with your juices as he hand feeds you, there is surely not a better picture of obedience one could paint.

A picture that Neteyam cherishes.

But a memory you vow to forget.

I hope you enjoyed! Thank you all for your support and messages for this series especially! Hearing back from you all always makes me excited to write and update<3 Don't be afraid to let me know what you think

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamssyulang @tallulah477 @criticallybella @sullybrothersmate @lilghostiequinni @chershire23 @lala-1516 @teyamshuman @yawnetu @puddle-nerd @ratchetprime211 @avatargirly @chocolatechocobo91 @kariz-stark @bunnscoffe @avatarwifey @universal-s1ut @witchsprit @heart-an0n @riri-is-a-girlie @rivatar @minnory @ikeyniofthetayrangi @ilovehobi101 @spicymayyo @v4mp1rr3 @nilsavatar @bambithewriter @quicktosimp @itchaboi-itchyboy @thehoneymushroomhealer @ilytulipse @witchsprit @imwutim @crazy4books1 @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @danniackerman @dayyzlol @justabite7 @krispyjellyfishkitty

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fawnwilde · 2 months ago

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Taboo prologue .𖥔 ݁ ˖

various x reader

◃◃ [chapters] ▹▹

rating: explicit (18+)

You're a wild woman. Used to living outdoors, fighting to survive, with only your horse to keep you company.

A chance encounter with O'driscolls and their prisoners changes your life forever...

content warning: f reader, sfw (for now), violence, O'driscolls, blood and injury, no description of reader but she's badass

word count: 3.1k

You had been alone for a long time.

Your mother was dead, your father up and left, and whatever other family you had wanted nothing to do with you.

For a while, you lived in your mother’s home, a small cabin nestled in the mountains in North Carolina. You hunted for food with a bow like your mother taught you, you sewed hides together into coats like your mother taught you…

You tried to survive like your mother taught you.

But then those men came knockin.

Beady eyed and snarling like wolves. Hollering at you and brandishing guns, threatening your life, your livelihood and your dignity. They wore green scarves around their necks, one of which became stained with blood when you stabbed one in the throat.

The first life you took.

Your home was left in your dust as you ran away, holding the dead man’s gun to your chest like a child would hold a stuffed toy. Your muscles ached and your bare feet bled by the time you stopped running, far away from the home you once knew.

And so, your life in the wilderness began.

Your life was harsh. Nights spent sleeping on harsh ground, hunting whatever you could, scavenging abandoned homes, and occasionally and reluctantly stealing from unfortunate travellers.

A few years had passed since your mother’s death and your home was invaded, and memories of her and your life before grew fainter and fainter, like ink on paper diluted by rain.

By looking at a calendar hung upon the wall of a newly abandoned house, you knew that your teenage years had passed you, but your age was a mystery.

Hell, your own name was a mystery now, after all these years of no one calling you anything.

A few months ago, you had broke a wild horse you had had your eyes on for a while. Your giant mahogany draft horse, who you named Bo, was now your only force against your solitude.

You, an unnamed and untamed girl, and Bo, a wild and viscous stallion, against the world.

You had been following the small group of O’driscolls for a few days, keeping far enough to avoid being spotted but close enough to collect their scraps when they were forgetful.

The men had a shootout early that day, and had taken the five men they fought hostage. Unusual, you thought, as the O’driscolls were often very consistent with their methods of operation.

Their methods being; killing most anything that breathes.

Watching from the branch of a large tree, your eyes wandered over the small makeshift camp the O’driscolls set up. A dozen of them were wandering around, either eating, drinking, standing watch, or harassing their captured. You were too far to hear, but could see their foul mouths spit out words at the men.

As the sun began to set, you readied yourself, your plan perfected after all these years of payback against the O’driscolls by causing chaos and stealing their supplies.

Not the revenge you wished for, but it was all you could do.

Leaving Bo not too far, you ventured towards their camp.

Arthur Morgan sneered at the O’driscoll who stood before him, taunting him in amongst questions about their groups whereabouts. The rope holding his wrists chafed against his flesh, a grimace making his face ache.

He was surprised they hadn’t killed them yet.

From their questions, he assumed they would be used against Dutch, who was at camp a few miles back. They’d been captured close to Clemens Point, but gathering from the conversations between the O'driscolls, they didn't know that.

Beside Arthur, Hosea was coolly talking to their captors, expertly attempting to manipulate the situation in their favour. It seemed to be working, to a degree.

The other men captured, Charles, Sean and Micah were silent beside the two, their minds at work (well, Charles mind was at work). Arthur was just pleased Sean hadn’t said anything to aggravate the O’driscolls more. Yet.

The rodent-like man in front of him yawned and left them at last. Not before spitting at their bound feet, of course. Hosea sighed, and Arthur scoffed.

A sharp noise erupted close to camp, the sound of something metal colliding with something wooden.

It sent the horses into a panic, two of which were untethered, and caused them to start to flee. The O’driscolls flew into action, some trying to gather the horses, others seeking out the source of the noise.

“Wonder what that’s all about then?” Sean grumbles, struggling against his binds.

Arthur huffs, shifting around to get in a more comfortable position on the floor.

Movement catches his eye, and he watches as a shadowed figure sprints through the camp, grabbing guns, ammunition, food and anything else they find out in the open.

At first, Arthur thinks it's a panicked member of the enemy gang, grabbing supplies in case the group needed to leave the area.

But as the individual steps out into the light of the camp fire, Arthur’s eyes widen when he realises it's a woman.

She's young, pretty but unkempt, wild looking from her tangled hair to mismatched clothes. She grabs a canteen of water before her eyes snap to the group, freezing when she notices she's been spotted.

“Who the hell is that?!” Micah whispers none too quietly, before being shushed by the Hosea.

“Yer not one of them are ya?” Sean calls out to her.

“Great observation, Sean.” Sighs Arthur, as he shuffles around to look at the girl directly.

“Can you release us? Please?” Hosea requests.

She looks between them, biting her lip as she weighs out her options.

Clearly, they weren't innocent victims of the O'driscolls. From their empty holsters to their grizzled looks, the girl seemed wary to release them in case, by some insane happenstance, these men turned out to be worse than the ones holding them.

Her time to think was cut short, as distant voices began to grow louder. Arthur looks over to see the O’driscolls coming back to their section of the camp.

“They’re coming back. You need to go, now!” Arthur warns, his voice quiet but his urgency clear.

“Go?!” Micah snapped, “Nah, help us, now!”

“Shuddup, Micah.” Arthur grumbled, nodding at the girl to run.

She looked between the men, looking nervous and apologetic before rushing back into the thick trees.

“Who the fuck were you talking to?!” One of the O’driscolls yelled as he ran past, holding his rifle up and aimed at the bound men.

“What, a man can’t pray when he’s sentenced to death now?” Sean gripes.

“Save your praying for when the real hurt begins.” The O’driscoll sneers, “Though, I don’t think God listens much to the likes of you-”

As the man starts ranting about the near future of the Van Der Linde boys, Arthur’s gaze slides to the distant, faint glow of a lantern growing brighter.

His eyes widen as he realises that it is not, in fact, a lantern, but one of the O’driscolls tents, fire covering its back and spreading fast.

The O’driscoll doesn't notice as his silhouette begins to be illuminated by a rising fire in their camp.

“Ya might want’a deal with that.” He says, nodding to the tent, which is near engulfed in flames as the harsh evening winds begin stoking the fire.

The O’driscoll narrows his eyes, before peering over his shoulder, his body going taunt with fear as he watches the flames catch on surrounding tents and dried leaves.

“Fire! Fire!” He yells out, scampering away like a terrified rat.

Other shouts surround them as more of the O’driscolls notice their tents ablaze. The camp is a symphony of chaos as the men rush to grab water and put out the growing flames, unsuccessfully.

The horses whinny in fear. Some of the men mount and desert the camp, much to the annoyance at the others trying to fight the flames.

Amongst the panic, Arthur feels the binds on his wrists being jostled. He feels the sharp coolness of a blade, and the ropes are loose. He looks over his shoulder, surprised to see the girl nod to him before she moves to Hosea’s ties.

“Thank you.” Arthur says, untying his ankles while he looks back at the flames, “You do that?”

“What, you think it was a coincidence?” She asks, releasing Hosea and moving to Charles.

The fire grows higher, as a wagon erupts in a haze of bright orange.

“That’s dangerous, the dry leaves will keep the fire spreading throughout the woods.” Charles says, concerned.

“A storm is coming. The rain will stop it from spreading too far.” The girl says calmly, as she focuses on cutting through the rope holding Sean’s wrists.

“How do you know that-” Begins Arthur, before a rumble of thunder silences him.

She shrugs, “The clouds.”

With Sean now freed, with a too-loud holler from the Irishman, she begins on Micah’s binds, though more hastily as the voices of the O’driscolls seem to get louder.

“Oi! What the fuck?!” An Irish voice shouts as a trio of O’driscolls turn the corner and spot the scene playing out. Their guns are quickly raised, and the girl’s eyes grow panicked.

Charles charges on the men, punching one in the jaw as he takes his rifle from him, throwing it to Hosea as he fights the much smaller man. Sean and Arthur ready to fight, relief flooding them as Micah is finally freed and blood thirsty.

“Thank you for your help.” Hosea yells to the woman.

“Don’t speak so soon, mister.” She calls back, a small smile flashing on her face as she slings the rifle off her back and aims.

She gets one of the offending men in the neck, halting him from shooting Sean point blank. The second O’driscoll lies motionless on the floor as Charles wipes his bloodied knuckles, and Arthur quickly dispatches the final one, snapping his neck with a final ‘snap’.

“Where did you come from, lass?” Sean chuckles, looking her up and down, “I’ve half a mind to propose t'ya.”

“Jesus, Sean.” Arthur sighs, grabbing a fallen gun and reloading it.

More shouts surround them, and Arthur has no time to turn before a shot rings out, closely followed by another.

He spins, finding their saviour gripping her arm, her gun discarded. Blood seeps through her fingers, as she looks down at the O’driscoll who shot her, and lost his life for it.

From the position of the man’s body, to the closeness of the girl to himself, Arthur realises that she took a bullet meant for him.

But before he can thank her, she’s whistling out, and a behemoth of a horse comes sailing through the trees, whinnying at the chaos. It ducks down, eagerly accepting the girl who leaps on, her face pale as she holds her bleeding shoulder.

“Wait-!” Arthur tries, but the horse interrupts him, speeding away in a flash of mahogany fur, leaving the men watching in confusion and concern.

“She get shot?” Hosea asks, watching the retreating horse disappear into the shadows.

“Yeah. Think she took a bullet for me.” Arthur grumbles, guilt lodging firm in his chest.

“We should go after her, help her.” Sean suggests.

“There’s more coming!” Micah yells, shooting and felling a stray O’driscoll.

“We should go. There’s too many for us to fight now, and when the storm comes in it’ll be even harder to defend ourselves.” Charles says.

He and Micah sprint away into the night, followed by Sean. Arthur stares at the forest where the woman disappeared, before Hosea grabs him and tugs him away from the angered O'driscolls.

The storm cleared in three hours.

The group made it back to Clemens Point on foot in two. The group were welcomed with concern and confusion about their disappearance, but Arthur was too focused on going back out to find their injured saviour.

Hosea explains what happened to Dutch, who seethes at what could have happened if there hadn't been someone to intervene. He watches as Arthur and Charles go to their horses as the rain ceases.

“Arthur! Get back here-”

Despite Dutch’s orders, Arthur mounts his horse, with Charles in tow, and they sprint off to look for the mysterious stranger who saved them.

Hosea sighs, shaking his head as he tells Dutch he's going to take a nap.

Dutch is left alone in the middle of camp, wondering when he lost all control of his gang. With a huff, he stalks off, needing time to himself to ponder.

He finds himself at the edge of camp, puffing on a cigar as he looks out at the views Clemens Point has to offer.

It's peaceful.

But nothing peaceful lasts, it seems.

A horse nickers nearby, too far from where the horses were posted to be one of their own. Dutch brandishes his weapon swiftly, holding it up as he scans the area.

The trees are quiet, only the whistle of the wind and chirping of birds accompany his tense breaths.

Another whinny, and Dutch begins approaching the trees, steady strides with his gun held parallel to his face. Whoever was sneaking around their camp, O’driscoll or vagrant or squirrel, would not escape his notice.

Pushing through the shrubbery, he spots the horse in question in a small clearing.

It’s stressed, kicking its legs and nosing at something on the ground. A large beast, dark fur and long, strong legs. No saddle, but a makeshift set of reins hang loosely around its neck.

Taking near silent steps, Dutch scanned the area, spotting no nearby rider or any sign of disturbance beside trampled ground where the horse had come from.

His eyebrows furrow as he spots drops of blood dotting the green leaves.

A twig snaps underfoot, and the horse looks up, dark eyes locking right onto Dutch. The horse seems wild, and startled, but it did not approach, merely letting out more distressed noises. Dutch continues his approach, lifting up his other hand to display his palm in a calming manner.

“You hurt, boy?” He asks gently. His words were obviously lost on the horse, but he found himself talking nonetheless.

There were no scratches on the horse's coat. His eyes scan down, to see if his hooves were what was injured.

But his eyes widen when he sees a bundle of clothes in a heap in front of the horse. It moves, groaning slightly, dirty hair and an ashen face coming into view.

He hurries his steps, holstering his gun and keeping one hand out to calm the stallion. It whinnies as Dutch gets closer, but makes no move to charge.

Crouching at the figure's side, Dutch carefully turns them over.

The pretty face of a young girl came into view, her skin clammy and eyes closed, mouth parted in grimace. Her hand is covered in red from where she holds her arm.

Dutch gently takes her hand, peeling it away to inspect the wound. A large gash from a bullet stares back at him, bleeding profusely and staining her already dirty clothes. He winces slightly, and the girl’s hand seeks out his own. He takes it, shushing her gently.

“You’re alright now, I’m gonna help you.”

Looking up at the horse, as if asking for permission, he gently takes her in his arms. The horse snorts, but does not stop him, so he hoists her up, supporting her weight in his strong arms.

She looks so fragile, hands grasping onto his shirt as she whines in pain, and he murmurs gentle words to her, storming back towards camp with the horse on his heels.

Pearson looks up as Dutch jogs through the shrubbery, doing a double take when he takes in the bloodied figure in his arms, “What the hell…?”

“Where’s Miss Grimshaw? Grimshaw!” Dutch yells, causing more heads to turn within the camp. Everyone seems alert as they take in the situation.

“What in the hell?! Who is that?!” Dutch hears Grimshaw before he sees her, listening to her rush towards him.

“Found her in the woods. She’s shot, bleeding pretty bad.” He makes a beeline for his own tent, wasting no time.

Grimshaw calls for Tilly and Mary-Beth, sending the camp into a flurry of movement as the girls gather water and rags. Others stand around, curious and confused.

“Kieran, see to the horse.” Dutch instructs, leaving the ex-O’driscoll looking wide-eyed at the giant beast, who snorts and kicks its hooves anxiously.

Stepping into his tent, Dutch lays the girl down on his cot, stepping back for Mrs Grimshaw to prod at the wound and shout instructions at Tilly and Mary-Beth.

The tent opens again, and Hosea enters with a concerned expression. His eyes fill with realisation when he looks down at the injured woman.

“That’s her, that’s the girl!” He says, coming to Grimshaw’s side to look over the shaking form lying on the cot.

“The one who helped you with those O’driscolls?” Dutch asks, looking down at the ashen face of the girl, “She can’t be much older than Lenny.”

“Poor thing.” Hosea comments, his face grim, “She’s tough. No-one gets that tough so young from an easy life.”

“We'll take care of her.” Dutch nods, frowning as the girl groans in pain.

Miss Grimshaw shoos them, tearing at the girls scrappy clothes to inspect the gash and other small cuts and bruises she must have gained trying to ride while injured.

The two men exit the tent, leaving the women to tend to the strange woman’s wounds.

Arthur and Charles ride back into camp, looking dejected. Karen says something to them, and they quickly walk over to Dutch’s tent.

“What's going on?” Arthur asks, “Karen said you found someone injured.”

“It’s the girl from the woods. Dutch found her in rough shape, but alive.” Hosea explains, taking a seat outside the tent and rubbing a hand over his face.

Arthur sighs, attempting to enter the tent when Dutch clasps a hand over his shoulder, halting him.

“You should get some rest, Arthur. Let Miss Grimshaw fix her up, you can see her when she’s better.”

“She's injured because of me, Dutch.” Arthur snaps, “She took a bullet for me, a complete stranger. If she dies and it's because-”

“Enough.” Dutch says firmly, “Don't get all worked up over this. She'll be fine, and when she is, you can thank her. But you ain't gonna do her no good if you stomp around here kicking yourself for her good deed.”

“He's right, Arthur.” Charles says softly, patting Arthur's shoulder, “We should eat, and get some sleep. We’ll talk to her when she's better.”

Arthur grumbles, but relents, walking away with Charles to Pearsons wagon.

Dutch and Hosea exchange a look, and Dutch sits beside his oldest friend, the two watching the sun begin to set as they listen to Miss Grimshaw and the women fix up the mysterious girl.

“Strange day.” Hosea murmurs.

“Yep.”

AN/ yes I wrote an insane amount of backstory for the reader when I'm planning on writing fifteen chapters of her just straight up getting railed by the entire gang. what are you gonna do? sue me?

thanks for reading! mwah xx

fic taglist: @warmsideofthepillow03 @sammymcsamerson @m1stea @iamaunknownsecret @love-you-louise @vanpan8 @6esi @idcmannn

198 notes · View notes

keanusbabydoll · 4 months ago

Note

If you're taking requests, how about a daryl x reader with him hunting you through the woods. Y'know, the classic predator/prey thing. Maybe when he catches you, he uses his knife on you. Not to like seriously hurt the reader, but he knows she thinks he looks hot using a knife. Feel free to not write this if It makes you uncomfortable, though.

HIS PREY

a/n: anything for you guys!! i looove this one.<3

paring: daryl dixon x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content, p in v, unprotected p in v, rough sex, dom!daryl, slight knife play, knife kink, daddy kink, age gap, fingering, slight edging, slight spanking, degrading, praising

wordcount: 2.2k

masterlist

MDNI

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡

it was a crisp morning when rick approached you and daryl, suggesting the two of you head out to scout for food. the group needed supplies, and he knew that daryl was the best hunter in the group—and that you, after months of being together, had become a skilled tracker in your own right.

it wasn’t the first time you were out alone and let’s say you were more than just excited.

being alone on a scavenger hunt with daryl always ended up with you getting your brains fucked out against a tree. and you couldn’t get enough of it. there would be no annoying rick or michonne who constantly interrupt you or ask daryl to guard at the gates. there, it was just the two of you.

as soon as you stepped into the woods the calming scent of damp earth and pine needles filled your nose. you looked to your right and found daryl adjusting his crossbow, his sharp blue eyes scanning the area for any walkers. hell, only the sight of him made you drool and hold yourself back to not jump on him. the way his muscles flexed and his shirt hugged his trained form so perfectly.

you needed him dearly, the forming wet spot in your panties only prove of it. and you definitely knew how to get what you want.

just as daryl seemed to have prepared everything you glanced over your shoulder with a smirk, arms folded over your chest. “you know daryl,” you teased, “if i wanted to hide out here, you’d never find me.”

he snorted softly, not looking at you. “that so?” you took a step closer, leaning into his space. “you’re good, dixon. but not that good. you’d be wandering around these woods all night.”

now you got his attention.

daryl’s lips twitched into a faint smirk as he finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing like he was already sizing you up.

underestimating daryl’s abilities? bad idea.

“you’re talkin’ a lotta shit for someone i could catch in under five minutes.” he stated, your words definitely affecting him. “prove it.” you challenged, your voice low and teasing. you could already feel your heart racing at what would happen next.

for a moment, he just stared at you, the weight of his predatory gaze making your breath hitch. then, without a word, he reached out and gripped your upper arm firmly, his expression shifting into something darker. “you better run, girl. clock’s tickin’.” your heart skipped a beat as soon as the words left his mouth and for a second, you hesitated, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t kidding.

and you were fucking in for it.

you turned on your heels and bolted into the woods, the adrenaline kicking in almost instantly. the forest felt alive as you weaved through the trees and your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of excitement and something far more primal.

you eventually found a spot—a large tree covered in ivy. its wide trunk provided the perfect hiding place. carefully, to not make any sound, you knelt down and pressed your back against it, trying to catch your breath. you knew daryl well enough to know that he’d take his time, moving silently, stalking you like his prey. the thought of it sent shivers down your spine.

but honestly, you would’ve loved to hide somewhere really obvious only for him to find you after a minute. that’s how much you fucking craved this man. but then again, you knew that he would remind you forever that you were hiding this poorly. and the thrill of not knowing when he’d find you, got you even more excited.

the forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. but then, you heard it—a soft, deliberate footstep. your breath caught in your throat. he was close.

you leaned ever so slightly to peek around the tree, scanning the woods for any sign of him. nothing.

you let out a quiet sigh of relief, relaxing back against the tree.

big mistake.

in a flash, a strong hand gripped your arm, yanking you to your feet. you barely had time to yelp before your back was slammed against the rough bark of the tree harshly. daryl loomed over you, his chest heaving from the exertion of the chase, his piercing eyes locking into yours. without you even fully realizing it, he held his sharp knife against your throat— not enough to hurt you but still to show you who’s in charge.

“thought ya could hide from me, huh?” his voice was low and gravelly, dripping with dominance. your eyes drifted down to the blade against your throat, your heartbeat quickening. “guess i was wrong.” you whispered, finding his gaze again.

“stupid lil’ thing.” he murmured as he began to trace the tip of the blade along your jawline, down your throat and to your exposed collarbone— leaving soft white lines. you tried to stifle a moan but the undeniable tension and daryl’s dominance made this impossible.

and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

given the fact how pathetically you were rubbing your thighs together to gain just a tiny bit of friction. “you’re such a lil’ slut, doll.” he growled as he let the knife wander down to your tits, his eyes following it closely. “only for you, daddy.” you quietly whimpered, batting your eyelashes at him.

“yeah?” he amusingly huffed out before he captured your lips in a heated kiss— rough and demanding. his free hand gripped your waist to pull you closer as you moaned into the kiss as you felt his hard cock pressing against your lower belly.

he ached for you just as much as you ached for him.

his blade once again nestled on your throat, this time pressing a little harder, knowing it would rile you up even more.

he pushed his tongue past your lips, claiming you as his as he devoured your sweet taste. your tongues fought for dominance but daryl obviously took the lead, not letting you win this battle. the hand that lingered on your waist now grabbed one of your tits, squeezing it harshly. in reply you just pressed yourself harder against him, wordlessly signing him that you longed for more.

you felt him smirk into your kiss and he slowly let his hand glide down your body, stopping at the edge of your jeans. “please, daddy.” you whimpered softly against his lips, staring up at him with the prettiest doe eyes you got.

“what d’ya want?” he teasingly asked, his fingers inching very slowly down your pants. “you, daddy! touch me please.” your plea made his dick twitch in anticipation, he always thought you were so hot when you begged. you impatiently pushed your hips toward his fingers- your cunt was burning for his touch.

“can’t say no now, can i?” he sarcastically retorted as he finally dipped his digits inside your panties. immediately, he began to rub your clit in slow, circular motions, eliciting a relieved sigh from you. again, he trailed his knife down your body before he put it back into its sheath. he expertly opened your jeans one-handed and pushed it with your panties below your ass, giving him more access. daryl almost lost it when he saw your glistening cunt on display.

“you’re fuckin’ drippin’.” he lowly rasped, sliding a finger down to your soaked entrance, wetting the tip of it. “just for you.” you mumbled, tangling your fingers in his hair. “good fuckin’ girl.”

in the blink of an eye he had two of his digits knuckle deep in your pussy, your wetness allowed him to slide in with ease. “ah- fuck!” you mewled, gripping his hair tighter. daryl pressed his lips to yours again as he began to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt in a steady pace, his other hand was back at your tit, groping it feverishly. jolts of pure pleasure crashed through your body as he suddenly curled his fingers and stimulated your sweet spot. “right there.” you squeaked, leaning your head back against the tree.

daryl only took this as a sign and thrusted his fingers faster and rougher inside of you, your walls instantly clamping down on him. he began to lick and suck on your neck, occasionally biting down on your hot flesh. the squelching sounds your pussy made got his dick even harder, needing to be inside of you.

you were a moaning mess, his fingers bringing you closer and closer to your high but then he suddenly pulled them out of you. “wha-“ you began but daryl interrupted you mid-sentence by gripping your waist and turning you around.

“can’t wait any longer.” he mumbled sharply as you heard him fiddling with his belt. with heavy breaths you stared over your shoulder and caught him unzipping his pants. hastily, he pulled down his boxers, making his fully erect cock spring free.

he pumped himself a few times, precum already dripping from the tip, before he stepped closer toward you.

daryl quickly guided his redend tip to your slick entrance, rubbing it up and down teasingly. “ready?” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. you frantically nodded your head and when you finally felt him push into you, your world turned upside down.

there was no other feeling, than his cock stretching you painfully open, that could make you feel this euphoric.

with a rough thrust of his hips he bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass. a loud whimper escaped your throat, followed by strings of sinful moans. daryl’s head arched back at your tight walls wrapping around him so deliciously. “never gonna get tired of your tight lil’ pussy.” he growled, immediately starting off with a fast pace, not giving you any chance to get used to his size.

his hands gripped your hips tightly and he just increased his speed, making sure you could feel every inch of him. you yearned it, desperately trying to meet each thrust. “you’re so big, daddy.” you yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at his bruising thrusts. “ya can take it.” he growled in reply.

the sound of your skin clapping together lingered in the air, only mushing your brains up. daryl pushed your legs apart and made you arch your back painfully, allowing the tip of his cock to brush exactly against that one spot, nestled deep inside of you, that made you go feral. your nails scraped harshly against the tree bark, eyes tightly closed. “you like that, huh?” he asked you breathlessly, “you like my cock stretching you open?” he pistoned into you like a man on a mission.

“yes! i love it!” you purred as he continued to fuck you straight into oblivion. “dirty whore.” daryl growled as he sent a harsh slap to your ass, receiving a high pitched moan from you. to add fuel to your pleasure, he reached around your middle and let his middle finger draw messy circles on your puffy clit. “god, daryl! don’t stop!” you cried out, feeling your orgasm slowly build up.

daryl himself was close to his high, hammering into your tight hole in an animalistic way. your knees began to buckle as he flicked his finger faster- determined to coax an orgasm out of you.

he knew exactly what you liked and how you liked it to get you to your release in an instant.

“gonna cum?” daryl whispered in your ear, kissing the spot just beneath it. “mhm, close.” you managed to let out—his dick was the only thing in you could really think of.

daryl rolled his hips even rougher and quicker than you thought was possible, his cock twitching uncontrollably- always a sign that he was on the verge of cumming. “‘m gonna cum.” he utterly growled through gritted teeth. the only thing that daryl wanted more than anything was to feel you gush all over his cock. “me too!” you whimpered pathetically, knowing that you will cum any second.

“now.” daryl commanded, using a second finger on your clit. “oh my fucking—” a scream tore from your throat, interrupting yourself with another yelp. you were sent straight to heaven as a powerful orgasm took over your whole body.

quick gasps left your mouth as you clutched on the tree in any way you could.

feeling you cum around him and your pussy clamping down on his shaft, daryl’s hips began to stutter as the contraction sent him over the edge with you.

he kept rubbing your now sensitive nub and slammed his hips a few more times against your ass before they sputtered to a stop. reluctantly, he pulled out of your pussy, a sharp hiss falling from your lips.

“was that enough prove?” he mocked you while smacking your ass.

“maybe.” you replied defiantly and pulled your jeans and panties up, still trying to catch your breath.

“you’ll never learn to shut that cheeky mouth of yours.” he stated irritatingly, adjusting his pants as well.

“nope.”

REQUESTS ARE OPENED <3

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year ago

Text

And Then There Were None – Part 1

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

Part 2>>>

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage

Twigs snapped beneath your boots, your steps heavy with exhaustion as you stumbled through yet another town, as barren and deserted as the last one.

Exhaustion and dehydration weighed heavy, wisps of dust caking your skirts, your boots the only thing to disturb the rubble in days.

There was no concern for a carriage that might pull up behind, or a bossy merchant to yell at you to clear the path. While the ghosts of the life that once flourished echoed in closed shops and abandoned stalls, you stopped looking over your back days ago.

There were no plumes of smoke from chimneys, no distant chatter or laughter or cries. Safe from the occasional grunts or mews of abandoned cattle - there was not a single sign of life, and no human in sight for the past ten days.

A jarring cramp ripped from your abdomen, pulling you from delirium with urgency.

Water, food, bathe and sleep. That was why you were here.

You tried not to think about how quickly resources were depleting, even though you were sure you were the only one using them. Without people to treat water, the stagnant liquid became increasingly dangerous. And you couldn’t farm a vegetable to save your life, and had spent too long journeying to have tended to any crops.

You’d have to go further into the woods soon, find a fresh stream, perhaps hunt too. But you'd need strength for that, and you had just about run out.

At least it was spring, and at least the trees bloomed with fruit as you travelled from town to town, feet blistered and chapped. You cursed you parents for not teaching you formidable survival skills - fighting, hunting, even the ability to ride a gods damned horse would have been an incomparable luxury these past hellish days.

A clang of guilt, and frustration quickly churned to longing. Gods, you hoped they were alive. You would do anything to have them here, to journey this devastating isolation together, the little ones too. You prayed to the Mother for the umpteenth time that day that they were safe and well.

It was not a concern when you woke to an empty house almost a fortnight earlier. Your father was likely at the market, your mother hard at work at the tailor in town. Your siblings were hard to catch at this time of year, with school out of term and the warm spring air, they would spend each waking moment by the river if your parents let them.

It wasn't until you spotted your fathers wheelbarrow through the speckled glass of your kitchen window, held by rotting wood. Empty and unmoved, his tools lay flat on the ground, untouched since the day before. You could have sworn he told you he’d be at the market by dawn.

Scanning the room, your eyes flicked to the doorway where your mothers workbag lay untouched. Needles sat poked in balls of yarn as stray thread sprawled over leather - but an eery stillness sang to you at your parent’s tools.

Names and calls went unanswered, and after a quick search of the home you ran outside, urgent to ask your neighbours where they had gone, your heart fastening with every step.

Too frantic to observe the lack of movement and noise from your own street, you rapped on the door, waiting only a few seconds to push the rattling screen and forcing your way in.

Names went unanswered again, and it was instinct that steered you straight for the nursery. You halted at the sight of new born's empty crib, blankets rippled as if the babe was taken straight from it’s sleep.

Your calls turned frantic as you scoured each room, an upsetting, looming sensation creeping over your skin.

Bursting from the home, you shielded your eyes from the bright sun as you scanned the street with urgency. Your only greeting was a quiet breeze and snort of a horse left abandoned by a cart - as if it had stopped it's journey halfway through.

In a panicked haze, you searched the next home, and the next, and the next. The dizziness found you then.

Clearly there was an emergency of some kind. But you had been abandoned, left to sleep until midday amongst the quiet. The thought pained you.

More calls to anyone who might have stayed behind, yet still no answer. Your heart was a thunder in your ears.

Had the war finally reached you? Had your family fled in the dead of the night? You shook the thought from your head – they would have woken you, would have needed your help to escape with the youngens.

And then you were running – yelling, sprinting through the dusty streets, voice breaking as you dashed from home to home, shop to shop, calling, crying, pleading.

You were utterly alone. You had been left there, alone.

In a swarm of panic, you pressed a palm at your heart, willing yourself to calm. It was a dream, surely. You were not abandoned, only stuck in a nightmare, the kind that often found you as murmurs of Hybern’s army reaching human lands became louder.

In that dizzying thought, you willed yourself awake, forcing your eyes open to the walls of your dark and cramped room, to the noises as your siblings shouting and playing from downstairs, to the whistle of the kettle and the creak of the wood as your father came to wake you.

But the light was blinding, the sun as true as the your abandonment.

Beads of sweat that ran down your neck, a gnawing anxiousness building in your stomach as it heaved and cramped, nausea and panic churning to one.

Something truly terrible had happened.

And in that moment of utter disbelief, a stabbing pain ripped from your stomach, so great it forced a whimper from your throat.

As silent trickles of blood ran from your thighs to your knees, tracing your calves beneath the fabric of your skirt, you found a numbing sort of courage. Pushing your legs forward, you mindlessly heeded the road out of your home town, and on to the next.

People. You needed to find people.

————

Ten days, and still not a single sole in sight. Each home, each tavern, each market and farm left eerily untouched.

The silence was enough to drive you mad, if not besides the aide you so desperately sought. This was not your cycle - although the pains were familiar. You had known what you were, what this was.

Almost a fortnight, yet the blood still came. Slower now, spotting instead of trickles. You had stolen clothing from abandoned shops, food and water too. But you were distraught, moments away from folding into utter madness. And you were weak – very, very weak.

Water, food, a bath and rest. A list you repeated to yourself, your body begging to prioritise sleep with every step as you approached a farm at the town’s edge.

With a weak hand, you pushed past the gate to the yard, large rusty barrels sat open where a cow and her calf now drank. The water was murky with a distinct smell, but it would have to do. Tomorrow, you’d find fresh water tomorrow.

The trembling hand that dipped to the cool water hardly looked like your own. Dirt lay thick under your nails, your skin littered with cuts from the countless times you had shattered windows of stores and traders homes, scouring the stock for preserved goods and weapons.

Bringing the cool liquid to your lips, you ignored the taste of iron as you willed it to soothe your throat - hoarse from the endless calls that went unanswered.

Ears pricking at sudden growl behind you, you jerked at the site of a pack of dogs who approached on stealthy paws. Their eyes were hungry - flicking between you and the calf. Once loyal farming dogs you were sure, now abandoned by owners and left to fend for themselves. They had formed packs - clever things. While you were sure they couldn't kill you, you didn't have the strength to fight an infection if they got close enough to sink their teeth.

From your side, you unsheathed the hunting knife you had looted from a previous town. Swinging it with unpracticed skill, you shouted at the pack, your heart thundering as you waited for them to recline on hindered paws and leap.

They pack seemed to weigh you up, deciding the calf was an easier target. You fled inside the house before you could see it meet it’s end.

The home was neat, and you almost cried at the sight of a loaf of bread sitting atop the kitchen counters. Mould had attacked it’s edges, but you tore at it, fisting mouthfuls of the centre, dry crumbs coating your throat it was an effort not to choke.

Your stomach lurched, unhappy with the quality of the food and water, but you didn't care. You were on step closer to rest.

Another jarring cramp from your stomach, and you faltered, gripping at the wooden table as you trembled to keep yourself upright. This ailment, how much longer would you last? Sleep begged at you, your body moments from giving out. You’d have to forgo the bath, and prayed to the mother you’d find the strength for it in the morning.

Forcing yourself to the bedroom, swaying with each stumbled step, consciousness was already slipping as you collapsed on the bed, clothes and boots in tact.

————

It was a feverish sleep, your body doused in sweat as you stirred often, jolting awake in panics, phantom calls of your family mixed with the flap of wings, and the crunch of stone and rock under heavy boots.

Then a voice, voices – ones you were sure they were part of your slumber.

But as those footsteps got closer, you woke in a startle, your heart fastened as you blinked furiously.

Voices. Humans. People. Alive, well enough to talk.

You leapt from the bed, ignoring the spin of your head as you clambered to the window, peering behind sheer drapes to the street in front.

Your stomach sank. Lurched. Then sank again.

A large, demonic figure stalked for the home. Wings arched behind it’s head, it’s figure blackened by the leathers it bore, sword and knives strapped around.

And, wisps of some kind. Deadly, reaping magic.

Fae.

Fae had come.

Knees buckling, you stumbled back a few steps.

The world around you reeled as adrenaline coursed through. You would have just moments to prepare if you wanted a chance to survive.

Knife. Your hunting knife. Still strewn at your hip.

Grasping it’s hilt tightly with a trembling hand, you scanned the room for the best place to hide.

The cupboard was too obvious, and there was room under the bed - but there’d be not enough to swing your knife, only enough for them to drag you by the ankle…

The gentle click of the front door opening, and it took all you had not to whimper in panic.

Scrambling for the door as quietly as possible, you pressed your palm to your mouth, begging yourself not to cry as you pressed yourself behind the wood.

From what you could hear over the thunder of your heart, the steps of the fae were quiet despite it’s size.

“Anything in there?” a deep voice boomed from the street. You jolted at the volume. More than one, then.

There was no reply from the creature in the home, only the creak of the wood as it made it’s way through.

“Really, Azriel? Are we to check every home?” Female this time, impatience and ignorance laced in the somehow ancient voice.

No response again, instead a footstep, right by the door.

Something tickled your ankles then, and it was beyond you to stifle your compulsive scream.

Black furling wisps coated your boots.

And then the door opened.

The creature made it one step inside before you had aimed your knife for it’s heart.

A prepared, cool hand caught your wrist inches from it’s chest. Your bones crushing in it’s grasp, and you let out a yelp of pain.

It’s face - his face - was one of shock. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, dropping his grip all together.

You blinked back in shock, ignoring at the throb of your wrist as you snatched it back.

For a dumb moment, you stared at each other with equally wide eyes. The male didn't seem to know what to do.

“You’re human? How are you here, where-?"

The males sentence was clipped short as you drove the knife towards his chest again.

Quick as an asp, he caught you by the forearm this time, more gently too.

Hazel eyes scanned you, his features schooling as he called over his shoulder. “I’ve found someone.”

You were sure you looked mad, grunting with the effort to pull your arm from him, breaths ragged, eyes and hair wild. The male studied you as he might a rabid animal.

Behind him appeared an even taller male, his form more terrifying than the one that gripped you.

“Mother above,” the new one whispered, scanning you in the way the first one had.

“L-let go of me,” you rasped, pulling your arm back, tears stinging at the pain of you surely broken wrist began to swell.

It was a odd detail to note, the scars and ripples of the fae’s hand as he gently unfurled your fingers, prying the hunting knife from you before releasing his grip.

“Let me see,” the female’s voice piped from behind, the males struggling to fold their wings further, cramming into the room to let her through.

You faltered back on instinct, legs hitting the edge of the bed.

As the female broke through the males, harsh silver eyes scanned you up and down. She was half their height, a little shorter than you actually, but the depth of her gaze kept your hands by your side.

“Seems the Mother has spared one after all,” she muttered, nose crumpling at your scent.

Your answered with a scowl.

“What is your name?” it demanded.

“Amren,” the taller male warned, his eyes flicking back to you with softness.

You refused to answer. Couldn’t if you wanted to.

Amren sighed, casting her head sideways to the one with rippled hands. “She bleeds.”

“I know,” he answered, hazel eyes not breaking from you. You blushed, furious and humiliated.

He stepped around her then, the movement graceful and soft despite his size.

“You need aide.”

You gulped, unable to process his words. “L-leave me be,” you demanded, voice hoarse as you tried to create more distance between you and it.

He crouched in front of you then, leathers stretching against ripples of muscle. You noticed them then, jewels, saphires, humming from his body as if they were alive.

He followed your eyes curiously, before answering you with a soft smile.

“These are siphons,” he said plainly, giving one a friendly tap.

You snapped your eyes back to him, disgust forming your features. “You are here on behalf of Hybern?”

The female snorted from behind, earning a shove from the larger male beside her, his siphons glowing red.

The one in front of you studied you. “No, absolutely not.”

You scowled, not inclined to believe them.

“We come one behalf of our High Lord Rhysand, and High Lady Feyre. Rulers of the Night Court. Do you know of them?”

Feyre - the human women who had freed the fae from the grasp of their enemy. You knew the story, the heroic tale of a human women who gave her life for the male she loved. Had heard of her triumphs Under the Mountain, that she had been made into fae herself in exchange for her sacrifice.

“The-the curse breaker?”

A small smile cocked on both of the males faces.

“That’s right,” the one crouched in front answered. “She sent us to retrieve you.”

A panic surged within you. “Me?” you spat. Oh the ignorance of the fae, as if you were some pawn to pluck and place elsewhere.

Azriel frowned, eyes dancing as he realised the mistake in his words. “To help you, of course. There has been-"

"No-n-no. My family, they will seek for me-"

Azriel's brow pulled with softness, his tone falling flat. "We will search for them. Meanwhile, you must see a-"

“Where are the others?” Your voice was louder now, eyes dancing in panic, chest rising with fastening breaths. Had they taken them too? “The people, they've left, I don't know-"

“We are searching for others. You are… the first we have found.”

Your mind reeled. How could that be? You had searched by foot - but with those wings, and the strength and power of fae…

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE OTHER HUMANS?” the volume of your voice shocked even yourself, that strength, that demand from deep within your chest.

Azriel gave you a pained look, before standing to turn to his counterparts. “Amren, can you heal-?”

“I’m spent,” she cut off the male with a flick of her fingers. “Those canines out back were hardly enough to keep me going until sundown, so forget about healing. Unless you suggest I drink her blood, though I doubt she’d survive.”

Mother above.

You were too hazed to see the glare both of the males cut her.

“Then she will need to see a healer before we can continue.”

“She might refuse,” the larger one countered.

“If she’s smart, she won’t. She won't survive out here on her own,” Amren muttered, cleaning her nails as she leaned one on leg, checking her cat-like claws for flecks of blood.

They continued their mutter without once turning to you.

“There is no option here. I’ll take her to Velaris, and return once she’s safe.”

A shaking, blubbering anger grew within you, the creatures in front of you as ignorant and obnoxious as you had always been told fae are – to discuss your own fate as if you weren't in the room.

A killer instinct flared in you then, and you remembered the second knife you bore, hidden within your corsette. A pocket knife, a tool from your father to help pit and peel the fruit from his farm.

The oak handle was cool in your left hand, the right throbbing and limp. With the last remains of energy, you pushed up from the bed, swinging with all your strength - aiming for the blue-siphoned back.

In a graceful turn, the male caught your arm for the third time. You had to blink at the speed with which he stopped you.

Bracing for cruel, unforgiving anger, you were instead met with sympathetic eyes.

Loathing coiled within you.

“Release me,” you spat.

“I’m sorry to do this,” was all he said, and then pads of those rippled fingers were grasping your jaw, pressing to the pressure points of your neck with precision.

Grunting to fight his grasp, you didn’t struggle long before a ringing in your ear grew to defeating silence and the world tipped to black.

Part 2 >>> AN: HELLLOOO! And welcome to ATTWN - massive shout out to @kindasleepywriter for finding the perfect name for this series! I so so hoped you liked part 1. I edited it like a million times, still not 100% happy with it, but I think I just needed to get it out. Fair warning - this fic won't be light hearted, our reader is going to go through some really heavy stuff. I'll of course put my warnings ahead of each part, but please know I plan to explore some darker themes surrounding mental health etc. If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, let me know in the comments! Always love hearing your feedback, and thank you so much for reading! <3 Nic

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julietsbody · 1 year ago

Text

ultraviolence

words : 2,261

tags : gun kink , fucked with a gun , predator / prey , reader has a prey kink , peacekeeper ! snow , light sadism , size difference , size kink , obsessive behavior , power play , creampies , orgasm delay / denial

a/n : idk what came over me whilst writing this im gonna be so honest…. semi inspired by Cherienymphe‘s “everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officer” fic!!! its so good

p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!!! ( divider by pommecita )

snow barely had any empathy for people, let alone any districts. he was a man who fell into poverty himself, but he got out of it, he was a capitol and he’s friends with those that come from the highest statuses. normally people felt pity for those in the districts, they scavenged for food, or proper clothing. not snow, he thought it was a game to watch them snatch up fresh bread and run like their lives depend on it. because it does, they survive, they live another day and satisfy their hungers, if they get caught, they’ll be dead in seconds— especially if coriolanus catches them.

he liked the power he had, the fact that he could do almost anything he desired and get away with it because the districts had been committing a crime anyway, he just stopped them from doing it any more. he liked that they would cower underneath him, beg for their lives, he liked that he had the power to give them a simple warning, to let them off the hook, but he never did.

not until now.

he found himself chasing yet another bunny, heavy boots padding behind your thin, poorly made shoes.

something about the adrenaline rushing through your veins had a heat developing in between your legs, like it was a primal reaction, an animalistic urge. he nearly noticed in the way your steps staggered, but that could be lack of spacial awareness, which he noted that you had. you were so busy running in straight lines you didn’t even bother to juke him or to hide.

easy prey, aren’t you?

he thought that at first, until your steps suddenly changed, turning to the right.

and you had disappeared between the greens and tall trees, his wild eyes raced around the all too silent forest. he tuts, a low taunt, “where are you, bunny?”

his voice came out sing - songy, having your breathing shake from the tree you hid behind, your thighs pressed together.

how was a hunt so intimate, so sexual?

“why are you hiding from me, bunny?” his voice is softer, as if he’s pouting.

you hear his boots snap twigs with ease, crush leaves into fragile pieces, dip through mud. he was getting closer, like a wolf stalking it’s prey, like he knew where you hid. you tried to hold your breath, to keep yourself hidden, but it was no use. he rounded the corner, and you ran into a sprint again, nearly dropping the bread you had taken.

if you hadn’t dropped it then, you were sure to now.

his arms took you into a threatening hold, at first pushing you into a tree, then slamming you against the floor when you wriggled at his grasp. his panting breath, your fearful whines, the begging that sat on your tongue silently, it was as if sex had been happening even with your clothes on. your tears well with tears at being slammed on the hard ground, and he feels the fabric of his pants tighten at the sight.

“please,” here comes the begging, music to his ears, “it’s my first time stealing, i’ve never done this before—“

“is that so?” his head cocks to the side, holding down your wriggling hands, “i’m sure i’ve seen you before, doll.”

“you must be mistaken,” your puffy lips part, breath heaving as you try to pull away from him.

it doesn’t work, he just simply holds you down, he easily could with one hand if he wanted to, “are you calling me a liar?”

it was embarrassing, truly, being so turned on by the way his voice deepened with firmness, by the way he held you down with such ease, “of course not, i would never—“

“you just did, though,” his tone is biting, typically he doesn’t let conversations last this long, but something about you was different. his eyes catch on to the way your thighs are rubbing together, not in a way to try to free yourself from him, but where you crave friction. “my, my, what do we have here?”

his hand taps against your thigh, pulling up the hem of your dress, his eyes land on yours, waiting for confirmation.

you immediately nod, it’s so quick, impatient, he adores it.

his long fingers lace around both of your wrists whilst the other pries your thighs apart, noticing the way fluids soil your panties.

“how cute,” he observes out loud, allowing his hunger to show in the way he nearly rips your panties apart whilst harshly tugging the, down, watching how your legs immediately fall apart into a spread, panties hanging off your ankle for dear life. you were so desperate, you were willing to do this in the woods, present yourself to a peacekeeper just because you had gotten horny merely off a chase.

his hand smoothes against your right inner thigh, feeling goosebumps form in prickles, and the way you shiver underneath each touch. his hand is large against your cunt, a single finger moving through it to feel the wetness, your hips immediately buck, desperate for more.

his chuckle is soon silenced by his hand raising to his mouth, just so he can taste your slick.

removing it with a pop, a curt smile tugs at his lips, sweet, like honey.

his hand smoothes down your inner thigh again, and you realize he’s teasing you, “officer—“

his thumb is threateningly close to your cunt, “hm?”

“touch me,” you breathe out, “please.”

how funny is it that the last time you said please to him you were begging for your life?

“like this?” his eyebrow quirks, pad of his thumb moving to swipe against your clit, your back arches ever so slightly.

the whine that emits from you is far too loud for his liking, so he hushes you with gentle shhs, thumb rubbing slow circles on the bundle of nerves.

“you don’t want people to hear us, hm?” he hums, “to find out you’re letting a peacekeeper touch you in such ways, truly scandalous.”

he can imagine it being front page of the district newspaper, girl caught fucking peacekeeper in woods!

your fingers twitch in his grasp, finding his movements far too slow, and he finds your movements and whines far too annoying.

he moves to plunge a finger into your cunt, making your whines hush to whimpers, unintelligible words.

“real impatient, aren’t you?” his finger moves slow at first, watching the way your hips move against it in response, “maybe i should just put you in your place.”

he removes his finger, watching the way you desperately clench around nothing. his hand moves to grab his machine gun, which he had ditched as soon as he threw you to the floor, he finally releases your wrists, you have a chance to run if you wanted to, but you didn’t— because you didn’t want to run, because the fear that filled you when he aimed his gun at you had even more of your fluids escaping the oyster between your legs.

he moves to cock it, taking it off the safety.

“fully loaded,” he reminds you, but also seems to be reminding himself.

he seems to believe you don’t believe him in the way you look up at him through glossy eyes, and he moves to aim his gun at a nearby tree, one to your right, directly behind you. and he shot, birds cawed as they flew away from the loud shots, he noticed how you flinched, immediately moving to the safety of his grasp, and he only smiled, how adorable that you find safety in the man who had enough power to kill you in seconds.

he hushes your fears, not reassuring anything about your safety as he moves the gun tip your legs back apart, one of his hands leaving it as he wraps it around your wrists once more, holding you back down in a missionary position. the hand on his gun was less steady now, finger tight against the trigger, it had you biting your lip. he traces along your inner thigh with the tip of the gun, “you’re gonna be a good girl, right?”

he watches you immediately nod, so eager, “yes, yes, officer.”

his gun passes a trail down to your cunt, pressing against your clit, he could shoot right now, the finger on the trigger was so tight, so unsupported. he could slip once and shoot directly into you, something about that thrilled you more, made your hips buck against the gun, practically riding the weapon. he admires your desperation, the way your face twists with pleasure as you move against the cool material that built the gun.

he eventually pulls the tip of the gun down, until it’s at your entrance.

he watches your eyes widen as the metal dips inside of you, spreading you open with ease.

your hands flail in his tight hold, “it hurts— officer, wait—“

“hm?” he pauses for a mere second, “sweet bunny, you can take it.”

the pain soon subdues to pleasure as he begins moving the gun again, pumping it in and out of you and coating the black of the weapon with your milky slick. whimpers of pain soon become moans of pleasure, the tears that had built a gloss over your eyes dipping down your cheeks as your eyes close, hips bucking against the weapon.

“easy, bunny, easy,” his voice is strained, like seeing you cry awakens something within him, when your hips stop moving against his gun he continues to pump it, faster this time, “good girl, gonna cum all over my gun?”

you nod, more tears escaping as the thrill of your possible death and the pleasure from the weapon that may cause it becomes all too much. a deep groan vibrates from his chest at the sight of you crying, lips parting to continue, “that’s it, good, good.”

it’s as if you crying is enough to have him reaching his climax already, as if seeing you cry felt like jerking off.

the gun widens the more it goes into you, stretching you until you’ll be nothing but a gaping mess from his gun when he’s done.

so filthy, to be easily stretched out by something that has killed many, how terribly cruel of you, to be cumming on it.

and the man who had done it is merely watching, admiring you like this was an art gallery, and you were the center piece. he notices the way you near your orgasm, as your hips can’t help but grind down on the gun, moans escaping past your nearly bitten to bleeding lips. and you start calling out to him, “officer, officer, please— can i cum— please.”

a mere plead, and if snow was a good man, he would say yes, but he wasn’t one.

“no, bunny, you ran from me,” his finger slides against the trigger, staring at you with a new tint glossing over his eyes, “do you think you deserve to cum?”

“yes, i need to, i want—“ your breath quickens, mindlessly grinding down onto the gun.

“no,” he pulls the gun out, depraving you of every wish. he notices the way you whimper, thighs pressing together and rubbing in desire to form friction. there was none, and soon he was tossing his gun to the side, tugging his pants and boxers down ever so slightly to free his cock, then prying your legs apart once more.

he carefully moves himself between your legs, his hand around your wrists finally freeing them, admiring the red ring he left from how tight his grip was. the same hand moved to fall against your throat, fingertips dipping in to your delicate skin as he guides his dick to your entrance, carefully pushing into you. he feels you tense underneath him at the feeling of him filling you once more, the length and girth enough to reach your intestines, you were sure of it.

once he bottoms out, he notices the way a bulge appears at your pelvis, popping up against the skin then falling to a settle with each thrust. his other hand moves to your mouth, his fingers spreading your pillow lips apart, your salty taste pressing against your own tongue.

“taste yourself, bunny, so sweet, hm?” he grunts with each thrust, practically manhandling you with each snap of his hips, fingers dipping down your throat. he watches your eyes roll back, mumbling pleas for the satisfaction of your orgasm to finally come, your bodily fluids sticking to his pelvis and his dick, your walls pulsed around him, drooling onto his cock.

he nears his climax almost immediately, nose scrunching slightly, “cum, cum for me, sweet bunny.”

“officer—“ your back arches off the earthy ground as you finally reach your climax, moans vibrating against his flesh and he continues to thrust, riding out your orgasm, overstimulating you until he’s practically fucking you dumb. eventually, he bottoms out, pumping you nearly full of his cum. he moves his hand from your mouth, sticky from your saliva, and takes your panties off your ankle, pulling out and plugging your hole with your own panties. just so you don’t lose any of his cum.

“there, now you can walk around with my cum inside of you, how sweet.” he takes his hands off of you, moving to tuck his softening dick away and standing.

he offers your limp body a wink, swiping up his gun, and following up with a, “don’t let me catch you again, doll.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x y/n #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth

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angelofthenight01 · 3 months ago

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The witch's guardian

Wanda Maximoff x Reader (AU)

genre: horror, fluff || warnings: lycanthropy, witch hunting, violence

The biting wind whips through the skeletal branches of the ancient forest, mirroring the turmoil within you. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, each one a painful reminder of the curse that claws at your soul. The moon, a malevolent eye peering through the swirling clouds, fuels the beast within. Tonight, the change is coming. You can feel it, a burning tide rising in your veins, contorting your bones, reshaping you into something monstrous.

You stumble through the undergrowth, thorns ripping at your worn leather tunic, the scent of damp earth heavy in your nostrils. You abandoned the village days ago, fleeing the terrified whispers and the glint of fear in the eyes of those who had once called you neighbor. They knew, or suspected, a truth you had tried so hard to conceal. The truth of the moon’s hold on you, the monstrous transformation that consumed you under its gaze.

You sought refuge in this dark wood, hoping to outrun the terror, or at least contain it on your own. You find a small clearing, a meager sanctuary, and collapse against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak. The transformation begins, a horrifying symphony of crackling joints and tearing flesh. You writhe and howl, the sound lost in the symphony of the wind. Claws sprout from your fingers, your teeth lengthen into fangs. Fur bursts through your skin, a coat of thick, dark fur, a shield of shame and revulsion. Finally, you’re no longer a person, no longer human. You are a beast. A werewolf.

You pace, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, your senses heightened tenfold. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, is amplified into a symphony of fear. The forest, once a haven, now feels like a cage. You are both predator and prey.

Days blur into nights. You scavenge for food, the taste of blood and raw flesh filling your mouth, a stark reminder of the monstrous life you’re forced to lead. You learn to navigate the forest in your beast form, becoming a part of its shadows, a creature of the night. The human you once were feels like a distant memory.

One evening, under a sky bruised with twilight, you catch a scent unlike any you've encountered before. A scent as intoxicating as wildflowers, a lingering note of smoke, and something…else. Something ancient and powerful. It draws you in, pulling you past the usual boundaries of your forest territory, toward an isolated glade bathed in the ethereal glow of twilight.

There, beneath a canopy of ancient trees, stands her.

Wanda.

Even in the dwindling light, her beauty is undeniable. Hair as dark as raven's wings frames a face of sharp angles and mesmerizing emerald eyes. She stands with an air of quiet power, a collection of herbs and strange stones arranged around her in a circle. She is a witch, that much is clear from the aura that radiates from her, and even in your feral state, you know it.

She doesn't flinch at your appearance, doesn't recoil or scream as other humans have. Instead, her gaze meets yours, holding a curious mixture of assessment and understanding. It’s both unnerving and captivating. You find yourself stopping, the instincts that drive you as a wolf warring with an unexpected desire for her approval, or rather, her understanding.

Slowly, you approach, your steps wary but driven. You lower your head slightly, a gesture of submission that feels both instinctive and strange. Wanda watches, her expression unreadable until she offers a slight tilt of her head, a gentle acknowledgment of your approach.

“You're hurting,” she says, her voice low and melodic, a soothing balm to the beastly rage that still rumbles in your chest. “And confused.”

You whimper softly, a sound that holds the pain of your existence.

She moves, but instead of fear, she reaches out, extending a hand towards you, her fingers long and elegant. Hesitantly, you lower your snout until it’s close to her palm. She slowly, and with intention, places her hand on your snout. The touch is brief, a featherlight caress, yet it sends a ripple of warmth through your snarled muscles, a calming wave that soothes the edges of the beast within.

"I can help you," she murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. "But it won’t be easy.”

You look at her, and she at you, and from that moment onwards, you know that your life will change.

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself drawn to her glade each night. It’s the only place where the beast feels manageable, where the pain of your condition feels less like a curse and more like a weight you might learn to carry. Wanda helps you understand the nature of your lycanthropy, teaches you to recognize the triggers, and the slow ways of controlling it. She guides your beastly nature to an equilibrium. She uses herbs and her magic to soothe your mind, eases the transformations.

You, in turn, become her protector. Your wolf form is a fierce guardian, a shadow that lurks in the forest, watching her, keeping her safe. During those long nights, you learn of her history, of her isolation, and her unwavering commitment to the forest and its secrets.

You learn to anticipate the hunt, the growing murmur of human voices and clashing steel that means they've come for her. When the scent of men, their fear and greed, floods the forest, you become a dark whirlwind of fur and teeth. You emerge into the glade, a terrifying figure, and stand between the intruders and Wanda. They've come for the witch who lives in the forest, because they fear that which they don't understand.

Their torches flicker, casting grotesque shadows on their faces. They’re armed with pitchforks, axes, and hunting knives, their eyes filled with a mix of fear and bloodlust. They’ve come to destroy her, and you will tear them apart first.

A roar rips from your throat, a challenge to their presence. You stalk forward, your fangs bared, your eyes glowing with an unnatural light. They hesitate, their bravado faltering in the face of the true predator you have become.

One man, larger than the rest, steps forward, brandishing a rusty axe. “Monster!” he shouts, his voice trembling. “We’ve come for the witch!”

You charge, a blur of speed and rage. You lunge past the axe, your teeth sinking into his fleshy arm. He screams, dropping the weapon, and stumbling back with a terrified yell which echoes through the forest.

The others attack, but you are too fast, too strong. You tear through their ranks, your claws ripping at their clothing, your teeth sinking deep into flesh. You feel a primal exhilaration, a savage joy in the violence you inflict, and you fight with a ferocity born of protective rage. You feel as if you could tear down trees and mountains, you could destroy worlds just to protect her.

You let out a terrifying roar, one that comes deep from your lungs, a primal beast sound that sends them scattering back into the shadows. Your teeth grind against one another, itching for some flesh. Some bones to crush.

They flee, abandoning their weapons, their fear palpable on the wind. You stand panting, your fur matted with blood, the scent of human fear heavy in the air. You turn back to Wanda, and she stares at you with a strange mix of pride, trepidation, and something that could only be called love. Her eyes, though wide, are full of care and adoration.

The night is cold, silent, after the cacophony of the battle, yet in the calmness you see yourself for the first time, see the power, the strength, the protector. You have given into the beast, but you’ve done it for her. You have torn them to shreds for her, defended her with your life, and she recognizes it all.

“You protected me.” She says, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, lowering your head, and transform back to a human again. The shift takes its toll on your body, but you're used to it, and you know she'll fix your wounds. You stand before her, naked, drenched in blood, your body scarred and twisted from the transformations, but she takes your hands anyway.

“I know,” she says. “And I am eternally grateful.” She pulls you in, her touch light, yet you feel as if you're being embraced by the sun. "Let’s clean you up. I have some herbs that will soothe the wounds of the body and the soul.”

You allow yourself to be led into the hut, the only place where the beast in you feels at peace, where the human you once were can breathe again. You know that future battles await, that the men will return, and there will always be those who fear the power of Wanda, whom they call a witch. But you will be there. You, the protector, the beast she now understands. Together, you will face the darkness, you, the monstrous protector, and she, the powerful magician, united by a forbidden forest and a love forged in the shadows.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch

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phightingheadcanons · 23 days ago

Note

since it was fucking burning hot for 3 days straight, heres a little hc list of what phighters would do in extreme heat.

Sword: turn on the air conditioner to the max. I also hc that he has a pool outside the house so he would swim there as well

Skateboard: goes to the beach with Boombox and Coil. if he can't come then he go out to his backyard and spray water on himself to keep himself cool

Katana: Walks around the house half naked

Biograft: Subspace keeps them in a cool place to not get overheated

Ban Hammer: swims in the pool outside as well.

Rocket: watches TV the entire day

Shuriken: sits underneath the shade of the trees of the garden outside the Den trio's house. (I hc that they have a garden outside)

Slingshot: drinks a lot of water to cool himself down. draws as well.

Hyperlaser: spends time with his cat Princess

Scythe: really used to heat. probably goes hiking with Broker or something. checks up on Medkit

Medkit: not used to heat but he stays home and drinks a lot of water. Scythe and Broker check up on him sometime during the day.

Subspace: hides all of the biografts in cool places so they won't overheat

Boombox: goes to the beach with Skate or Coil. if he can't come then he lies in his bed the entire day and eats a lot of cold foods to cool himself down. listens to a lot of chill music as well.

Vine Staff: stays in her treehouse the whole time doing little bracelets and other jewelries

Coil: goes to beach with Skate and Boombox. if he can't go then he will lie down on the couch and doomscroll on tiktok

-🧑🚽 skibidi anon (今日、学校に携帯電話をこっそり持ってきました。ノートパソコンのケースの中に入っています。) (ykw every single time I will throw a hc here I would add a little message in another language and make you guys translate it. its funny)

I love going on little secret scavenger hunts

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thedragonboi · 11 months ago

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Pseudo-predators

Probably not a real thing but humans are kinda like pseudo-predators. We adapted all these predatory traits before we ever behaviourally became predators.

Examples being:

Forward facing eyes

Starp canines

Pack structures

Probably more that I can’t remember.

Forward facing eyes developed because of us being arboreal. Or…at least from when we used to be arboreal, since it made swinging from branches and jumping between trees much easier since you could tell the distance of the leap and make the decision if the risk of falling would be worth it.

Sharp canines are a shared trait among primates, especially considering toothy bois like gorillas and mandrills have famously large chompers despite being rather strict vegetarians.

Finally pack structures. I guess group structures in general. Group structures aren’t explicitly a predatory trait, but considering our weaker position in the food chain early on, group structures 100% added to our ability to survive.

All together, these traits made it much easier to transition into scavenging and hunting behaviours as opposed to trying to specialise for some kind of plant diet.

#humans are space orcs #primates #pseudo-predators #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #humans are strange

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amerricanartwork · 1 year ago

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RW Headcanon: Know the Difference! | An Overview of Quetzalli's Slugcats

Here’s a headcanon I’ve wanted to elaborate on for a while, and today I finally felt compelled to make it real! Also, just a disclaimer I am not a huge biology nerd nor have I studied it that heavily, so I apologize if something here doesn’t make sense or if I get something wrong. I just like fantasy worldbuilding from time to time, and I always like trying to make sense of things I’m interested in!

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Basically, I’m in the crowd that interprets slugcats as mustelids rather than literal slugs. When I say this, however I don’t mean that slugcats would necessarily be classified in the actual mustelidae family, seeing as Rain World’s world is most-likely not Earth and therefore our taxonomic classifications and phylogenetic relations can’t necessarily apply. Thus, when I call them “mustelids”, I really just mean that I imagine them as some kind of weasel with all the necessary physical traits to earn that general label.

The first half of the name “slugcat”, in my headcanon, is thus not referring to any literal connection to slugs or other mollusks, but is instead derived simply from their appearance. Due to their long ears and thick tail, and because their fur and fat often squishes together in such a way that it makes their features blend together and their bodies appear more smooth (it’s the same physics as that whole “cats are liquid” idea), the general silhouette of a slugcat can easily be likened to that of a literal slug. The second half of their name is also not literal, and instead refers to their jumping and acrobatic abilities and their skill in hunting and pouncing on small prey, which is very similar to that of small cats.

Species Overview

Now to give a little more detail on slugcats themselves as a species! I headcanon them as small to medium-sized mammals most similar to Earth weasels in both their biology and their ecological niche, who originally served as cute low-maintenance pets for the Ancients and as hunters of small pests in facilities on the ground. They’re clever by nature and good at fitting through tight spaces, and later on they evolved greater jumping abilities to pounce on prey. They’re also very social creatures, who’ve taken to forming medium to large colonies primarily in and around the massive trees that thrive between the cracks in iterators’ rainstorm areas (like the one Gourmand, Survivor, and Monk’s colony lives in). Due to this social nature they also generally travel in groups of at least two, both for company and protection against tougher animals. Travel partners are usually siblings or good friends, and sometimes even whole families will journey out together to find food and other resources for the rest of the colony.

Despite being a small prey animal, slugcats have managed to get by not only due to their intelligence — the evolution of which would be seen as a rather unexpected twist of events if you asked their creators, for the Ancients found them cute but rather simple — but because of their impressive adaptability. It’s similar to that of real life red foxes and pigeons, and it allows them to survive decently well even in less ideal environments; a trait especially necessary for a world as industrialized as this one, even if its people are gone and most of the machinery is inactive. As such not all colonies live in trees; some find homes in the abandoned facilities, large underground hollows, and a few bold colonies have even claimed territories high up in iterator cities alongside scavengers. Slugcats are opportunists and masters at making the best of their surroundings, yet even beyond that they carry a certain other, “special” ability of their own that makes them as diverse as they are clever. But that’s a headcanon for another day…

Reasoning

Now for some out-of-universe explanation for this classification choice. I’ve always seen slugcats as some kind of small scurrying mammal (kind of a bias on my part, I just like mammals honestly, and they’re most familiar to me), mainly due to the way they look and move when on all fours, and their place in the game’s food chain. Originally though I saw them as rodents and compared them to mice and rats, which I still sometimes use for anatomy reference for these creatures. But one day a friend of mine saw me drawing slugcats and thought they were weird ferrets, and the more I thought about it and the more I developed personal speculative biology headcanons for slugcats, the more that label seemed the most fitting for them. It was also solidified when I did a bit more research and realized the main characteristic of rodents is their buck teeth, which just didn’t seem to fit with how I perceived slugcats. Not to mention rodents aren’t really predator animals, and slugcats’ implied natural diet and the gameplay itself does strongly imply if not confirm they have some instinctive hunting ability.

Thus, it seemed “weasel” was the best classification for these creatures, and I quite like it so far! Once again it satisfies my mammal preference, but I also just think it’s a fun idea that neither part of the “slugcat” name is literal, similar to a lot of real-life creatures named after completely different animals, including fellow weasel, the polecat. Plus, I realized recently it’s kind of ironic with how I perceive the messenger slugcats, Hunter and Spearmaster, as being like hunting or guard dogs for their creators, when weasels are exactly the kind of animal humans with their dogs would normally hunt for! It’s cute, it’s familiar, it’s fun, yet I think it still has just as much potential for some interesting speculative biology ideas as the literal slug slugcat interpretations!

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I'm so glad to finally get this out! I like seeing specbio slugcat headcanons in the RW fandom, yet I haven't seen many more in-depth takes from artists who don't take the "slugcats are literal slugs/mollusks/primarily mollusk-based" angle. Not that that's a bad headcanon of course; do what you think feels right! But once again I personally prefer slugcats being mammals, and I always look for fan-content that's as close to my personal preferences as possible. And when I can't find enough of it, I make it myself!

So hopefully this serves as a bit more of that kind of representation for the mustelid slugcat interpretation. It at least helped me develop my own idea of the species a bit more; much of that stuff in the overview part was ideas I came up with while typing this whole headcanon out!

As always, I hope you enjoy this headcanon of mine! I've still got so many ideas to develop and share, and even more coming as I continue to ponder these characters and their stories, so as long as you guys still like these Rain World headcanons of mine, they'll keep coming!

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autumnsvoice87 · 7 months ago

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Spoonie Sabath- Mabon

Mabon is here! The fall Equinox is here! Fall has officially begun and spooky season is already in full swing! This is my favorite time of the year. So for those that are new, Mabon is a celtic pagan holiday on the wheel of the year. When it was first introduced to me, I was told it was like a witches Thanksgiving.

It is the second harvest festival where they celebrate the good fortunes they have had this growing season. They give thanks to the Gods who are in charge of harvests and firtility, For without firtility, there couldn't be a harvest of crops! Mabon is the pagan holiday that rests on the Autumn Equinox.

Some witches take out the pagan part of Maybon and just celebrate the balance of light and dark on the equinox as well as just the harvest aspect. The spring and fall equinox is when the day light is equal to night time. It is often a symbol of balance so a witch may focus on balancing their energy, their body, their life etc. So today is another Spoonie list of celebrating this witch's holiday.

Coloring. Coloring can be a great way to balance stress out. There are many coloring sheets out there for fall. Some are kids coloring pages, and some are adult coloring. Whatever one you prefer is just fine. If you have problems with hand jerks or trembles, the kids' coloring sheets would be easier. It's also a great activity to do with kids if you have children or are babysitting for others. Some coloring pages you can get by downloading and printing off the internet. For a designated witchcraft one, they have some on Amazon. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/844987948812638690/

Light a candle. You can light an orange or red candle for Mabon instead of doing a full bonfire. Bonus points if it smells like apples, or pumpkin spice! If you can tolerate scented candles (not everyone can) they are readily available at the Dollar Tree or at Dollar general. There are many instances where people are not able to do bonfire's anyway but it is a favorite pasttime for celebrating the Equinox.

Fall foods. Many of us spoonies are probably not able to engage in baking and cooking up a great feast. Here are some cheats to consider. At wal-mart, they have mini pies for 75 cents (in my area anyway). You can get a Mini Pie for yourself or each of your family members. They are already baked and ready to go. You could warm them up in the microwave if you want to warm them up. Another idea is to get freash baked bread from the bakery. It's already baked good to eat. Pumpkin spice oatmeal for breakfast! or Apple Cinniamon is another oatmeal I love. For a meal for your family, a crock pot meal like chili is a must-have. Chili is easy to make. Just dump a bunch of canned beans, choice of meat and vegetables, and seasoning in a crock pot. There are many crock pot meal recipies out there to choose from. Baked potatoes are a good one, too. You can put them in the oven and you won't have to stand for very long.

Going outside. Going outside to enjoy the weather is good idea if weather permits. You can use a picker upper grabber to pick up leaves, acorns and pinecones to decorate your altars or your shelves. If you are a pagan parent, this a fun activity for kids too. A scavenger hunt is fun and you can do it on your own or with family. Use your mobility devices if you have them. Electric scooters and wheelchairs are aweseome for this if you have them. If you are not able to go outside, maybe have a family member go out and bring the scavenger hunt inside. Have them hide things they found in nature so you can try and find them. I know this isn't doable for everyone but even just sitting outside and watching the squirrels is good enough.

Cleansing your home. Cleansing your space of negative energies is a way to get rid of that no longer serves you. Many witches cleanse once a month anyway, but sometimes those of us with limited spoons can't always cleanse as often as we like. It also depends on the method of cleansing. Opening windows and smoke cleansing is what is most preferred and most taught method. Depending on our living situations, it's not always ideal. Some ideas to cleanse with minimal energy are to use sound cleansing music on youtube. There are several videos out there for sound cleansing. You can even use your own tools such as rattles, Bells, or drums if you have them. Another cleansing method is to use a spray. You can make your own using water and essential oils or using plain salt water works. It is something that is easy, and all you have to do is spray the room!

Stones. If you have a cage necklace, putting a gemstone associated with Mabon in it is a great way to celebrate. This is a great option if you don't have any energy to do anything else. Saphire, Yellow and Red Agates, Amethyst, Lapis Luzille, and Cornealian are the gemstones associated with Mabon. Right now, I am wearing Amethyst.

Donating to charities. Part of Mabon is giving thanks for the abundance we have in life. You could make a one-time donation to a charity of choice. Giving thanks for our abundance are in congruent with giving to people in need. Many of us Spoonies are probably on fixed incomes and may not be able to donate money. This is fine. Giving back to someone in need is the goal here. If you have any clothes collecting dust, you can donate to nursing homes, homeless shelters, and womens shelters. If you crochet or knit, you could make hats, scarves, and mittens for donations as well. Maybe a witchy friend needs some help with research.

Decorating. Mabon is a great time to do some decorating for fall and for spooky season. For us (spoonies), it can seem daunting and out of reach to do a whole house of fall decor. So let's pick one spot and decorate to the best of our ability. I have a general altar by my bedside on my nightstand. It can also be one spot in a book shelf, or even just one ornament. The goal is to decorate on a smaller scale so it is not so overwhelming. Also, it is okay to ask for help. If you have a PCA or friend/family member who can help you, it would be ideal. You may be able to cover more ground that way if you can get help with this activity.

Journaling. Journaling may end up in every article I write. So what do you journal about during Mabon? Start a gratitude journal, or write in the one you already have if you have one. Also, you can journal your goals and intentions for the upcoming year. This you can do laying down or sitting. Journaling helps us to see what we did accomplish and what we didn't . You may journal about new steps, new ideas, and anything that may help you accomplish your goals and intentions this year. Another option to journal about is journaling thoughts and ideas that no longer serve you. Journal about those negative thoughts about yourself or others and release the negativity to re-energize yourself.

Reading and doing research on Mabon or other fall celebrations around this time of year. There is so much to learn about this history of ancient pagans and their lore. Read some stories such as persephone's abduction and descent back into the underworld. Mabon is actually relatively new and based on Gerald Gardner's Wicca. Wicca is a neo-pagan religion that uses witchcraft. History is important to learning about making your own practice yours. https://www.reddit.com/r/witchcraft/comments/1flpdd7/happy_mabon/ This is just an overview.

Meditate. Meditation can be done laying down or sitting up. Whichever method you may prefer. Meditation on balance can be done in any way you can. Youtube has tons of meditation videos you can do to balance your energy. Youtube also has Mabon music and meditation videos, specifically for Mabon.

Celebrate Late. If you are not able to celebrate on the 20 or 21st and still want to, celebrate on a different day. In my opinion, you can celebrate anytime from the 18th-24th. Some older festivals lasted for days anyway.

If you don't have the energy, celebrate it when you are able to. Don't push yourself just because you feel you have to. If you miss this holiday, dont worry about it! You're still a pagan witch! Ancient pagans relied on the lunar calendar, and it is likely that the second fall harvest didn't land on the equinox.

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tribbetherium · 4 months ago

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While the daggarats, specialized zingos descended from saber-toothed Glaciocene hunters, now dominate most of the predatory niches of South Ecatoria, a few other species from other, more distant branches of the family tree still thrive on the continent. As the daggarats occupied large-predator niches, the other zingos ended up becoming smaller opportunists: being scavengers, insectivores, small-game hunters and generalist omnivores.

One of the more notable of these species is the mountain barredbandit (Bandacyon acervus) a small, nimble member of the zingo family commonly seen in the scrublands and foothils of the central region of the continent, where climates become fairly temperate. Forming loose family groups, the barredbandit is an avid hunter of small, generalist rodents like furbils and diskmice, as well as gregarious burrowing squizzels and nesting ratbats as well. To hide their kills from other predators, they cache their food in small hidden largers to eat later, and frequently engage in surplus killing when plenty of prey is available, in order to acquire plenty of food that can be left within easy access of other members of the group who may have had less success hunting. While their family bonds are loose, they have a sense of community, sharing their excess food in hopes that they too will be left with some leftovers when it happens to be their turn to have slim pickings.

This habit of hunting and killing in excess, frequently carrying entire litters of freshly-killed young furbils or duskmice in its mouth all at once after raiding a nest, has gotten it a very divisive reputation between the northhounds and the southhounds, whose territory it both overlaps as well as the mountainous regions that divided both sophonts. To the northhounds, crafty and resourceful beings who primarily prey on small game, the barredbandit is known as the "wise food-keeper", and is admired and revered in folktales for its habits of sharing and planning ahead for tight times. But to the southhounds, who hunt large prey and have cultural norms to only kill what they need, the barredbandit is despised for its "wastefulness" and "cruelty", and is spoken off in folklore in a more antagonistic light as a thief and a bully of bad character.

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#speculative evolution #speculative biology #speculative zoology #spec evo #hamster's paradise #species profile #the calliducyon saga

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gremlin-girly · 7 months ago

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Flufftober Day 5

Prompt: Acorn, Chesnut, Pinecone ( @flufftober )

Pairing: Halsin (BG3) x Gn!Druid!Reader

Warnings: None! (Not beta'd and a little rushed so I apologise)

Tags: Love confession (that I didn't write haha), but we assume it happens (I just had another idea for it and I didn't want to write another 2k on it), mutual pining

Summary: All children in Emerald Grove take part in an annual game to find 3 things within the forest. Having never played this before, and being a new member of the grove, you are ecstatic to play (despite being an adult) and challenge the arch druid himself to beat you in the game.

Word count: 1.7k

I hope you enjoy! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated 💜 Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

A/N: Another late one... I'm trying my luck here haha.

Prev | Next | Masterlist

“But... you are an adult.” Halsin's deep voice rumbles with amusement as he looks down at you, desperately trying not to grin and failing miserably. You were looking up at his broad frame, eyes glimmering with mischievous challenge. You never ceased to amaze the giant elf. It was no wonder he was sweet on you.

“But it’s a passing rite for all of the children of the grove,” you counter, hands on hips.

“Yes but it’s a game for children.” Halsin leans closer, gritting out the words so that the children nearby can’t hear. “it’s not a true rite-“

“Am I not a child of Silvanus?” you say loudly, giving Halsin a smug grin as some heads turn in your direction. He sighs, defeated, cracking a wide grin as he shakes his head.

“Yes, I sup-“

“Then it’s settled.” You say firmly, prodding at Halsin’s enormous chest. “I will complete the rite, as everyone else has. I’m not above taking part – am I?”

Halsin raises his hands in surrender, still smiling at you pleasantly. By Silvanus, he was utterly smitten. You could ask for anything from him and he would give it, more than willingly. “No, you are not.”

“And neither are you.”

Halsin raises an eyebrow at you curiously. “No, I’m not.”

Your mischievious smirk grows into a beaming, toothy grin. “Then you should take the rite with me.”

Halsin barks a laugh, which attracts more attention from the residents of the grove.

“I’ve already completed the rite. And once again, it is a game.” He chuckles, onlookers smiling knowingly as they continue about their preparations for the upcoming event.

“You completed it over two centuries ago,” You point out, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of your scheme. “And if it’s just a game... where’s the harm in playing it?”

“I’m sensing a challenge.” Halsin smirks and shakes his head, braids swaying softly in rhythm. “I’m the archdruid. I have things to do. I-“

“Please?” you cut him off again, giving your best doe eyed look to the gentle giant before you, watching his shoulders sag in defeat.

“How can I deny you? You make an excellent point.” He says, cheeks pinkening with a little embarassment at the prospect of playing a children’s game in front of his grove. Worse yet, he was actually slightly worried about how he’d fare. You, however, are just happy he’s agreed.

“Wonderful!” You clap ypur hands together excitedly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Halsin.”

Halsin watches as you make your way towards Kagha, animatedly discussing decorations and procedures for tomorrow, wondering how on earth he became so lucky to have you in the grove.

The following morning was a blur.

Decorations had been set up the night before and the children were ecstatic. Restless to begin the scavenger hunt that was a “rite” of passage to the grove. Colourful streamers hung from trees danced in the autumn breeze and smoke billowed from the fire pits that were already cooking food for the evening’s feast.

You had been trying to pry information for Kagha all night , whilst you helped her tie the streamers, about what the test would be like but she’d refused to answer.

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” she chuckled. “Like the rest of the children.”

You’d omitted to tell her that Halsin would be joining the festivities. A small piece of revenge for refusing to tell you what to expect.

When the sun was at it’s highest peak shining down across the woodland near Emerald Grove, the members of the grove gathered to watch the children being the “rite”. As it turns out, the “rite” was a treasure hunt. Specifically, a treasure hunt for random foragable items in the forest that tested a young druid’s ability of recognition. There were no rules as the game – rite – was simple. Find your items and return to the grove. The children were split into pairs and handed a piece of paper with their items listed, before being sent on their way into dense forest beyond the grove.

Naturally, you were paired with Halsin. As the only two adults taking part, Halsin had spun it as watching over the children to save himself the embarassment of telling everyone he’d be taking part. Not that you hadn’t told a handful of people already why he was taking part – or that some of the elders already knew why.

You looked at your list with furrowed brows of concentration. Chestnut, pinecone, Acorn. You’d already found a pinecone and knew where the chesnut and oak trees in the forest were, so the other two were going to be an easy find. You hated to admit it but Halsin had been right.

It irked you more that he was being so pleasantly smug about it too.

“You could have told me the kids go in pairs.” You huff, trapsing through the undergrowth in the direction of a chesnut tree. The scent of damp woodland was all around you, a comforting sense of home you couldn’t escape.

“It must have slipped my mind.” Halsin said cheerily, offering you a large hand to help steady you as you clambered over a fallen log. You take it but pretend to be begrudged by it, making Halsin chuckle.

“It’s not a real challenge either, is it?” You grumble, narrowing your eyes at him. So much for your grand plan of impressing him.

“No. But I did try to warn you.”

You kick a pebble trying to hide your frustration at your plan going so unbelievably sideways. You don’t realise you haven’t let go of Halsin’s hand.

“Oh!” you gasp, tugging your hand away quickly. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking.”

You wipe your sweaty palms on your clothes and your cheeks flush. Halsin says nothing, he only smiles adoringly, as you both make your way to a small clearing.

The sun beams filter through the trees, illuminating the clearing, bathing a chesnut tree in golden light. It looks magnificent. You stretch your arms wide before picking up a fallen chesnut, turning it in your hand to admire it. There were no marks , no worm holes. Utterly perfect. You hand it out to Halsin, who holds it between his gigantic thumb and forefinger.

“A perfect chesnut,” he comments, tucking away into a leather pouch on his belt with a smirk. “Congratulations. You only have one more left to find.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You mean we.”

“Of course. We.” He gives you another smile like butter wouldn’t melt. You’d swear up and down he was the embodiment of sunshine itself. Your eyes rake over his form with a resigned smile before you realise something.

You prod at the emblem on his chest. “Found the acorn.”

Halsin looks surprised and looks down to where you’re prodding him. The acorn emblem of Emerald Grove is engraved in his leather coverings. Halsin rumbles with laughter, his shoulders shaking with mirth and you struggle to stifle a giggle.

“Ah, I suppose you have. Although, I believe the rite calls for an actual acorn.” He can’t even speak to you without cracking a smile. You swat and his large chest playfully.

“The rite didn’t say anything about that.” You point out, and then press your palm over his emblem. Halsin stiffens and watches you carefully. You didn’t seem to notice you’ve placed your hand directly over his heart, and he’s trying desperately to stop it beating so hard; he’s too worried thinking you’ll feel it.

You smirk up at him with the mischevious glimmer in your eyes he’s grown to love, hand still pressed over his heart.

“So I believe I win. Or, we win.” You chuckle sweetly, smirk morphing into a beaming grin. Halsin looks at you awestruck as the sunlight bounces off your skin, illuminating all of your beautiful features as you smile just as radiantly as the sun. His sun-kissed skin tinges pink, along with the tips of his ears, for once unsure of what to say.

“Halsin?”

He blinks down at you. You’re looking at him expectantly, but your hand hasn’t moved. He clears his throat.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, fighting the the redness that threatens to rush to his face.

“I said; do you want to head back? Try and enjoy some of the food before the kids eat it all?” you raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for his answer.

Halsin swallows thickly. “I – yes. We could.”

He doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

You’re both looking at eachother, daring the other to pull away or to address the tension that had been building between you for quite some time. Your fingers trace the indents of the emblem idly and you open your mouth to speak but Halsin beats you to it.

“Why did you insist I come with you?”

You take a breath, not quite sure what to say. You offer a sheepish smile and a small shrug.

“Thought it would be good for you to get away. Have some fun.” You meet his soft brown eyes with your own. “Maybe I just wanted you to myself for a little while.”

Halsin’s shoulders sag with relief, one of his large hands envelop the hand over his heart. “You don’t have to bring me out here to have my attention,” He chuckles, squeezing your hand lightly. “You never have to ask for my attention.” His eyes have a playful glimmer as he looks at you. “And you don’t have to make an elaborate ploy to get me to spend time with you.”

Your breath catches and heat rushes to your cheeks. You chuckle timidly, caught red handed.

“Well... as we’re here then.” You look about the beautiful clearing, still bathed in golden light. “Shall we sit a while?”

By the time you return to the grove, you’re both strolling hand in hand with beaming smiles and adoring, bashful glances.

“Did you get all over your items?” Kagha calls out to you with a knowing smile.

Both you and Halsin blush. “I found something better.” You quip. “And I’m sure the Oak Father would be proud.”

#flufftober #fluff #flufftober 2024 #no beta we die like men #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate halsin #halsin x reader #halsin #halsin x you #halsin x y/n #day 4 #gremlin girly #gremlin girly writes #halsin fluff #gn!reader

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dreaminofdixon · 1 month ago

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Six.

The rest of the day dragged on, uneventful as hell, which was a rare gift in this shitshow of a world. I napped hard in my tent, and didn’t crawl out ‘til the group rolled back from town, arms full of scavenged loot. Carol and Lori worked some kind of culinary magic with the haul—canned goods and whatever scraps they could stretch—while Merle and Daryl strutted in with rabbits and squirrels slung over their shoulders. Douche or not, Merle paired up with Daryl like they were a hunting machine, and damn if it didn’t keep us fed. The meat was rich, smoky, a far cry from the cardboard rations we’d been choking down.

I took my bowl from Carol, muttering a quick “thanks,” and retreated to my unofficial perch—a weathered log at the back of camp. Close enough to fake being part of the group, far enough to breathe. No one bugged me much, just the occasional head-check since that store fiasco—how’s your noggin? Another day or two of that, and I’d fade back to my sweet spot: wallflower, unnoticed, unbothered.

“Hey, girl.” Shane’s voice slithered up, and I glanced over, forcing a tight smile—polite, not warm. Manners die hard, even when you’d rather tell someone to fuck off. He plopped down beside me on the log, uninvited, and I swallowed a cringe, keeping my face pleasant.

“How ya feelin’?” he asked, digging into his bowl like we were old pals.

“Not too bad,” I said, measured. “Better than earlier. You?”

“Pretty good, considerin’.” He chewed, eyeing me sidelong. “Wanted to check—feel up for a water run with me tomorrow?”

I shrugged, casual as I could manage. “Yeah, why not? Just filling jugs, right? Might as well pull my weight.”

“Good. Early start, before the heat kicks in.”

“Smart plan.” I took a bite of rabbit—juicy, damn near melting in my mouth, way better than any burger I’d ever choked down. Hunger’s a hell of a spice. Shane kept yapping, and I nodded along, half-listening. “So, how long have you and Rick known each other?” I tossed out, steering it off me. Knowledge is power, and Shane’s a puzzle I don’t trust.

“Middle school, I reckon.” He launched into some nostalgia trip—him and Rick playing superheroes, Rick glued to Superman, Shane all about Batman. “Rick’s the golden boy, huh?” he laughed, and I smirked.

“Fits,” I said, dry. “Superman and Batman—noble and… brooding.”

“Dark and mysterious, you mean,” he teased, winking, and I forced a laugh—short, clipped.

“Sure, that’s it.” Keep it light. Don’t let him see the side-eye.

Dale chucked more wood on the fire, flames licking up just enough to see by without screaming “walker buffet.” Shane rambled a bit longer—cop stories, bravado—and I nodded, picking at my food, ‘til I couldn’t take it.

“Gonna visit the lady’s tree,” I said, grabbing the toilet paper roll and a tiny lantern.

Squatting in the woods—another apocalypse perk I never saw coming. The world stinks worse without plumbing, trust me.

When I trudged back, lantern swinging, I caught Daryl’s eyes on me—sharp, fleeting, gone in a blink as he turned back to Carol, muttering something low. My lip snagged between my teeth, and I slipped back to my log, quiet as a ghost. Shane was off with Glenn now, gesturing big about something, and I let my gaze drift—Rick with Lori and Carl, Ed looming over Carol and Sophia, Glenn and Shane, Andrea and Amy, Jim with Dale and T-Dog, Merle and Daryl. Everyone had their crew.

Me?

Solo, as always. It stung, sharp and quick, and I hated that it did.

I stood, brushing it off, and rested a hand on Lori’s shoulder. “Gonna lay down, read a bit before I crash.”

“Alright, let us know if you need anything,” Rick said, all steady concern.

“Absolutely, sweetie. Night,” Lori added, soft.

“G’night,” Carl chirped, and I smiled down at him.

“Night, Carl.”

Morning hit like a wrecking ball—nine a.m., already sticky-hot. Shane and I hauled water jugs to his Jeep, and he started in again.

“So, what’d you do before all this?” he asked, grunting as he hefted a container.

“Network engineering,” I said, wrestling my jug into the back, sweat beading on my forehead. Adjusted my sunglasses, wishing like hell that I could hide behind them more.

“Network engineering?” He hoisted a bigger one, leaning on the Jeep, eyes lingering too long. “What’s that about?”

“You were a deputy, right?” I countered. He nodded, and I went on. “Radios, car computers, office systems—they tied into the state network. I kept that shit running.”

“Some kinda genius, huh?” he said, smirking, and I laughed—sharp, dismissive.

“Hell no. Just know which end of the cable goes where.” Wiped my brow, re-tied my messy bun messier. “That all the jugs?”

“Yep. Ready to roll?”

“Mm-hmm.” Climbed in, and he drove, dust kicking up behind us.

I braced for it—and there it was. “So, you in a relationship?” he asked, casual but prying.

I snorted. “Nope.” Stared out the window, dodging ghosts of my ex—five years of on-off hell, cheating, forgiving, rinse, repeat. Last breakup stuck, and good riddance—killed any itch for round two.

“Hard to believe,” he pressed, and I shot him a look.

“Believe it.” Flipped it back. “You? Special lady?”

Silence stretched—oops, I forgot. Lori landmine. “Nah,” he said finally. “Had a girl, split a couple months before shit hit.”

“Oh, gotcha.” Blessed quiet fell, awkward as hell, and I savored it ‘til we rolled into camp. We unloaded the jugs, he barked the “boil-water” reminder, and I bailed. “Thanks for the ride. Gonna lay down—headache.”

“Thanks for the help, doll,” he called.

I cringed—doll?—rolling my eyes as I hunted the Tylenol stash in the first-aid tote.

“You an’ Shane, huh?” Daryl’s voice cut through, low and rough, and I damn near dropped the bandaids, spinning to face him. He was perched on a log, whittling sticks into deadly little spikes—traps, probably, or walker skewers.

“Me and Shane?” I echoed, wary.

“Been hangin’ ‘round,” he said, eyes on his knife, not me.

“Not really.” I dug through the tote, avoiding his vibe. “Just hauled water today ‘cause I’ve been useless lately. Felt like I had to pitch in.”

“Mm.” Nonchalant, but his jaw tightened—barely noticeable unless you’re looking. He’d been like that since the store, when I’d fallen, cracked my head, and nearly became dinner to the undead. I’d been swinging, had taken out one walker and was about to take the other, but he’d stormed in wielding his knife, and hauled me up like I weighed nothing. Since then, he’s been… hovering. Not obvious—just there, watching.

“Could say the same ‘bout you and Carol,” I tossed back, smirking a little.

“Nah.” He shook his head, still carving.

“Mm.” Mimicked him, and he glanced up—blue eyes piercing through that dark fringe, catching mine.

Gotcha.

“Carol’s married,” he said, flat.

“That the only thing stopping you?” I arched a brow, teasing, testing.

“Stoppin’ me from what?” he shot back, and my face betrayed me—RBF in full force, screaming you know damn well. His lip twitched, that ghost of a smirk, before he dropped his gaze back to the stick.

“Obvious,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes—headache, allergies, take your pick. Always itchy, always a mess.

“You good?” he asked, and I swear there was a flicker of something—concern, maybe—under that gruff.

“Yeah. Just need these.” Snagged the Tylenol, popped two with a swig of water. “Might hit the creek, get out of the heat, sit for a bit.”

“Shouldn’t go alone,” he said, eyes tracking me, steady.

“I’ll live. No shelves to take me out this time.” I smirked, capping the bottle, feeling that warm prickle under his stare.

He shrugged, casual as hell. “Can’t promise Merle won’t sniff ya out. He’s with Rick now, though—should be safe.”

“Good to know.” Gave him a soft smile—cordial, like with Shane, but less forced—and headed for the trees, his gaze lingering like a brand.

****

Shane always kinda rubbed me the wrong way. What about you?

@imadisneyprincessiswear

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #norman reedus #daryl dixon twd #norman reedus smut #bigbaldhead #wwwbigbaldhead #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fan fiction

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thechillsquid · 6 months ago

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Giant Arthropods

Silverfish, Endermite, Bees, and more!

Shown above are some of the most well known and studied of the giant arthropods;

The Dungeon Silverfish (often just called a ‘silverfish’ despite the fact it is neither a true silverfish or a silver fish): A large predatory insect notable for their elongated bodies, habit to dwell in underground End dungeon locations, and their recorded habit of attacking in swarms. These insects are actually a kind of beetle, though living underground and growing to such massive sizes has reduced the need for wings and they’re secondarily wingless. While a single silverfish often will prey on smaller insects or mammals like rodents, they will attempt to hunt larger prey and in swarms can overwhelm a player.

The Endermite (also sometimes called an End Mite or Enderman Mite): While this species of massive mite (a type of arachnid related to scorpions, spiders, and ticks) is much rarer to actually encounter, as they are native to the End rather than the Overworld or Nether, they occasionally manage to fall through dimensional tears crated by enderpearl usage into the Overworld. While they are not venomous or known to swarm, they are highly aggressive and will attack if they feel their space is being threatened. They are more so scavengers/opportunistic feeders.

The Titan Bee (the largest species of bee that can currently be found in the Overworld): A generally peaceful species of massive bee similar in appearance to the more common and smaller carpenter bee. This species can often be found in large, open habitats, traveling from flower to flower as they collect food for their hives, which often are settled within oak or birch trees growing along the edge of forests. They are very fuzzy and will aggressively defend their hives from perceived threats, their massive size and subsquentially large venom sacs can cause nausea, dizziness, and sometimes fatal allergic reactions. In massive swarms they can kill even kill a player, though because of their massive size, they thankfully aren’t the fastest flyers and usually can be avoided. This being said, they are a high interest to those that enjoy honey and bee-keeping, and with the proper methods in place, keeping them is not difficult.

The Giant Bee (the second largest bee species in the overworld, much less common than their larger relative): Having a body plan similar to that of a bumble bee, this large species is commonly mistaken for young workers of the Titan Bee, however, unlike its larger relative, this species is almost exclusive found in forested biomes. Their smaller size helps them better maneuver in such areas but while much smaller, these bees are more prone to an aggressive response to disturbance of their hive. They often cause painful stings that can cause burning/itchy sensations or possibly more life threatening allergic reactions. Despite this, they are likewise prized for their honey and the fact that they are a lot easier for beginner or novice bee-keepers to manage than the larger Titan Bee, which can be more picky or selective in the hives they will accept.

While much more rarely talked about, there are a lot more giant species of arthropod, these are some of the more commonly discussed or encountered. Note this covers only a small proportion of the expansive types of arthropods one may find out in the world.

The Titan-Killer (this parasitoid wasp preys on the larva of the Titan bee, thus the name): This wasp will sneak into the hives of the Titan bee, piercing either cocooned bees and/or larva with its elongated ovipositor, laying its eggs on the unlucky individual. When the wasp’s eggs hatch, they will eat the developing bee/bee larva alive, pupating in the hive cell its host was inside, and emerge as new adults after a period of development. They share a striped pattern with the bees and will even mimic the bees scent pheromones to deceive any workers that do come across them while inside the hive. They can be an issue for developing hives but otherwise are of no threat to players or most other mobs.

The Giant-Killer (this related parasitoid wasp specializes in preying upon the Giant Bee rather than the Titan Bee): With a similar lifestyle to the Titan-Killer, this wasp is much smaller and mostly relies on avoiding the adult bees and sneaking into the hive in order to similar inject vulnerable developing bees/bee larva with its eggs. The eggs hatch, consume the bee, pupate in the cell, and leave the hive. They can be a bit more tricky to deal with due to their more skittish nature though they are likewise harmless to players and other mobs.

The Goliath Firefly (a very rarely seen species, they once were rumored to be found in the swamps and mangrove forests, but their numbers have been greatly reduced to near mythical status): These fireflies are massive beetles with very distinct sexual dimorphism, the females being nearly twice the size of the smaller males with underdeveloped wings incapable of flight. The females elytra (the hardened forewings of beetles) are visible in adulthood but completely vestigial. The males can be spotted in flight looking for the light signals produced by the ground dwelling female, their smaller size and functional wings giving them better mobility than the usually stationary female.

The Enderian Firefly (A species from the End, one of the few large arthropods found there besides the Endermite, a couple ground beetles, and several large crickets): These fireflies act behaviorally very familiarly to their Overworld cousin, however rather than spending their time in leaf litter, they live along the chorus fruit forests. The females, which are notable for their armored appearance and complete lack of wings (vestigial or functional) are adapt climbers that will work their way up the chorus fruit trees to better signal to the smaller, flying males. The males of this species are notable for having a design like that of an eye of ender along their elytra, though whether this may indicate selective breeding for this feature by the ancient ender societies that used to exist within the End pre-societal collapse, or is merely coincidental, this is not well known. These fireflies, while more populous than their Overworld relative are still very rarely encountered.

The Harvest Termite (there are several more castes not shown in the image, however the solider and worker are the mostly commonly seen of this species and thus the selected representatives for the species): A semi-arid dwelling termite species notable for their large size and curious ‘moon’ like head coloration along the head. They act and behave much like their smaller cousins, though their size can make them a pesky species to deal with, particularly when they bite. While their bites are generally more irritating and painful than deadly, a group of them can cause significant injury.

The Shear-Jawed Ant (Similarly to the Harvest Termite, this ant species has several castes but the main ones showcased here are of the solider and worker castes): One of several massive ant species, this desert species is notable for the mandibles found on the solider caste as well as the spines ridge along the back of its exoskeleton. The jaws in particular appear similar to shears with a more hooked and serrated edge, made for cutting off flesh from carcasses or unfortunate prey, they can also cause severe bites. These ants are mainly nocturnal and can come in conflict with players when unknowingly setting up camp near one of their nests, the workers and soldiers travel long distances for food and resources. It is thought that many of those lost in the desert and never seen again were dealt with by a hungry swarm of these ants. Though recorded deaths caused by these ants have yet to be confirmed.

The Eyed Roach (one of several large roaches, they are one of the most recognizable for the pattern on their pronotum, the shield-like structure that often hides the head from overview): A peridomestic species often found near or in villages along the Savannah plains or semi-arid habitat, they feed on anything and everything though are mostly harmless save for the possibility of mechanical transmission of disease. Elsewise they very rarely will be out during the day and are incredibly skittish and quick despite their wingless nature and size.

The above image showcases the largest known arthropods in both the overworld and nether dimension, those of the massive spiders and centipedes.

The Common Wolf-Eater Spider (also known simply as ‘spiders’ by most players due to their reputation): These massive spiders are known ravenous predators that have been recorded catching and killing anything from wolves, sheep, cattle, players, etc. They can be found almost anywhere above ground across differing climates and habitat types, though thankfully, they are restricted to the Overworld. They are nonvenomous, but their massive fangs can still cause great damage. They are best dealt with in well-lit areas or during the day as they almost become ‘docile’ in well lighted conditions, most likely because their prey can better sense and spot them and thus its easier to save their energy for when they have a greater advantage. They are thankfully mostly solitary though if a group senses blood or an injured entity, they will gather together to tackle the possible prey.

The Cave-Dwelling Wolf-Eater Spider (also known simply as ‘cave spiders’ by players due to their reputation): These large spiders are nearly two times smaller than their larger above ground relative, though this does not make them less dangerous. Infact, these vigorous spiders are known to active live in massive groups/colonies and hunt coordinately. They also are notable for having massive fangs that inject a venom that causes illness, vertigo, drop in blood pressure, etc. Some players have even been shown to go into cardiac arrest or organ failure if struck by a large enough group. While they are rarer to encounter, they can be highly deadly and persistent, particularly considering the fact that with their somewhat smaller size, places and holes that might keep one safe from a ‘common spider’ will not keep you save from this species.

The Birch Spider (also known as the Forested Spider or the ‘knuckle-head spider’ due to the habit of them accidentally dropping on player’s heads from above): Exclusively found in the birch forests in the Overworld, this spider is the much smaller and less deadly relative of the ‘cave’ and ‘common’ spiders. They also, unlike the fore-mentioned two, are web-builders rather than pursuit predators. They often prey upon large and small flying insects that get stuck in their webs along with small rodents and reptiles. Their venom can cause irritation but rarely triggers much else than a sore spot where bitten.

The ‘Cave-Crawler’ (aka Hell’s Centipede, one of the very rare, yet highly adapted, giant Nether arthopods): This massive ambush predators mostly feeds on unfortunate striders, lone pigmen, and young hoglins that come across their hidden burrows carved into netherrack walls. They usually keep themselves hidden away in these burrows until they sense approaching entities and struck, inflicting a venomous bite before retreating into their burrow. The bite will often start to feel itchy and irritated before growing numb as a paralysis agent works through the body, eventually leading to organ failure, coma, and eventually death. These giant centipedes will then follow the scent trail of their injured prey and drag the body back to feed on in their burrows. They have a heavy armor that is nearly impossible to pierce with even the toughest of swords though their softer underbellies are more vulnerable. They can however be scared off with bright lights and strong scents like mint or citrus as the strong smells disorientate them. They are rarely encountered or rarely discussed because of the dangers in study them. The Oakworm (aka the Overworld Mega-Centipede due to its unusual size): This centipede species is larger a scavenger and opportunistic hunter, wandering about and eating what it comes across. They, unlike the Hell’s Centipede, a distant relative, will not attack organism larger than themselves, preferring to stay hidden under moist, cool logs in dense forests during the day and emerging at night to feed. They were originally mistaken for a massive species of worm, thus their odd name in reference.

The Hero’s Stickbug (aka the walking sword): A highly camouflaged, elusive herbivore from the Overworld, this species while massive, often stays out of sight as much as possible. They usually live in dense forest canopies, feeding on fresh growth.

And there we have some of our many Giant Arthopods! Due to the high oxygen levels in the atmospheres of the differing dimensions, the restriction of size caused by capability to carry oxygen throughout the body is little concern. However, this wasn’t always the case as it can be noted via recent research that many of these massive arthropods are technically much younger species than their smaller counterparts.

Infact, I think the rise of these massive arthropods is linked with the post End-exodus event (also called the post-End disaster event) whereas some unknown event caused the near complete destruction of Enderman society, the vanishing of the great unknown ancient society responsible for crafting the Warden and Exodus portals these entities guard, and possibly the rise of The Infections (the main terrible diseases of the pigmen plague, the death-curse illness, and The Corruption).

I think that when one of the ancient civilizations attempted to escape from some horror (be it war, famine, or sickness) after failing to find salvation in first the Nether and then the End, they returned to the Overworld and created the Exodus portals found in the Deep Dark, punching their way through to a currently unknown, theoretical fourth dimension. This dimension’s introduction to the known three caused shifts in magical systems, the atmosphere, etc. and either assisted in or caused the massive extinction event that occurred some millennia ago.

It was as the surviving organisms of this incident managed to adapt and thrive that diversification was able to take hold. There is still much to piece together and figure out, particarly when trying to craft a timeline or estimation of species origin can be so difficult and time consuming.

Either way, I thank you for viewing my admittedly limited showcasing of some of the many impressive Giant Arthopods of the known three dimensions.

#my art #traditional art #speculative biology #minecraft biology #Minecraft mobs #Minecraft speculative biology #minecraft spider #minecraft silverfish #minecraft endermite #minecraft bee

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