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nightmarearian · 3 months ago

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Turns out, Odysseus thinks hysterically, being on a magic island with a Titan’s child for seven years has… affects.

What the fuck, he thinks. Calypso and Hermes looks just as confused as he feels. (Which rules out that this might be one of Calypso’s schemes. She can’t truly act for the life of her; It’s always in her eyes and she can’t do a long act).

There are scales on his arms. And legs. And neck. And basically everywhere, actually. They come in patches and in different concentrations; The biggest batch is the one already consuming his abdomen, and meeting with the ones growing on his thighs and just generally his legs The other highest concentration is on his elbows, and they spread faster down towards his hands.

They’re a mix of sea-green-blue and gray; Some of the pale-soot colored scales bounce off a warm hazel or sunset-orange in the dappled sunlight that leaks through the trees. The gray - and especially the warm-gray - patches have some dusky gray and sepia feathers peaking out, in between the scales. The most of them are around his neck or from his elbows through his forearms. His hands have grown into aqua tipped webbed claws as well.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, he thinks on a loop. As he huffs a hysterical laugh, he can feel his teeth having sharpened into needle point snake-like fangs and on that point - his tongue has thinned into something rough and forked. A snake’s tongue as well. The panic increases. (There are whispers in the wind now, feeling of his dead crew).

His ears twitch as he looks at his reflection in a nearby stream, peacefully running like everything in Ogygia, and - holy mother of Zeus what the fuuuuck

His… ears (can he even call them that? His hearing still seems the same…) have transformed into… fins? They remind him of the sirens’ ears, actually, though a bit wider and thinner. They’re mainly the same sea-green-blue color that the scales decorating mainly his lower half are, only fading into a cool blue gray as they near his head. …Are those more feathers behind his fin-ears??? (Scratchy ghost hands reach out of the water, like they did the River Styx. Not real, not real, he automatically tells himself, ignores them).

He turns back to the two gods, who are still staring at him; He feels his fin-ears(???) dip down in panic.

Hermes at least seems like he’s thinking - and worried - even if Odyseeus can’t see his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at Calypso much for anything, but the quick glance he gives seems to spell a similar expression, if not with a bit of… anger. Or disgust. (He hopes it’s the latter; He still feels a spike of fear at the anger. Nothing good ever came of her, much less of her anger).

(Odysseus doesn’t notice in his hysteria, but as his breathing picks up, his legs fuse together, into a snake tail. Hermes catches the moment).

Hermes seems to have thought of something, as his shoulders drop just the slightest and he slowly floats towards Odysseus, as if he was an unbroken horse (or monster, Odysseus thinks. He did say he’d become the monster but this- this is-), holding his hands in front of him in a placating gesture.

“Calm,” Hermes breathes in soft voice. Odysseus tries to follow the god’s orders. “Calm,” Hermes whispers again.

He’s done this before, he thinks, as he turns his gaze on the grass floor, unfocusing. Despite whatever in his gods forsaken travels or the war. Shut it all off. (turn off your heart, a ghost Athena murmurs behind him. Not real, he knows. Follows anyway. Why didn’t he listen to her all those years ago.)

Odysseus can’t do it as.. cleanly as usually could with the whole… well. But he tampers it down a bit. Evidently at least Hermes is willing to help. (He ignores his thoughts on how Penelope might react). They’ll… figure something out.

He tries to think about it calmer; He can feel his panicked tangled thoughts flow into a familiar, calmer weaving feeling, like whenever he makes a good plan and all it’s variables. Is it a curse from Poseidon? The fins and sea-green make him think that, if not for the feathers that are definitely not part of the Earthshaker’s realm. The feathers actually make him think of Athena but- but she didn’t answer him earlier- or did she? Hermes seemed uncomfortable and oddly tightlipped about… something; Something happening in Olympus, Odysseus can guess that much. Regardless, the most of… this seems to a snake. Snakes are either of Athena, Hermes, or Ares.

“d...eus,”

Odysseus has never even met Ares, that goes to Diomedes, he absentmindedly thinks - only Hermes and Athena, and the silver & sienna scales and feathers are very in their domain, however, Hermes obviously doesn’t know much about it, so he can really only think it’s Athena - the myth of Medusa flashes in his mind - except again, he points out against himself, the fins. They’re so clearly Poseidon, and he knows the both of them - Athena better - enough that he knows they’d rather impossibly die that work together for something as so small as a curse.

“Ood...seuusss,”

But if Poseidon can hold a grudge and he knows Athena well enough to know that she does to, as much as she denies, but still then, why would it be years after - is it cause he called to her?

“Odysseus!” Hermes half yells. The mortal in questions jumps, standing again. …When did he stop standing in the first place …wait a minute was he higher than usual earlier? Think about that later, Odysseus tells himself, shaking off the familiar feeling of fading into his thoughts.

Odysseus looks up towards Hermes, who looks a bit worried, but not as panicked as he did earlier. Odysseus looks back down at himself. There are still some scales and feathers, but considerably less. His hands have dulled down - they’re still sharper than usual, but they’re not claws, and the webbing between them is similarly less.

He feels around his mouth. His tongue is still… forked, but that’s all - still a human tongue otherwise; his fangs are still sharp, though.

“Yesss?” It’s harder to speak with a forked tongue and fangs. There’s a slight hiss and lisp at the end of the word.

Hermes doesn't respond, glancing at Calypso, then Odysseus, then Calypso again before partially turning to her, lips pressed, adopting a colder expression, like he did when he was addressing Calypso earlier, to tell them Odysseus was finally free. Hermes nods his head towards the general direction of Calypso’s ‘home’. Calypso opens her mouth, indignant, but the pressure in the air increases as Hermes’ wings stretch up and out, spreading the feathers in an act Odysseus can somehow instinctively tell is meant to intimidate. Calypso closes her mouth, still looking upset but cowed, and she runs off.

Hermes turns back to him, the wings furling back into resting near the god's ears, pressure in the air lifting. He stares for another moment, before sighing and giving Odysseus a small smile, infinitely softer than his usual mischievous ones.

He floats towards Odysseus (careful and gentle and so much unlike Calypso-) and tucks some of his curls behind his slightly-webbed ears, careful around the scales; he lightly ruffles his head like he used to when Odysseus was so, so much younger.

"Should be fine, my friend," Hermes whispers. "Rises with your emotions, no?" Hermes watches the wheels turn in Odysseus' head. Yeah, Odysseus thinks, mind blank in a good way that it hasn't been in a long while. Okay. He nods. "Smart, kid," Hermes whispers.

One of Hermes' ear-wings twitch, and his head minutely tilts towards Calypso's 'home' before tilting back to Odysseus. Hermes softly runs his hand behind Odysseus' head and leads him towards the beachside. There's a raft bobbing back and forth with the waves.

They're really letting me go, Odysseus walks towards the raft, water splashing against his legs. He turns back to Hermes who- is gone- wait no; Hermes flits back from somewhere, wings fluttering and a moderately large basket full of food, water, and clothing in his hands that he pushes into Odysseus' hands.

The god gently hurries Odysseus onto the ship, and after setting down the basket helps him push the raft into the open sea. With Hermes' help, Odysseus is far enough out to barely see the shape of Calypso, once she made to the coastline; Odysseus turns his head away from her. From Ogygia.

Hermes stays with him for a while, until Ogygia's silhouette is shrouded in fog, fading into sky. Hermes watches it fade away, as Odysseus keeps his eyes trained to the open sea (Captain-).

The messenger god turns back to Odysseus, and hovers in front of him. He lightly ruffles his hair again, and his hand cups the side of his head as Hermes ducks his head down and presses a kiss to his great-grandson's forehead.

"Call my name, and I shall be there," Hermes murmurs with a fond smile. With that, Hermes dissipates in a quiet flutter and feathers.

ok. so. this developed into great-grandfather hermes. uhm. yeah. anyway. so, in procrastinating on this I now have a full tag for monster-ody-au, it's called Ithacan Naga AU.

*ody has been dissociating his entire stay on Calypso’s island, besides maybe the first year, where he hadn’t spent enough time to be affected. His heightened emotions at leaving cause the actual affects to show, btw.

So! There's absolutely a ref post with a verrry long conversation in the replies that talks about it but to formally do it/add onto it: > Ody's scales are mainly/usually sea-blue-green to gray/purple, but changes colors based on lighting! > Ogygia isn't meant to be inhabited by normal people (or smth), so after seven years + Calypso's inherent magic (as a titan's daughter) it changes Odysseus into basically what Ithacans/Ody would be if he was greek monster, which is why he doesn't notice it & why it's overall very natural. -> Ithacans would really just be sea-snake nagas with some feathers. Ody is special cause he's a descendent of Hermes (and maybe Zeus) & Athena blessed, so he gets wings. > He's venomous! > He can "unhinge" his jaw (Snakes have an extra[?] bone called a quadratic bone that connects the top half of their skull & their jaw, which lets them extend it more. The jaw is also in two parts & has a stretchy ligament to let it stretch). > Full length naga, Ody is like... 27-33 ft? > He has three pairs of wings, one of the small of his back, near his waist, and the other two on the side of his snake half. > He gets gills! Three near his human ribs, a few several spaced out throughout his snake half.

Small headcannons that make a cameo in this: > Hermes used to hang out with little Odysseus (and Ctimene) before Athena (and Ares) came along and chose Ody (and Mene) > Ody has schizophrenia (and PTSD, by now).

...my battery is about to die & I can't remember anything else so that's all for now

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bathic · 2 months ago

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1. But something about the date...

Word Count: 2.3k

Hongjoong marked this day down without any explanation. He didn’t need one, or maybe he did, but not something worth blotting his journal in ink over. The alpha could live with just knowing, experiencing.

But something about the date, glaring back at him in his own conjured scribble followed him all the way to the shared cafeteria. Other packs grouped together at tables, some breaking apart to mingle with differing hordes while idly moving through the monotonous slide of the serving line. He could peep Yunho towards the center, beside him with a pout, San. With a cursory sniff tucked downward by the drop of his chin to his chest, he could smell the blueberry pancakes, breakfast sausages and scrambled eggs curtesy of the morning’s set menu. And a whole lot of scent blockers. Like non-scented medicinal lotion, laying a thin layer of something vaguely tangible to one’s nose over the spike of spices and sugar— it was a bit of a nauseating concoction that he still hasn’t gotten used to.

The group home, or pack orphanage required that every resident used the scent preventative, transdermal patches when pre-heats and pre-ruts cycled through the months, when present in any of the public spaces. A safety measure to keep from any involuntary provocation between packs. Especially during scheduled cycles— pre-present-post.

Hongjoong didn’t really have his qualms about not being able to smell anyone, not even his pack members. But the patches that stuck to his scent glands like a tight stretch of skin made his own itch, made his neck feel taut. Pre-rut settled into his lower stomach in the early hours of the morning, making his muscles ache and the scent of black currant to sour slightly beneath his nose. Seonghwa had looked at him empathetically, patch kit in hand before settling between his legs to lay the patches on his scent glands.

The taller male, anointed ‘unofficial’ head omega by the group, offered a small smile whilst patting down the opaque adhesive edges. “The pack across the hall are leaving today.”

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered upward from his zoning point, one of the buttons on Seonghwa’s white uniform shirt, to gaze at the other. “I’m sure Wooyoung is taking the news poorly.”

“Not as bad as you’d expect. He’s happy to see Yeonjun’s pack get chosen, maybe a bit melancholy but nothing that can’t be solved with a bit of cuddling in the nest.”

Taking a step back, and with hands as soft and gentle as a feather, Seonghwa assessed his work with a guiding touch to Hongjoong’s jaw, turning his head to and fro’ before letting go to fuss with the patch kit. Something akin to a hollow stone settled an unusual amount of weight in the alpha’s stomach. While he couldn’t say that the news was unwelcome, that he was bitter about the pack across the hall getting a chance at a proper life, to be protected and loved— a part of him did feel green eyed. They hadn’t been around for long, arriving in a heap of shivering messes drenched by a summer downpour about a month or so after Hongjoong’s own pack settled in. Everyone here, no matter how long the days piled up on the waiting list had an equal opportunity to be chosen. And yet, a small pinch within his chest felt like it was unfair that they were leaving before them, his pack.

Seonghwa didn’t need the ability to smell Hongjoong’s rapidly souring scent to know what he was feeling, being the eldest of their pack and the head omega made his sense of observation just as keen as his smell. “I know what you are thinking. And it isn’t very becoming of you, Hongjoong-ah.”

Hongjoong sighed, pouting slightly from being unearthed like a beetle beneath a rock. “Can you really blame me, Hwa?”

“No, I guess I can’t.” Seonghwa departed towards the shared bathroom, placing the patch kit on a wooden shelf above the toilet. When he returned, choosing to instead lean against the frame of the bathroom with his willowy arms crossed over his chest. “But I know it isn’t right to harbor such feelings for our friends. They deserve this opportunity just as much as we do, just as much as any of the packs here do. How do you think those who have been here years before any of us feel seeing the newer packs that have only recently been roomed be plucked up and taken away? They have years of being overlooked, while we only have a month.”

He knew the omega was right, that their pack and the pack deigned ‘TXT’ by the pack orphanages coordinators practically had the same amount of time spent here. A month wasn’t anything compared to, say— five years.

Hongjoong didn’t really have anything else to say, aside from the obvious ‘you’re right’. Or rather, he didn’t want to admit what else brewed negatively beneath his skin. But Seonghwa was nothing but knowing.

“There’s something else that’s bothering you.” Not a question but an observation.

“Just… thinking about what to get everyone for Christmas. It’s five days away, and I’m struggling a bit with Yeosang and Mingi’s gifts.” He picked a bit at the dry skin around his nail beds, avoiding any eye contact that would give him away so easily. Which was futile because he knew that Seonghwa could tell he wasn’t being truthful.

The omega hummed, kicking off the doorframe and walking towards the center of the pack den. Choosing to ignore rather than pry was an indicator that the eldest was aware of the unspoken hindrance on Hongjoong’s mind but wouldn’t force an answer out of him. The alpha would, eventually, come to him for counsel and they would pick apart every layer of his doubts and worries and inner turmoil until he had nothing left but an empty space in his mind to fill with more important things— like his love for his pack or the fond memories from over the years.

“Will you be joining us for breakfast? The others wanted to have a little sending off for Soobin and his pack before they left.” Seonghwa fixed the other with a soft look, arms still crossed over his chest.

“In a moment, I have something I need to write down in my journal before it slips my mind.” Hongjoong spared the omega a small smile, of which was returned with a nod before the other departed from the room.

Left with only himself, the alpha let the weight of his insecurities bear down on him. He was an alpha, presented as such at eighteen and while he didn’t dislike his societal role, he found himself truly feeling out of place more often than not. Sure, he could command, did so very often when it came to the younger members of his pack acting out. That wasn’t hard. Being authoritative wasn’t hard. But what was, was keeping up the ruse in private. Hongjoong was a different person behind closed doors, when in the shielded sanctuary of his pack den and surrounded by his members, he was soft. And not just caring soft, he wasn’t Seonghwa in the slightest. The alpha was… well, submissive. While still wielding a sharp-edged dagger when disagreements needed settling, it was difficult to break past the fog of wanting to be vulnerable when in the safety of his pack.

That was where he found himself questioning his leadership more often than not. How could an alpha, the one person capable enough to carry the weight of one’s pack, to lead without fault, to protect and provide and—

Hongjoong stood up, abruptly ceasing the internal pounding of his thoughts. His journal was stacked atop everyone else’s, a gift given by the coordinators to help any of the packs that struggle with trauma have a means for their voices to be heard without engaging verbally.

How could he be an alpha when he wanted nothing more than to relinquish the reigns and follow someone else’s lead for once?

The pen in his hand moved a bit across a blank page, and he figured that maybe his answer would appear somewhere within the ink.

+•+

Wooyoung perked up visibly upon seeing a mop of familiar fawn colored hair, the longer strands towards the back of the alpha’s head curving slightly over the front of his shoulders. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up!”

Hongjoong placed a hand on Yunho’s shoulder as he slipped into the seat between the tall beta and his youngest pack member Jongho. “Just had a bit of writing to do.” He spared a knowing glance towards Seonghwa, whom was in the middle of a conversation with Soobin and Yeonjun. The other group seemed to have intermingled themselves amongst their own. With the two ‘heads’ of the pack talking amicably with Seonghwa, Beomgyu showing something to Yeosang excitedly and Taehyun and Kai goading Mingi into an impromptu arm wrestle.

“Did you hear?” San leaned a bit forward over his tray of food, nearly dipping the front of his uniform shirt into the syrup drowning his pancakes. He was giddy, smiling wide enough for his dimples to show.

“Assuming you’re asking about the pack across the hall leaving today— then yes, I have heard.”

The omega visibly deflated, plopping back into his seat in disappointment. San wanted to deliver the good news, but it seemed he was just a bit behind the jump. Wooyoung gave his upper arm a soothing pat.

“It’s a bit bittersweet seeing them go but I would prefer they did than to stay here. Not saying this place is bad or anything but, compared to being in a proper home with the room to grow and to settle comfortably with your pack. I’d pick that over anything.” Jongho remarked, scooping eggs into his mouth as an afterthought.

“I wonder what their alpha is like. I bet they’re some big-wig CEO.” Wooyoung whispered conspiratorially.

The sudden talk of alphas and ideal pack living made Hongjoong’s gut tighten miserably. He couldn’t blame them for discussing the topics as he too wanted those things, but it just made those nagging thoughts of inability and failure churn restlessly in his mind. He could have provided that, could have given them a proper home to grow in, could have made it so that all eight of them settled into a life that they woke up happily enough to be living but instead, he barked more than he could ever bite, and that outcome is what led them being here. Because he couldn’t be that CEO, couldn’t be the alpha.

Yunho nudged him slightly, having noticed that he had seemed to almost curl up into a small ball while San and Wooyoung chattered back and forth about the pampered life their friends were about to bestowed. Jongho would interject from time to time, but the alpha couldn’t pluck the cotton from his ears long enough to catch any of it.

“Are you okay?”

Hongjoong swallowed, offering a bit of a watery smile that looked very much like a grimace. The beta paused mid-chew; cheeks puffed outward into smooth slopes.

“Yeah, just, pre-rut and all.”

Yunho wasn’t convinced and honestly, if someone told Hongjoong the same thing— he wouldn’t be either. Inwardly, he cursed his terrible persuasion skills.

Luckily though, just before Yunho could truly question him, the overhead intercom crackled to life and the voice of the take-in coordinator announced for TXT to gather their belongings and arrive for pick-up in the lobby. Simultaneously, pack members jumped up and gathered each of the five into their arms, patting backs and rubbing cheeks and whispered congratulatory words. All of it felt like watching a celebration from the outside of a house, looking in through a narrow window at the wide smiles and celebratory handshakes. Hongjoong couldn’t find it in himself to be sincere, not in his words for his actions. But he tried, giving his hugs a bit more squeeze to them, his shoulder pats a little more weight and his send-off remarks just the slightest bit sweeter.

Wooyoung was crying into Seonghwa’s chest, despite the fact that he was happily yapping away only moments ago. Him and Yeonjun had grown close, best friends as the omega had put it. His darling, another term he bestowed upon the other omega, of which was reciprocated in kind. And now the realization seemed to be hitting him tenfold, that his beloved friend was now leaving for a better life.

Hongjoong itched to comfort the omega, wanted to wipe his tears away. To sooth Wooyoung, and San who had also begun crying and Mingi and Seonghwa. Yunho had taken to crowding both San and Mingi under his arms, rubbing the back of their necks as they waved pitifully with wobbly lower lips as the other pack bustled on out of the cafeteria. Seonghwa cooed with mushed tears gathering along his waterline into Wooyoung’s mop of black hair with Yeosang draping himself around the sobbing omega’s back. Jongho remained passive, at least at a glance but his hand had inched up from his side and slipped into Hongjoong’s. His grip was firm and trembled slightly. The alpha could only give the soft skin on the back of it a stiff swipe, a poor excuse for proffered comfort.

They settled after a couple minutes, although nobody had the appetite to finish eating.

Hongjoong didn’t have an appetite to begin with.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez fic

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aspecriddler · 2 years ago

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THEE Guide to Not Being a Punk Poser

Hey, so if you're reading this, you may or may not be looking to get into the punk scene, and you also may or may not be at a total loss on where to start

Well fear not! I am here with this little introduction post on how to Not Be A Poser (title pending)

FIRST UP: The Ideals

When it comes to the ideals of alternative subcultures, this graphic by @theygender (hope the tag is ok, lmk if it isn't) is the best summary I've ever seen

And if you're like me, you're solidly on the line between punk and grunge, but leaning just a bit more punk. This is fine /gen

Punk is about community. Punk is about fighting for a better future. Punk is about doing no harm and taking no shit. Punk is about looking out for the underdog. If you don't embody these values then you're not punk. The ideology of Punk is, in my opinion, the most important part of the subculture

But if you've been doing your research you already knew that. Now let's get into what a lot of people call the fun stuff: the music and the fashion

SECOND: The Music

There are a Lot of different subgenres of punk music, the most famous being punk rock and folk punk. I subscribe more to punk rock because I really enjoy fast music

Bands to look for include: Sex Pistols, Dead Kennedys, Pansy Division, Dog Park Dissidents, Cheap Perfume, Mommy Long Legs, Gang Green, The Germs, Rage Against the Machine, G.L.O.S.S., X-Ray Spex, The Cramps, Circle Jerks, Crass, Limp Wrist, and Pure Hell

Of course there's a lot more but those are some staples plus some of my personal favorites. You can find my personal punk playlist here

Overall the sound is Loud and it is Angry. There are many songs about killing cops and hating capitalism and it fucks. If you like funky basslines, sick ass drums, angry yelling, and shredding guitars this music is for you

PART THREE: The Fashion

Okay, okay, I had to save the quote unquote best for last. Imo the fashion of punk is the most diy out of almost any other subculture

Literally anything you can get your hands on can become fashion. Steal what you can, pick up shit off the side of the road, and if you can't/don't know how to do something get a friend in the scene to either teach you or commission them or something

Brands? The fuck is that, the only brands you need to know are Rit fabric dye, goodwill, etsy (sometimes), your local craft store, and a good spike maker (I don't deal with spikes currently so I have no good resources for them, so other punks feel free to chime in!)

Want cool metal shit? Take apart cans and turn them into spikes. Take a lighter apart and use those metal bits. Steal safety pins from walmart.

Want/need to sew something? Yarn and a tapestry needle if you can't get/don't want to use dental floss. When sewing patches do a straight stitch around followed by a hobo stitch around again and that shit will stay forever. Alternatively pin patches on with safety pins, this works pretty well in a pinch

Fabric paint is your best friend!!! Start with a white base layer and the colors will be much more vibrant. Don't think you have painting skills? Doesn't matter, you're punk and you have the audacity to wear whatever you make with pride

Invest in a leather jacket. I don't mean in terms of money, I got mine at goodwill for ten bucks. But it will change your life. I recommend getting two: one to keep plain and one to diy. Also flannels are good for diy and can also be made into vests for warm weather very easily.

Both of these flannels I decorated myself in a matter of hours. If I can do it, so can you

Also! When you cut the sleeves off of a flannel you can use the extra fabric to make diy pockets :3

PART FOUR: Community and Conclusion

So this is kind of my close out section lol

I'm not sure what kind of discord communities exist for true punk culture, so if anyone has one they wanna promote feel free

Do some research on local punk bands in your area, get your friends together and diy outfits for a concert, or just to wear. The world is your punk oyster, and as long as you or other people aren't getting hurt you can do whatever you want forever

Plz use this post to find other punks so we can start gaining more community (I'm totally not desperate lol)

#punk

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cxyotl · 2 years ago

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Endermen stuff now 👍

-Endermen are an Enderian race, meaning they come from the End Realm. That said, Endermen can live in all three realms with ease. In the case of Netherian Endermen, they even evolved to better adapt.

-Endermen live under a monarchy, with the ruler being decided by their relationship to the previous rulers. This ruler has a council that provides advice and protection to them and their family. The ruler can be any gender and any age.

-The council cannot be changed with each ruling, but when a member of it passes away, they are replaced under discretion of the rest of the council. The monarch has no say in who is chosen.

-Endermen have strict social cues and codes, usually pertaining to very high senses of justice. For this reason, Endermen are often welcomed into other realm’s kingdoms as advisors, guardians, or jurors.

-Enderpearls are an organ connected to the heart. When a heart rate or adrenaline spikes, the pearl activates to teleport an Enderman to safety. Endermen can control where they go, but rely on the pearl to keep them safe if they freeze up. Less than one percent of all endermen are born without these pearls.

-The Ender Dragon is a symbol of protection for all endermen, since they rely on her to keep them and their cities safe. Council endermen are always present at her nest, whether it is activated as a portal or not.

-Purple eyes and black skin are the most common traits in endermen, but some are born with white skin, patched skin, red eyes, yellow eyes, or green eyes depending on genetics. The genetic code for patched skin is linked to the code for being born without a pearl.

-Endermen diet consists of fruit and endermites, which are actually related to rodents rather than bugs. Chorus fruit is the only plant that grows within the Enderian realm, and it strengthens the enderpearl to the point that even if someone eats it and doesn’t have an enderpearl, they teleport at random.

-Endermen write in Galactic Standard, but their language is more complex with whistles, “vwoops”, and crackling noises. They tend to mimic english due to language sharing, but have their own words. Nonverbal communication is also key, with certain hand signals, ear and tail flicks, and blinks meaning different things. Eye contact is always a sign of disrespect, challenge, and distrust.

-Endermen are highly empathetic, leaning into others cultures with relative ease and even adopting non-Enderians as family as long as their codes are respected as well. Unfortunately, their pearls are of great value and it wasn’t until recently that they’ve trusted others enough to fully open their cities and trust to others again.

-During a war between Piglins and Endermen, many pearls were farmed and the Endermen were driven into the blue forests of the Nether. Relations between the two have improved, but enderpearls left over from the war still exist in Piglin clans to be traded off and many Nether-dwelling Endermen stay within the warped forests.

-Endermen place high value on knowledge, placing libraries upon libraries in their Overworld strongholds for people to read about them, their culture, and their discoveries. Science and engineering are particularly important, with inventions like flying ships and elytra wings being high value and actually quite common.

#not as much here bc im eepy and cant think of it all but i might add more in the future lmao #minecraft lore #endermen #minecraft headcanons

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brightside-brigade · 10 months ago

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Fuck it. Posting it before I log off to watch an RE stream.

So this is the base for my personal Plaga lore stuff. Like, an unmodified strain that would exist in the wild. At first I was worried this was all too far fetched but then I remembered... literally everything else about the RE series as a whole?? You're allowed to ask questions and stuff btw. I'll get to them as soon as I can. :3

Note: these guys standard form is highly based on most interpretations of infected Leon. So uh. Go look at those for a few minutes to get an idea. Good? Good. Lore under cut

So, to begin with, Plagas are hive dwelling organisms that are insectoid in nature, but also have some mammalian tendencies. Because of this, it's still debated what genus they fall under.

Similar to ants or bees, hives have a queen. Though she is not responsible for later generations being born within the hives, she is responsible for the hive progenitors. A queen will appear more insectoid than human, often forgoing the general human shape for something more akin to a large tarantula hawk or similar.

For plagas, dymporphism is a very clear thing. Males are larger and bulkier, and their tails end in stingers. They're the stronger ones, but are slower than females. Females are smaller and more lithe, and while their tails are stingerless, they're whip thin and just as capable of doing damage. While they're not as strong as the Males, they're far faster and more agile, nearly impossible to hit in a combat situation.

Pseudo males, a subset usually used as drones or informants have a mix of these features.

Both Males and females have venomous bites capable of a number of effects t depending on what's needed in the situation. This ranges from sedation, paralysis, or even death or internal liquidation. (Like how spiders eat). The plating along their tails can flip up, become a row of spikes for extra damage. Both also take part in hunting and scouting for the hive, and both have spurs on the backs of their legs.

Apart from the major differences between males and females, plaga appearances vary greatly between eachother. For example, the chitin on their bodies can range from a few patches here and there to full body armor. The chitin is usually red, orange, yellow or black, but other colors are possible. Other variations include eye color and number of eyes, wings, mandibles, wings, extra limbs, and so on.

Overall, like most animals, the plagas want to grow and expand their kind. Thus, they have many methods of spreading. This ranges from hive born eggs, eggs layed on or in other living creatures (like wasps do. This is generally how other hives start after the creature is let go to wander off. After the eggs hatch and the creature expires, a queen will usually be born from that particular batch). They also use the parasite method, also known as hijacker drones. These usually spawn from pseudo Males.

The eggs themselves, when in hive, are looked after by both Males and females alike, and are kept in chambers far from the surface. Eggs are round and translucent, being green or yellow in color and slightly bioluminescent. They adhere to both eachother and the walls/floor of the chambers and tended to until they hatch.

Eggs hatch into grubs, which are, well, grubs. They stay looking this until after their third or fourth molt, in which they'll start changing into the standard humanoid appearance. And thus it all begins again.

#resident evil #Re 4 #re 4 remake #resident evil 4 #Resident evil world building #resident evil headcanons #RE HCs #las plagas #Plaga #Resident evil #biohazard

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that-one-rat-in-the-cupboard · 1 year ago

Text

Blue=Sally Face/Sal

Pink=Lyra/Lizzy

White=Claire(interviewer)

Orange=Larry

Green=Travis

Red=Jake/Sal's cellmate I made up

Italicized=Past

_______________________

The Interview

[Exclusive Cut]

_______________________

You spoke with a great fondness about your friend, Ashley. I understand that you two were very close. You even considered her one of your best friends, along with Larry Johnson and Todd Morrison, is that true?

…Yes…

Have you seen this?

Claire shows Sal a newspaper. Part of one of the articles is circled in red ink: ‘Prosecutor will call Ashely Cambell to testify against The Sally Face Killer.’ A single tear from Sal falls on the paper. Sal crushes the paper.

Many people are curious, was there anything more between you and Ashley? A romantic relationship, perhaps?

No. Ash was just a close friend. I was interested in someone else…

And who would that be? Could you tell us about them?

Lyra Roxley…We always called her Lizzy.

Last I heard you haven’t mentioned anyone by that name in any police interviews.

She wasn’t around enough for it to matter.

Did she know about the supposed cult? Or about the ‘bologna incident’, as you referred to it?

…Yes. She knew. She knew everything. She left all that to Todd, Larry, Ash, and me, though. We would tell her about it, but she never actually tried investigating it herself.

Can you tell me more about her? When did you two meet? How did you meet? What was she like?

We met in junior year of high school…

“Fuck! I’m gonna be late!”

She was always breaking one rule or another. Whether it was speeding through the school halls on rollerblades or not following the dress code, she seemed to break every rule there was aside from blowing up the school within her first week. I think about the moment we met every day…

“Woah-shit!”

Travis had tripped her while she was rollerblading through the halls. She crashed right into me. I remember watching her flip off Travis before making sure I was alright. I didn’t hear anything she said at first, it was all a blur, and not because she had just crashed into me.

“Hellooo! Dude, you good?”

Her eyes were black, not a really dark brown, straight black. Her hair was unruly, had a mind of its own and moved however it wanted, even if she was sitting still. She had naturally blonde hair, but she dyed the back black and bleached the front. She always had two raccoon tails on either side of her fac-

I’m sorry, raccoon tails?

They weren’t real raccoon tails. She dyed lines of black into large sections of hair next to her face. She always called them raccoon tails and I picked up on the habit.

Ah, I see. Go on.

Right. She wore these big, round, wire-framed glasses that made her eyes look bigger than they should’ve, but in a cute way. She had a couple of piercings; a septum nose ring with spikes on it, a lip ring on each side of her bottom lip with spikes on them, and a double eyebrow piercing. She always had bags under her eyes, but her energy never matched them.

“Woah, dude. What happened here?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I turned my room into one big booby trap and now I can’t move… Wanna spend the next three hours trying to disarm it so I don’t blow up the apartments?”

She always dressed up for anything, even if she was just staying home. Her entire wardrobe was just black and red. Maybe a few denim jackets or vests, but they were mainly covered in patches she made or metal spikes she painted. All her pants were ripped and I don’t think I ever saw her in a shirt that didn’t have at least one hole in it. No matter what she wore, she always had this one light grey beanie on. For some reason, everyone in our little friend group wanted to steal it. No one ever could.

Larry peaked over the armrest of his couch, staring intently into the kitchen to make sure Lyra had her back turned before he executed the perfect plan. He signaled to Sally, who was waiting in his doorway for said signal, and the blue-haired boy immediately left the room, walking right to the kitchen.

“Hey, Lizzy?”

“Yeah, Sally Face?”

“Can you grab me a glass? Larry always puts them too high for me to reach to fuck with me.”

“Hehe, sure.”

As Lyra turned her back to reach into the cabinet and grab the glass, Sal signaled to Larry. Instantly, Larry leaped out from the behind the couch and raced over to Lyra, snatching the beanie off of her head…only for another one to be pinned to her hair underneath. She whipped around and faced Larry, pointing an accusing finger at him with a bright, ecstatic expression on her face.

“HA! I knew it! You can’t beat me Lar-Bar!”

Did you ever find out why she wore it?

…

Sal?

She was strong, too. Not physically. More like mentally. Some of the things she told me from her childhood…I still don’t understand how she survived it all. I can’t count the number of times she was beaten up by Travis and his gang. Yet, somehow, every time she just got back up and went on with her day. Larry always said she was a different person during the fights. I never believed him. Not until I witnessed one of the fights myself…

“Hey, freak! Why don’t you run on back to hell and leave us all alone!”

“Dude, I’m just standing here. Am I not allowed to just stand?”

“You got a problem, freak?”

“Yes, several. Would you like me to list off the mental ones or the physical ones first?”

“Lizzy, just leave it be. He won’t-”

“I got this, Sal. Don’t worry about me.”

“Hey! Are you even listening to me!?”

“Didn’t you just say you wanted me to leave you alone? Geeze, dude. Get your priorities straight.”

“Why, you-!”

Lyra wasn’t expecting the first hit, but that didn’t stop her from staying on her feet. Her hand slowly rose to her nose, feeling just beneath it as the blood began to flow. She pulled her hand away and started at the blood on her fingers. Then her eyes met Travis’ and a sinister smile grew on her chapped lips.

“You wanna dance, pretty boy? Let’s fuckin’ dance.”

So, you’re claiming she enjoyed the fights? That, perhaps, she sought them out on purpose?

She never sought them out on purpose, but if it seemed like one was about to start, she wouldn’t do anything to stop it. She definitely enjoyed them, though. She would smile and laugh like a maniac during them. At first, other people would laugh at her, too, mocking her. But the longer the fights went on, the more people realized that she wasn’t laughing to ease her nerves or act all confident. No, she was laughing because she liked it.

Liked what?

The pain. During the fights, she would lick the blood off her face, didn’t matter if it was her’s or the other person’s. She reveled in the fights. She didn’t even seem to notice there was ever a crowd. I’m pretty sure that from her perspective, it was just her and her opponent.

What did she do if someone else got into a fight?

Depends on who it was. If it was people she didn’t know or didn’t care for, she didn’t bother joining or even crowding around it like the other kids did. If it was one of her friends, like Ash, Todd, Larry, or me, she’d go batshit if she had to.

She was defensive of all of you?

Yes. Very.

Do you know why?

No. She always avoided the question when any of us asked. We tried telling her not to worry about us, that we can hold our own, but she always said-

“No…Not against this…”

-and we never knew what she meant. She was always quiet when she said it. It felt like the air around us dropped to freezing and like we were being suffocated. She always left shortly after those interactions, making up an excuse she knew we wouldn’t believe, but we knew better than to ask. The suffocating feeling and the cold would go away a few seconds after she left.

Can you tell me more about your relationship with her?

I guess. There’s not much to talk about. We became friends in junior year and remained friends for a few years. She had told me she loved me on the night of the…incident.

Lyra couldn’t stop biting her nails, picking away at the black polish. She had been video chatting with a friend from her old town when she told them about her years-long crush on Sal. They had convinced her to confess to him, and so she threw on her skates, kissed her dogs and cats goodbye, and started towards Addison Apartments. However, in her excitement to finally confess, she never thought about how she would confess. That resulted in her stalling for a long time, going so slow on her skates that the sun had fully set and the moon had taken over the sky. Still, before she knew it, she was on the sidewalk leading up to Addison Apartments. Sal was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and horrified as he stared at her, blood on his clothes and the weapon in hand.

Sal…?

You didn’t respond?

How could I? I didn’t have time to explain to her. The police were nearly there. She ran once she realized where the sirens were headed.

If all she said was your name, how do you know she was going to confess?

Um…she dropped a note when she ran. I had just enough time to look down at my feet where it had fallen and read it before I was arrested.

What did it say?

I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember one line. ‘I swear on my life and the River Styx, you are my Sun, and I am Icarus’.

Where is she now? Do you know?

…

Sal?

…

Mr. Fisher, can you answer the question? Where is sh-

She’s dead.

…

…Are we done here? I believe I have a trial to get to.

Yes. We are done here.

——————

So…

What, Jake?

How did it actually go down?

How did what actually go down?

That girl you talked about in the interview. How did she really confess.

How do you know about that?

They aired it after your trial. Todney convinced the guards to let us watch it. So, what really happened that night.

If you saw the interview, then why are you asking?

Because you lied.

…

Don’t try denying it. You said she wasn’t prepared to see you when she left, but she somehow had a love letter with her that she just so happened to drop at your feet even though she was at the very end of the sidewalk?

…

I doubt she’s dead, either. You hesitated before saying that, but not in a ‘I don’t want to face this again’ way. You hesitated in a ‘fuck, I need to think of a lie fast’ way. So tell me. What really happened that night?

…

Come on, Sally. We’re alone in our cell and I’ve got a life sentence. No guards, no cameras, no one to spill this to the news. So tell me. What happened?

…She didn’t confess to me that night. She knew what I was going to do and was trying to stop me in time. She was going to do it herself but she was too late. She tried to stay with me, but I wouldn’t let her stay. I told her to run. To leave me and never look back. That’s when she hugged me and said the Icarus thing.

So you guys already knew you liked each other before then? Were you like, partners in crime or something?

Heh, funny you say that. We used to have this thing we’d say all the time, just us. One of us would say-

“Partners in crime-”

And then the other would say-

“And trouble til the end!”

That’s adorable. It makes me want to throw up. So, if she didn’t confess that night, when did she?

That’s a bit of a long story…

And we got nothing but time.

You won’t believe me.

Who has up to this point?

…It happened during the last week of our senior year of high school. It was her, Larry, and me all in Larry’s room. We were hanging out for a while, but we were all very tense about finals and having to study and what we were going to do after school was over, there was just a lot of stress and nowhere for it to go. Larry had tried stealing her beanie again…

“Come on, dude! We don’t care if your hair is all messed up, just let me see!”

We had all been drinking, especially Larry, so we were all a bit more on edge than we would have been otherwise, and I think that’s why things ended up the way they did…

“Larry, stop! You don’t do this shit to Sal!”

“This is just your hair! Why won’t you let anyone see!?”

“Larry, dude, chill ou-”

“No! Since the moment we met her she’s been hiding it from us! What if it’s something to do with that stupid cult? What if she’s got a mic under there or some shit!?”

“Larry! You can’t just accuse her of-”

“You can’t just defend her because you’re in love with her!”

“Larry!”

“I don’t care! I’m done with this cult shit! I’m done with all of it! I’m getting to the bottom of it and if that means outing Lizzy as a spy, then damnit I will!”

“Larry, wait-!”

“Dude, stop!”

Lyra wasn’t quick enough to dodge, and the next thing everyone knew, her beanie was in Larry’s hand. The lights flickered and the CD that had once been playing music began spewing static. Larry’s feet were glued to the floor as he looked around frantically. The small bit of sun peeking through the curtains was washed out by swirling dark figures. Sal began to panic and backed into a corner as the figures engulfed Lyra. Larry stared on in horror, immediately sobering up as he saw the shadowy figures swirl around her. It was only when one zipped past him toward her that he was knocked out of his shock and started frantically stumbling backward, tripping over an empty canvas and joining Sal in the corner. Just as fast as it had started, it ended. The lights flickered on, the shadows dispersed, and there was Lyra, all the same…almost. Shadows shifted and danced over her head and behind her. The ones over her eyes wrapped around her head and resembled bandages. The ones over her mouth formed an ‘X’. The ones over her ears looked like scribbles you may see in a notebook. The ones on her back looked like four sets of wings, two smaller sets under the biggest ones and the smallest set right above the big ones. There was also a long, whip-like tail that trailed from behind her.

Woah, woah, woah. I thought that demon dude was a guy. And you said there was only one of him!

There is. If you let me finish the story it’ll make sense. Hopefully.

Okay, okay, fine. Keep going with your little fairytale.

Everyone was frozen in place, all out of fear. Lyra knew this was bound to happen, she just hoped it never would.

“L…Lizzy?”

She couldn’t say a word. So instead she jumped up from her spot on the floor and ran. Larry tried going after her, but when he left his room and saw a completely empty living room, and no doors left open that Lyra could have ran through, he started to panic.

“Fuck, man. This isn’t good. What do we do!? She just disappeared!”

“I-I don’t know! Where do you think she would’ve gone?”

“She always said Wendigo Lake calmed her down when she was stressed. Said she liked to swim there when it was nighttime.”

“It’s still light out, but it will be getting dark soon. You go check there and I’ll check the apartments. I doubt she left town.”

“Oh god, what have I done? Why couldn’t I have just left her alone!?”

“Worry about that later, Larry. We need to find her first and make sure she’s okay.”

“Right. Find her first…I hope that’s soon…”

We looked for her for hours, but couldn’t find her. We were so tired by the end of it that we just ended up crashing in Larry’s room together, hoping we’d find her the next day. Larry was out the moment his head hit the bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I was too worried about Lizzy. I needed to know where she went, if she was okay. I ended up going outside for a breath of fresh air. I was out there for maybe five minutes before I heard crying coming from the tree house Larry and I hung out in all the time. So I climbed up into it and…

“Lizzy?”

“Ah! S-Sally! I-I-fuck! You can’t see me like-I-I need to-”

“Don’t leave! …Please, don’t leave.”

“But…aren’t you mad? Don’t you want me to leave? I look like…him after all…”

“I don’t care about that right now. I just want to make sure you’re okay…”

“...”

“Lizzie?”

“I’m okay, Sally. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Um, do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“It was your’s and Larry’s treehouse before I came along. Do whatever you like.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“...”

“I’m sorry…For what happened earlier.”

“What?”

“You know, the flickering lights and the CD static?”

“Oh, that…”

“Yeah…that…”

“What was that?”

“...The beanie I wear has a sealing and protection combination rune embroidered on the inside of it. As long as I’m wearing it, it hides the…shadowy parts of me…That’s what happens when it’s taken off unexpectedly…”

“...”

“I know you want to ask me, Sal. It’s okay. You can ask.”

“Are…are you related to the Red Eyed Demon?”

“Yes.”

“...”

“I’m his daughter. I was conceived after he became the demon. The cult had offered him one of their women so he could have an heir. When I was born with no physical signs of being a demon, he abandoned me and killed my mother. He didn’t care what happened to me, so the cultists shoved me into the arms of another cultist, a man named Taylor. He became my adoptive father and left the cult not even a few months later. We were on the run most of my life, but we didn’t have a choice… He died a week before I moved here. He had made the beanie for me when I turned ten and started to develop the shadows. I only had to wear it in public. When we were alone, I could have it off as much as I wanted. He made sure that I wouldn’t be ashamed of the shadows, but he also made sure I understood where I inherited them from, and why I had to hide them…”

“So…Your father is…the Red Eyed Demon.”

“...”

“...It was amazing knowing you, Sally. I’ll miss you a lot.”

“W-what? What are you talking about, you’re leaving?”

“Huh? No. I just…you don’t want to be around me anymore, right? I’m directly related to the very thing you have been trying to take down since you moved here four years ago! There’s no way you’d want to be around me anymore! …right?”

“Lizzy, I love you. You obviously don’t want your father to take over the earth. If you did you would have killed me and Larry and Ash and Todd and anyone trying to stop him by now. I trust you, Lizzy. You’ve stayed with us and believed us since you met us. Do you know how liberating it was to finally have someone believe us without needing proof? Though, now I get why you didn’t need any proof…”

“You love me?”

“Uh…ah, yeah. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“...”

“I understand if you don’t like me back. I mean, who in their right mind would?”

“...”

“It’s not like I’m like Larry. Muscular, handsome, normal…”

“...”

“Say something, damnit.”

“I love you, too.”

“...”

“Can I kiss you?”

“...Yes.”

So, this demon dude you keep talking about, that you want to kill, not only has a daughter, but you fell in love with said daughter?

In my defense, I didn’t know she was his daughter until after I realized I loved her.

Still, dating the daughter of a demon you want to kill is probably the biggest ‘fuck you’ you could give to the universe.

Maybe, but all I cared about at the time was finishing school. The cult had kind of gone to the background of my mind for the time being.

Hm…Question.

Shoot.

Why are you suddenly so willing to talk about this chick when you haven’t mentioned her at all til the interview?

I was just sentenced to death row. I’ve got nothing to lose. No one but the people that were there for it believe me. I doubt anyone will believe this, even if you tell anyone.

You don’t know that.

Do you believe me?

…

Exactly.

————————

#sally face #not canon #sally face x oc #larry johnson #ashley campbell #short story #kinda unfinished???#i fucking love this game so much #sally face spoilers

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jonnysinsectcatalogue · 2 years ago

Photo

Bull Bush-Cricket - Polysarcus denticauda

Success! The identity of this insect has (probably) been discovered!

This large green specimen has a lot of color variability between individuals, with patterns along the back, pronotum and legs. From what I gather, freshly molted individuals begin green and gradually gain darker patterning as they age as hopping adults. This seems to documented more so to the males, with females remaining green. Despite the range of colors and patterns, there is a key marker: a very faint triangular patch near the forceps at the rear (see Picture 1 for the closest view. Speaking of the forceps, there is a small spike between the forceps (the tip appears broken off) but this specimen is actually a male. The rear spike may be similar to ovipositor in terms of structure but likely performs an entirely different function since only females lay eggs. Females have tiny cerci and below that a long, blade-like ovipositor similar to the Drumming Katydid in this post but curved more sharply. Interestingly, this green giant lacks long forewings with its reduced yellow hindwings visible. It likely won’t fly to nearby food sources in the fields and mountains, but luckily it has those large back legs to launch if necessary. Don’t judge the small wings too harshly yet however, as they are still capable of producing a stridulation song. If you’re curious what it sounds like, the very beginning of the Black-Legged Meadow Katydid’s song is similar but with a softer click intensity (compare to this video post).

This showcase was one of the first sets of images uploaded to this blog, but I didn’t know what it was. To paraphrase myself from years ago: it was found in the mountains near Brașov during a visit to my extended family in Romania. It definitely has the build of a Katydid (Bush-Cricket) without question, even its lacks large, leafy wings. I thought it could be a female as there appeared to be a broken ovipositor at the end of the abdomen, but I wasn’t certain. Finally, based on its large size, coloration and lack of wings, I made an amateur guess to that this Orthopteran likely belonged to the genus Isophya. After many sessions of searching out what this gorgeous Gigahopper could be based on physical characteristics and geographic range, I have the answer! It is a male sickle-bearing (or round-headed) Katydid I’ll tell you what I’ve learned along the way, but I’m going to reveal the biggest setback with hopes you don’t do the same: searching in the wrong genus. I was so committed to Isophya that I ignored the other genera for some time.

Secondly, I had also neglected to consider variability between individuals, and as such, every trail turned to a dead end...until a certain detail emerged from staring at these pictures and cross-referencing with others. Compared to Isophya Katydids, this specimen’s pronotum shield was elongated and curved on the sides in an elongated “W” shape! This clue is what tipped me off and tasked me to extend my range upwards and search through the Katydid subfamily Phaneropterinae (sickle-bearing/round-headed) named for the exposed (shortened) hindwings. They are quite prominent across Europe and Asia, and Isophya is a genus within of that subfamily. Searching through new resources, I started hovering around the Poecilimon genus since they had a similar build to Gigahopper...but none of the European species I was able to find had the the right pronotum nor did they have faint lines running along the legs (see Picture 2). When I dug a little deeper I finally found the right genus: Polysarcus - Bull Bush Crickets! While individual variability is still a concern of mine for the specie, I’m confident that this Katydid gentleman firmly belongs in the Polysarcus genus.

This was a previously unidentified insect originally posted on Oct 23, 2018 whose picture was taken on August 3, 2011 in Romania with a Samsung Galaxy Glide. Truly now, Gigahopper is glorious! A special thank you to GrasshoppersofEurope.com for their comprehensive Orthopteran image sets.

#jonny’s insect catalogue #romanian insect #katydid #bull bush cricket #polysarcus denticauda #bush cricket #orthoptera #romanian katydid #insect #romania #august2011 #2011 #old post turned new #entomology #nature #invertebrates #arthropods #photography #animals

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mayhemandtrouble · 2 years ago

Text

Not Giving Up: Good Morning, Chapter 7

More Chapters (including NSFW) and detailed tags on Ao3 The connections were strong now. The pair snuggled while watching holovids, doing quite a few of the stupid, wonderful things that couples do. They were connected at both convenient and inconvenient times. By now, they’d fairly worked out how to handle the unexpected company, each teasing the other in different ways if the one was unable to reply due to circumstance.

It was no surprise to Ben that he woke up to find Rey snuffling softly into the pillow beside him. Her brown hair was a mess around her shoulders, eyes still shut tight. She always looked beautiful in her sleep, his desert flower tangled in the black silky sheets. They’d long since stopped trying to understand if the Force was either putting them into two places at once or bridging their existences, simply accepting it. Instead, he leaned up slightly to press a soft kiss against her temple and nuzzle into her neck.

“It’s morning.”

A fussing groan was all he got in response, her face burying further into the pillow. He knew her routines somewhat by now - Rey normally rose early, a holdover from living on a desert planet wherein most activity was done before and after the spikes of heat in the middle of the day. If she was sleeping in, she’d either stayed up late or was particularly exhausted from some adventure.

“You’ll fuss at yourself if you don’t get up, Flower.” He nudged her again, putting a string of teasing kisses along her bare shoulder. Rey still wore a thin undershirt, sleeveless and made of a soft cotton, to bed but it had long ceased stopping Ben’s explorations of her.

One green eye opened a crack and looked at him. A displeased grunt before shutting again and rolling away, pulling some of the bedcovers with her. Making her lover laugh and admit defeat. If she wanted to sleep in, she could sleep in. He, however, could not.

No matter how she hated his work, there was still a great deal to be done. Not the least of which was attempting to dismantle the Resistance while keeping the targets off Rey and those close to her. Ben would allow no harm to come to her, and the protection he attempted to give her closest friends? Well… he owed her that much. Besides, they protected that which he valued above all else - Her.

Ben flipped the rest of the covers off, exposing his broad chest and the black silk pajamas he favored. It was hard to push himself out of the bed when Rey’s warm body was right beside him. His feet hitting the floor with a thud. When he straightened, Ben turned. Planning to draw the covers up around Rey again. But he stilled...

The sight of blood was hardly new to him. He was well familiar with the scent and smell of it, usually in the midst of combat. This… this, however, was new. Rey’s thighs were painted with a dark red smeared between them and there was a patch of darker, shiny black just beneath her on the black sheets.

“What the… Shit!” The final word slipped past his lips without thinking, in a sharp shout. He didn’t know what to do in this situation. Hell, he was just getting used to the kind, supportive boyfriend thing. His mind racing backwards to the various lectures Mother and Father had given him on how to treat partners. None of them had covered this topic.

“What happened?” Rey finally rose slightly, her emerald eyes blinking as she braced on her forearm, startled by his sudden cursing. Trying to wipe sleep from her eyes and annoyed that he’d woke her up.

“You bled on the sheets.” Frustration in his voice, more at himself than her. He should be doing something now but didn’t know what. Changing the sheets? Offering her… candy? Damn it, what was he supposed to be doing! If he didn’t get the sheets off and the blood out of the mattress, servants would be wondering how there was blood on the bed and they were trying to hide this bizarre Force affair. He could probably just burn the bloody bits with his saber. They were all used to his temper, then he could-

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose!” It was easy to mistake his anger in her own embarrassment. How had that even happened - her period wasn’t supposed to be for another week, and she was in her own bed, from her point of view, so how could it be on both… Her face was flushed scarlet and the woman scrambled up from the bed. Entirely too aware of the blood between her thighs.

“I’ll change the damn sheets.” He muttered under his breath, pulling open the various drawers in his sleeping quarters. He was barely handling bringing her to Darkness, now he couldn’t find the extra sheets. Were there extra sheets? Who changed his sheets anyway?

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it!” Snapping as she retreated quickly to the bathroom, hitting the door button with what bordered on a slam and Ben could hear the lock engaging. Groaning inwardly and burying his head in one of his large hands. He really was an ass.

“Rey… Flower, come back!” Forgetting about the bed, which suddenly seemed trivial.

“Just change the sheets!” Calling out through the door as she sank against the bathroom room in the Falcon, burying her head into her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs.

His reaction was an unpleasant reminder. There hadn’t been much in the way of friendly faces to teach her how normal this all was. Just frustration that she’d stained valuable clothes or blankets. Her shoulders were shaking as her tears started.

“Rey! I shouldn’t have shouted, I...” He could hear crying and he hated himself all the more. Not knowing exactly why but he knew whatever it was mattered. It was hard for him to apologize. In the First Order, to take blame often meant taking the punishment which was never good. It was far easier and better to push it off on others. He exhaled, letting his forehead hit the black paneled door of his bathroom.

“Leave me alone!” Her voice was cracking from tears and muffled. She didn’t want to think about those days. It had been… a difficult time. Plagued with new desires that were confusing, and attentions that she didn’t always want to be receiving. All the while, desperately missing her parents - who ought to have explained it all and protected her.

“Rey, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was startled and I overreacted.” It was hard not to knock the door down. The lock was flimsy and it wouldn’t be hard. A few solid Force pushes and it would crumple.

How could she even begin to explain it. Her fingers twisted into her brown hair and her silent cries were increasing. Chewie would be worrying about her soon if she couldn’t get her act together and a locked door would not stop the Wookie. Her shoulders heaving, trying to force the sounds of snide remarks out of her head. Those people didn’t matter anymore.

“Flower, what is going on?” It was more than this morning, he was certain of that but he didn’t know what. Was this normal for people on their periods? Ben had barely interacted with others since leaving Uncle and certainly never dealt with this aspect of things.

“Supreme Leader, you are needed on the bridge at once!” Hux’s voice floated in through a com speaker and Ben groaned, hitting his head against the door once more. The last thing he needed right now was Rey being reminded that he was Kylo Ren of the First Order. Just for this moment, all he wanted was to be Ben Solo and get his sweetheart out of the bathroom so he could figure out why she was crying and how to comfort her.

“You should go! They’ve probably found my ship.” There was anger in her voice as it drifted under the bathroom door. She hated hearing Hux’s voice while she was in the Falcon. It wasn’t right. All around her was the comfort and familiarity of home. This was where she belonged. Where she had friends. Where Ben brushed her hair, his nimble fingers braiding it for her before important meetings. The reminders of what he was outside this room were unwelcome. The First Order would hurt everyone who was ever kind to her.

“Flower, even if they’ve found your ship, I will never let them hurt you. Or the Falcon. You have my word.” His voice was quiet, soothing. Still Ben. Needing her to believe at least that. He had needed her trust to coax her over to darkness, surely it was working if their connections were growing stronger.

“Oh so you’ll just have them destroy everyone else instead!” Snapping back, her head raising so that her words were clear but still choked with tears.

“Supreme Leader Ren, can you hear me!” On the bridge, the redhead was growing impatient. He already loathed having to bow to the brat prince. Kylo should never have been favored by Snoke. It was his father who had worked to found the Order. By all rights, this was his. And he would rule it all. Once he found a way to displace Ren.

Ben hit his head against the wall one more time. It was impossible for him to explain to himself why he didn’t want Rey to hear him speaking to Hux. He wouldn’t be saying anything particularly troubling, simply a reply but… It was no longer a role he was comfortable with her witnessing.

“Rey, I’m going to protect everyone you love to the best of my ability.” A rash promise. One he might regret. But he could think of little else to say in the moment. A little comforted by an ease in Rey’s sniffles. Finally reaching over to hit the com button, unable to make himself darken his voice as he would normally do. “This is not a convenient time.”

“We’ve located a convoy bringing support troops to the Resistance. It’s going to be of interest to you.” There was a smug tone to the man’s voice that could be heard over the com and Rey’s breath caught. Finn was on it. And Ben could feel her distress rising through her emotions spilling through the room. Reaching out with the Force. The traitor was on that convoy. Today, of all days?

“Excellent work. I will be up shortly. Do nothing until I arrive. That is an order. I will handle this personally.” His fingers drummed along the wall in thought, allowing his voice to darken. To take on those shadows, his eyes growing black. Could he knock out part of the convoy and spare the traitor? But even if he spared the man, Rey would be upset and he couldn’t risk that. Not now. Not when he’d hurt her. The shadows departed from his face and he exhaled. The voice that followed was Ben’s. Quiet and pleading.

“Flower… I’m not going to hurt him, I know you know he’s there. I can feel it. Trust me.”

For a long moment, she didn’t speak but even a novice Force user could have felt the distrust and the pain rolling off her. Angry and hurt, not helped at all by the literal cramping of her body.

“Let me fix this, Rey. Open the door, let me kiss you before I go up there.” A last gentle plea, hoping to coax her into unlocking the bathroom door. If she didn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to force the issue and he’d have to find a way to divert attention from the convoy regardless. But it would be so much easier on his spirits if he could see her first.

“... I’m gross.” Rey finally spoke, wiping tears from her eyes and her face with the palms of her hands.

“You will never be dirty in my eyes.” A little chuckle in his voice, offering soft reassurance to her. The sound of her finally getting up was reassurance to him. Soft shuffling about in the bathroom. Water running briefly as she cleaned up a little before using a tendril of the Force to press the button which unlocked the door. Unprepared for how quickly Ben would cross through the door and across the floor. Gently cupping her face in his hands and looking down at her. Letting his forehead touch her own.

“I don’t ever want to make you cry again.” He didn’t have time for a full explanation, though he knew there was more at play than simply the events of the morning. Saving her friends, and helping to earn her trust in the long term, was going to be a difficult chess game with Hux and it would occupy most of his day, he suspected.

“What about Finn?” Her face tilted up in quiet demand. How this played out would impact their relationship. If he hurt her friend… It was difficult enough to handle this my-enemy-is-my-lover dynamic without him directly ordering the death or torture of those immediately close to her. She would not be able to continue this.

“Have a little faith in your Monster.” For a moment, Ben was truly his father’s son with a lopsided cocky grin. His thumb brushing over her cheekbones and leaning down to kiss her softly. “You send a signal to Finn that they should check their radar, watch your coms and we’ll talk about the rest of this later, Flower.”

“I will. I’ll be watching though. Don’t let me down, Ben.” Reaching up to gently run her fingers along his scarred cheek and he turned his head to kiss her palm.

“I won’t. With luck I’ll see you tonight.” Another kiss, this time on her wrist, just at the pulse. Letting the heat of his lips linger for a moment. Wanting to remind her of the bond between them, neither ready to put it to words. And when he drew back, there was a faint smile through her tears. Still concerned - she didn’t entirely trust him. He could feel it, he knew it, he could hardly blame her… but certain that after success today, and sufficient apology for his personal screw up, that he could earn that trust. He’d come so far.

“I hope so, Ben .” As she reached up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek, he could sense the combination of growing comfort, receding distress and worry from her, she could feel the determination on him. The moments of Ben were growing and that soothed her more than anything else. As for the rest, his reaction and those he’d reminded her of? They could discuss it later, after she’d showered and ideally with his arms around her. Snuggled close under a blanket while music played in the background, Finn safe across the galaxy.

Hearing her say his name soothed him more than he would like to admit. Faint curve of his lips into a smile. And though he hated to leave, he had to. Not only to hide the affair and attend to his business but to keep his word to her. Her signal to Finn would no doubt help a great deal but he couldn’t rely on that alone.

As he left, she could feel the connection fade. Did the Force know when a connection must end? Was there something else powering this, something watching? A distressing thought for the private woman and she set it aside. For a moment, she considered powering up the Falcon and chasing after the convoy. She’d never forgive herself if she was wrong. But Ben promised. And he’d told her to send the signal. Which, granted, she would have done regardless. This would be a test.

They were not connected that night. It was almost a week before the connection brought them back together, a span of time that neither were comfortable with. Both afraid the connections had stopped and having no idea how to reach out to the other safely through any other means.

Ben was pacing his throne room, Kylo gnawing at the edges of his mind. He knew where she was. For once. There was a report in his datapad regarding a slain unit and a spy in the Resistance had managed to obtain the Falcon’s next planned stop. He had removed the two reports from general circulation among the First Order elite, and placed them within his private files but it was certain that others had read the reports before he had accessed them.

In frustration he ignited his saber, letting the furious red blade carve grooves with the cold floor where he’d last seen her in person. She’d fought beside him. She’d trusted him with her life then.

“Ben, what are you doing?”

His gaze lifted slightly before she spoke, eyes finding her just before his throne. Hovering in the air while sitting cross legged. Rey had certainly seen action. There was a cut along her cheek he didn’t like the look of and bandages along her legs. All the same, she seemed at peace - with a series of boxes and odds and ends of a ship floating around her in two circles that intersected.

“Get out.” The Supreme Leader turned his head to snarl at the red cloaked Praetorian guards who lined his walls. It was remarkable how easy it had been to replace the ones they had killed. There was never a shortage of those willing to grovel, to be close to power. Each masked guard turned towards him for a moment to confirm.

“Now,” snarling the word and pointing the way towards the door with his lit saber. Only turning off the weapon when the last guard was gone and the door was shut behind them. Barely hooking it to his belt before he ran towards her.

“Are you alright?” Brushing aside the floating bits she was practicing with to run his hands down her arms. Looking over her injuries. Not noticing that he was breaking her concentration in his concern.

“I’m fine. Just got caught in a fire,” frustration in her tones as Rey tried to keep herself and the bric-a-brac she’d been practicing with aloft. The debris hitting the ground first before she started falling, only to be caught by Ben. “I was doing something!”

“So was I.” He responded in kind, quickly turning so that he could settle in the throne with her still in his arms. “What’s this about fire? I didn’t see that in my reports.”

“You were having a tantrum. Do we have to sit here?” She muttered crossly, easing her legs over the edge of the throne even as she fussed about it.

“Yes.” Ben’s short reply, the tips of his fingers running just over the bandages along her legs. She’d been burned. More so than she cared to admit to him but she’d recover. Assuming she was taking care of herself. “Have you seen a healing droid?”

“Ben, I’m fine. I got hurt worse on Jakku.” Just over five days of no contact and this was when the Force decided to connect them? It could have picked up when she was thinking of him before the mission, when she’d gotten the news that Finn was all right - that several of the firing controls on the attacking ships had jammed. It could have picked up just after the fight, when she was in pain and desperately wanted his arms.

“You’re mad at me.” He commented dryly, brown eyes flicking up to her green ones. “Did my solution not work? My reports were that your friend and his transport escaped.”

“I’m mad that you aren’t here.” Rey sighed in exasperation, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. He must have felt the sting for the arm around her back tightened a little. Her eyes closed and she breathed out a slower exhale. “Ben… I’m sorry. I’m… just… being pulled in a lot of directions at once. Leia doesn’t want me on the missions anymore, not till I’m better trained.”

“And you want to be there, to protect them.” For once he held back comments about her needing a teacher, needing him as a teacher. This was not the time, he was gaining her trust back. He would need that.

“Mmmhmm.” She murmured in agreement, eyes closing and nestling close into his arms. Savoring the quiet and the feel of his chest rising and falling beneath her. Carefully, Ben rested his other hand on her ankle and let his forehead brush hers. Outside the First Order was bustling about with plans of domination and conquest. Some he knew about, many he didn’t - simply too small scale to warrant his notice. So few things could receive his personal attention and nothing could supplant the mission in his arms.

“Thank you, Ben.”

He was almost startled when her voice broke the quiet. Thumb lazily running along her scarred bicep as he felt her press a soft kiss against his cheek.

“The plan did work. You were right.” A quiet admission that lifted the weight of mountains. While it seemed so easy for her to say, he buried his face into her shoulder to hear it. The arm around her side tightened.

“Thank you, Flower.” When he spoke at last, Rey did not understand the quiver in his voice. Only letting her cheek rest against his head. Her slender fingers slowly stroked through his curly black hair. How it managed to always be so perfectly tousled, she’d never know. But there was a peace flowing through him that she’d not felt since they’d stood side by side. A peace she’d not interrupt for the world.

#reylo #fanfic #Fluff and angst and smut #Angst with a happy ending #otp #Star Wars fanfic #fluff #tooth rotting fluff

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anartistinahat · 2 years ago

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What if they had human desguises or were humans?

Time for me to point out detail no one will notice or cares about

courtney, she/they

-i gave her a snake tongue since they have one and i thought itd be cool

-I gave her a gap between her canine teeth and all of her front teeths cuz i thought itd be a nice replacement for the two point teeth

-the spike piercings on her ear are a reference to her tiny horns, and the piercing on the nose is a reference to her tail

-the jacket is the same jacket she wears on the comic

-her bracelets are a replacement/reference of her shackles

-the hoop earrings are meaning to something (halo)

-yes. I gave em a non-binary pin(i thought it'd go well with her outfit)

pugsley, he/him

-i really didnt wanna make him too similar to the comic and i accidently went ALL THE WAY TO THE OTHER SIDE

-i gave him vitiligo cuz i thought itd be kinda cool cuz of those darker spots he has

-i gave him green eyes cuz he has green eyes in the comic(or at least in the cover)

-i gave him some bruises cuz i think if he was human he most likely would be just as hyperactive as a dog

-the bite mark is cuz i thought itd be a cool way to translate a dog's bite into everything, thats also why his finger is patched, he bites on it too much

-hes also supposed to be a kid(tho i dont think i made him look like it)

-i kinda wanted to make him look like the guttman family but as i kept getting ideas i accidently made him TOO far from the family and now he's actually adopted

-(funny moment: as i drew him i thought "huh, i think he'd be autistic if he was a human" but i think ADHD fits a bit better)

fingers, he/they

-i thought making him white would be PAINFULLY OBVIOUS so i made him a darker skin

-i didnt add the blush cuz i thought it looked weird

-i decided to make the eyes tatto into a suit pin(but its definitly tattoed somewhere)

-(Not much to say he was actually pretty easy, tho i wanted to make him older but i dont think it looks like it)

(small hc time, i think its cool that all paranormal creatures uses they/them with/without any other pronouns like he/she/it etc)

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youmakemyhearthowl · 2 years ago

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Punk Princess

Something is off.

He’s not exactly sure what it is, but thing’s feel different with Steve, and it's twisting his heart a bit, because he figured once he apologized things would go back to how they were. The flirting, the banter, all of it. But Steve feels distant in a way he never had, even when this all first started.

But Steve still hangs out with them during their free period, and still braids Max and El’s hair on Tuesday when he holds the campaign for the kids. So he can’t quite figure out why he and Steve haven’t fallen back into that easy relationship they’ve had the last few months. He tries to breach whatever is holding them back by throwing in his usual flirtations on Thursday at Hellfire.

“Hey Princess, I’ve got your minis and everything set up for you.” He purrs, motioning for Steve to sit in his usual seat next to Eddie's throne, and the look he receives in return makes his heart fall to his ass.

A sharp hurt flashes in Steve’s eyes, giving them a slightly glassy look, before his features relax into an easy, empty indifference, pulling the sleeves of his oversized yellow sweater under his vest over his hands. Eddie notes there's a part in the fabric of the vest where it looks darker then the rest, like a patch had been taken off, and he’s suddenly struck with the realization that it’s the one that was a large gothic scripted E.

Throughout the entire session Eddie keeps trying to fit in flirtations with Steve, only to be met with that same empty look, and Eddie’s at a loss. Had he done something else wrong? He’d apologized so he didn’t understand what was still holding this massive distance between them.

Steve practically runs out of the room after the session is over, the rest of Hellfire following behind after offering a goodbye and sharp looks in Eddie's direction.

Okay seriously what the hell ?

Once he’s finished packing up he turns around and lets out a startled yelp to see Robin standing next to the door with her arms crossed over her chest, the spikes on her blue wash jean jacket flashing in the overhead lights.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Munson.” Her voice is hard, a tone he’s never heard from her before and he stumbles back a step at the force of it.

“It’s one thing to act like that half assed apology you spouted counted for anything, and the blatant flirting maybe I could turn a blind eye to, but to use his fucking.. God what's the word.. His honorific to refer to him when you made it pretty fucking clear that you don’t really see him as anything other then who he used to be. That’s fucking disgusting Eddie.”

What?

Eddie stumbles back further, hand reaching out to grasp the top of his throne to keep him standing as he blinks back at the girl in front of him. His entire world feels like it’s tilting on its axis.

“Unbelievable.” She shakes her head before slamming out of the room and leaving Eddie feeling like the rug just got pulled out from under him. He’d meant the apology he’d given Steve. He was sorry for how he had acted, so what exactly was he missing here?

“Hang on, wait a second, Robin.” He calls out after her, leaving his backpack abandoned on the floor in the drama room, slamming his elbow on the door in his haste.

“Robin, Jesus, slow down, hang on. What the fuck are you talking about?” Reaching out he places his hand on her shoulder to get her to stop, nearly falling backwards on his ass when she whips around on him.

“What am I talking about? Eddie are you that fucking dense?” That hard tone is still lacing her words and she was never someone Eddie would have described as scary before, but in this moment he was absolutely terrified of her, the green highlights in her hair giving her a dark aura as she steps up into his space.

“You are that dense.” She sounds surprised, which only softens her tone slightly, her eyes dancing over his face like she can see past the skin and bones directly into everything that makes him Eddie.

“Eddie you practically spat his past in his face and told him he was no better then who he used to be, because he wanted his fucking friends at his game. You stomped on every step he’s taken to change and be better and basically told him because he still loved basketball he was a piece of shit. I had to fucking… Eddie I had to console him for an hour after what you did, and he’s still walking around like a ghost of himself. You’re fucking smart, I know you are. So think about it a little and figure out where the hell you thought that bullshit apology about ‘overreacting’ would be anywhere, anywhere good enough to make up for the way you basically tore everything that he is to shreds.” She turns on her heels then, pulling her shoulder from under his grasp as she starts to make her way towards the Exit.

“And don’t you dare call him Princess until you’ve been given explicit permission by him to use it again. You should know better.” and with that she’s gone. Leaving Eddie to question everything he’s done the last week.

Steve not meeting his eyes, the heartbreakingly sad look that haunted him at the beginning of the school year coming back. The way Steve hadn’t been in or anywhere near Eddie's space since he spewed venom at Steve.

Steve didn’t even think that Eddie saw him as a person anymore, let alone a friend. He hadn’t just been an asshole, he’d been everything he hated in other people. He’d been unnecessarily cruel.

Unnecessarily cruel to probably the best person Eddie’s ever had the pleasure of calling a friend, or whatever it was they were heading in the direction of. He’d broken Steve's heart.

He’d broken Steve's heart.

God how do you even fix that? How do you come back from that?

Eddie needed to talk to Gareth.

#Punk Steve #Punk!steve #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #Robin is the best friend #Punk princess fic #Eddie is so autism coded #the poor thing is trying his best

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chaosdoesnotdefineme · 3 months ago

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OMG PLEASE FEEL FREE TO DRAW THEM!!!

To go deeper into the way the deities work;

All of them have special items, where their live force is tied to. They’re immortal as long those items stay intact. as soon as they break, they can die or be killed line any other mortal.

To prevent anything from happening, all the deities get to choose a person that holds their artifact. These people are usually also immortal, as long as they hold on to the item.

I actually forgot to mention that everyone could be blessed by any deity. Some people have multiple blessings. If a parent is blessed before having a child, that child will also receive that blessing and can pass it on to future children.

Now some physical description of the girls (definitely not so that you can draw them):

Elle has dirty blonde, shoulder length hair that’s pin-straight (hair ties slip right out of it straight) and pale green eyes. She is quite pale in general and has a LOT of freckles.

She likes to dress somewhere between fairy-grunge and cryptid-core. She adores wearing long sleeve sweaters/flannels with shorts.

She always wears a chocker with a star pendant that Blanca gave her and a hair-clip in the shape of a flower with a purple stone in the middle (The stone is a soulstone, which is essentially a persons soul captured in a cristal. If the soul in the stone was blessed, the person that carries the soulstone can temporarily gain the powers of it. The clip also turns into a sword).

the main colour in her design is a dirty light green.

Her powers are: talking to and seeing dead people and resurrection (she has to learn this, It’s really hard)

After getting possessed by Mona, Amaias Artifact holder (I really need to give them a name), while resurrecting Blanca (Oh yeah, she does that while defeating Aviya. Blanca then kinda takes his place.), Elle is like a saint for grief. When people are grieving and calling on her, her bodie passes out while her spirit is going to help the grieving person. She also has a big, fluffy, black service dog called Laika for this :)

Anya is Desi and a wolf-shapeshifter. She has long, wavy, black hair and very dark eyes. Over her lip she has a mole.

She dresses punk, her default outfit being her fave leather or jeans jacket with a lot of pins and patches and her black combat boots.

She has a spiked collar and black and white rings on her middle fingers (AroAce queen) that she frequently wears.

Her main colour-scheem consider its of mainly black, silver and purple.

She can shapeshift into a wolf (duh) and also, due to her blessing of Munin, read and alter thoughts/memories (Though it takes a lot of energy and she was never properly trained to do it, so she rarely does it).

May is the tallest of the group (Elle is the shortest). She is a black tgirl and likes to wear her hair either in cornrows or space-buns. Her eyes are hazel and she has the lightest sprinkle of freckles.

She should be wearing glasses, but never does, and this squints at everything.

She likes to wear quite femme clothes often consisting of crop-tops, skirts and lots of gold jewelry.

The main colours in her colour-scheem are yellow and white.

May is a healer, has a vast knowledge of the human body and likes herbology (she can and will poison you if you annoy her).

If there is anything else you wanna know about them, fell free to ask :) (please, I wanna talk about them)

ok, @guess-ill-dye you asked about my OCs, now bear the consequences.

beware this post is rlly long

First of I need to explain a bit of the world-building;

In the beginning there was nothing. Only darkness and the freezing Cold. Out of that nothingness Aviya was born. Aviya was the first light, warmth and life itself. He created the world as we know it. But with life there comes death, and with it Amaia.

Over time, more and more deities weee born. Fauna, the Animals and wildlife and her sister Flora, the plants and flowers, Munin, the moon and the memories of the past, Morgan, the water that flows over our planet and Ojuna, the love that inhabits every being on earth. There’s also a bunch if smaller more insignificant deities like Celia, the deity of the seasons.

All of the major deities have regions to them self, with different cultures and practices dedicated to their deity. In the middle of the map is Aviya‘s region, the capital.

At first it was one singular big culture with Aviya being seen as the most powerful and important of the deities, because he was the first and also „created“ the others. But over time the different cultures started to separate and Aviya had less controll and overall was worshipped less.

He grew jealous and yearned for the times where he was the biggest. He made it his mission to overtake the other deities‘ cultures and make them center around him again.

Because he felt Amaia was the exact opposite of him and destroyed everything he created he started with hers.

Fast forward a couple hundred years into the furure, is where the story actually takes place.

Elleonora grows up on a farm in a small town outside the capital. She lives there quite happily with her mom, dad and brother, until her father leaves seemingly out of nowhere.

Elle is blessed by Amaia, wich causes her a great deal of trouble and bullying in the small town under Aviyas rule. Her father was the only one really understanding and protecting her. With him gone her mother and everyone else have free reign to bully, ridicule and abise her.

She grows up mainly playing on her own in the forests surrounding the town, playing with the wolfs and wild dogs that life there.

Until she meets Blanca, who becomes her best friend and later her lover.

Elles mother does not approve of Blanca and her daughters relationship, and shoots the former after catching them in the barn behind the house.

Elle runs away and meets Anya, a wolf shapeshifter blessed by Fauna.

Anyas family is blessed by Munin, and was killed when Aviya took over the tribe. She fled to the nearest woods, was adopted by a pack of wolfs and blessed by Fauna.

She joined a rebellion against Aviya and is recruiting new members until she meets Elle. She joins in hopes she can avenge Blanca.

Together, Elle and Anya go to the Capital, where they stay at a cemetery run by Alfred, a member of the rebellion who is also blessed by Luci, the deity of the soul.

In the capital they’re joined by May, a girl from a family of great doctors, all blessed by Emmi, the deity of healing, that holds her up to dangerously high standards.

together they go on a journey to be able to fully end and, in order to maintain balance, replace Aviya.

There’s like much more details that i’m just to lazy to write down right now ^~^ You‘re still very welcome to send me asks about more details though!!

#please ignore the fact that this took so long #i definitely didn’t forget about this and only remembered when i accidentally clicked on my drafts (i did)#anyways #just yapping #my ocs <3 #god they have rotted my brain #i‘ll be looking at something stupid like cutlery and think: „May would have these“#Tallie talks OCs

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years ago

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Table anon again! For the millionth time! Because I'm fucking hooked! God damn it!

Anyways, idk if you take requests or not, but... I'm sure you remember that Patches Nebul Morell thing 👉👈....... I'd- yeah I'd kill to see a fic about that...... I KNOW YOU'VE GOT OTHER THINGS TO BE DOING BUT I can hope....... also I'd scream if you did it so there's also that

;w;

[There's a lot of things I want to do, and my biggest grievance is that days are far too short for all the shit I want to get done. :') But I like this scenario. POV shifts sporadically between all three.]

TW: Anything involving Morell usually warrants gore or blood; Socket fucking (sort of??); Patches lives through damage that would maim someone.

" So, it has come to this? "

Nebul looks at the monster before him. A frankly pathetic display, as per usual.

The dullahan sways slightly in place, and while Nebul's sense of smell is greatly diminished compared to that of most living monsters, he can practically smell the alcohol wafting off that green vegetable head. He's more than hammered, the wraith would be surprised if his coworker was able to tell left from right. Patches won't meet his eyes, not after boldly draping himself over the shopkeeper's counter, but the radiant flush of seaweed green on his cheeks speaks for itself. Words aren't needed for the wraith to tell that this one wants to be taken for a ride, but he'd like to hear them anyway, so Nebul remains impassive until the pressure forces speech out of the other.

" I dunno... A-Are you busy? "

Lollygagging. But it's usually very easy to make him speak.

" Am I too busy to fuck you? "

The green monster fumbles, withdrawing from the counter momentarily. Nebul deeply enjoys it when people understand that he can't be so easily seduced, that manners will get them everywhere as opposed to whorish displays. But then again, the dullahan probably already knew such, maybe he just wanted to provoke the shopkeeper. He won't put the scientist above that.

Claws tap harshly against wood.

" Mm- Well... "

" Come now, say it, you were brave enough to walk here. " He doesn't have to be so mean, but he can be.

Patches sighs, lowers his hat, gloved digits fiddling with a small vial of fey powder lying around. " It's early... I know you don't have anything better to do, so- So why not do me? " Lord, he's corny. " I can take anything you dish out. Go wild. "

There's some truth to his statement, undead monsters have a pain tolerance that makes the strongest wrath demons froth at the mouth with jealousy. Nebul can go to greatly depraved lengths with the dullahan. Though, he has to question why his coworker is so keen on seeking pain lately. Something must have happened, and Nebul isn't so sure if feeding that urge is the best course of option right now. In fact, the mildly depressed signals he's picking up on will warrant a talk later on. Not right now, the dullahan needs escapism and attention for the moment.

Nebul rises from his seated stance, waving at Purpur, who is currently playing with the bobbles in a display pen. The little spaghetti ball gets the message and uses his tendrils to scoop the creatures into the shop's backdoors, staying there.

" As a matter of fact, I am too busy to indulge you, slut. " Nebul starts, never missing the shiver of want that races down Patches' spine upon the correct terminology being used to address him. Though it's humorously followed by a wispy exhale.

" That's fine, I'll j- "

" However- " He interrupts. " You're still of use to some of us. "

Patches "blinks", machinating the wraith's intentions. No time is given for him to think.

" Go on, undress, must I spell everything out for you? "

" N-No. " The dullahan starts fumbling with his needlessly complex outfit, circled idly the wraith, who watches him with an unwavering eye.

" No what...? " Nebul stops by the display rack exposing several sets of collars and leashes, picking a golden-spiked, velvet collar and a thin but durable leash of the same hue to match it. It's not actual gold, that'll spook the dullahan, Nebul is not that heartless.

" No, master! "

Well, he certainly can't complain about the monster being clueless. He catches on to what a dominant figure wants to hear fast, even if much too clumsy for the other undead's tastes.

" Very well. "

Once he's standing still, both hands politely covering his shame and eyes cast to the floor, oh what a view, Nebul hums, placing the collar around the dullahan's neck in a motion that's almost mechanic, given how many times he's done it before. The leash clips with a neat metallic noise.

A beat of stillness passes between the two men, Nebul appreciating the straight posture Patches is able to keep in spite of spending his days curved over an office chair. He insists on wearing the hat indoors and it's frankly infuriating. The moonlight can't snare him from inside! Foolish. He tsks softly, depositing the hat on his counter and letting the rest of his clothes lay on the floor for now.

There's a wordless nudge of Nebul's clawed finger against the green monster's bare arm, an expectant nod spared his way. Patches slowly allows his limbs to drop uselessly, revealing a half-hard length. Right, he's heard of this before, people who seem to get aroused under the influence of alcohol. Not that the dullahan wouldn't drink if he wasn't already intent on humiliating himself, this is just the liquid courage propelling him forward.

" How often do you masturbate? "

The question sounds fairly out of left field, and the other understandably fumbles. " I- ? Uhm, o-once or twice. "

Nebul stays put. " You are insulting my intelligence. I suggest you don't repeat that. "

" D-Daily... "

That's a little more like it.

" From now on, you will cease that. If you're so intent on bothering your coworkers for pleasure- " The wraith leans in. " You will let them have control of it. "

Someone definitely liked hearing that, if the downstairs twitch was anything to go by. " Y-Yes, master. "

" Good. " A dark, dusty gray hand curls around the dullahan's length in reward, giving slow, luxurious pumps. The undead's hands aren't very soft, courtesy of his weathered nature, but they don't need to be. Patches makes a quiet moan when Nebul deliberately allows long claws to flirt with the underside of his cock. He's full-mast in moments.

As soon as that's established, the cloaked monster quickly retracts his touch. Cold, heartless, uncaring. " Walk. " The wraith commands, holding the crimson leash. " And touch yourself along the way. "

Patches gawks, making a noise more akin to an incredulous squawk than anything, walking anyway. " B- Buh- Neb- "

" Did I stutter? "

Nope. It'll be a cold day in Hell before the shopkeeper is caught stumbling over words.

" N-No, sir. "

" Then start. "

And he's led to the elevator in that state. Naked, collared, with trembling hands reaching for his own cock like some mindless pervert that can't help himself. Patches gulps, full of delicious shame even as Nebul calmly presses a button on the elevator wall, not sparing the pumpkin-headed monster a single glance. The dullahan gets momentarily distracted by his own motions and huffs in the quiet of the confined space, finally getting a pleasant buzz of sensation.

He's mid-stroke when a ding rings out, and in steps a pair of monsters he doesn't recognize, clients no doubt. A wave of mortification courses through Patches, who flushes ten shades darker and averts his gaze immediately, aware he's being stared down with equal parts disgust, amusement and mockery. The moment he stops moving however, Nebul spares him a frigid look. Well, he's incapable of facially emoting, but intent is transmitted near flawlessly anyway, and Patches senses nothing but menace in the wraith.

So, accordingly, the dullahan resumes palming and teasing himself shamelessly, open-mouthed. The shopkeeper then casts his attention towards the pair, towering over them. His regard is wordless, but an air of challenge hovers over him, as if daring the two to say or do anything stupid. Needless to say, they don't, awkwardly huddling closer to each other.

An undefined amount of time later, the elevator door parts again, and the pair of clients basically scrambles out, Nebul had been exerting a lot of pressure on them, but he can't be blamed, can he? It's only natural to be protective of your pathetic pets. Patches finally understands where he is when the sound of cutlery clinking together and droning chatter can be heard. The restaurant floor. Ah... It's only early evening, so it's not as busy as it would be say, during witching hours. But more than a couple of heads certainly swivel at the sight of an imposing individual like Nebul casually dragging another monster on a leash, said monster swaying lightly and fisting his own dick.

Lord, he's dying of shame, but he's throbbing harder than ever.

Wait... Why is he in the kitchen? Oh fuck. This is what he meant. Oh shit. Morell.

" N- Nebul?! " The crack of his voice is high-pitched and cringe-worthy.

" Hush. "

Inside the kitchen, not that much is going on, the place is inundated with bobbles rushing around, a cluster of them worried over ingredients, some cleaning counters and others washing dishes. Turnip is orchestrating most of this. The vast majority of the small creatures are too preoccupied with their curreent tasks to care about the pair of monsters that just walked in, recognizing them as their boss' coworkers. The pink in question does eventually speak.

" Mistah Nebul, mistah Patches. " He greets, seemingly unfazed by the monster "forced" to touch himself in plain sight. " What can I help y'all with? "

" Where's your boss? " Nebul begins.

" Sir's in tha back. " The warehouse, so to say.

" Playing with the food? " There's a subtle hint of glee in the wraith's tone. If Morell's getting frisky with his pigs, then it'll be much easier to tilt him into playing along for this.

" Yep! " Chirped without an ounce of awareness.

" Splendid. Go call him, it's urgent. " The pink bobble nods, trotting past the two and disappearing behind heavy doors. Nebul turns to Patches and taps the chopping block functioning as a kitchen isle, there are knife marks on the surface, but it's otherwise spotless. The floor around it has drains, no doubt for the bloodshed that happens here regularly. " Sit. "

And the dullahan does. He can't help but feel a touch of panic, never wanting to be subjected to the butcher's treatment. Or maybe, maybe Patches would like that- Though he's not gone enough to throw his life out for an orgasm. Hopefully. Jury's still out on that one. Nonetheless, the dullahan's hand still works quickly at his own girth, mind rouletting through possible scenarios. He's going to get split open by the mushroom monster, spitroasted between the two, maybe forced to take both at once, he can stretch far enough, especially with a touch of magic! Nebul's going to slap the shit out of him while he bounces on the cook's fat fucking-

Fingers snap before his face, making the pumpkin man gasp.

" Morell will kill you if you cum on his chopping block. " The wraith warns. " Hands off. "

Patches wasn't even aware of how lost in his own pleasure he was getting. Sure enough, a little bit more and he'd be risking a premature orgasm. He doesn't doubt the chef would do exactly that, to be fair.

Speak of the devil, heavy footsteps signal Morell's arrival, the kitchen doors opening to the sight of him wiping blood off his hands with a towel. He doesn't look very amused, and his frown only deepens when he stops to take in the sight of the collared, naked dullahan on his kitchen isle.

" Tha fuck's yer problem?! What's all this shit? "

Oh, he's definitely not happy about being interrupted. Patches shrinks in himself silently. Nebul remains impassive, noting the tent on the cook's pants when he moves to slam the dirty towel next to the sink. He looks back at the duo with a furious, tense glower.

" You seem upset. "

" DO I-?! Wise ass! " He leans against the counter, arms crossed, it speaks volumes of Patches' depravity that he remains hard in spite of the chef's yelling. Perhaps because of it.

" Mhm. " Nebul clasps his hands. " See, I think you're in dire need of relief. You're awfully tense, Morell. "

That actually makes the shroom bark out a laugh. Now he's curious. " Ha! I don' suppose yer offerin'? "

Nebul chuckles quietly. " Perish the thought, my dear chef. " Patches' leash is tugged harshly, making him choke. " I usually don't sell this type of product, but I believe I can interest you in used goods... "

Morell's attention is diverted to the pervert twink on his chopping block, glowing eyes accessing him sharply. It takes a long, drawn-out pause full of quiet tension... But eventually, a bit of a smirk pulls on the mushroom monster's face, just barely visible above his scarf.

" What's yer deal, pumpkin? Ya wanna be some kinda Merry Go Round? Anyone can catch a ride? " The chef teases.

Patches nods, definitely too drunk and stimulated to be ashamed of himself, the wraith having already successfully put him in a submissive mindset.

" I don' even think ya can handle me. Yer all skin and bones! " Morell prods at his coworker's arms and legs in much the same dehumanizing way he studies his piglets. Patches only gasps and flushes the more he's dragged about, definitely getting a thrill from the other's brute strength.

Nebul makes another subtle snicker. " Oh, I assure you that won't be a problem, undeads can be roughed around, don't worry about something as silly as a stretch. "

The cook spares Nebul a squint.

" Now now, he's not all for you. " Dark digits reach for the dullahan's head, Patches understands the request and gladly allows Nebul to extract his head. " You can keep his body. "

Patches finally realizes what's going to happen, as does Morell, the two of them gawking at the wraith. A nasty, blunt-toothed snarl of a grin paints itself on Morell's face, and Patches' legs clench in excitement. His form used by two people at the same time, in separate places. Like an actual toy you can take apart and put together on a whim- Two kids fighting over a plushie until it tears at the seams and each gets a piece. Lord, that's fucked up. He's so ready.

" Say goodbye to yourself for a bit, we'll be heading back up. " Nebul prompts, giving Patches a perfect view of his body sitting placidly in front of a very interested shroom, before promptly taking his leave...

Morell stares at the leashed offering before him, guessing there's really no point in wasting time now. He had been getting handsy with some of the piggies in his warehouse, one of them is very easily spooked and will let him do just about anything to them so long as he doesn't raise his voice. He's going to enjoy cutting that one up... Morell guesses, since Patches interrupted his rendezvous, he can be the replacement.

The dullahan twiddles his thumbs, fiddling with the leash silently while the chef removes his blood-stained smock, hasty hands unzipping his black pants so a strained length can pop out. With a relieved sigh, the shroom grabs Patches' hand and brings it to his cock, interested in how the other might react. Patches seems to jolt slightly, and the chef knows he'd be stuttering by now if his head were on... You know, taking it off might not have been a bad idea, saves him the trouble of having to shut the twink up himself eventually. Nonetheless, he's pleasantly surprised when green hands tentatively start working smoothly at him.

" Lawd, yer really some slut, ain'tcha? " He snorts, speaking to no one really. He's glad he made Turnip watch over the misbehaving catch inside the meat freezer, because the chef will certainly get busy now. The rest of the kitchen bobbles work smoothly, so used to the depravity of what usually takes place within these walls that no one spares Morell or Patches a second glance.

The chef bucks once or twice into the dullahan's touches, getting riled up whenever the other is bold enough to squeeze or linger on the tip of his member. Something flashes through his mind.

" ...undeads can be roughed around,... "

That's right, he can have some fun with this one, can't he? Oh joy.

Morell leans into the dullahan's space, delighting in the shiver his coworker gives upon sensing him so close. Morell hovers over the other's exposed neck, nudges the collar up, and swiftly bites down. Hard. Making sure to grind his teeth together. Patches squirms and kicks out in pain, no doubt screaming somewhere, making the shroom laugh against his flesh. Still, ever so dutiful, he keeps stroking the chef, which is commendable really! Morell rewards this obedience by groaning lowly in satisfaction, giving the dullahan a small respite in which he focuses mostly on the taste of the trembling being.

It's not like human blood at all. It's thicker, less metallic, more of a soupy, bitter substance. Quite different. Do all undeads taste like this? The shroom peels back, licking at his chops and observing the massive bite mark he left behind. It's green, his blood is a curious juniper green hue, like he's spoiled or something. Morell's own ichor is discolored, but this is news to him. Nonetheless, driven by both an erotic sadistic urge and endless curiosity, he continues to scrape and ghost bold dentures across the dullahan's shoulder, teasing, warning. A meaty hand curls around Patches' own dick to gently return the favor. He wouldn't say he dwarves the other's cock, but his girth is certainly null compared to the mushroom monster's.

In contrast to that generous treatment, Morell once again sinks his teeth into the magic caster's tender hide. Deeper, harsher, feeling muscle give way, ligaments collapse and blood vessels burst- The chef moans, low and needy, shaft throbbing while he secures the flailing monster and rrriiips a chunk out of his shoulder.

He chews pensively, still hastily pumping the other's cock as he heaves and pathetically squirms, bleeding all over his torso. Not a bad taste at all! He can work with this! Morell's jolted out of his evaluation by the sudden piston of his comparatively small coworker, who promptly cums all over his hand.

Figures, little loser must be screaming his eyelights out up there. The cook smiles, licking cum off his digits. This ain't over.

Nebul makes an airy cackle, watching the dullahan's facial expression contort in immeasurable, appetizing agony as he stops licking the wraith's shaft to yowl.

" AAH GHH- FUCK-! AH- OH GOD. "

" HURKK- GONNA DIE. GONNA DIE! " Patches screams, a blood-curdling sound. Too bad Nebul has no blood.

" Don't be dramatic. " Nebul pats the pumpkin man's head as he pants and keens through whatever's happening. " Tell me things. " He demands while idly pumping his length.

" H- He- He tore a chunk? Of my shoulder? He- " The monster gasps and moans very suddenly, speech faltering into pleasured, breathless cries. Magic tears slide down his cheeks. Nebul knows that look, he just came. " Gh- He's gonna eat me. "

" Oh, part of you, definitely. I expect nothing less. " Nebul hums, adjusting his seated stance on the chair behind his counter. " Do continue. Tell me things as they happen from now on. "

Patches dutifully continues to use a summoned tongue to lap and curl around Nebul's length. In different circumstances, the wraith would be face-fucking him by now, but he seems intent to take it slow this time.

" I- " The dullahan gasps, sockets wide. " I think I'm- B- Being turned around? Wha... I'm touch- I'm bent over the sink. " He puzzles out.

Ohh, this is getting good!

Nebul makes a sound far too akin to a giddy titter, grabbing his cock and sliding Patches' head closer. He has an idea as to how he can fuck his coworker and keep hearing those lovely cries. His cockhead poises on the rim of the other's right socket. The wraith gets to see his coworker's attention finally fully veered towards him, excited yet submissive eyelights flickering to his misty head.

" F-Fuck yes, stuff my ffucking brains out! " He offers enthusiastically.

Fact of the matter is the dullahan has none, physically speaking that is. But Nebul understands completely, he himself knowing the true, invasive depths of allowing others to touch what essentially amounts to one's mind, one's very conscious, their core. To fuck that is to penetrate beyond bodily limits, it's capable of breaking monsters if overdone. But Patches... Patches is already so cracked and shattered, he can take it.

Eternally grateful for the way the dullahan made his face so malleable, Nebul slowly stretches the triangular socket with his girth, going deeper and deeper into the other's head until it's essentially forced into a circle around his cock. The small magic field Patches created to mimic pupils creates a pleasant, vibrating buzz on the wraith's cock. Nebul moans low in delight.

" Ha- Ahn- HhnHn- Fffffuck. Y-Yes! " Patches makes an ugly, guttural sound. " Th- Thank you, master. " He's crying again, crocodile tears steadily flowing as the dullahan sobs in a blinding mixture of pleasure and pain. " Harder, please! "

" Such manners. " The wraith praises, a purring lilt to his tone. " How could I deny you? "

And he thrusts. Firm, merciless, balls smacking against the other's head. He readjusts, legs spread, steadily using the moaning, crying dullahan's hole as an improvised toy and idly wondering what Morell's up to some floors below.

He's screaming again, the sound making Nebul's thighs shake in euphoria, though the wraith doubts his coworker has enough mind to narrate what's going on.

Morell growls, fists slammed against the counter as he hilts inside the green monster's tight ass. Yeah, that's not right, he definitely tore him open. Oops... He can handle it, right? Probably.

The shroom holds himself back for a moment, being merciful enough to wait for his coworker to calm down. But he doesn't. In fact, the smaller male starts kicking out harder, hands desperately scrambling for something to hold onto until they grab the edges of the sink. Huh, that can't be the chef, the wraith must be sticking needles in his head like a pincushion or something... Whatever it is that he likes to do.

" Well boy, if ya ain't gonna settle down on yer own... "

The cook grabs his velvet leash, quickly using it it to tie Patches' hands behind his back. One arm keeps his upper body flush to the counter, while Morell's foot nudges his bare legs apart further. This, he can work with. One fierce piston jostles Patches forward, body screaming mutely as it tears further to accommodate him. Yeah sure, Morell could have prepared him before, but no one said he had to. The dullahan will walk it off just fine, this is his kinda thing anyway.

For an undead, he's not that cold. Morell will give him that, enjoying the tense grip of the magic caster's walls around him while he bucks hard and fast. There's no point keeping things slow, the chef got interrupted and he wants a reward for humoring this nonsense, drowning the dullahan's guts will do just fine. Glazed, pleasure-filled eyes spot his cleaver discarded to the side. The shroom cackles, reaching for it giddily and deciding to play with the man beneath him.

In contrast to great, jarring thrusts, Morell drags the very tip of his blade over Patches' back. The prominent line that marks his spine. Morell knows that if he swung his cleaver juuuust right, he could cut through the bone, split him in two. But he doesn't, of course, even if part of him thinks Krulu could just sew Patches back together without issue. Tempting, but ultimately, the shroom only makes a couple of slow, grating, deep cuts across Patches' back, enough to get more of that strange dark blood.

The squeeze around his cock has Morell luridly cooing. " Figures, little pain slut, this right up yer alley I'll bet! "

He dips to lick the lines of seaweed green now pooling on the other's back, making sure to stick his tongue into the wounds, prodding, deliberately stretching the tissue just to hear it squelch and part further for him. Morell's moan is near guttural as he grinds more generously. Finally, he gets to feel the bruised and torn dullahan grind back greedily. " Atta boy... " Not that the monster can even hear it.

Another belly laugh rips out of Morell when the chef subtly drags the blade of his cleaver against Patches' twitching cock and the monster visibly jumps. It's followed by almost enthusiastic squirming and leaning, as if daring Morell to actually do some damage. The chef thinks about it, motions picking up in his rampant excitement. He enjoys castrating some of the piggies he catches, part of him would delight in tearing Patches' dick off. Or his balls. It's not like he's going to put babies in anyone, most likely. Better not, that'll probably take a long while for the poor pervert to fix. Instead, Morell lets Patches play with fire, dragging his shaft through the cold stainless steel. At this rate, he's gonna get himself cut without the chef's help at all!

Morell's too frenzied to wait, blanketing over the undead and fucking wildly into his trembling frame, cleaver ghosting over his abdomen. What if... What if he just- Right here, right now, right on the counter...

There's an impatient kick, then a force trying to lift against the shroom's heavy arm- What the Hell's he doing now? Then finally, a SLAM downward.

He... The fucker stabbed himself.

Morell gawks at the sight, panting heavily in shock, throbbing as soon as rivulets of thick blood cascade to the floor. His brain shuts off entirely. The last couple of pistons the shroom offers are brutal, he makes sure to pump Patches in wordless praise as he buries himself to the root and keeps his promise to flood the smaller monster's insides. The chef groans and huffs, not remembering the last orgasm he had half as intense as this one.

He twists the blade up further into the dullahan's guts, making sure to rotate and dig further, drooling. Patches cums near immediately, the overload of pain making him spasm like a fish out of water while his cock spurts uselessly against the counter, mixing with his own blood and Morell's fluids. It's... A complete mess. Morell grimaces a bit at it, but he's determined to encourage this perfect behavior, milking the other's orgasm well past the point of comfort.

Maybe, he thinks, sighing in blissful satisfaction, he should do this more often.

Nebul glances at the dullahan's jizz-soaked head. Globs of seed escape through his carved mouth and nose, right socket sticky with tears and precum.

He's stopped cleaning the wraith's length to seemingly freak out.

" You're hyperventilating. "

Patches groans, a bit of attitude surfacing. " Hrk- Well, excuse me- " A sudden wheeze, words are understandably hard to form for him currently, but the other can wait.. " There's a fuh- Fucking k-knife in my abdomen! "

Nebul snickers, using a handkerchief to wipe the cum off the corner of his coworker's mouth. " Joy, he likes you. "

" Oh, I- Hhhng- Can tell. " A tired sigh escapes Patches. " C-Can we go down, I think- "

There's a long pause, Nebul practically dies of anticipation. " ... Yes? "

" Yeah, I'm spilling my guts on his floor. "

And his head is picked up again without warning, the wraith quickly slipping into the elevator. Not because he's concerned about the other's well-being, not even close-

He just needs to know what Morell's going to do next.

#Morell oc #Nebul oc #Patches oc #tw gore #yeeeehawww this is not for the faint of heart

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mwolf0epsilon · 2 years ago

Text

Revived Shifter Initiative - Case Files

A series of files found on an Imperial Outpost that was taken over and partially destroyed by a Rebel cell. The information seems to have been sent from an as of yet unknown sector.

EDIT: Updated some information pertaining Cody's shift.

---

Test Subject ID: SC-1010 (formerly CC-1010)

Genetic Templates: Human DNA (Provided by Subject Jango Fett during the separatist war) + Vjun Fox Genetic Sequencing (Donated by Emperor Sheev Palpatine in the form of a rare taxidermy specimen)

Objective: Convert subject into a SC (Shapeshifter Clone) unit with the ability to change between human form and animal form.

Results: Unsatisfactory. Test subject survived injection of serum F10-X and appeared to have grown an extra appendage (tail), but otherwise does not display any other significant changes or shapeshifting abilities.

Notes: This specific unit was requested specifically by the Emperor himself as a form of personal entertainment. However, due to failure to properly convert it into the desired product, the head scientist (Dr Sulu Ra) in charge of the Revived Shifter Initiative has decided to keep the subject contained as a case study. Whatever we may learn from this subject will help provide answers as to why this specific serum did not get rejected by the host body and end with catastrophic organ failure like with previous attempts.

Test Subject ID: SC-1954 (Formerly CT-1954)

Genetic Templates: Human DNA (Provided by Subject Jango Fett during the separatist war) + Zillo Beast Genetic Sequencing (Acquired from the former Republic Science and Technical Center)

Objective: Convert subject into a SC (Shapeshifter Clone) unit with the ability to change between human form and animal form.

Results: Unsatisfactory. Test subject survived the injection of serum Z11-L and suffered visual mutations that, while more significant and useful than those of subject SC-1010's, are still not what this project calls for. There is still nothing to show in terms of shapeshifter abilities.

Notes: Subject has grown highly durable (forest green) armored platting all over its body (reminiscent of the Zillo Beast's scales and crested spikes), as well as acquired a few reptilian features such as glowing green eyes and a forked tongue. A few tests have been performed to test the sturdiness of this natural armor and (thus far) the subject has endured extreme temperatures and even close range blaster fire without more than a few flinches and whimpers (likely a leftover reaction from when it was purely a Fett clone). An explosives test is in order to see if the armor platting will still hold strong even under the force of a powerful blast.

Test Subject ID: SC-6209 (formerly CT-6209)

Genetic Templates: Human DNA (Provided by Subject Jango Fett during the separatist war) + Gutkurr Genetic Sequencing (Extracted from a fresh specimen encountered on a recent expedition to Ryloth)

Objective: Convert subject into a SC (Shapeshifter Clone) unit with the ability to change between human form and animal form.

Results: Failure. Although subject has displayed less visual mutations (aside from eye coloration shifting to red, patches of carapace growing over certain areas of the body, segmentation of the digits and growth of claw like spikes instead of finger and toe nails) and partial shapeshifting abilities, it cannot control these changes and reacts violently to any sort of stimulus added to its cage. Be it tools of enrichment or even research team members. Due to the random nature of its shifting it has thusly been marked as a much less satisfactory result than previous test subjects.

Notes: The head scientist (Dr Sulu Ra) in charge of this project has argued fervently with his assistant (Dr Nala Se) over what caused this test subject's sudden behavioral issues. They are not in agreement as to whether it is the Gutkurr's predisposition for violence the true cause of these problems, or if the subject itself was simply not fit for this project due to unrelated trauma acquired during the war. Whatever the case, this test subject is to be locked up more tightly than the others due to it's unpredictability.

Test Subject ID: SC-2209 (formerly CT-2209)

Genetic Templates: Human DNA (Provided by Subject Jango Fett during the separatist war) + Boar-wolf Genetic Sequencing (the acquisition of this particular specimen's DNA has not been disclosed)

Objective: Convert subject into a SC (Shapeshifter Clone) unit with the ability to change between human form and animal form.

Results: Satisfactory. While not a complete fix from the last attempt (Serum GTK-0), subject has displayed no visual mutations and has acquired partial shifting abilities that are more controllable than its predecessor's. Serum BW0-F shall thusly be used as a secondary base for future serums along with serum F10-X.

Notes: This particular subject has no noticeable behavioral issues like its predecessor, however its appetite has greatly increased and it has gained a more carnivorous dietary requirement. Another noteworthy issue is that its teeth (even while in human form) seem to grow at the same rate as that of an actual Boar-wolf's. It is important to provide it with items with which it can naturally wear down its own teeth.

Test Subject ID: SC-4477 (formerly CC-4477)

Genetic Templates: Human DNA (Provided by Subject Jango Fett during the separatist war) + Tusk Cat Genetic Sequencing (to extract this particular genetic sequencing, the research team was given by the Emperor a live specimen that bore the Amidala family crest on its saddle)

Objective: Convert subject into a SC (Shapeshifter Clone) unit with the ability to change between human form and animal form.

Results: Unsatisfactory. Like with subject SC-1010 this subject displays no shapeshifter abilities, instead having a far too noticeable visual mutation and nothing more (its entire head has morphed into that of a Tusk Cat's). It is likely that serum TKC-4 was created with improper doses of serums BW0-F and F10-X, with the latter likely coming off stronger than the former. This imbalance should be worked upon before moving on to the next test subject.

Notes: This is not much of a perk, but it seems even with its head trans-mutated into that of a wild animal's, the subject is capable of perfectly eloquent speech (it has cursed out the entire research team in various languages, including huttese).

Test Subject ID: SC-6922 (formerly CT-6922)

Genetic Templates: Human DNA (Provided by Subject Jango Fett during the separatist war) + Oggdo Genetic Sequencing (acquiring this specific specimen's DNA was no easy feat and has cost us three members of our expedition team)

Objective: Convert subject into a SC (Shapeshifter Clone) unit with the ability to change between human form and animal form.

Results: Failure. Attempts to correct the issue with serum TKC-4 were made in the creation of serum OGD-0, however it seems the dosage balance issues were inverted rather than balanced, resulting in visually mutations much more drastic than in past test subjects. This subject is thus incapable of both shapeshifting and is permanently trapped in a half-way form. Neither man nor animal.

Notes: Unlike with its predecessor, subject is unable to speak due to its tongue having changed to become longer and prehensile, filling the mouth cavity rather uncomfortably (subject has nearly choked on own tongue several times until it acclimated to this particular change). It seems to also have issues with controlling its tail, as well as getting easily confused by the third eye it has grown. It rarely leaves a corner of its cage (subject has been recorded weeping).

Test Subject ID: SC-5052 (formerly CC-5052)

Genetic Templates: Human DNA (Provided by Subject Jango Fett during the separatist war) + Carrier butterflies Genetic Sequencing (This particular specimen was not approved and the culprit behind tampering with this subject has been terminated)

Objective: Convert subject into a SC (Shapeshifter Clone) unit with the ability to change between human form and animal form.

Results: Failure. Due to tampering by an unauthorized party, subject underwent a much more catastrophic transition than previous subjects. Not only is it permanently stuck in the diminutive form of a carrier butterfly (of highly unusual and incorrect coloration), subject has no shapeshifter abilities and is unable to perform any form of military combat due to the limitations of its form. Unlike with actual carrier butterflies however, subject does display incredible healing abilities that might be of use for the creation of future subjects. Serum CB-Y is thus not a complete waste of resources it seems.

Notes: Like with subject SC-4477, SC-5052 is capable of coherent and eloquent speech. This subject rarely speaks however, often sitting in the middle of its cage listlessly staring at the walls instead. No one is quite sure what has caused it to behave like this.

Test Subject ID: SC-2224 (formerly CC-2224)

Genetic Templates: Human DNA (Provided by Subject Jango Fett during the separatist war) + Greater Krayt Dragon Genetic Sequencing (this particular DNA sequence was acquired illegally from the Bounty Hunter known as Boba Fett) + Implantation of Control Crystal (to enable remote control by Lord Vader)

Objective: Convert subject into a SC (Shapeshifter Clone) unit with the ability to change between human form and animal form.

Results: Success. After several hundreds of attempts (and failures), we have finally fully converted an otherwise standard Clone Commander into a Shapeshifter Clone. Enough data was accumulated to eventually create not only a perfect serum formula (in this case serum GKD-4) but also to help our team realize that, to properly control both the subject in human and shifted form, a new measure (in this case the implantation of a kyber crystal tampered with by dark side energy encased within a pearl-like protective casing) needed to be implemented to substitute a functional inhibitor chip (seeing as most seem to have begun decaying over time). Subject SC-2224 has been dispatched for field testing, and the chosen handler for this unit is Lord Vader himself, who is the only one capable of establishing a Force bond with the "control crystal" due to having been the one to provide it in the first place.

Notes: It appears this unit was commissioned to hunt the supposedly still living Jedi Master Obi-wan Kenobi. Lord Vader appears to believe this subject's past working relationship with the fugitive Jedi Master, would make it the ideal weapon to both hunt and bring him down. Dr Sulu Ra does not believe this will be the case, but seems very pleased with the results of the perfected base formula.

#star wars #the clone wars #cabur kad'edee au #commander fox #clone pilot goji #clone trooper boil #clone pilot warthog #commander thire #clone trooper dogma #commander bly #commander cody #Yes I am in fact a very evil person :)

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camomile-t · 3 years ago

Text

The year is 2184, average earth temperature has doubled, only a few million people remain on earth. A green-movement managed to travel back to 2022. What are they doing?

As they poured out of the doorway, frantically scrambling to their feet, we looked at them with, quite frankly, justified uncertainty.

I think we were justified, at least. I mean, what would you do if you’re at the park with your girlfriend and suddenly, boom, a portal has materialised and a bunch of spontaneously-created hippies are running at you?

I held her hand a little tighter, and sat paralysed by shock as they continued to pour out of the door.

After about two dozen of them lay in a heap outside the portal, they began to stand up, brush themselves off. One of them seemed to emerge as a leader, a tall, dark-skinned lady wearing a green shirt and cap. From her breast pocket, she pulled a small black rectangle decorated with a red button, and when she clicked it, the door disappeared with a, to be honest, quite unimpressive flash of light. Looking back, they must have had quite a low budget.

My girlfriend sat with her jaw dropped, eyes fixed on where the door had been. She murmured to me, “What the fuck?”

I ran a thumb over the back of her hand. “It’s probably just a flash mob.” The lady in green started to approach me, reaching into her breast pocket again and pulling out a clipboard that was way too big to have been in that tiny square. “Just play along, love,” I muttered, before readying myself for some unwanted audience participation.

In retrospect, I should have known that flash mobs didn’t get special effects.

She walked up to where we were sitting, a small patch of grass off the main path, and crouched next to me, clipboard at the ready.

“So! This is 2022, correct?”

I laughed awkwardly. I mean, what do you say to that? I just assumed she was an actor, drunk, or possibly some combination of the two.

“Sure is.”

She grimaced, and looked around.

“Why aren’t you all panicking?”

My eyebrow raised in skepticism, I probed her with further questions.

“Why would we be panicking?”

“According to our studies, this is the last possible year for humanity to change their habits and save the Earth from a devastating collapse due to rapidly rising temperatures. You guys are the last generation of majority-organic humans. Don’t you want to keep it that way?”

At this point my disbelief had evolved into confusion, I felt like a child being asked why the sky was blue.

“I don’t understand, your studies? And what do you mean about global warming, and organic humans and all that?”

Her eyes filled with a genuine sorrow.

“Do you not know yet?”

I shook my head slowly, feeling my fear rising by the second. She put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“The Earth is dying.”

After a moment of silence, I laughed.

“Is that it?”

She withdrew her hand as if she had been burned by my callousness.

“Is that it?! Your planet, your home, it’s going to be inhabitable within two centuries!”

I smiled tiredly. “We all know that. We just can’t do anything about it. I’m trying to live my life, I recommend you and your,” I gesture vaguely at the 20-odd people now standing awkwardly in a huddle, “Troop of merry men do the same.”

With her face contorted into sorrow and shock, I was struck by a sudden guilt that I suppressed. It was just an experiment, after all. A pitch from some charity to make me feel guilty enough to donate.

She pulled out her clipboard, and turned it towards me. On it was a graph measuring time and temperature.

She pointed at a line marked ‘2022.’

“This is you. See how it’s right before that big spike?”

Her hand followed the exponentially rising line, until landing on a red dot reading ‘2184.’

“This is where I’m from. It’s too late, the damage is irreversible. We can’t do anything to fix it.”

She glanced between me and my girlfriend, who by now seemed on the verge of tears. She always was an animal lover.

“You can still do something.”

“What do you want me to do? I’m one person. I can’t do anything that would actually make a difference.”

She frowned at me.

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“What’s the difference?,” I snapped. “If you’re a time traveller, and that’s a big if, what did you think I was gonna do?”

She looked at the ground, fiddling with her fingers.

“We thought that you would know this was the last salvageable year, that you’d all be panicking, doing everything you can. We thought, that with our knowledge, we’d be able to guide you to create a better future for yourselves. Or present for us.”

I looked guiltily at the floor.

“Well you were wrong. We’re all just a bunch of little people who can’t do anything, and so nothing gets done.”

She plucked a blade of grass, weaved it between her fingers.

“What do you suggest we do, then, if you’re so certain? This was our last ditch effort. Do we just got further back, and ask again?”

I sighed deeply.

“It wouldn’t make a difference. Nobody cares about things until they’re already hurting people. They’ll just ignore the problem like we do.”

I averted my eyes, too ashamed to look at her.

“Like I’m ignoring you.”

She dropped the blade of grass, her eyes tracing its path as it drifted back to the ground.

“We don’t have grass anymore, where I’m from; I only ever saw it in diagrams. But I always wanted to feel it, y’know? In the flesh. I had it in my head somehow, that if I felt grass, if I could see something growing again, then I would know that I’ve done a good job. That I had done everything I could.”

She stood up, and I was cast in her looming shadow.

“I’ve done everything I could. But you?”

She looked at me, my girlfriend. Turned around, eyes flickering over the entire park.

“You haven’t done anything.”

As she turned to walk away, I felt some deep urge to justify myself to her. Beg her for redemption.

From the picnic basked my girlfriend and I had packed, I pulled a metal straw, jumped to my feet, and chased after her.

“Look.” I grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around, slightly panting, my outstretched hand clutching the straw. “We try. We buy things that we can use again and again, instead of throwing them away the first time. That’s good, isn’t it? Isn’t that good?”

She took it from my palm.

Glared at me icily.

“I’ll be sure to put that in my report.”

She turned away again, leaving me standing there.

I watched as she rounded up her crew, pulled out the button from her breast pocket again, and clicked it. Again the door appeared, and she hurried them through. I stayed to see her leave, still frozen in place. She put one foot through the door, crouched, plucked a handful of grass. As she picked it up, I could see that the closer it got to the door, the more it started to spark. By the time her hand was next to the door, she was just holding a pile of ash.

She sprinkled it on the ground, and left.

The door shut.

***

I honestly believed it was just some stunt for a while.

The new year came and went. My girlfriend proposed in 2023, and we’ve been together for decades now.

That day always stayed in our minds, but we just accepted it as one of the weirder things in life, although we did donate significant amounts of our income to the WWF. For a while, anyway.

In 2024, the last male rhino died. It sucked to see the headlines, but we all saw it coming. Still sucked.

We adopted in 2025, a beautiful baby girl. Named her Jade.

2026, snow leopards became extinct in the wild. Only a few remained in captivity across the globe.

2027, the same with pandas, elephants, and giraffes.

2028. Hundreds of fish species, gone.

In 2029, Jade asked my wife what the fat unicorn she saw in the encyclopaedia was.

“It’s a rhinoceros, baby.”

“Can I pet one?”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, they aren’t around anymore.”

“What? Why?”

“A lot of reasons, Jay-jay.”

in 2030, weather was more extreme than I’d seen it in my whole life. A massive hurricane swept though pretty much the entire Northern hemisphere. Countries at the equator saw record breaking heatwaves.

The usual.

In 2035 when bees had to be in tightly controlled groups, led by environmental scientists, I started to worry a bit. This was around the time I started to realise she was right, the lady in green. It was unsalvageable now. Time seemed to pass quicker after that.

In 2040, I took a bad fall down an escalator. That’s what I get for rushing to work every day, I guess. In any case, I had a hip replacement, thanks to the NHS. It was not lost on me that I was no longer a fully organic human.

2050, Jade finished her degree, started rooming with a chap called Victor from her classes to save on rent. I knew from the first time I met him, they were gonna be together. The way she looked at him was just so familiar.

They married In 2054. My wife walked our daughter down the isle, and watching her come down that path for the second time was just… I fell in love all over again.

In 2056, I became a grandma. Little dude called Nicholas. Sweetest kid in the world. We visited every weekend.

2060. Nicky got sick. Just something going round, Jade had said, rubbing his back as he hacked up phlegm. “Kids get sick more often now, Mama. Something about germs liking the heat.”

2061. I wasn’t a grandma anymore.

The next year, 2062, Jade and Vic took a break. She moved back home. We were watching some news stream, cuddled up on the couch, when a familiar graph flashed on screen.

I choked on my tea.

“Mama, what’s wrong?”

“You alright, love?”

Wiping my mouth, I smiled. “All good, all good, just a bit hot.”

I went to the kitchen, and cried quietly.

2063, Jade and Victor got back together. They supported each other. It was nice.

2067, My wife’s lung collapsed. Not a big deal. We just got a replacement. No strenuous exorcise, the doctor said. She just laughed. “I’m near seventy! The only strenuous exercise I get is adjusting the thermostat!”

The AC was nearly always on these days. It got uncomfortably hot otherwise.

2070. It became illegal to breed long-haired cats and dogs. It was deemed inhumane, as they would so often die of heat exhaustion. I shed a tear for the stuffed pomeranian teddy Nicky hugged while he was in hospital. Jade still had it somewhere. She said she wanted to get a pommie in his memory, way back when. Guess that’s a pipe dream.

2079.

My wife died.

Can’t replace that.

2084. I’ll be dead within the decade, statistically. It doesn’t matter much anyway.

We’d all be dead in a hundred years.

I’m writing down what she said, the lady in green. Somehow I still remember it perfectly.

When I think back to all the time between then and now, it makes me think she was wrong, about 2022 being the last year to do something.

I had so many thousands of days to do something.

I didn’t.

Most of us won’t.

I’m too old now. I can’t walk much on my own, but I eat clean. Take care of my garden, for what few controlled colonies of bees remain.

I don’t buy things unless I need to, I pass on things I don’t need.

Nothing huge.

Just lots of little things.

If all the little people started sooner, maybe it wouldn’t have ended up like this.

Ah well. It is what it is, because of how we were.

I wonder what will be left, in a hundred more years?

#writing prompt #show and tell time #satt-prompt #satt-writing-prompt #satt-2184 #show and tell #satt

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