#women weren’t affected by her pheromones so she had no use for them

[delicatefury]

They’ve done Poison Ivy so dirty by reducing her to Harley’s love interest.

She was so much more interesting as a misanthrope who was easily irritated by anything not plant related and who used and discarded powerful men as easily as those same men did women. Not because she felt any compassion for the women, but because she could and she liked being powerful.

there’s a difference between character development and completely changing your character’s personalities with no explanation

[13uswntimagines]

We’ve Got Your Back (Alpha!Christen x Reader)

Request: Alpha christen press fic😍 and does it make me a horrible person cuz I want to see what christen would do to Hinkle? (Not to mention broon, uncle, ash....) 

Pt. 1

Author’s Note: So this turned out a touch different than i had planned. Let me know what you think! 

It was strange being back here. Back in the city, the stadium, that had almost been the sight of your demise. At least they had stuck the team in the visitor’s locker room. You didn’t know if you could have handled being back in that room. 

You rolled your shoulders and tapped the ball back towards Lindsey, sending the alpha a tight smile and trying to drown out the sea of unpleasant emotions threatening to pull you under. 

It was a stupid idea for Us soccer to have the team face off against the NWSL Allstars. You were part of the NWSL for goodness sake, it wasn’t like you didn’t play against these people already. It also meant you had to play against Her in the stadium she tortured you in. 

“How you holding up?” Christen asked, suddenly coming up behind you. She grabbed your clenched hand, coaxing your fingers open and intertwining them with her own. She let out a wave of her calming scent, trying to soothe you as much as she could with minimal contact. 

Though the two of you had… consummated your matting, and despite your normal cocky flirting, the two of you really weren’t into public displays of affection and there were thousands of eyes on you right now. 

You hadn’t even realized you were digging your fingernails into your palms. 

“Great now that you’re here hot stuff,” You tried to smile convincingly back at your mate, squeezing her hand tightly. She let out another wave of her calming scent, her eyes flickering around your face. 

One of the first lessons she had learned from Rose was that you never said when you were uncomfortable, but your tells always gave you away. 

“Always the charmer,” Christen said, a light blush covering her cheeks. 

You smirked at the alpha, shrugging. “It’s hard not to be when you always come out here looking like that”

She rolled her eyes at you, entirely used to your flirting. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that it was a coping mechanism for you. Whenever you were stressed or uncomfortable, your flirting intensified. 

It was a way for you to avoid your true emotions. 

“I’m literally wearing the same outfit as the rest of the team,”

You pulled your blushing alpha closer to you by your connected hands. You ran your nose over her cheek  “Hmm, but the rest of the team doesn’t have the-,”

The comment died on your lips when you caught sight of a certain alpha. You tensed even though she was stuck on her half of the field, separated from you by nearly the entire squad and the team of “Allstars”. But none of that had mattered last time. It hadn’t mattered that you were in a room full of people (nearly half of which were your national team teammates) or that the coaching staff knew what she was doing. 

Christen’s eyes followed yours, and she couldn’t suppress her growl (both for the other player being included in this game and the unpleasant emotions fluttering through your bond). 

“Vlatko swapped us, so you can stay on the left today. I’ll take the right and Alex will stay center,”

“You guys don’t need to do that. I can handle it,” You mumbled, suddenly finding the way your cleats ran through the grass incredibly interesting. 

Christen sighed, running a finger under your chin, grazing your scent gland as she tilted your chin up. “We know you can, just let us be a little protective over you, alright?”

You nodded biting your lip. You weren’t a weak omega, and you knew that the second you hit the field whatever grand plan they had was going to go right out the window. 

Well, part of it at least. You were sure that a certain alpha’s very white uniform was about to be stained very very green. 

****

You launched yourself across the pitch towards your mate, barely stopping to watch as your shot sailed past Jane Campbells outstretched fingers. You were having a blast skirting past the all-star defender, and fielding through passes and crosses from the Mewis’ and The great Horan. 

“Good goal baby,” Christen said, smiling wildly as she scooped you up in her arms and pressed a kiss to your neck, just above your mating mark. 

You pulled back, smiling at the alpha and flicking her lightly on the nose. “Good? That was fucking amazing! Did you see me put Stanton on her ass?”

Christen nodded, setting you back on your feet with a wide smile. “Yeah, and Kling. But I think I’ve seen Tobin do the same footwork before. I call plagiarism,”

You pouted, flicking the side of your alphas head again. “That’s not fair, I deserve a reward,” 

Christen grabbed your wrist as it migrated down her waist with an eye roll. “Behave little one,” 

She growled playful at you, about to lean up and nip your neck again, but the presence behind her stopped her. You whined loudly, displeased that she had stopped. 

“Get your omega under control Press,” You tensed at the alpha’s voice, burying your face in Christen’s neck, afraid that even the scent of Hinkle would make you lose your composure altogether. 

Christen's growl turned low and dangerous and was echoed by several of the teammates beginning to crowd around you. When your alpha promised the team would have your back, she meant it. 

“Come on Y/n,” Mal said, cautiously breaking from the group to approach you. Her hand carefully touched your back, avoiding any skin. No one wanted to test your alpha's control any more than the asshat on the field was. 

Christen made eye contact with the omega inching towards you, tearing her gaze from Hinkle. She nodded at Mal, coaxing you out of her neck and kissing your cheek. “go babydoll,” raising her eyebrow when you wined, but still pushing you towards Mal. You poured as Mal dragged you across the field, away from the brewing storm. 

You didn’t need to be in the middle of an alpha battle. You wouldn’t tell anyone, but you were fragile and she didn’t want you to have to feel her dominance when she put Hinkle in her place. 

She didn’t want to risk accidentally forcing you to submit. She would die before she did that. 

“that one needs a firmer hand,” Hinkle scoffed, as Christen walked back towards her position, waiting for Sheridan to put the ball back into play. 

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Christen growled lowly, her eyes following you as you grossed the field with Mal. Lindsey sent her a stiff not. The entire team was behind you. 

“Just saying that I could give you some pointers if you wanted them,” Hinkle shrugged as though she didn’t feel the insane tension on the pitch. Christen scoffed catching her arm, spinning the alpha to look at her. She didn’t need any advice on how to deal with you. You were a handful, but you were her handful, and she was glad you were comfortable enough with her to show her your playful side. 

“Don’t waste your breath,” Christen said, letting out her dominant scent. 

*****

The Women’s national team was known for its impeccable control. With so many strong alphas in one place, it was imperative for the team's functionality and their commitment to equality.

But tonight that control was nowhere to be found, and it wasn’t just the alphas that were going a little crazy. The pitch was total chaos and at the epicenter was Hinkle. 

From the crazy tackles Lindsey, Becky, and Christen herself were committing, to the lengths Rose, Mal, and Alex all went to keep you as far from the Alpha as possible while still letting you put balls on goal. Vlatko’s tactics had gone out the window and the team was operating like a disaster (a very successful disaster as you had already scored 4 times against the all-stars, but a disaster nonetheless). All teeth and growls. 

You were just thankful that the game was over, and that you could finally escape the place with so many bad memories. And the mix of dominant pheromones that hung in the air, putting you even more on edge. 

You headed back towards the tunnel, uncharacteristically ignoring the opposing team trying to approach you for handshakes, and the fans screaming for your attention. It was unnerving to have your typically dosel alpha acting so aggressive. 

It pulled your inner omega so close to the surface, and you weren’t sure how you felt about that. 

“You know it’s wrong to ignore your superiors little omega,” The voice stopped you in your tracks. Your shoulders hunched and you seemed to almost fold in on yourself. 

An arm wrapped around your waist, shielding you from Hinkle. You relaxed a little at the scent of your best friend's mate. “Just ignore her,” Mal said softly, pulling you into her. 

Hinkle snarled at the two of you, rushing forwards to stand right in your path. You took in a sharp breath, your nose twitching at the press of Hinkle’s pheromones. You fought the urge to submit, the urge she had drilled into your skull from the time you joined the Courage to the time you finally made your escape. 

“What, your alpha didn’t teach you any manners either,” 

Mal tensed around you. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, waiting for the next blast of her potent scent. The one that would bring both of you to your knees. The one from your memories. 

“You need to back the fuck off,” Ashlyn’s protective growls were suddenly separating you from Hinkle, shortly joined by Becky, Alex, Rose, and Lindsey. 

“Or what?” She challenged, stepping up so she was eye to eye with the much taller alpha. 

“Come on girlies, let’s get you to the back, they can handle this,” Ali said softly, trying to pull you and Mal around the wall of alphas and the dominant cloud of pheromones beginning to form. You let her pull you around the alphas, trying to keep your head down. 

“No, she stays,” Hinkle sneered, catching your wrist as you passed. 

The reaction of the team was instant, but none was more prominent than your own alpha’s (who had been caught up singing posters with Tobin). It was a big No-no to touch someone else’s mate. 

“Take your hand off of her. NOW,” Christen growled, sending a wave of very dominant and very terrifying pheromones directly towards Hinkle. Even the little edge that caught you made you freeze and sent a shiver down your spine. The alpha immediately released you and whimpered as she fell to her knees. 

Christen smirked viciously (her typical kind-hearted ness nowhere to be found). She was the stronger alpha, and she wanted Hinkle to know how it felt to be forced to submit. She wanted her to feel the humiliation of being surrounded by people who wouldn’t help her. She wanted her to know what she put you through. 

Mal and Ali both tucked you into them and started directing you towards the locker room. Emily stepped in behind you, shielding you from where your alpha was towering over the shaking Hinkle. 

They were right, you didn’t need to see this. 

*****

The walk back to the locker room was short, but it felt like forever. The omegas spent it emitting their soothing scents, trying to calm your frayed nerves (which were only amplified by the emotions fluttering down your bond with Christen). 

If the little edges of Christen's dominant pheromones were that strong, you could only imagine what it felt like to be caught in a full blast. That thought alone terrified you. She was always so careful with you, but what if she lost control. 

“Shh, kid you’re ok,” An arm wrapped around you and gentle hands guided your shaking form to sit on the bench. 

You shook your head rapidly. You were a lot of things right now, but ok wasn’t one of them. 

You opened and closed your mouth several times, but no sound would come out. What if you upset your alpha and made her lose control? You loved to push her buttons. 

“Hey, You gotta breath y/n,” Mal said, suddenly appearing crouched in front of you. She grabbed your hands, flattening out your palms to prevent your nails from digging further into your arms. She bit her lips at the stressful pheromones pouting off of you, she had only seen you like this once. A very long time ago (ironically in the same place you were now). 

“Em, go get Rose,” She said, not taking her eyes off of you. Your best friend was probably the only person who could help you. 

Emily’s eyes widened. There was a reason why most of the team’s omegas were in the locker room instead of hanging out in the field with their mates. It was one thing to put an arrogant alpha in their place, and another to risk accidentally forcing an omega to submit. 

The team was insanely protective, and going out there while their instincts were on edge wasn’t a good idea. 

“I think she’s got her-...” Emily started softly, lightly touching Mal’s shoulder. 

“Wasn’t a question,” Mal growled, cutting her off, and finally taking her eyes off of you. You whimpered at the tone, your head tilting slightly and Emily nodded rapidly. 

“Right, I’ll go right now,”  

She exited the room at a near run. She didn’t quite understand what was wrong, but she knew you desperately needed someone. 

****

Emily wasn’t sure what she expected when she exited the tunnel, but it wasn’t Rose and Christen standing over a shaking Hinkle (she would have pegged Ashlyn and Becky as way more likely to get themselves into this situation). 

As she approached the group (and the insane cloud of pheromones, seriously they were going to need to fumigate the place)she caught the tail end of Christen's deep rumble. “That’s a despicable excuse for-...”

“I’m sorry to interrupt this-...” Emily said slowly coming up behind her alpha. She kept her eyes down and her hands out, very careful not to provoke the angry hoard any further. 

Lindsey whipped around, gulping to try and restrain her instincts. She lightly grabbed her omega’s wrist to prevent her from getting closer to the scene. All hell would break loose if one of the omega’s accidentally got hurt. “Go back to the locker room. We’ll be there after we finish,”

Emily shook her head, finally looking into her alphas eyes. “No. You don’t-“ 

Lindsey’s eyes hardened as she cut her omega off. “I’m serious Em,”

Emily glared at her alpha, ripping her arm from her grasp. “So am I. I need Rose or Chris because y/n is like having a panic attack,” She practically spat. 

She hadn’t known you for as long as Mal had, but she still felt the omega bond with you. The overwhelming urge to protect one of their own when they were in distress. If they needed an alpha to help you, then an alpha she would get, come hell or high water. 

Christen and Rose both looked up at the mention of your name, as did the alpha on her knees.  The alphas seemed to blink back to themselves, letting up on their emission of pheromones. 

“Pathetic,” the woman on the ground mumbled.

The answering growl from the group was instant, low, and very dangerous. “Don’t you start,” Ashlyn said, her voice deadly soft before looking back up at the two struggling alphas. “Go, we can finish this,” 

Rose and Christen nodded, sending one last snarl towards Hinkle before following Emily down the tunnel. 

****

Christen took in a sharp breath at your distinct scent, freezing in the doorway. The locker room air was saturated with stressed and terrified pheromones. Any remaining anger she may have felt for the asshole out on the field disappeared and was replaced by worry for you. 

Rose moved first, pushing past your frozen mate and joining her omega on the floor in front of you, crouching down to your level. If you noticed newcomers to the room, you didn’t show it. You were stiffly sitting on the bench in the corner, staring off into space. 

Rose gently rubbed your knee, trying to bring you back to yourself. “Hey Kitkat, what’s going on?”

You blinked down at the alpha, your head tilting automatically. “Nothing. I’m fine,” you said robotically and Rose’s eyebrows furrowed. 

She had only seen you like this once, and that was after-... it was too horrible to even consider. 

“Yeah, no one believes that,” She mumbled, using a finger to stop you from showing off your neck. 

“I -...” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat, caught between an answer and a sob. 

“Did all the pheromones bring back bad memories?” Christen asked, finally taking a step inside the room. She had gotten very good at reading you since you had mated and she knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. 

You nodded, finally looking up at the alpha. Your alpha. You took her in, how she seemed more relaxed (minus the worried lines in her forehead) and her scent was its usual cinnamon and spice. 

The heavy dominance was gone. It wasn’t the terrifying figure that had confronted a monster from your past, no this was your Chris. 

She took another few slow steps towards you. Rose and Mal moved out of the way to give your alpha room in front of you. 

“You’re just so strong. What happens if I push too far?” You asked quietly. 

And finally, the pieces clicked in everyone’s heads. Christen shook her head and took your hands. “I would never baby. What you saw-. It’s different with other alphas,” 

It was embedded in the fabric of the team (and the countries) culture. You never ever forced an omega to submit, but submission had a different effect on alphas. It wasn’t uncommon for them to assert dominance over each other, and forcing full submission was a way to show an errant alpha bow off base they were. Alphas didn’t experience the emotional distress that came with full-blown submission. 

“Promise?” You asked, your voice small. 

“With everything I am. You can poke and prod and make me blush, but I will never do what she did to you,” Christen said, kissing the back of your hand and looking you in the eyes to show you just how serious she was. 

She waited for your shoulders to relax before releasing a wave of her soothing scent and pulling you into her. You trusted her, and you felt comfortable that she would keep her promise. 

If she didn’t you knew about 22 people who would have your back. 

[regrettablewritings]

Preference: What Strange Being Are They? II

Characters: Victor Stone, Harley Quinn, Erik the Phantom, Nevada Ramirez, **Surprise Character**

Victor Stone - Simulacrum

The proper term, as he saw it, was simulacrum: An image or representation of someone or something. That was the more proper term. But in Victor’s mind, ordealed and pulled every which way but up, it meant something just as contorted as his form had become: An imitation of something else that may or may not have ever even existed. A collection of broken pieces, cobbled together to look like something familiar, all the while lacking in its qualities enough to make it abundantly clear that no, this was no longer what someone knew. Or maybe they never knew him to begin with.

In layman’s terms, Frankenstein’s monster.

Then again, he supposed the term “cyborg” was not entirely incorrect. There were, after all, traces of his organic self still present, albeit restricted to the face. But there was almost a sense of struggle in that title to him. A sense of denial. Simulacrum might have hurt, but at least, to him, it was honest.

But Silas Stone preferred to call him his son. And Victor called that ignorantly optimistic. After all: What sort of father drags his son back from the cusp of a peaceful passing, utilizing otherworldly means to reassemble him nerve by metallic nerve until he no longer resembled the boy he remembered himself being? A father too driven, Victor decided. One whose own dreams and memories had become a simulacra in and of themselves: They became so distorted, that they no longer resembled reason or reality.

And as far as Victor was concerned, he’d paid the price.

He kept to himself, reserving night time as the only time he could wander the streets of Gotham to himself — but just barely. There was only so much hiding a flimsy hoodie from his time at Gotham U could provide. But still: Technically speaking, he was safe. Monstrous, perhaps, but safe. Safe from wandering eyes, safe from judgement over what he’d lost and since become, safe from . . . Well, life. He was perfectly content living a simulation of life, in fact.

But what he wasn’t prepared or safe from was that fateful night he met you, unafraid and completely real. Well, if anything, you were real curious . . .

Harley Quinn - Succubus

Nobody talks about what happens when you starve a succubus. Mainly because the belief is that the only way to starve a succubus is to deny her, ahem, intimacy. And while this certainly wasn’t an untruth in most cases, the case that was Harley Quinn was a rather . . . unconventional one. Well, as unconventional as anything concerning a succubus could be.

For one, she had adapted her needs to better suit her environment. She had to: If she relied solely on just physical intimacy alone, she would have died long, long ago. After all, The One That Shan’t Be Named seemed to make it a point of starving her of all the resources she could possibly siphon energy from. Eventually, it came to a point where she simply had to learn how to consume energy from other means: Attention; the glances of lustful men and women; affections. Little, teeny, tiny sources that paled in comparison to the full-course meal she might’ve gotten before. But it was better than starving, and she needed to get by in this world however she could.

Not only because she quite liked some bits and pieces of this side of the veil, but also because in the end, she simply wasn’t as powerful as she once was. She still carried some of her paranormal traits with her (minor dream-walking, enhanced agility, etc), but it definitely wasn’t enough to drag her back to whence she came. Not that she wanted to.

She’d become rather fond of the den of sin that was Gotham City. And, to her own surprise, she had become rather fond of you, the poor newbie that foolishly agreed to her Craigslist ad for a new roommate. But then again, she was far more than old enough to know better; why be shocked? After all, you were so, so warm when compared to every other person she’d endured in such close proximity in the past. Much sweeter, much more . . . Deliciously innocent . . .

Erik the Phantom - Fossegrim

Fossegrims are, at least when compared to most other water spirits, rather on the benevolent side. They weren’t like sirens, using their musical gifts to lure people in to a watery grave -- at least, not normally. It was that they much preferred to enchant without malicious intent, plucking at their harp strings or sliding bows across their fiddles to produce ensorcelling sounds of the wind in the forest, the chorus of rushing water resonating in every note. It was just simply not in their nature to be especially malevolent.

At their worst, they were very particular: Even at their most agreeable, there was always a caveat of sorts.

If a fossegrim were to agree to live with a human partner, for example, he needed to have free and regular contact with a water source, lest he grow dire. And if a fossegrim were to offer his tutelage for the fiddle to someone, they would need to participate in a very particular ritual that included stolen mutton, a white he-goat, and a lot of Thursdays.

(And even if one were to succeed at this, they would be faced with a most . . . unorthodox means of being “trained”. Once again, nothing done in malice, but surely there had to be a cleaner way.)

Erik personally did not stick as strictly to these circumstances as others of his kind might -- really, he saw little point in it. After all: Who would come wandering in a watery cavern, and searching for a fossegrim’s teachings, no less! No, he had grown used to his solitude, if bitterly so. He told himself that he was more than happy to live out his naturally long life, secluded, playing beautiful pieces that would remain suffocated beneath whatever structure had gone up above his cove. He almost dared to think it a pity . . . Until one day, a visitor arrived.

And you came bearing a gift: Not a he-goat, nor stolen mutton. You hadn’t come bearing meat of any kind at all! All you carried with you as you clumsily paddled your small boat was a ring: An heirloom, old and dingy, but precious nonetheless. It was all you could offer him that equated to your desire to learn by his hand.

It perplexed the fossegrim. But it also filled him with something . . . warm. Bright, even. Pride. After all, who was he to disappoint such a humble, obedient student. . .?

Nevada Ramirez - Vampire

Vampires: Creatures of fear and woe. They lurked in the shadows, the particulars of their lore transforming about as much as they themselves could. Feeding off the fears of the common folk, draining their energy while all the while enticing their prey closer and closer still.

The transformation fit Nevada like a glove.

And, like a fashionable, leather glove befitting as his aesthetic, he wore it all with style. And perhaps a bit too much glee. Vampires, as it turned out, weren’t just day-dwelling bloodsuckers after all: The great thing about living in a city so varied as New York was that it allowed for evolution and strange mixes to occur. Nevada lucked out: He’d been vampirically sired by a strain that could eat human food, go out in daylight, weren’t effected by crucifixes, and didn’t require an invitation to enter a goddamn building.

The catches, unfortunately, were as followed: Food no longer tasted as vibrant; he could go about his day but with powers limited so drastically that he may as well have been another lowly-ass mortal; bullets were still a big no-no (unless he was the one shooting ‘em); and whether he liked it or not, he still required blood to properly get by. And as disappointed by the food situation as he was, he considered that of the blood a proportionate gain: Blood, Nevada found out, was far more varied when spiced with hormones.

His club made for a perfect den, a place where prey of all sorts could walk in, gyrate themselves into a frenzy, then come crawling over to him (the most minimum of efforts on the part of his pheromones) and offer to him their bodies without even knowing the true nature of what he wanted of them. And for a while, it worked like a charm.

Until Nevada realized he’d never quite had a taste of you, yet. You, with your wide and innocent eyes, cheeks burning whenever you saw him staring at you from the VIP section.

Sure, excitement from arousal was tasty. But the undead gang leader couldn’t help but wonder what the taste of excitement from nervousness tasted like . . .

Lucifer Morningstar - Human

They are without particularly long lives. They are born helpless and remain so much longer than most creatures on Earth do. And yet, it is amazing and strange how much humans can pack into their lives.

Take, for example, one Lucifer Morningstar: He’d changed his name from [Redacted] to better suit the image he wanted, which was that of a walking spectacle. And if his name weren’t enough, everything else he did surely was: The wealth he accrued through mysterious means; the successful nightclub on the LA strip that he owned; an immortal bed life; and a tapestry of connections he’d made by pulling favors. All topped with a devilishly handsome face to boot!

If Lucifer ever had a goal, it was to live it up and/or go to Hell in a hand basket trying.

Which was probably why he wasn’t one to shy away from hosting a little large get-together at Lux for Halloween. And by get-together, Lucifer clarified on social media: They would, in fact, be holding a seance and summoning. After all, what sexier way to embrace the taboo of darkness than to play around with the veil as though it were part of a dress-up game? It was too good an opportunity to miss out on, as any good attention-whore businessperson would tell you.

Unfortunately, for as lucky as Lucifer tended to be, he still bore upon his shoulders multiple flaws. Human flaws. Such as the flaw of not exactly doing research and providing a thorough vetting process when it came to hiring the “performer” who would be commencing the seance and summoning.

This was LA, after all: He probably could just pluck any rando off the street and get a good show out of it. He wasn’t even sure where he pulled this rando from (chances were, he was buzzed and/or high while doing so), but he couldn’t argue with the results of a crowd bewildered by the surprisingly realistic smoke effects and lights flickering. Though he had to admit: They could’ve put you in better demonic makeup for when the lights settled and you stood there, having suddenly “appeared” in the previously-drawn pentagram.

Still, you were cute enough: He supposed if he played his cards right, flirted with you in the usual Lucifer way, then perhaps his Halloween night might be filled with many tricks and treats yet! So he found himself perplexed when you continued to act confused and thrown off, even after the “performer” had finished their routine and left.

Wait, weren’t you supposed to be with them? How did you even get in here? Why do you keep asking how you got here, or if you got stuck in another person’s Hell, or -- . . . Oh. Oh, shit.

As a human, Lucifer was intent on filling his life to the brim with as much story and experiences as possible. But sometimes, there are just some things humans -- even ones like Lucifer -- shouldn’t dabble with . . .

[mbavholidayexchange]

to @rowsha from @pixiepaintt

title: pumpkin pasties and unspoken promises

rating: teen and up audiences

summary:

Benny wasn’t the biggest fan of pumpkin pasties. They were too sweet and too savory and the flavors all mashed into one nasty confection he could hardly call a treat. He'd avoided them ever since his first year.

But when a blonde-headed vampire asks him to try one, he can't bring himself to say no...

ao3 link: link

content:

Benny wasn’t the biggest fan of pumpkin pasties.

They were savory, filled with rich sage and toasted garlic, yet also sweetly crusted with browned sugar and butter. He wasn’t typically a picky eater; he would scarf down most of the Great Hall if it weren’t for those stingy elves (once, he’d snuck into the kitchen at night for pudding and woke up all of the teachers with his screams). But something about the pumpkin pasties made him wince. He wished they would just pick a flavor category and stick to it.

Rory loved them. Every Saturday morning, as the three boys walked to breakfast together, he’d ramble about how long the weekdays had been and how he would give anything for the pumpkin pasties to be available every morning. He usually raced to the hall to gather up all of the pasties from the Gryffindor table for himself; then he’d eventually feel bad and return a couple. Of course, he kept the majority for himself, but it was the thought that counted.

Benny, despite his disdain for the fickle pastries, would never outwardly show it because he was a good friend. His way of showing affection often coincided with insults, but he didn’t want to seriously hurt his friends. Even if Rory liked the grossest food known to warlock, he deserved at least some happiness.

Right now, he wasn’t happy. The two Gryffindor boys were stood outside Ethan’s dorm room at ten minutes past eight. By now, they should be in the Great Hall loading their plates full of the weekend delicacies but a certain someone was too concerned about his likability.

“Guys, do you think Sarah likes straight hair or gelled hair?” Ethan called from across the door.

“Dude, who cares, the pumpkin pasties are probably all gone by now,” Rory wailed, “I’m doomed to eat sticky pancakes and oily hashbrowns for life!”

Benny slung an arm around his shoulder, trying to suppress his laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get some,” Benny promised, grinning.

Rory let out a pleased squeal– seriously, what kind of teenage boy squealed?– and turned to crush Benny in a hug. He was definitely the most physically affectionate of the group and Benny didn’t mind one bit. Except for the fact that he valued his life.

“Watch the bones,” Benny grimaced, “some of us are mortal.”

He was immediately released and prodded at, a bashful Rory checking for any damage. It wasn’t his fault; vampire strength was hard to control, especially as a newborn. He got excited easily and wanted to share his happiness with his friends, but it unfortunately sometimes ended in a broken bone or two. Fortunately, Benny was good at crafting excuses to get Madam Pomfrey to heal them.

“Sorry, Benny,” Rory softly amended with a pout when he was satisfied with his inspection. Something tender filled Benny’s chest, easy and comforting. It made him want to pull Rory back into a hug even if it meant broken ribs. It made him feel like he was safe. It made him feel like his smile would last forever.

“Yeah, uh, no problem,” he replied, trying to not let his giddiness show.

And, just like that, the moment was over. Rory gave him a big smile and turned back to the door, rapping on its poor creaky wood.

“Ethan, Benny said he’s going to get me pumpkin pasties! He’s my bestest best friend now!” Rory yelled.

A few of the Ravenclaws in the boys’ commons glanced over and frowned at the commotion, sighing when they saw Benny and Rory. They technically weren’t allowed in other houses’ dormitories, but they snuck in so much that no one cared to confront them anymore. Benny smiled weakly and half-heartedly waved.

“Not my fault I’m the only one with any chance with a girl!” Ethan yelled back, then paused, “Sorry! I’m just freaking out. Do you think Sarah would prefer a more floral or woodsy cologne? I was thinking about an earthy scent but that might be overwhelming for her vampire senses. Do you think Jesse wears expensive cologne? He probably does. Hey, Benny, do you have any more of that pheromone stuff?”

//

By the time they reached the Great Hall, most of the students were finishing breakfast. As soon as the doors opened, Rory was rushing to the Gryffindor table, oblivious to all of the students he knocked over to get there. Benny winced.

Ethan was still frozen in the entrance, staring at Sarah not-so-subtly. Benny nudged him and waved a hand in front of his flushed face. He was fairly sure that Ethan had pencilled in his eyebrows.

“Hello, earth to E,” he joked. Ethan blanched and frantically turned to Benny, eyes wide.

“Oh Merlin, I should have gone with the floral cologne!”

“Yeah, guess you’ve ruined your chance forever,” Benny dryly responded before laughing at Ethan’s petrified expression, “I’m kidding. Go get ‘em, tiger.” He winked and pushed Ethan toward the Ravenclaw table. He would go with him, as a wingman, but he’d rather not leave food-crazed Rory alone with the first-years.

  So as much as he wanted to valiantly shield Rory from all of the nasty looks and middle fingers being thrown his direction, he knew that Rory didn’t want conflict. He wanted comfort.

  As soon as Benny turned his attention back to the young vampire, he sighed. Rory was plucking all of the pasties from the table– even the ones on plates– and curling around them protectively. He had garnered more than a few glares from the rest of the house members. Rory spotted Benny and waved giddily, his mouth full and spirits high. Benny always admired him for that: he never seemed to care what strangers thought about him. He would wear the most outlandish clothes and talk about the most obscure things and just… deflected any mockery that came his way. At first, Benny had thought he was just oblivious to the sniggering and badgering, but when he tried to confront the bullies, Rory stopped him and told him that it didn’t matter. No one else’s opinion mattered– only his friends’.

  Benny walked over to the table and sat next to him, giving him a warm smile.

“You know, it’s not very swagalicious to steal food,” Benny chuckled, bumping shoulders with Rory as he sat down. Rory gasped, quickly swallowing his food.

  “R-Dawg has more swag than you’ll ever know,” Rory adamantly defended, scowling, “R-Dawg invented swag. Check it!”  He then began making various noises and swinging his hands in what Benny assumed to be beatboxing. This earned him even more glares.

  Benny rolled his eyes and started piling his plate up with food: cinnamon-buttered toast, black pudding, bacon, and a large heaping of sugar donuts. He was quite famished from his late-night DND campaign (and his subsequent adventure of sneaking Ethan back into the Ravenclaw dorms afterward).

  “We need to bring the Muse-A-Tronics back!” Rory whisper-yelled to him, eyes sparkling.

  “And lose the tiny bit of dignity I have left?” Benny whisper-yelled back.

  “Maybe it would make Erica finally notice you,” Rory quipped, looking back down at his plate in something akin to nervosity.

  “It would make all the primo babes notice me,” Benny boasted, puffing out his chest dramatically. Truthfully, he valued Erica more as a friend (and was pretty sure she wasn’t into men) but he didn’t want to admit it. His friends had teased him about it long enough that it felt wrong to confess– it felt wrong to even acknowledge himself. When he started thinking about romance, he started thinking about Rory, and then he started feeling guilt and– he preferred to not think about it.

  “Girls love that macho piano playing,” Rory affirmed, something pensive in his tone, almost hesitant. He picked at the crust of his toast.

  Benny frowned at his arbitrary dejection and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, bringing him in for a quick side-hug. There was a strong need arising in him to console Rory, a mixture of guilt and sympathy. He patted his shoulder and broke apart the contact, feeling foolish for something he didn’t know how to describe.

  “Don’t worry, MC MonsterBat will be a lady-killer for sure,” Benny said.

  “Who are we killing?” Ethan asked, sitting across from Benny and grabbing an orange.

  “Just women,” Benny shrugged, “Speaking of, how’d it go with Sarah?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Ethan facepalmed and shook his head.

  “You don’t want to know,” he groaned.

  “Aw c’mon, I’m great at love advice!”

  “B, last time you tried to hit on a girl, you had your eyebrows singed off,” Ethan deadpanned.

“That fireworks spell was trickier than I thought!”

  “The time before that, you almost drowned.”

  “In my defense, the textbooks make mermaids seem really sweet.”

  Ethan just laughed and started peeling apart his orange. He found Benny’s outlandish flirting style amusing, but he had learned to keep a distance whenever it involved magic.

  Rory had been developing a frown throughout the conversation, glaring at his orange juice. He seemed to suddenly decide something and looked up, tugging on Benny’s shirt.

  “Benny, do you want to try one?” He asked hopefully.

  “One what?” Benny hesitantly responded.

  “A pumpkin pastie! AKA the most delicious thing in the world,” Rory cheerfully coaxed, picking up the biggest one he had and offering it reverently. He was so heartened and upbeat that Benny couldn’t bring himself to tell him no.

  The smile on Rory’s face was infectious, and soon Benny was grinning widely too. Rory could probably ask him to eat an earwax jelly bean and he’d agree to it– just because it was Rory. 

  “Uhh, sure, I’ll try a bite,” he said, not missing how Rory’s face lit up adorably or how he pulled him infinitesimally closer. He gently took the pumpkin pastie from Rory’s hands and bit into it without any hesitance.

  To be fair, he still didn’t like it. It had too many clashing flavors and the nutmeg was overpowering. But, when he saw the blush growing on Rory’s face and the way his eyes crinkled with joy, he found himself taking another bite, and another…

  “Do you like it?” Rory excitedly asked, biting into his own pastie and beaming.

  Benny nodded and finished it off, licking his fingers off (and if Rory’s eyes were caught on his lips, neither of them acknowledged it).

  “Yeah, it’s a very unique flavor,” he said. He didn’t want to lie; he was just stretching the truth.

  “You can admit it, it’s the best food in the world,” Rory stuck out his tongue. Benny just laughed and shook his head.

  “Oh, B, you should try the fruitcake next! You always refuse even though it’s my favorite,” Ethan interjected, glancing around the table and grabbing a slice to hold out.

  “No offense, but that is probably the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen. I’d rather face Moldy Voldy than dried figs and prunes trying to disguise themselves as a cake.” Benny fake gagged and scrunched his nose up. He had a rich sweet tooth and could say for certain that fruitcake was not included in that. It barely even counted as sweet.

  “But you just ate the pumpki– Oh. Oh, of course,” Ethan grinned and flickered his eyes between Benny and Rory, “I’m bloody dumb.”

  Rory quizzically looked up from his food and managed a “Hmhuh?” through a full mouth. Benny raised his eyebrows. He usually shared a brain cell with Ethan and could tell what the other was thinking, but he had no clue what was making Ethan laugh so much. He had long since made his hatred for dried fruit known.

  Ethan shook his head and smiled at both of them.

  “Nothing to be worried about. Did you guys want to head to the Quidditch field later?”

  //

  The next Saturday, Benny was the first one up.

“Rory, get up! It’s breakfast time!” He yelled, untangling himself from his sheets.

From the bed over, Rory groaned and hid his face in his pillow. He had spent the entire night getting “food” in the Forbidden Forest. Benny didn’t want to know any more than that.

There was an odd spike of excitement running through him; he just knew that he had to get to the Great Hall as soon as possible. He’d been looking forward to it the entire week, constantly thinking about the darned pumpkin pasties. Whenever he mentioned it, Ethan just gave him a wink.

“If you get up now, I’ll eat another pastie with you,” Benny added.

At that, Rory was standing up, fully awake.

“Really? You’d do that?”

Benny laughed and shrugged.

“Anything for you,” he said, immediately regretting it. That wasn’t a very bro-like thing to say. Rory didn’t seem to mind, though, brightly smiling at Benny and moving to get his robes out.

Benny opened his trunk as well, absentmindedly picking out his finest robes. It seemed like it was going to be a great morning.

//

The warm feeling in Benny’s chest didn’t dissipate. Truly, he knew what was causing it, but he wasn’t ready to face it yet; he wasn’t ready to face him. He felt like it could end any minute, and he couldn’t risk that.

He was a bit relieved when Ethan said he had to study for his midterms rather than go on the Hogsmeade trip. He didn’t want to leave his best friend alone on the weekend, but the prospect of going out with Rory was too exciting.

Hogwarts had just had its first snow, thinly carpeting the winter grass and stone paths in a soft reminder that winter was near. Hogsmeade was decorated in shiny red ribbons and glimmering icicles, sprinklings of mistletoe hanging from every signpost. The restaurants were particularly busy, drawing in onlookers with their warm stews and hot chocolates filling the chilly air with hearty aromas.

They had, as tradition, stopped by Honeydukes first to satisfy their cravings. Benny was sure to grab enough peppermint creams and sugar quills for Christmas; when in doubt, candy was the best gift option. Who would turn down Honeydukes?

They eventually ended up in the Three Broomsticks, properly cold and yearning for fish and chips. Benny had jumped right into his butterbeer, not caring at all how the froth gave him a mustache.

“I’ve died, I’ve died and reached heaven,” Benny bewailed, clinging onto his mug like it was the most precious thing in the world. Which it was.

Rory had the audacity to look offended. He had barely touched his drink, uncharacteristically distraught.

“You can’t die yet, dude, we haven’t beaten the Feudal Wars IV boss yet.”

Benny considered that for a second and then nodded approvingly.

“You’re right, yeah, I guess I have to hold on until then.”

“Can’t leave the Rorster hanging!”

“Of course not,” Benny chuckled, “You’d never be able to finish that round on your own.”

Rory flicked one of his chips at him, pouting. Benny sighed and gave him back a chip to equalize the transaction, squeezing Rory’s hand briefly as an apology.

“You have to admit though, I’m a god at the Feudal Wars series. I think I’m ranked twenty in the nation. Which, to be fair, there are only about a hundred players in Great Britain, but rankings in a multiplayer RPG are skewed anyway. I can’t wait until I’m back home so I can get back to–

“Benny.”

“What’s up?” He replied, taking a swig of his butterbeer and silently pretending that it was real alcohol to feel cooler. Rory hesitated and drummed his fingers on the wooden table.

“I… I know you don’t like pumpkin pasties.”

Benny froze, nearly choking on his drink.

“Dude, what? We’ve been eating them together every week,” he weakly rebutted. Rory rolled his eyes and smiled.

“I’m not a complete idiot,” Rory laughed, “I know you’ve hated them since first year.”

“But you–”

“I wanted to see if you would. Try one for me,” Rory said, leaning forward and resting his head on his palms. His fangs were ever-so-subtly peeking out.

“Oh.”6

Godric Gryffindor, he must have not been as smooth as he thought. What would Rory think of him now, lying about something so simple as a pastry? Normal friends don’t do that.

Benny lifted his head, mouth agape and ready to rush out an excuse, but– he was met with a blushing, embarrassed Rory. Who didn’t seem upset in the slightest.

“It’s cute,” he promised, reaching out for Benny’s hand and rubbing small circles on the back.

“I just– I didn’t want to make you sad, I’m sorry–” Benny stuttered, feeling exposed.

“Don’t apologize, B,” Rory insisted, “You know, to make it even, I’ll eat fruitcake for you.”

Benny furrowed his brows. It sounded almost like a confession– a reciprocation. Maybe they had both been hiding their attachment. Merlin, Ethan had probably stayed back at Hogwarts to make this happen. Well, not that Benny was complaining.

He squeezed Rory’s hand and smiled.

“That’s a bet.”

“Okay, tomorrow morning! I’ll prove it!” Rory asserted, biting his lip, “R-Money will prove his heart’s desire!”

“Moment ruined,” Benny teased fondly.

“Oh, do you prefer R-Dawg? Rorster? Ror-inator? R-Money? Batman? Ror–”

Benny pressed his thumb gently on his lips to quiet him.

“I just like Rory.”

//

By the time they left, the snow was sticking to the ground and the sun was peeking out. If they squinted, they could see Ethan cheering them on from his dorm window with two thumbs up. Damn seer abilities.

With Rory’s hand in his, cheeks red from more than just the cold, Benny took a moment to reconsider. Maybe he had liked the pumpkin pasties all along. He just hadn’t been able to appreciate their ambivalence– he hadn’t realized that if he had just let the flavors meld together, there didn’t need to be a schism.

He turned to Rory, giving him a chaste kiss on the forehead and running through the snow.

“Last one to the castle has to help Ethan get ready for his date tomorrow!”

[mingot-studios]

One Piece Sidestory: Lisa of The Kingdom of The Monsters

Once upon a time, two races ruled he land in harmony; Humans, and Monsters. One day, war broke out between the two. Outnumbered and overpowered, monsters fled to the underground to hide.

800 years later, The Princess of the Monster, Lisa Ex Machina, on her tenth birthday, wishes to go to the surface world and befriend humans. Of course, this wish was rejected, as monsters could even IMAGINE leaving their “Perfect” Underground home, OR making peace with humans.

Furious, Lisa decided that she would leave by herself. Of course, she didn’t go alone. Her two friends: Luciel Vladrik, a young vampire seamstress, and Vermin “Verm” Libido, a gay incubus prostitute and estranged son of mafia boss Amadeus Libido, went with her.

When they make it to the surface, they find themselves surrounded by angry humans. In a panic, Lisa pulls out her out her broom, and the three of them fly away.

Things didn’t get much better for them. Luciel nearly burned alive in he sun, and Verm got swarmed by women affected by his incubus pheromones. 

To make matters worse, the humans had put bounties on their heads! he trio was again forced to flee the island and hide.

After escaping, they get caught in a storm, and forced to find shelter in an old, abandoned house.

Lisa, devastated that her dream of seeing the surface went so wrong, slumps against the door, when there’s a knock at the door.. “Knock-Kno-Kno-Knock-knock..”

Lisa opens the door, only to see man man, towering over her, with a smile that stretched from ear to ear, looking down at her.

Quickly, she shut he door. After asking Luciel what she should do, she opens the door again. The smiling man introduces himself as Fleischer, and reveals to the friends that he is, in fact, a monster as well. He tells them that he saw the wanted posters, and came looking for them.

Upon asking further, he reveals that he has been living on the surface for some time, and has become bored. And that when he saw them, he was inspired to get up and help them.

And of course, by “Help”, he means that he wants to watch them fail to make Lisa’s dream come true.

Luciel is skeptical and tells Lisa that she shouldn’t trust him. But Lisa states that they don’t really don’t have a choice, as well as that Fleischer could help them navigate the surface, seeing as he has been here for sometime. So Lisa, reluctantly, accepts his help. 

Verm tries to convince Lisa that humans were going to hate them no matter what, Lisa gets the idea to help humans by using their monster magic! If they did that, humans would see that monsters WEREN’T something o fear!

After Fleischer determines that Lisa and her friends have no chance of surviving with just four of them, he decides to summon a few of his “Clients” for heir service, those being; Shuck, an alcoholic gambling werewolf, and Zuzie, a slime girl.

As well as getting them help, Fleischer uses his magic o crate magic travel wagon to help them travel from island to island.

So the quartet of monsters set off to find humans in need of their aid. 

Throughout their travels, hey would meet or even befriend some other monsters who were living above ground. These include:

Letty, a socially awkward undine with an apt for inventing and comics, who also suffered from ABYSMAL luck.

Viperious, a self proclaimed “Evil-Genius” Lamia, who’s inventions are amazing, but his temper was short as well as being too prideful for his own good.

Roxy, a siren diva who left the underground to become a star singer for humans,

And Krystal, a young delinquent Kobold.

Unfortunately, it becomes clear that the humans irrational fear of them isn’t their only problem, as discover that an organization of so called “Monster Hunters” is out to get them.

But no matter what, Lisa stood strong and didn’t anything get in her way. As she believed that humans and monster could live in peace, and won’t stop until her dream comes true.

[trackerkitsune]

Desert Greed

AO3 link here.

Relationship: Mitsuko Koizumi x Bujir of the Uyagir

Rating: Explicit

Summary:  Newly crowned the Khagan of the Steppe, a Raen Warrior of Light visits some of her new allies at an inopportune time. She comes to learn the hard way that there are some major differences between the Raen and the Xaela.

Mitsuko almost scoffed when Cirina warned her to be careful on the Steppe. As the new khagan, it was only fair that she carried the news to the neutral tribes as well as those who fought in the Naadam as a sort of ritual introduction. Having been dealing with the Garleans and Ala Mhigans for a few weeks now without a break, the free air of the Steppe was a most welcome taste to her and she took to the sky on her Yol perhaps a little too enthusiastically, heading towards the territory of the Dotharl before Cirina could explain her warning. The Mol girl watched her go helplessly, clenching her hands to her chest and praying for the Raen to be alright on her journey.

Even as the khagan it was considered rude and an insult to land inside a tribe’s camp without permission, thus Mitsuko landed a short way off from the temporary fence and walked to Dotharl Khaa. Sadu had clearly seen her coming since the khatun stood ready to greet her as she approached. “Udgan, has no one told you it’s dangerous for one such as yourself to wander the Steppe so carelessly now?” The dark skinned shaman gestured round the camp. Mitsuko tilted her head, shrugging.

“Short of a dead Garlean prince coming back to life or a primal dropping on my head, there’s not much that I consider a threat around here, Sadu Khatun,” she replied, careful to show the Xaela the respect she deserved. Though something was quite clearly off. “Forgive me for asking, but… you seem to be lacking in warriors. Is something amiss?” Mitsuko blinked as she looked around the nearly empty camp, not seeing Mauci, Koko or even Kishiligh. Sadu tsk’ed lightly, shaking her head.

“Nothing is amiss, outsider. Our men have taken their chosen lovers elsewhere while the rut takes over, so no one gets too badly hurt,” the older woman was clearly taking great amusement in explaining the situation to her, particularly when Mitsuko gave her a dawning look of comprehension and horror. 

“...Rut?” She squeaked, and Sadu laughed whilst uncrossing her arms to tease the other further.

“Aye. Do your kind not have the same? Or is it different?” 

“For the Raen, it’s the women that go into heat,” Mitsuko answered quietly, her eyes narrowing in thought. “I now understand why Cirina was worried about me travelling around at the moment, though… Still, I need to speak with the Uyagir at least. I want to make sure Coldwind hasn’t been threatening them again.” The Khatayin and their Qatun had made a nuisance of themselves the last time she had been near the caves, right up until her chocobo had knocked out the leader with a vicious kick. 

“I would caution you against it,” Sadu advised her softly. “Out here you can run or fight if needed, but the cave they dwell in is a dead end, and not all of their men have a lover to ease the rut. Be wary of them, and do not let yourself be cornered.” The Raen almost dismissed her worries as paranoia, but firmly reminded herself that the Dotharli woman clearly knew more about what was going on than she did. 

“Thank you, I will take your advice,” she assured her, waving as she left the safety of the temporary settlement and headed for the caves. The Uyagir had been quite passive towards her before, so she wasn’t too worried… Until she heard a scuffle breaking out ahead. Several of the men from the tribe were having a heated wrestling match, overseen by some of the older women, and Mitsuko skirted around them carefully. There were heavy pheromones in the air, and she cursed as she realized the lack of air movement inside the cave only made it worse.

She couldn’t see Ibakha anywhere, realizing too late that the Uyagir seemingly had a similar habit to the Dotharl. A pair of hands grasped her shoulders gently and pulled her further in before she could react. Struggling, she growled until a familiar voice caught her attention.

“The gods told me you would come back here, Warrior.” She identified him immediately. Bujir had pulled her out of sight of the rest of the tribe, his arms holding her deceptively firmly against him. She could feel the heat radiating off him even through her healer robes, almost as though he was running a high fever. Twisting around she placed a cool hand to his forehead, frowning at the difference. The usually reserved man dipped his head into her palm in response, a soft groan sounding in his throat at the welcome coolness. “You’ve not come at a good time, Mitsuko,” he murmured, docile for now but his eyes betrayed how far gone he was already. His pupils were blown wide, the purple of his irises only a thin ring. The Raen swallowed and forced herself out of his hold, making sure to keep her eyes on him as she moved back. The loss of contact clearly pained him, his fingers twitching as he fought the urge to reach after her. 

“I came to see if you’d had any further trouble with the Khatayin,” she pushed the subject on him, watching him blink and try to focus enough to come up with a sensible answer. She almost felt sorry for Bujir. At least when Raen had their heats they were mostly sensate and aware enough to still talk about anything important, but this Rut seemed to drive all sense from the Xaela. He shrugged eventually, sinking to sit against the wall with a heavy breath. 

“The Khatayin…? They are as preoccupied as the rest of the tribes right now,” he muttered, not moving as Mitsuko slowly kneeled beside him and called water into her palms. Offering the pure liquid to him, she was met with little resistance from the proud Uyagiri male who seemed content to drink from her hands. She smoothed her cold palms over his forehead and cheeks again, lowering the heat coming from him just a little. He gave a wavering murmur of thanks, leaning into the cool touch. 

The little healer had no warning when her arm was grabbed and she was pulled over and down, Bujir twisting easily and catching her head before it hit the stone cave floor. His lips collided with hers, muffling her surprised shriek. Mitsuko stared upwards into hazy half closed purple eyes, some part of her being affected by whatever pheromones he was giving off. That part whispered for her to melt under his grip and to give into the second hand effects of the rut, while her more sensible mind demanded that she push the Xaela off and bolt. Yet another part of her wondered why she had been so stupid as to disregard Sadu’s warning.

There was little else for it now. She struggled against the bigger male, trying to ignore that it was clearly turning him on, and slammed her summoning tome against one delicate horn. The snarled curse that came from him made her wince in sympathy even as she used his sudden lack of balance to shove him over and roll away, up onto her feet. Running for the cave entrance, she yelped in dismay as she was abruptly tackled to the ground - again with her head and horns carefully shielded from the ground. He was aware enough to recognise that she was also Au Ra, then. Pulling her backwards, the lust dazed Xaela growled softly.

“That hurt… Did you have to hit my horn, little one?” With a few deft movements, the hand not muffling her hearing on one side had tossed the tome away, followed by her staff. She hissed back in threat.

“Did you need to try and force yourself upon me like some arrogant, greedy fool?!” Her words seemed to be a physical force, the other recoiling from her as if burned. His gaze, though still hazy, spoke volumes of his hurt and with obvious effort he let go of her, turning away.

“...Leave, then,” he spoke after a moment, “before I lose my restraint again.” 

Mitsuko winced at the offense in his voice, cursing her own thoughtlessness. The Uyagir hated to have more than the bare basics that they needed, endeavouring to be anything but greedy or arrogant as their ancestors had been. Even in rut, it seemed some things pierced through if they had been internalized so deeply as the tribe’s philosophy. She moved slowly, collecting her weapons and backing away while her mind was in a whirl. 

She had harboured a liking for Bujir since she had first met him, not only the colour but the honesty and frankness in his eyes drawing her to him easily. He had been happy to tell her the tribe’s history while the others had regarded her with suspicion, even going so far as to explain the meanings of the paintings on the walls. His looks weren’t bad either, and she caught herself wondering if it would be so bad to be bedded by him. She shook her head at herself. He had made the effort to force himself away from her after she’d refused the first time. To stay now would surely be insulting… 

“Oh who am I kidding?” The Raen sighed at herself, stepping back towards the miserable looking man and placing her weapons down with much more care than he had shown to them. Her pack came off after, placed down within easy reach, as well as the belts to hold anything she needed. Her long robe she shrugged out of, tucking it back around her shoulders as a makeshift blanket and taking her boots off. Mitsuko stepped warily closer to the other Au Ra, noticing that he had fixed his eyes on the walls. He was trying, bless him, and she almost felt worse for making it worse for him. “Bujir?” She steeled herself and knelt behind the Xaela, hugging him and nuzzling his horn delicately. He turned enough to look at her with one eye over his shoulder, trembling faintly under her hands. 

“If you will not let me have you then don’t tempt me,” he growled, “else I will throw you down and have you here.” 

“If you will be gentle then you may have me,” she answered flatly, seeing his lovely eyes go wide in surprise. He turned warily, heat thrumming under his skin, and reached to cup her cheek.

“You ask something difficult for me right now Mitsuko,” he murmured, “I can’t promise… But I will try. Please…” He leaned in and kissed her again and this time she reciprocated, shuffling forward until she was in his lap. 

The utterly relieved and pleased moan he let out gave her more confidence, tiny hands pulling his turban from his head and letting his hair spill free. She tangled her fingers into the messy strands, tugging lightly and then moving down to stroke his horns sensually. The deep purr that rumbled through his chest communicated his appreciation of the motions, hips bucking a little as his body reacted. “Mitsuko…” His hands moved shakily as he set to undressing her, thankful in his daze that her clothes were easily slipped off. The Raen’s hands weren’t idle either, pulling at his trousers until he kneeled up to help her push them down. He kicked them off impatiently as the girl pushed his shirt up over his head and off, only getting it caught once on his horns. Mitsuko grinned playfully, pulling back from him long enough to toss her underclothes to the side. She was pulled against him unceremoniously, Bujir’s grip firm as he just held her there for a moment. 

“Skin contact?” She murmured softly, carding her fingers through his hair and feeling more than seeing the slight nod. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders in response as she hugged him back, hands rubbing gently on his back. One of his hands slowly coaxed her legs open and guided her hips closer, pressing them closer together. Both had forgotten completely about the others of the tribe who were just outside and had likely heard everything. Thick yet deft fingers worked into her, stroking open her slit and pressing in slowly as she did everything she could to distract Bujir from the insistent instinct to just take her without any courtesy. For now he rocked against her thigh with soft breaths, working her open in preparation to receive him. The Raen female whimpered and mewled at the delicious feeling, moving into his hand without any sort of apprehension.

“You feel ready enough... I need you…” Bujir groaned after several minutes of stretching his partner, fingers covered in her fluids. Mitsuko nodded in agreement wordlessly, kissing him yet again and letting him lift her to position his cock. His eyes fixated on hers, warm and lusting for her. “Mine… No other will touch you,” he growled deeply as he pulled her down slowly, easing her onto his impressive length and rocking his hips gently. The little Auri woman shuddered at the pleasurable feeling, her body clamping down on the invading appendage tightly and spasming around it. 

Gods but he was big! She had of course taken auri cock before, but she was quite certain that Bujir was rather on the larger side of the scale as the tapered length slipped deeper slowly, her own body heating up as he claimed her. There was a haze beginning to settle over her own mind and she mewled, wordlessly begging for him to fill her utterly and give her everything he could. The Xaela moaned deep in his throat at the sound, nodding and pulling back before thrusting deep into her, setting up a pace. His movements pulled a delighted sound from her, her body responding eagerly and rocking back down onto his cock. 

“Ah, Bujir… Bujir,” she whimpered softly, “gods… so big… so good…” She knew it was his rut affecting her but no longer cared, her body on fire as she was thoroughly fucked and claimed. He shuddered against her, lifting her chin to kiss her deeply and swallowing each sweet muffled moan. 

“Mit...su...ko…” He panted breathlessly with each thrust, holding tightly to her. He snarled deeply as hands tried to pull her away, her own protest coming out in an anguished cry when just her top half was pulled away. She locked her legs around his waist and he pulled her back to himself forcefully, growling threateningly at the women from his own tribe. He placed the adventurer on her back and leaned over her possessively, fucking her harder and faster than before. She clenched and spasmed around his length tightly, his thrusting rubbing exactly the right way and causing her to orgasm with a loud cry of his name. Her passage locked tightly around his cock, squeezing tighter as he kept moving. Someone was attempting to speak to her but she shook her head, too lost in the haze of heat and pleasure to register their words. All of her senses were focused completely on Bujir, her fingers tangled tightly in his hair as he kissed her again and continued to thrust into her, his pace picking up as he approached his own release. Her body practically begged in its own way for him to come inside her, pushing back into his thrusts without conscious thought. She could feel something thicker against her lower lips with each thrust and whined, keening as it slowly forced its way inside her. Her hands scrabbled against his shoulders as the knot expanded and locked them together, her cry being muffled and swallowed in the kiss. She shuddered and bucked, a second orgasm wrecking her utterly as the intensity of the feeling pushed her over the edge again. Bujir moaned into her mouth as his own release hit, hearing her whimper as he filled and claimed her with his seed. He had to brace himself on his forearms to make sure he didn’t fall on her, pulling away from her lips to gently press their foreheads together and breathe. The Raen girl could vaguely hear one of the women of the tribe saying to leave the pair alone and closed her eyes, breathing deeply as her partner’s scent drowned her. The Uyagiri male jerked his hips back, dislodging the knot. Mitsuko’s eyes rolled back as the stimulation made her cry out, the next inward thrust knocking her mind for a loop.

“Ah… Again…?” She managed to question, whimpering at the obscene squelching as her new mate brought up a slower pace, the absence of the other Uyagir calming his possessiveness. Bujir chuckled breathlessly and kissed her, nipping her lips with sharp teeth and pushing his tongue inside her mouth to plunder it and what little sense remained in her head.

Time slipped by in a haze of sex, knotting and sleeping, the cycle repeating for an unknown amount of time. Slowly she surfaced from it to find herself sore, boneless and being lowered carefully into cool water. “Whu… What…” She mumbled out, turning her head carefully to look around. 

“Ease, little love,” came from above her head and she shivered as attentive hands carefully began to clean her. “The rut is over, let me clean you up and then you can sleep again.” She let out a distressed whine, trying to turn to no avail. Her body simply wouldn’t obey her. 

“Why can’t I move?” A fond chuckle by her horn, and a soft kiss to the sensitive organ.

“Sore muscles that have gone numb. You will feel them again soon enough, don’t strain yourself for now. You want to turn around?” Without trouble she was lifted and turned, set down straddling the male’s lap as his hands rubbed soothing circles into her thighs. She gazed up blearily into purple eyes and remembered some of what had happened. A low groan escaped her as she dropped her head to rest on his pectoral muscles. Bujir’s eyebrows raised, but he didn’t cease his gentle cleaning of her. “Is something wrong, Mitsuko?” She sighed, accepting that she wasn’t going anywhere for now.

“How long did the rut last…?” She asked eventually, able at least to lift her arms to hug round his neck.

“A week, perhaps two? I have yet to see any of the others return,” he answered softly. “Mine were always shorter than theirs… Perhaps the gods knew my partner would not be used to such a long time spent fucking.” He tipped water over her head and kneaded soap into her hair, his nails scraping lightly over her scalp. The Raen purred and all but collapsed against him, the sensation one of the few things that could effectively stop her from being able to think. 

“Mm… I should be back in Ala Mhigo by now, helping them rebuild…” She protested without much heat, leaning into the massaging instinctively.

“You cannot even stand right now, little love,” the Uyagiri male chided softly, lifting her out of the water and placing her down on a nearby cushion. “Fighting is certainly not going to be on your agenda for a few days.” He pulled a towel over and began to dry her, shushing her and pushing away her hands as she protested the treatment.

“I can dry myself at least,” she complained, crossing her arms, “I'm not completely helpless!” Bujir paused in his ministrations, looking her in the eye.

“Over the years I have seen the battles you would fight, and the way you would be treated by those who forget you are more than a weapon,” he spoke firmly, catching her chin and forcing her to look at him. “I have seen every scar you will earn in your upcoming battles... As your mate, allow me to pamper you for now while I can.” With that said, he went straight back to his task of drying her off, moving her closer to the fire after he had gotten all the water he could with the towel. Mitsuko was silent for a time, letting him do as he wanted.

“...You saw everything that would happen?” She asked after a few long moments spent staring into the fire. He embraced her tightly, nodding. “...Prove it,” she continued, her voice quieter. “What scar hurts the most?” She looked up with bright eyes into his face, waiting for his answer. Bujir hesitated, pulling her that little bit closer and tucking her head under his chin.

“...The one you wish you had received but he took it for you,” he replied softly, feeling her tremble violently against him. A second later the small healer had twisted in his hold to grip tightly onto him, burying her face in his neck and breathing unsteadily. The Xaela sighed softly and adjusted his hold so she would be more comfortable. 

“I will go with you, when you are able to return to Ala Mhigo,” he spoke gently after a few minutes, hoping to comfort her. Mitsuko shook her head.

“It's not fair on you, to have to leave your people behind,” she rebuffed his words, “you are the one who supervises the painting of your tribe's history on the walls…” He kissed her deeply, stopping her protests dead. With the hazy memory of the rut still fresh, she could only whimper softly.

“Ibakha or any of the elders can do the very same,” he dismissed her concerns easily. “If I stay without you, I will go straight back into another rut. I do not wish to take another.” 

"Then we will leave when I can walk." It felt good to have someone unconditionally at her back. The Raen leaned against her mate and dozed off contently.

[nymphgirlsofskyrim]

Version 2.0 Update Info

I am currently working on a new version of NGoS that will be ready in roughly a month or so.  I had originally planned on releasing this in March, but my schedule became too crowded and I didn't have as much time to devote to it as I had hoped.

The new update has numerous bug fixes, as well as new content and a few new features.

Bug Fixes

Bug Fixes are pretty numerous, mostly small stuff, but here are some examples

I defined a nymph specific skeleton to conclusively resolve feet deformity issues caused by having an out-of-date XPMSE skeleton

Fixed a lot of mismapped texture paths on meshes that caused them to show up solid purple.

A few meshes had the normal maps generated upside down.  This is because OpenGL and Direct3D have different conventions for lighting direction, openGL is Y+ for up whereas Direct3D is Y- for up.  On some of the older textures I generated normals for I accidentally baked them with the OpenGL directions.  This causes areas that should look recessed to actually stick out.  The most noticeable example of this is Kayellie’s Sword.  The Glyphs on her sword are supposed to be engravings, but they actually look like they are protruding in most lighting.

Bodyslide generated body meshes had the wrong .tri file specified so it wouldn’t work with in game uunp morphs

The followers were not correctly using some of the Nymph Racial abilities which applied their effects through perks.  This affected all of the followers to some degree (they didn’t get the default Nymph iron/steel protection) but it affected Kayellie and Mystra more, since they weren’t getting the Blended Nymph protection either.  Mystra is a lot sturdier now that both of those are working (as she should be!)

Synne’s Flames of Sin was not correctly scaling.  

This also includes the bug fixes from the hotfix updates I posted back in January, so you will only need to download 1 file.  There are a few other minor bugs I have fixed, and I intend to go through and examine each and every part of this before I release the update to make sure I didn't miss anything.

New Features

As for new features, the biggest one is that I am adding “Ultimate Abilities” to each follower.  

These are powers that they can only use once they are level 50 or higher, and these abilities are either a super powerful spell that can only be used once every 10 minutes, or a permanent upgrade to their basic fighting style.  

These abilities have very elaborate shaders that I have put a lot of work into, special audioFX, and a voiceline that each follower will say when they cast it.

Right now I have two of these completed, Yulia and Synne.  I will make another post to showcase these as well as give updates as I complete the other 4 follower ultimates.

The other big feature I am adding is preset placement.  A lot of people were asking for this, as well as Nymph world encounters, so I ended up creating a kind of scavenger hunt with the Nymph presets.

There are 22 in total, randomly scattered all over Skyrim.  There are more presets than this, but several of them ended up becoming crew members of the new follower, who I will get to next.

There are a variety of locations you can find them in, ranging from caves, ponds, rural inns to big city taverns, and they are placed according to their subtype.

You are most likely to find a Blended Nymph at a small Rural Inn, such as “Old Hroldan Inn”

The best place to find a Night Nymph is a major city, as you might expect.  They are part of the normal populace, but fortunately the perception-altering magic of the Night Nymph doesn't work on the Dragonborn, so you should be able to spot them easily.

While the two previous subtypes generally stay dressed and live discreetly alongside humans, the other three subtypes are encountered naked in the Wilderness, in typical Nymph form.

Most of time you can find a Wood Nymph at a glen or grove, just like you would find a spriggan.  Good thing Nymphii get along with spriggans!

The easiest place to find a Desert Nymph is in a Grotto type cave.  Frequently they get in territory disputes with the local bears or horkers, but wildlife aren’t a match for the warrior prowess of your average Desert Nymph.

Since there are no jungles in Skyrim, and the few swamplands tend to be shallow and lack sufficient foliage to suit a Beast Nymph, most of them live in caves.  

There are a couple Khajiit Nymphii that have claimed abandoned housing due to the particularly appealing treasures within: one has discovered a shack full of fish, while the other has found a house full of mice.

Each of these 22 Nymphii has been given a distinct class, combat-style, and spell-list, along with appropriate class-perks and the same leveling perks that the Nymph Followers possess.  I tried to make each one of them unique, and they run the range of magic, stealth, and different styles of combat, so that none of them is quite the same.  A few even have unique powers, but they will be harder to find!

New Content

The big addition is the inclusion of Nai’Yari, the new Desert Nymph Follower.  I have described her already in other posts, so I won’t go into a whole lot of detail here.  

The biggest thing I have to add is that I have made her crewmates into potential followers as well, and given them unique equipment and a special ability.

Currently she has 2 crew members that are camped out with her in Skyrim, a Desert Nymph and a Blended Nymph, but I am planning on adding at least one more, possibly two, a Bretoniic Nymph (!!!) and a Nord woman.

Besides the new follower I have already shown on this blog, I am also in the process of finishing up the lore updates that I have been working on.  

This is pretty extensive, and I don’t think I will be able to include it all with this update.  For now, here’s a teaser of some of the tidbits that have come up in questions I have received.

Nymphii have a mating selection process that is based almost 100% on some innate ability to sense the compatibility of any mortal's "magical essence" with the Nymph’s own magical composition.  

Most Nymph subtypes have almost no interest in status, wealth, power, or any other kind of social advantages or material resources.  A prince or a pauper makes very little difference to her.

The Nymph, like any humanoid creature, will obviously have some sense of aesthetics.  However, since all Nymphii are inhumanly beautiful, regardless of the father’s appearance, this is not a major factor in her selection process.  Whether a man is handsome or ugly is only relevant if they have equally compatible “Magical Essence.”

The result is that the Nymph may display strong preferences for one person over another that make very little sense, and her preferences may often seem incomprehensible to mortals.  

For example, a Nymph may show an irresistible attraction to the one-eyed beggar of solitude, and be completely disinterested or even repulsed by the wealthy, charming, and handsome nobleman.

Two males of the same race can still have hugely different patterns of essence.  

A Desert Nymph, whose composition generally favors Redguards, can be highly compatible with the essence of one Redguard man but may be totally incompatible with the essence of another.  

Every mortal has a unique pattern of “Magical Essence” that a Nymph can intuitively read.  Call this perception something like "Magical Pheromones" if that helps to explain it.  

This pattern of “Magical Essence” is usually something only a Nymph can sense, though it may be possible to "read" a person's essence with powerful divination magic.  

Every Nymph can perceive this essence this upon reaching maturity.  It is part of the basic reproductive behavior of every subtype, even the Blended Nymph, for whom selection is not quite so necessary. 

“Magical Essence" is contained primarily within mortal reproductive cells, male and female.  Similar to how a Succubus obtains whatever it is that keeps her alive from semen, the Nymph requires the "Magical Essence" housed within functional humanoid reproductive cells in order to reproduce, which she eventually uses to start an arcane catalytic reaction that generates a new Nymph.

She can gather “Magical Essence” from both men and women, but due to the great difference in number of cells produced (billions of sperm vs. a single ova), it is almost impossible for her to obtain enough essence from a woman to reproduce.  Her strong preference for males as mates is based on this fact, rather than on any anatomical reason.

Human males possess significantly more essence per cell to account for their shorter lifespans, and this helps to account for why Nymphii generally do not prefer Mer over Human except by specific Nymph subtype.

An egg will have thousands of times the quantity of essence per cell, but this is rarely enough to make a difference.

The only situation in which she might obtain enough essence from a woman would be a relationship with a Mer woman that persists for more than five centuries.  It is not impossible, but very nearly so.

It is next to impossible for a Nymph to get pregnant the first time she has sex with any given person.

Most Nymphii are aware of this fact, and it contributes somewhat to the “promiscuous” reputation that the Nymph species has.

They are also generally immune to most sexually transmitted diseases that affect mortals, though with the exception of the Wood Nymph, they are not immune to magical diseases. 

There may be a few diseases that only affect the Nymph which are carried by mortals...

Basically, there is very little risk or consequence for the Nymph if she chooses to indulge her desires.

The genes of the male are totally and completely irrelevant in terms of the composition of the new Nymph: she does NOT reproduce through genetic inheritance.

The “Nymph Generating Reaction” proceeds more quickly based on the amount of "Magical Essence" that she can use as building blocks: the more times she has had sex with the same person, the shorter her pregnancy will be.  

A Nymph could conceive with a mate she has only slept with a few dozen times, but her resulting pregnancy will last decades.  

Comparably, a Nymph who has been in a relationship with a Human man for his entire lifespan may have a pregnancy that lasts only a few weeks.

The building blocks of different individuals are wholly incompatible with each other and cannot be used to fuel the same reaction; each person has a unique variant of "essence" and she cannot further this reaction by sleeping with many different people.

A Nymph might be quite promiscuous normally, but once she has taken a mate she thus has a very strong incentive to be monogamous.

The essence of incompatible mates does not necessarily disrupt the reaction, but it does not provide any benefit either.  Since a Nymph pursuing reproduction is always engaging in a deliberate and conscious decision, it does not make much sense for her to sustain an interest in other mates until after she has conceived.

There’s a lot more, but that’s part of what I consider the “essential” basics of Nymph reproduction, and it should help you get an idea of the life-cycle and motivations of the Nymph.

That’s all so far.  I hope you look forward to it!

[gplewis]

kiss me through the phone

When you come (cum?) You get a flood of Oxytocin and Vaze-uh-pressin (how do you spell that? what is it? i’m no scientist) The basic bodily and brain systems for attachment (What mothers get when they love their babies)

You might end up attached to somebody who doesn't fit into your life https://onbeing.org/programs/helen-fisher-love-and-sex-and-attachment/

“Don't have sex with someone you don't want to feel something for”

Yep!

--

they both just really need somebody to cry in front of

“what are you trying to hide?” is most of what we deal with

what else is there to do but live once you’re free? the words won’t be good enough to keep keeping words won’t be good enough to do

living is the war of being honest with yourself while making money from other people

The chairperson has disconnected The conference will now end

--

There is one we lose over and over

again

--

oxytocin.

The “love hormone,” as it’s often dubbed, can facilitate mother-child bonding and lay the foundation for healthy social interactions. Oxytocin, importantly, also breeds organizational trust—and, ultimately, a more productive workplace https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/forget-taco-tuesdays-karaoke-fridays-employees-should-celena-chong

https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/65340-rumi-the-book-of-love-poems-of-ecstasy-and-longing

As husband and wife move down the funnel together, there is more to the experience than just chemicals released in the physical body… the mind, heart and spirit are all joined together http://www.feedtherightwolf.org/2010/11/brain-chemicals-in-healthy-sexual-act/

--

could really use to put some order to this

There's a cauldron of five women or so but they're all the same woman

the faces change; it doesn't ladder up

in my head in my Notes in my life which were and weren’t so different

now the illusion’s being traded away for a chance at something real

--

"Every man needs two women: a quiet home-maker, and a thrilling nymph." — Iris Murdoch

"Sex is always complicated and rarely in harmony with affection." http://www.thebookoflife.org/the-great-philosophers-epicurus/

the problem is simply that we don’t see our friends enough, we don’t have meaningful enough work or strong enough relationships, we don’t love ourselves or sing ourselves like we ought to and need to

so we rage

--

A woman, thirty, does not want to leave her childhood home. Why should I leave home? These are my parents. They love me. Why should I go marry some man who will argue and shout at me? Still, the woman likes to undress in front of the window. She wishes some man would at least look at her. — Lydia Davis, A Woman, Thirty

If the person you're having sex with doesn't know about your bad stuff, your struggles and your aspirations, it's going to be disappointing.

"...her whole picture of herself was of her...seductive physical presence. She was not the most successful businesswoman in Los Angeles, but she was certainly successful enough, and quite in addition to that, she was...the main sexual presence in the office. When she walked into the office each morning, everyone, women as well as men, checked her out. She knew that. She could feel her sexual presence go through the place like an invisible chemical, like a hormone, a scent, a universal solvent." http://nymag.com/news/features/45938/

could I even touch it? would I know how? [a link to someone hard to redact] and what if the link stops working? what then? would I have to explain all this and to whom I am referring

?

"If you're lucky enough to have a pretty girl love you and share herself and sleep with you, make that your secret. The best way to spoil love is by talking to too many people about it." — Rip Torn

!

"The goal in courtship is often to prolong the chase, to draw out the sexual tension, to make them wait — and to enjoy this starry-eyed journey from strangers to dating to lovers to partners." http://thenewinquiry.com/essays/how-to-win-tinder/

"Drunk text me. I want to be the one you think of when you can’t think straight." - "Drunk Texts are Flattering" haiku by Claire Luisa

"Sex is a moment in which you are known and knowable. Whatever it is you desire appears from behind the veil of shame or fantasy or nostalgia, or sheer impossibility, and in its presence, you are revealed to yourself. Porn obscures this; porn is about the fantasy of the viewer, not the mixed fantasies, realities, and disappointments of the actors in the room." http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2015/06/24/sex-and-salter-2/

"The sexual act is in time what the tiger is in space." - Georges Bataille https://www.instagram.com/p/uZH1CDnIC6/

"Sex is difficult; yes. Almost everything serious is difficult; and everything is serious." — Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

"The adolescent sees a sex world which is not human enough, merely masculine, which is heat, intoxication and restlessness, loaded with the old prejudices and arrogances with which men have disfigured and burdened love."

---

Before the horns fall away, here’s what the taxidermist teaches:

Because the velvet grows onto the hide we have to skin it and cut it, so nothing rips up and causes damage.

Being cautious that we don’t give it a big yank, use your knife and just kind of pull gently.

Go on—tap the skin away from the bur. See we boned it out.

For hard boned deer we usually just kind of but we can’t do that when it’s in full velvet or it will, you know.

Now we’re going to put a puncture in the tip. So, we’re not just hitting the one vein.

That’s what we want to see.

When Aristotle dissected the embryos in bird eggs, he mistook the spinal cord for the heart.

Anaximander of Miletus wrote that the first humans burst out of the mouths of fish and that we took form there and were held prisoners there until puberty.

At its root, taxidermy means to arrange skin. O love, how precise is any vision?

It’s also true that some whitetails never lose their velvet. Hunters raise their eyebrows calling them atypical,

antlered does, cactus bucks, monsters, shirkers, ghosts, raggedy-horn freaks, because they lead

long solitary lives, unweathered by the rutting season, because their antlers

are covered permanently in a skin that most bucks shed in late summer,

because their velvet horns spike and slope backwards, never hardening to pure bone,

growing ever more askew. A recent one slayed at thirty points was described as having

stickers, kickers, and a whole lot of extra junk full of blood, hot to the human touch.

Gut a body and we’re nothing left but pipes whistling in the breeze. That’s all the cassowary is when you slit her open:

She’s lungs wrapped in dark fur. She’s a full baritone with a soft wattle. There’s nothing in her casque but soft tissue.

Because it makes me want to turn away, I watch film footage of scientists

poking through the pink tendons, the reptilian claw of the euthanized casuarius.

When they fondle the sweet spot, a talon shoots out and stabs a melon the same as it would the appendix of a lazy zookeeper.

I had to cover my eyes when they severed the ancestral wing. Love, we are more than utility, I think.

Love, I know my body’s here when the turkey vulture comes out of the thicket, wings spread wide, smelling all of it.

When talking about how the brain imagines the body, neurologists use the word “schema” to describe the little map that lies across the cortex,

sensing all our visible and invisible parts.

Some phantasms about our bodies in relationship to gender and sexuality are idealized, some degrading, some compulsory, some transgressive.

I am using this embrace, Love, to keep us here in this perceptual field.

When I focus my binoculars, Love, I am as careful as a raccoon working its way

through trash. A soda can passes as the skull of a bird, an eyehole where somebody

drank some sugar down. Love, come close. Love, lie back. Love, lie with me here

beneath a bridge where the light falling on the water shimmers upward casting

shadows on the slats beneath. When you are here, Love, I am beside myself.

If secrets are prayers then maybe bodies

are worth revealing worth repeating

How much plumage dare I show How much down

Some days I am rich as the common garter snake

with more testosterone than you can handle

and the sweetest stench of pheromones

O small pouch O tiny nipple O lactating man

Or as the French say cyprine O Icelandic clam

And whales with lady hips And dandelions in the thick grass

growing stamens growing pistils O lion’s tooth However the wind

rips each part apart However we clone and clone and clone — Jenny Johnson, "In Full Velvet" http://muse.jhu.edu/article/538037/pdf

---

her erotic self was her fake self

in bed she wasn't real

--

we suppress the erotic self in life so it’s in bed we have to be true otherwise what else is there for a hot-blooded thinker to do but lie here awake and long—long for the past transgression we couldn’t help but fumble in our fingers in the dark—love I was your only hope until you left me home

--

I jam my foot inside the gurgling pool filter so I don’t drift away; I want to recover the proper place to put this but years tell me there’s no proper place I’m always getting out of order but the sun comes up and the world still spins

I always return to my instruments

--

"To get along, we all have to conceal our feelings, and to practice the cultivated, calibrated, pragmatic art of dishonesty; we call that professionalism." http://www.newyorker.com/books/joshua-rothman/big-data-comes-to-the-office

“I believe sexuality is the basis of all friendship.” - Jean Cocteau http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/4485/the-art-of-fiction-no-34-jean-cocteau

Facebook’s Last Taboo: The Unhappy Marriage http://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/28/fashion/facebook-last-taboo-the-unhappy-marriage.html ignorance isn't bliss, it’s an opiate you never know how good you could be having it

never cry out loud smile for no camera

either way, we’re still ruled by cords

--

“In any relationship, the one with the power is the one who cares the least”

I hated hearing this, I knew it was true

the truth will break your heart before it sets you free but we were made to make it this far, you thinking this, me having written it