unreliable-narrator-chilaios
my fuckin uhhh. chilaios sideblog
11 posts
neo or laios, he/it/xe. i write and draw. hello
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day 7: free day
aesthetics inspired by yaelokre but not based in their world/universe
more like a witch au of sorts
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chilaios week; day 6 prompt: "beach episode/alternative universe", using both prompts; 1,579 words
no i did not do the previous days. yet. but i WAS struck by inspiration for this one. i don't want to give too much away so i'm not saying what the AU is, but you'll figure it out lol
title: Chilchuck's Secret
cws: not any, I think? this one's very sweet. i wanted to use the good vibes of beach episode... i guess there's some suggestive lines, but it's not nsft at all.
      There’s a secret at the beach, if you know where and when to look.
      And nobody knows but Chilchuck, of course.
      He was always the sort of man to keep his cards close to his chest, and this was no exception. Anything that he treasured, he had to keep locked away - hoarding everything he held dear to keep it safe and sound, out of the way of harm… with maybe only a hint of jealousy inherent in that act. Greed, even.
      Not that he was the greedy one out of the two of them. That title belonged to Laios, through and through.
      The brittle shale that crumpled beneath his fingers was cool to the touch, compared to how it would feel later. It hadn’t yet been baked in the sun for hours today. The shale and limestone and sand were blissfully cool for now, letting him take his time on his way down the short cliffside to the cove. It was the time of year that it was cool in the morning and searingly hot in the afternoon, the time of year that he was always tempted to stay from dawn until dusk. Maybe even longer than that. It was a rush to get across the route when the sand scalded and blistered his feet, but when it was cool, it was almost soft. Pleasant.
      He needed the lack of urgency - the slowly building arthritis in his hands and knees made him especially stiff in the mornings. His tri-weekly trips here had been helping considerably, but the way down to get there was rough, even if the reward was well worth it. His body creaked traitorously, even as it allowed him his nimble movements down the short rock wall, the sudden lurch from his hop down onto flat stone.
      Tide pools flourished here. It was low tide, making the shallow dips and pools in the rock especially prominent, where hardy, stubborn plants drooped at the surface and critters scuttled within and between them. He was careful to sidestep a crab on his way to the sand proper, relaxing as his feet sank into the fine grains.
      He breathed in the scent of sea spray, salt and foam, the smell of things washed up by the tide and left stranded when the waters receded. A chunk of driftwood would soon be picked up again at noon, when the high tide came back; clumps of washed-up kelp and algae littered the beach, at the line where he knew the tide would come up to later.
      The sun was still low in the sky, just barely peeking through the trees that sheltered the cove. The passage to the ocean was narrow, and the forest was thick in this area. Most of the cove wasn’t just blocked off by trees, but cliffs. His route down the side of one was the safest; the beach here was free of litter, free of the sound of crinkling plastic and the smell of waste, the bright eyesores of humanity that left their mark on nature’s majesty.
      Chilchuck relaxed as his eyes gravitated towards an outcropping of rock in the center of the water. He wasn’t here yet, but that was fine. The half foot was early to their meeting.
      He made himself comfortable. The sand yielded to him where he stepped, slipping between his toes and under his heel as he walked across the sandy portions of the beach, coming up to a rock that he’d begun to favor in the past month. Pebbles and sharp stones littered the sand here, but he didn’t mind, avoiding them the best he could before he quickly scaled the side of the beach rock.
      It was the outermost boulder of a wider outcropping that extended from the cliffs, forming a small, flat perch on top that let him have an excellent view of the cove. The chill in the rock was soothing as he sat down, careful not to let his swimming trunks get caught on the sharp little crags.
      Other than his swimming trunks, he wasn’t wearing much. Just a plain white swim shirt. The trunks themselves were solid black. He would have opted for clothing that looked a little better, but he had to replace them often - he kept stashes of extra pairs in an alcove nearby, in case of them being ripped or shredded while he was here.
      It happened much more often than he’d like. The thought alone made him huff, amused, as his whiskers twitched and his tail curled around his side. His ears flicked when he felt the breeze stir the inner ear fur. He usually hid his more… animalistic features when he could, but he knew Laios would just rip his clothes off even faster, just for a chance to feel his tail. Grabby bastard.
      Speaking of. Speak of the devil, and he shall come.
      There’s a large, dark shadow in the water. The water here is practically crystal clear, but it’s massive and far away - the cove is huge, after all, stretching across half a mile from one side to the other. He can see the little flurries of shoals of fish scattering in its wake, schools dispersing and reforming as they flittered between open water and the abundance of plants in the makeshift, tiny reef that had formed here. Small stretches of coral were in the deeper parts of the water, here, and seagrass and algae offering food and shelter a little further out, teetering off into just rocks closer to the beach. Algae particularly liked the base of the sea stack in the middle, the base of the colossal rock wrapped in slimy dark green.
      With a burst of ripples and sea spray, the figure breaks the surface of the water, hauling itself up the rock with relative ease, even as gravity drags it down. He isn’t meant for the surface, after all, and without the buoyancy of the water, he’s heavy - because, after all, he’s an utterly massive cecaelia. Pale skin transitioned to yellow-gold at the waist, the muscular fatty upper human half matched with a fat, bulky form of an octopus, rippling with muscle underneath slick, oddly-textured skin and suction cups. He easily hauled himself onto his own perch, running a hand through his blonde hair and practically deflating under his own weight for a moment.
      Those golden eyes light up like always when their gazes meet. Swaths of his skin light up in a blushing pink, giving away how happy he is. Laios was always, and would always be, an open book. He loves that about him.
      Chilchuck carefully made his way back down the rock, feet planted into the sand and pebbles and sea glass. He waded into the shallows, where the water was relatively warm. It wasn’t long until he was swimming, doing a bit of a pathetic doggy paddle to the base of the sea stack - and then one of those muscular arms gently wound its way around his torso, lifting him up out of the water and onto the little plateau. The routine was wound into them at this point, wordlessly slumping into one another as soon as he was able to reach his human half. Those big, strong arms wrapped around him, one hand coming down to pet along the drenched fur of his tail.
      He didn’t shake himself out like he wanted to. That was a bit too dog-like, for his tastes. Laios always laughed at him when he did it, with that soft, genuinely happy laugh.
      “Dork,” he mumbled, non-contextually. It earned a chuckle, vibrating through that broad chest.
      He’s pulled into a kiss, small and chaste, but sweet nonetheless. He curls his tail around the cecaelia’s hand, relaxing into his hold like always after he pulled away. That chest was the perfect pillow, letting him listen to his breathing, the beating of his heart. He knew it would sound different if he listened to it while the man was underwater, when he used his gills instead of his lungs. He found his body idly fascinating, but not as fascinating as Laios found his to be.
      The hand not occupied with his tail pressed softly against the back of his neck, thumbing across the muscles between his neck and shoulder. “You missed me,” he teased, curling one of those arms around his leg to hold him securely. He always wanted to completely surround him, hold him with everything he had. “That was… what, two days?”
      “Shut up,” he scolded, playfully. He smacked his bicep lightly, swatting at him like a fly. It just made the man laugh. His ears burned and he knew they were scarlet on the inside. He couldn’t help that Laios was the best thing going on in his life right now. His secret treasure. “I didn’t miss you, you were just annoying immediately. I mean, come on. You’re bright pink. I thought that the color change was for camouflage! Eedjit.”
      He laughed that sweet laugh again.
      “M’eudail.” He said it with the tone of an insult, a curse, even if it very much wasn’t, as he swatted him again. “Ye fuckin’ sook.”
      “You definitely missed me.” Laios was grinning, more of that oddly-textured skin flushing pink and red. “I can change the subject, though. Do you want to hear about a weird fish I caught the other day?”
      Chilchuck huffed, whiskers twitching. “Sure.”
      He could listen to him talk about just about anything for hours.
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h. blood under cut. im thinking abt hannibal au so fucking bad. ignore that chilchuck doesnt look like chilchuck all that much and that the anatomy is shit in this one
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some hannibal au sketches I did in a magma w/ @druid-boy-punk !!!
he's normal and sane I think
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so that hannibal dungeon meshi au 👀👀👀👀 @unreliable-narrator-chilaios
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ok so
i've watched the first 2 seasons of hannibal in like 3 days. as soon as i saw the randall tier ep i was like "oh okay. thats fucking laios touden." i imagined the homoeroticism of laios attacking chilchuck (a will graham stand-in, maybe?) and neither of them die they just end up fucking and chilchuck has this giant feral serial killer boyfriend
so uh.
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im normal. laios touden cannibalistic serial killer. randall if he ate the bodies. anyway thank u for coming to my ted talk
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another one of my aus; semi-modern setting, laios is an illegal cage fighter and chilchuck is a gambler
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FERAL ZOMBIE LAIOS!!!! god i love him
thanks @unreliable-narrator-chilaios for such a cool zombie au!!! ur thoughts are so good oughggg
ZOMBIE AUUUUUU LETSGOOOOOOO - necromancer-punk #poipiku https://poipiku.com/10001787/10436608.html
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blood under cut
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both the toudens are infected <3
falin gets infected first; to the others it seems like she disappeared, roughly around the start of the outbreak. laios had gone after her on his own - and then was infected when, while comforting her as she was half-infected and convulsing, she ripped off his mask and exposed him to the spores. they are both missing for roughly half a year, presumed dead.
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gore/blood under cut. zombie au
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is chilchuck fucking his feral zombie boyfriend? yes. it only spreads via spores (cordiceps zombies) and laios is not sprouted/producing spores so they're good to fuck nasty and bite <3
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chilaios snippet; 695 words
modern fantasy au / stalker chilchuck
cw: branding, bondage, marking, pet play, collar/shock collar, stalking/obsession, nsfw
It hadn't been his fault, it really wasn't. He really, really tried to follow all of his master's rules, he really did. It wasn't his fault that some of them were impossible.
Rule three was to not touch others. That included others touching him. He didn't know how to avoid that - he was a physical man, and so it had come to be expected by others that he was okay with being touched. How could he explain that they couldn't anymore? What would he tell Falin?
Falin had hugged him. He knew that already earned him a punishment, so he hugged her back.
Now he was tied to the bed.
His hands and feet were tied to the bed posts, leaving him naked and spread-eagled on his bed. His skin was mottled with marks from previous punishments; mostly bites, scratches, and bruises, with the masterpiece of a branded 'CCT' on his inner thigh, beside his cock. Chilchuck loomed over him with a collar in hand, looking him over with a smirk. The collar was made of thick brown leather with shiny silver buckles and clips, with runes inscribed on the inside in black ink. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, tensing his thighs as his master's slender, furred tail brushed against the sensitive skin.
"You were a very, very bad dog," he chided in a croon, crouching above his chest to lean in. They shared intimate breaths, making his head spin with the scent. "But I have just the thing for you. A buddy of mine knew a guy that could get this for me, and it's exactly what you need. It's meant for a wolf, but that's exactly what you are. All it needed was a little adjusting for size. It's gonna look so good on you, baby boy. Everybody's gonna know that you're mine."
They kissed. It was ravenous, full of nips and an insistent tongue. Laios opened his mouth submissively, eyes closing and features going lax as Chilchuck dominated his mouth. He only flinched when claws delicately traced the skin of his neck, across his jugular and tendons - then he felt the collar, quickly being secured around his neck.
When it latched and tightened, he felt a shock lance through his body, making him tense and jolt. Chil pulled away from the kiss to laugh, that sweet laugh he did when he was happy. "It works! That feel good, puppy?"
Decidedly, it didn't. He shook his head with a whine.
"Good, it's not supposed to," he confirmed. He spared a glance over his shoulder, and was grinning wider when he turned back to him. "You're hard, though. It's the collar, isn't it? Being owned by me?"
He could feel that. It was making it harder to think than usual, when the blood was down in his cock instead of his brain. He nodded shyly.
"Good boy." Lips pressed against his cheek. Chil sat down fully on his chest, still fully clothed. He could see the tent in his jeans. "Now. Recite your rules."
It came automatically to his mouth. "Rule one, my master is always welcome inside of my home. Rule two, I can't deny my master's needs. Rule three, only my master can touch me. Rule f-four..."
Chilchuck was rubbing his thumb across his nipple, watching him intently. His eyes were intense, looking like he wanted to devour him whole. He swallowed again before continuing.
"... Rule four... I..." Fuck, his cock was *throbbing*. Chilchuck took good care of him, and gave him all sorts of things to keep him sensitive. His face was burning. "I have to do w-whatever my master commands."
"Good boy." The praise said again made him shudder, thighs tensing. "So you *do* know your rules. You just need some help to follow them, don't you? Don't worry. Now, whenever you break a rule, the collar will remind you. You're such a sweet, sweet boy, I don't think you'll have any trouble with the reminder."
He pinched and tugged, making him whine high in his throat.
"Shhh..." He purred, the sound leaking into his voice. "Now just relax, puppy. Just need to mark you up again..."
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