#and to avoid damaging their fur

[zaltynn]

plushie bath day :D - p1

p2 | p3 | p4

[universefcb]

Peace sealed with paws

Pairing: Max verstappen X fem!reader

Summary: You have a big fight, and he sees how much he hurt you and made you sad. But to make amends, he gives you a dog as a gift.

Warning: Mention of Reader, fluff.

Author's note: My first imagine with pilots 🥰

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

Silence was the worst punishment of all. Max knew that. And that night, as he paced the living room of the apartment he shared with his girlfriend, the weight of her silence made his chest tighten more than any defeat on the track.

The argument had started for a small reason, like most big fights. A misinterpreted comment, an impatient look after a tiring day, and soon they were both on opposite sides of the same bed, like strangers. The problem was that he had crossed the line. He had said too many harsh words, with too much impatient a tone. And the worst part? He had seen in her eyes the exact moment when something inside her had broken.

She cried silently—she didn't scream, she didn't fight back. She just kept quiet, as if she had given up fighting. And that destroyed Max inside.

Two days passed. Two long days in which she avoided contact, answered in monosyllables, and left the room when he entered. Max tried to reach out. He tried to apologize. But the words sounded hollow compared to the damage he had caused.

So he decided to do it differently.

---

It was Saturday morning when she woke to a strange sound coming from the hallway. A high-pitched, clumsy bark, like a toy had come to life. Frowning, she got out of bed in sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, her hair still messy from sleep.

When he opened the bedroom door, he found Max sitting on the floor in the hallway, and on his lap, a little ball of white fur that could barely keep its paws on the floor.

“Hi,” he said, with a shy smile and his eyes fixed on her, as if waiting for a verdict.

She frowned in surprise, and her first reaction was to duck down too, letting the little puppy come towards her with uncoordinated steps and its tail wagging furiously.

“Max…?” she murmured, picking up the puppy. He licked her cheek as if he knew she needed to break the sadness there.

“I know it doesn’t erase what I said. I know I hurt you, and seeing you like that…” he swallowed. “It was the worst feeling I’ve ever had. You didn’t deserve that, not a single second of it.”

She looked at him. Her eyes were still streaked with the last tears, but now there was a different shine. A sign that she was listening to him. Really.

“I love you,” he continued. “And if you’ll let me, I want to prove it to you every day. This puppy… well, he doesn’t have a name yet. I thought you’d better pick one.”

She bit her lower lip, fighting back tears. “You bought a dog… to make amends?”

“Completely,” he said, unabashed. “Appealing to cuteness was my last resort.”

She gave a weak chuckle, and it was like a breath of fresh air for him.

“He’s beautiful,” she whispered, petting the pup. “But you still owe me at least twenty back rubs and a decent dinner.”

Max smiled, approaching carefully. “Deal. And a hundred more kisses a day. Just in case.”

She laughed finally and let him hug her. The puppy barked in the middle of the hug, squeezed between them.

“We have a new member, then,” she said, looking at the puppy.

“Yes,” Max replied. “And if it’s up to me, it’s the first of many good times. No more stupid fights, okay?”

She nodded, still nestled into his chest.

“So help me choose a name?”

“Sure,” she replied, looking at the little ball of fur that was now sleeping on the rug. “But I can tell you right now that if it’s a male, I’m going to name him Button. In honor of Jenson.”

Max faked a grimace. “Only if the next one is named Verstappen.”

“We’ll see,” she said, smiling. “It depends on how well you do.”

“On the track?” he asked.

She gave a mischievous smile. “In everything.”

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @merinottt @htpssgavi @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[ask-the-pioneer]

Have you ever found that fire or shrapnel have something of a reduced effect on your body? I'm looking to confirm a hypothesis...

"My abilities are not common amongst the slugcat population, I think. In my entire life I have not met a single scug that could make explosives, or do explosive jumps (excluding my mom). And yes, I'm naturally resistant to blast damage. What would badly hurt a common creature may only knock me out for a second or two."

"Shrapnel? Hmm… my fur protects me to a degree, but getting hit with a flurry of hot metal chunks is very risky, even for me. If the situation is dire, I try to deflect anything coming at me with a blast or a dodge. The best way to not get hurt is to avoid confrontation in the first place."

"That said, I have also found that I can heal much faster than a typical scug. What takes cycles to recover from may only take me a week. Mom could do that too! I'm proud to have inherited it from her..."

She stops and stares into the distance. The smile on her face from a moment ago melts away quickly.

"...I really miss my mom."

// This is a good moment to mention that time in my AU is measured differently. There are days and nights as usual. The most common measurment is a set of four days (day-night cycles), which is called a "week". The cycle that involves rain is a separate concept, and only really applies to areas around iterators that are still active (and not collapsed). Some cycles may last several days followed by a a few days of rain. There are longer and shorter cycles depending on each iterator. Creatures still hibernate in places outside of their influence, but it is dictated more by the local weather, or seasons (could be considered a kind of very long cycle), rather than iterators' "breathing".

[heartfullofleeches]

ooo how about rascal with a very bubbly feminine reader? they like to put pink accessories on them and wear pink bunny ears to match them !

Yan Bunny Man + Bubbly Feminine Reader

-

If auras were a perceivable feat, you like to imagine yours would be shrouded in a vibrant pink light.

There's no telling when your fixation began. A bond hatched from a key defining moment in your past-

Or, a more likely case - pink complimented your bedroom walls in ways no other color could compare.

Some might call it an obsession. Maybe you could understand where they were coming from if that new top you bought didn't match your eyes as well as it did. The opinions of others was hardly any of your concern. Not when you had someone- somebunny rather, who accepted you for all your faults and passions wholeheartedly.

"What do you think we should go for this week, Rascal? Bubblegum or Flamingo?"

An array of nail polish lines your vanity- The fumes of remover regulated by the cutest little desk fan you picked up a month or two prior. Your seat grunts, a massive paw planted to your stomach as their upper body lurches forward. They sniff at each bottle, a ear patting your cheek as they cock their head to one side quizzically. Blinking down at your unmarked fingernails, Rascal makes a grab for the closest bottle to you - knocking down several others in the process.

"Silly rabbit- Bubblegum it is then." Giggling, you overturn your hand, motioning for the bottle. Your body rumbles with the purr your pet emits, large fingers clumsily gripping the neck of the bottle as he attempts to unscrew the cap.

"Oh? Do you want to paint my nails for me? You're so sweet, Rascal!"

The rabbit chirps at your compliment, nuzzling their head against yours. As they kiss at the crown of your skull, a shadow looms over your bedroom window - drifting towards your front door. You weren't expecting any guests any time soon... That means-

"It's here!"

If it weren't for the arm encased around your torso you would've leapt straight from their lap. Swatting at their arm, you attempt to stand. Your hits have the weight of a feather behind them, yet Rascal, albeit reluctantly grants you freedom. The whimper caught in their throat shrinks as you grin from ear to ear.

"Got a big surprise for you, Rascal. Come on, let's go!"

With a spring in your step, you race out of your bedroom - your pet's hulking figure hot on your trail. Reaching the living room, you glance back to Rascal with a finger pressed to your lips, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Ssshhh-"

You watch with bated breath as the shadow outside your door bends, stretching to its original height second later; absent of the rectangular shape in its hands. Waiting a moment longer, the shadow finally departs - the crisis of human interaction avoided yet another day. You look up at Rascal.

"Ready for your present?"

Hot breath fogs the glass eyes of their mask, head tilted downward ever so slightly. Marching onward, you fling the front open - plucking the package off your porch before shutting it securely behind you. Turning back, you present the sealed box to your companion.

"Rascal- Would you be a doll and open this for me?"

You don't have to ask twice. The tape is torn astray like a hot blade through ice. Excitement takes over the reminder to thank Rascal for their efforts, but in hindsight you have a feeling your present will make up for it. A bell jingles as you air your first of two surprises - balancing on the tips of your toes to give them an up close and personal look.

"Tada!"

A cherry pink bow, equipped with a bell and sparkling collar. After a vicious encounter with a stranger who got a little too close for his liking, Rascal's old collar was too stained despite your numerous attempts to wash it. It broke their spirit more than yours to damage something given to them by the one they held dear. He swore he was over it for your sake, but in the dead of night you catch them stroking the fur where it once was.

"I got you a new collar! There was a discount on the website I bought my other surprise, so I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone! Do you like it?"

Its times like this you're grateful for living on the bottom floor. Thunder booms as Rascal's foot hammers against the floor, claws snatching on the leg of their sweats in a hopeless bid to hide their enthusiasm. Kneeling to your level, Rascal sticks out their neck, frantically pointing to the spot. You unclasp the collar, hooking it around their neck with enough space for wiggle room.

Playing with the bell of their collar, Rascal is none the wiser as you return to the box - humming aloud as you dress yourself in your new accessory. You'd love to see how it looks on you, but Rascal is far too nosy for you to make it back to your bedroom with the package still in one piece. You adjust the mask over the bridge of your nose, wiggling it to test the fit.

"What do you think?"

Rascal's head shoots up - hairs standing on end as its eyes tune to the clouded lenses of their headgear. His breathing quickens- short, greedy gasps for air as he staggers to his feet. The tall ears of your mask barely reach their chest, lace masking the glimmer of amusement in your eye.

"I'm guessing you like it. Bought it just for you, of course- It being pink did help in my decision, but you've been so good lately and deserved a present."

Like is the understatement of the century. The rabbit's talons swipe at the hole of their zipper, desperate groans sounding with each unsuccessfully trial. At last, heavy pants fall freely from the opened airway of their mask, the zipper's teeth moist with drool and yearning. Its large hands find purchase on your shoulders.

If you liked the color so much, surely you wouldn't mind the pink of their tongue bathing you in appreciation for all you do for them.

[ganondoodle]

( OC, Eadrya, they/them, water demon )

"Oh don't look at me like that, is this the first time you've drawn blood or what? do it again! had a nice sting to it-" (Eadrya to Shargon, likely the first time Shargon's ever dared to fight them instead of fleeing immediately like his life depended on it ... bc it did)

finally gave Eadrya their deserved post character arc design (instead of doing what i should be)

since i know my handwriting isnt always readable, heres a short an overly long explanation of the context (oops)

(recap, the demon world was invaded and is believed to be destroyed, Eadrya lost a fight for the first time in their life to a celestial and survived by sheer luck and kindness of a little fishing village in the human realm, which kind of broke their pride and kickstarted their arc- (here i drew the lady in charge of the village before, though Eadryas design here is also a little out of date again ..)

-skipping alot in between that and the end of their arc bc that would jsut be too long for this post)

Eadrya helped other Lords and Shargon (with Midas and Idri) escape from a trap set by hunters but was captured themself, since it was the first time hunters managed to catch a Lord they 'researched' alot about demons using them .. by torturing them (demons are not considered sentient by people at large)

they managed to escape but were hunted down immediately, even Eadrya with their immense magic overproduction and abillity to recover was too drained (both literally of their strength -since the most effective way to hurt/immobilize a demon is draining them of their magic/blood faster than they can recover it- AND mentally) to easily avoid them and instead turned to killing, making them relapse into their old bloodthirst which lead to them spiraling into thinking that it is all they are ever good for and they will never be able to change-

Thor (with Idri) were on their way to free them after being informed of Eadryas capture ( Thor is Eadryas best and only friend ) but when they arrived it had already escalated so far that they went after killing Thor as well, now firmly believing Thor was never their friend but was simply trying to tame them out of fear of their power (not completely wrong ..). despite Thor with his two hearts being able to give Eadrya a second chance they decide to go for killing him twice, unintentionally missing the second time but doing enough damage for Thor to .. essentially fall into a near death condition; thinking they actually killed him everything starts to fall apart further as they realize over time they have changed after all but it is too late now-

Eadrya then flees into a snowy mountain range far away and lives there in complete isolation for several months (as a sort of .. self punishment and convinced of that being the best choice for everyone, they are a danger, they have no one left anyway etc trying to cope with it all) and thus grows out their fur (yes they always had fur, just short and slick like a seals fur) which they keep even after reuniting with Thor and everyone else later down the line

(the golden rope they wear in the picture was made by Thor during the time he was recovering and searching for them with the solar pirates (long story..), its not a good quality but he tried his best ... the two beads on it symbolize Thors two hearts (thunder and fire, blue and red)- Eadrya treasures it dearly)

so funnily enough, despite looking much wilder now they are actually much better in their self control and general health :P

[marsidotcom]

i cannot stop thinking about a massive, end-all-be-all fight where marinette has to gather up her whole team to fight against it. something within her plan requires marc’s (rooster bold’s) power for an extended period of time, holding a sublimation power for hours and pushing through the fail safe of his miraculous. near the end of it, he’s so drained that he has to transform back before the fight is truly over.

ladybug has him and nathaniel (caprikid) in a secluded alleyway, and she’s telling him “you have to, you have to, you’re too drained, you’ll hurt yourself and your kwami permanently if you don’t,” all while he insists he can keep going, he needs to keep going, to help fight.

but when caprikid points out the potential damage to his kwami rather than him, the holder, rooster bold finally caves. ladybug tells caprikid to stay with him, makes him swear not to tell anybody rooster’s identity and assures rooster bold that it will be kept secret. caprikid promises, though he looks a little anxious with the new secret to keep.

the “secret” of it all becomes the least of his worries when ladybug leaves to rejoin the fight and he watches rooster bold detransform into none other than his best friend in the entire world. His best friend, the boy he’s been in love with for two years, bleeding from the nose from the exertion and looking almost embarrassed as he cradles his tired kwami in his palms and avoids eye contact.

nathaniel is practically frozen. he watches marc fish a small bag of dried corn feed from his pocket and start feeding orikko, swiping at his bloody nose with flushed knuckles. marc grimaces, his other hand petting over orikko’s feathers as the kwami eats.

“i promise i’m not usually this much of a let down as hero,” he says, almost self-chastising. “I’m pretty lame outside of all of it, but most times i’m more useful than this.”

he looks ashamed, like using his power until he’s bleeding and exhausted was some humiliating failure to prove himself. nathaniel aches at the thought.

marc is rambling now, it seems. he does that sometimes.

“i’m gonna work on it, i’m sure i could train myself to go longer than this. this is the last time you’ll have to babysit, i swear. i’m so sorry i’m keeping you from everything-“

nathaniel doesn’t let him go on any longer. his gloved hands come up, albeit a little shaky, and he watches himself cup one of marc’s cheeks, blood smear and all, and then the other. marc’s words die in is throat, and he sits there, breathing quietly as the flush of his face burns brighter.

“it’s not babysitting,” caprikid tells him. “you can’t-“ his voice breaks, and he swallows, finding his footing again. “you can’t push yourself so far that you’re hurting yourself, marc.”

he sees the flash of shock in those green eyes, the recognition that this is someone who knows his name. someone who knows him in some capacity. he can deal with that later.

“you’re too important to be doing that, you’re-“ he pauses, his thumb swiping over marc’s cheekbone tenderly as he studies his face. the confusion written in it, the parted lips.

he leans closer, resolute. “you matter more than the rest of this. i can’t… i can’t see you doing this to yourself. please, please, don’t push it too far. you’re doing great. you always do. don’t be in a rush to be what you think is better when the best is already there. don’t hurt yourself trying to prove that you’re capable. we see that in you already.”

marc might be making a wordsmith out of him yet.

he watches those green eyes rim with tears, and he almost starts apologizing, but then marc is hugging him, his arms wrapped around his shoulders and his hands lost in the fur of caprikid’s collar. “okay,” the writer whispers. “okay. thank you.” it’s a croaked, teary thing, and nathaniel hugs him back like he’s something precious, something to hold close to his heart.

in the days after the fight, marc keeps thinking about caprikid, and nathaniel clings to his side like someone is going to take him away. if anyone notices the way nathaniel becomes increasingly, gently protective, they don’t say anything.

[yandere-daydreams]

Yan naga neuvillette?

The species is near extinction so scientists want to do what they can to save them.

Neuvillette and Zhongli just fight in their enclosure, so neuvi gets tagged and returned to the wild in hopes he’ll reproduce but humans still check in regularly to see how he’s doing. Cue you, the intern/new person who never expected to see the naga in the wild. Zhongli is the same as ever in his enclosure with constant temperatures, but surprise! Neuvi is having his mating season.

tw - kidnapping, implied breeding, minor violence.

this ask is a little old but i've been thinking about it constantly,,, i love the idea of zhongli being raised in captivity and therefore much more docile and used to being spoiled, whereas neuvillette is just. pure aggression from the moment he's captured onward. he refuses to touch any potential mate his caretakers try to pair him with, constantly attacks maintenance crews and researchers, and more of the project's grant money goes to fixing the damage he's done to his enclosure than, y'know, the project. eventually, he's released back into the wild under supervision, and you (a local cryptid specialist who's had a few brief encounters with him in the past) get brought on to keep an eye on him.

he's been nothing but aggressive and avoidant around humans before, so imagine your surprise when you make your first visit and immediately get grabbed up by a half-feral naga, all fangs and thrashing tails and pulsing, erect twin cocks that he kept so well-hidden in his brief captivity, his caretakers had started to doubt their assumptions about his biological sex. you're stripped of your limited supplies, injected with his paralytic venom, and taken to a nest of furs and shells all while he mutters about how sorry he is for being taken away from you, how he hesitated to act before but now, he knows better than to shy away from his precious little mate. it's not the ideal ending to a research paper, but at least the project was a success, right?

neuvillette's certainly going to be breeding something by the end of the night. it just won't be another naga.

[diejager]

Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility. 

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean. 

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird-kamakse @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[alexanderlightweight]

Hello darling~

Prompt for you: Shifters!Malec going on a first date & scent marking?

— Saeth

why do my bf's prompts never let themselves be written in short doses? (because we talk about what they want and basically we both go down plotbunny shortcut and end up in a labyrinth of ideas)

ily even though this was only supposed to be like two scenes of dating and ended up so much longer and yes this will have to be added to but that's what writing wednesdays are for

<3 lumine

i hope reading this distracts you from pain for even a few minutes sweetheart and that you also enjoy it

-

in the shadow of a flame

There are few truly peaceful places in New York that Alec can find rest safely and without worry of interruption. 

The Halls of Refuge is one of the only places that is truly neutral in the entirety of New York and perhaps the whole of the East Coast.  It is an imposing building, beautiful and crafted from ancient stone steeped in magic and found in the quarries of the Spiral Labyrinth.  

Once one has passed through the entry ward you are then beholden to the rules of the Hall and therefore, fighting is not only discouraged but completely restricted.  Even the thought of violence could get you both kicked out and banned.

Alec isn’t pleased at the fact that the reasons he finds it peaceful are because most of his hunters either avoid it out of prejudice or had already been banned, but still, he finds himself also relieved to have a refuge, just as the name boldly states.

The Hall itself had been established at the end of the Uprising, something beyond mere empty words to try and seal the festering wound that has lingered in the shadowworld since before the Accords.  It’s been a place of safety for Alec since he was a boy, still training and lacking understanding of the world around him.

Alec is fairly sure that the only reason the hall exists is because its creator, Ragnor Fell had insisted on retrieving the books he’d lent the Clave before the Uprising and the Clave had refused to give them up for good.

Their own pride had played against them, the books now accessible to all and with very few nephilim actually bothered to venture out and study them.

Alec and Izzy were two of the few who did but after the last incident involving Izzy, a fey and a pile of nearly ruined books via bodily fluids — for once not blood — Alec found himself alone.

It was amazing.

The rooftop of the Hall, while developed for leisure, was rarely used during the daytime.  

Any vampires staying for the day in the Hall wouldn’t go near the sun and while the architecture was stunning, there were very few plants so the fae folk often preferred the educational greenhouses with rows of bark bound books and stone scrolls.

Alec also liked the greenhouses, but only when they were empty. Despite being a shadowhunter, once he entered the wardline, he apparently became approachable. 

Not by many, but by more than he knew how to deal with, especially when he had no idea why they were approaching him.

No one knew who he was here, names were often left unsaid or used in a carefree manner without attaching the weight of legacy and lineage. 

For someone who had lived in the shadows but often had a spotlight thrust upon him, it was familiar yet even more discomfiting when Alec couldn’t understand what was wanted from him.

Hence, while he would never take any book beyond the lilac and wisteria covered gazebos — the risk of sun damage to the books despite the spells on them kept him cautious — Alec liked napping on the sun hot stone with the heat of sol warming his fur.

His senses were finetuned enough that any disturbance or intrusion of his solitude and peace would wake him up in time to shift back without a risk of vulnerability. 

Or at least, that’s how it had been so far.

—

Magnus rarely visits Ragnor’s little library project in the daytime.  Not for any grand reason, but as a habit since he often sleeps during the day.  

Today, however, is a boring one and the night before has been uneventful, for once.  

Deciding to stretch his wings rather than portal isn’t even a conscious decision, not when Magnus aches to feel the the wind yield to the strength of his wings.

The rooftop — largely left bare by Ragnor as a courtesy for him to land — is occupied, but the presence is calm and contained and as Magnus gets closer, the scent entices him closer. 

Landing doesn’t awaken him, even as Magnus realizes that the abyssal lynx lying before him is a shadowhunter.

It’s as surprising as it is a temptation and Magnus deliberately lays near him, drawn as he is by the possibility of an unclaimed and hidden treasure now discovered.

Magnus doesn’t dare actually touch him, not yet when even in sleep he’s alert and wary.  Ears sway delicately in the breeze made from Magnus’ wings and yet, when most would startle and panic at the scent of a predator, he relaxes. 

His paws twitch in his sleep, making kneading motions in the air as his tail flicks back and forth and he remains asleep, undisturbed even in the shadow of Magnus’ presence.  

This could only happen if he found Magnus’ scent and magical aura as enthralling as Magnus finds his.

It’s easy enough to curl around Magnus’ newfound kitten, his form minute compared to Magnus’ own strength and size.  

Soon enough his kitten sleeps in the coiled embrace of a dragon.  

From nose to tail tip Magnus has formed an ouroboros, containing his treasure without disturbance, not willing to yet wake him.

It’s delightful to watch him sleep, to admire the sheen of black fur, glossy with health in the gleam of sol. Yet as the sun reaches its zenith, hot and bold in the sky without a pity for those under her piercing rays, Magnus grows concerned.

Surely a creature meant for the shadows and the dark is weaker, more sensitive to the brilliance and heat of the sun.  Without conscious thought one of his golden wings spreads out in a protective canopy, shielding his gem from the harsh rays.

It is a mistake.

—

Darkness wakes Alec up.

Despite the warmth still surrounding him, the light of the sun against his closed eyes is gone, which means it is no longer safe to rest when night is about to begin.

When he opens his eyes he finds that gold envelopes him even as darkness continues to surround him.  Not the abyss of the night, but the dark of confinement, the only light coming from what's keeping him trapped.

Alec should feel panicked, his hackles should have already been raised the moment a presence intruded on him and yet, even now, he’s surprised but unconcerned.  

The scent and power of whoever has entrapped him is equally comforting and beguiling. It’s hard to form cohesive thoughts when he wants to rub against the warmth radiating from what he can now recognize as golden scales.

Yet even as the idea crosses his mind, the scales are shifting, gold flickering as the sun is once again allowed to shine as a wing is pulled away.

Alec is still trapped in the coil of an ancient embrace and yet despite the fact that he could — and should — slip away into the shadows he finds himself shifting, despite the more vulnerable state of his bipedal form.

After all, even on two legs instead of four, Alec is a hunter.

As if waiting for him to shift, the dragon does as well and from where he’s sitting on the floor — no longer surrounded by warm, golden scales yet still feeling like he’s been caught in a snare — Alec can’t help but wonder at his own luck.  

“Was it too hot? I thought my wing might offer some relief.” 

Alec is surprised at the question, at the immediate regard for his well being and concern for his comfort despite being an unknown in a place a dragon rests.

“No,” and despite the fact that he could easily make up a reason, Alec finds himself telling the truth, “I come here for the sun and when it’s gone, I leave.”  That’s the best and safest answer he can give without lies or overexplaining.  

“A pity,” is all that’s said for a moment and then golden eyes narrow at him with a wicked gleam, “I was enjoying watching you dream, kitten.” 

Alec can’t help but glance up at the sky as he frowns, no matter that there is still time before dusk, it’s not worth it to try and sleep again for such a small period. It’s a waste but not one he can change. 

He deliberately ignores the heat on the back of his neck.

The last time he’d been called kitten was when he was a child in training, the instructor mocking him had never regained the use of his vocal cords.

Strangely, he doesn’t mind the term from the man before him.

“It’s Alec,” he finally offers, preparing to stand because while he might not mind it in feline form, it feels strange to be sitting when the dragon who watched him as he slept stands tall.

Footsteps sound; deliberate in their movement rather than soundless as Alec knows they should be. 

“And I’m Magnus, kitten.”

—

Magnus barely holds back the hungry trill that threatens to spill from his throat.  

He’s absolutely precious.

Large hands lined with callouses finally take Magnus’ own outreached hand as he pulls Alexander to his feet. 

“Let me make it up to you?” Magnus asks, a thrill in his veins as Alexander’s expression turns contemplative.  The pink creeping up his neck extends to his cheeks even as his ears twitch in interest.

“I can’t return the sun to its peak,” well he could, but that wouldn’t exactly get him what he wants, now would it. “But I can take you somewhere the sun is just beginning her reign?”

“Really?” There’s no shock or disbelief in Alexander’s voice, simply confusion. “ Just to make up for something that happened out of kindness?”  

If Alexander wants to think that Magnus’ mistake was out of kindness instead of greed, then all the better.  A small smirk forms on Magnus’ face and his eyes gleam even as he softens his voice.

“Well, I’m not being entirely selfless,” he lets himself admit and as much as he’d love to brush his fingers over Alexander’s cheek and let his scent linger there, he can be patient. 

When the prize is worth it.

“I quite like the idea of spending more time with you, Alexander. As lovely as you were to watch sleeping—” and Alexander’s ears fluff even as a scowl crosses his face at the reminder. “It would be even lovelier to get to know you.”

“There’s no guarantee you’ll like what you learn.”

“Well then, perhaps you’ll just have to let me watch you nap again, hmm kitten?”

—

Aoreatera is perhaps the only place Magnus can think of where the sun is newly risen yet still growing towards its peak this late in New York.  The beaches there are lovely and there are more than enough secluded coves that are warded away from mundanes because of the magical specimens found there. 

The warlocks born and raised in the cultures of their homeland are the ones to tend to and maintain these places, but entry is allowed when respectful.  Especially in Magnus’ case, when his mere presence often brings a new vitality. 

The balcony they arrive at is carved into the rock of the cliff itself, nothing but nature and magick were used to make and maintain this place.

Salt is thick in the air and perhaps so sandy a place isn’t the best choice when Alexander’s fur is so thick, yet Magnus has no regrets as Alexander’s eyes widen in delight and his face turns up to welcome the bright sun.

The food available here will be simple and must be self-foraged with a wild but thriving garden and a cove full of fat, healthy fish, most of them of magical varieties. It’s been a while since Magnus’ has refreshed himself like this, actually taking time away from the cloying and seeping feel of mundane cities.

Here, engulfed by wild and pure magick, entranced by natural beauty, Magnus is too tempted to deny himself and so he doesn’t.  

—

Alec isn’t sure what he expected when he let himself be guided through a portal, a balcony made of stone overlooking a cove full of rich and thriving tidepools isn’t it.  It’s real in a way that Alec hasn’t experienced since his last venture to the snow covered peaks of Idris.

He should be thanking Magnus, or asking what he wants in return and yet Alec has barely taken a few deep gulps of air and then he’s shifting.  It’s so much easier to enjoy the warm wind tugging on his fur, his tail coiling in the playful breeze, here than in New York.  The sun is glorious and the cliff without threat of shade except beneath the boughs of the large, lush trees and the air clean without the need of magical filtration.

He’s barely shifted before Magnus follows, a large, hot golden muzzle pressing against his side as if in comfort.  Alec’s allowance is taken as permission to an unasked question because a moment later, Alec finds himself being groomed.

Magnus' tongue is slick in a way his own rough one isn’t and yet heat presses down, smoothing his fur and permeating his muscles until he feels loose and languid.  Magnus’ scent is hot, less fire and brimstone and instead like the fierce heat of sunbaked stone. 

It’s not pure destruction but also the creation of new life, of ashes and then rebirth and it’s an intoxicating mix.  

He’s saturated in Magnus’ scent by the time the dragon is done and his fur is damp despite how hot Magnus’ breath is.  It’s without thought that Alec transforms, relaxed and with slowly blinking eyes he lets himself indulge in comfort so often denied. 

Magnus doesn’t stop, his tongue passing over the curve of Alec’s neck and lingering on the arch of his cheek. It’s unexpected but all Magnus does is chuckle, a deep rasping noise like the rumbling of an earthquake before his nose nudges Alec’s side and he inhales.

There’s a deep pause as nature itself seems to hold its breath and then hot — as scorching as a brand — skin presses against his own and arms wrap tightly around his waist. 

“Cold?” Magnus teases, the question a whisper of lips on the shell of Alec’s ear.  They flutter involuntarily, one brushing back up against Magnus’ mouth as if begging for more.  

It should be a hopelessly embarrassing display — Alec hasn’t let himself be so controlled by instincts since he was a child — and yet Alec finds himself desperately wishing that Magnus isn’t offended, but pleased.

Teeth tug playfully at the ear pressed against Magnus’ mouth and then nip, fangs teasing at the tender skin under his fur before retreating.  A warm mouth presses against his jaw before Magnus’ forked tongue tickles the swell of his lips.

Magnus keeps going, his nose tucking behind Alec’s ear as he inhales before his cheek presses deliberately to Alec’s neck and he nuzzles.  

Alec is going to smell like Magnus, for days.

The only way to erase this kind of marking is with magical tonics and despite how practical that would be, Alec can’t imagine wanting to erase Magnus’ scent when he already mourns that it will naturally fade.

—

Alexander presses back, head tilting in an unconscious submission as he offers more skin for Magnus to scent.

It’s not a sly, careful maneuver but one that means he’s just as entranced as Magnus himself is and it’s as irresistible as it is delightful.

Magnus takes advantage, pressing himself closer and letting his hands finally wander, tucking his fingers under Alexander’s shirt until he can press his hands flush against warm skin.  

Every place Magnus touches he made sure to leave evidence of his claim.  When Alexander returns to the institute — which Magnus will allow despite his instincts demanding he hide his treasure away — it will be with Magnus’ claim lingering on him.

— 

A harsh ring interrupts the gentle symphony of nature as they sit next to each other, watching the tide and Magnus resists the urge to flick his tongue and let his flames consume Alec’s phone.

Even Alexander seems irritated, his face going from soft wonder and serenity to a cold, solemn mask that turns his vibrant eyes dark and serious.

It’s a change that Magnus watches with careful intensity, all of his senses focused on Alexander in earnest. 

“Summoned by duty?” Magnus asks, keeping his voice wistful and pushing down the possessive anger that emerges at the thought of Alexander being taken away by another's command.

“For once, duty can wait.” It’s said with a casual carefulness, a deliberate nonchalance even as Magnus can smell Alexander’s emotions warring, as if this is the first he’s ever allowed such a thing.

Yet he did, to stay longer with Magnus.

What a precious and delicious treasure that Magnus has found at last.

[quirekey]

[ TFP decepticons as Cats/Kittens ]

[ Reader is… a cat lover? ]

Includes:

[ Megatron, Starscream, Knockout, Breakdown, Soundwave, Shockwave, Airachnid ]

HEADCANONS

MEGATRON

- Megatron isn’t the most chatty fella when he’s around you. He prefers to show physical actions rather than words. When he is alone, he likes to do some mischievous scheming and talks to himself a lot and quietly. When he is frightened, he hisses so loudly that it hurts after awhile.

- Though Megatron is physical with you, it’s not usually in a good way. He’s mostly scratching and swatting at you when you are too close. He is never affectionate and is cold. You think that he prefers to go to you first but he never does that either way.

- This little guy is really sturdy for a kitten, being able to stand against many (if not then all) cats without any fear. He will fight any cat if challenged, he doesn’t care. If he is gonna lose, he’s able to flee quite quickly.

- Megatron’s favourite season is winter. He absolutely enjoys the snow and jumping at it from the sky. He also loves how his coat is able to keep him warm unlike summer when it just steams him.

STARSCREAM

- When Starscream wants to talk, he will talk LOUD. He will make you hear him whether you like it or not, meowing loudly at you. When he feels threatened (which he usually does), he will hiss loudly too. Honestly, it feels like your ears are slowly being damaged whenever he starts meowing.

- Starscream pretends like he doesn’t need or care about your love or affection, always avoiding you during the day. He knows you will feed him so he doesn’t bother begging. He will only talk to you when he wants. In reality, he will go to your bedroom door at night and start meowing loudly until you let him in so you guys can cuddle.

- This little rascal is very cowardly when it comes to threats or fights. He never likes to fight and prefers to run. Because of this, he is able to run extremely fast just to avoid anything that scares or frightens him.

- When the little kitten is afraid, his fur and whiskers will fray and pop up, somewhat levitating. You are able to calm him down with small treats.

KNOCKOUT

- Knockout is a pretty quiet but demanding cat, knowing what he wants when he wants. He will only talk to you if he needs something like food, a bath or just attention. If you don’t listen, he will meow loudly and constantly.

- The only time Knockout will allow you to give him love is when you are able to complete his tasks. He will rub against you after you feed him or give him a shower, showing gratitude for your help. I’m unsure if he really loves you or just wants to control you.

- Knockout is pretty feisty when it comes to fights. He never enjoyed engaging in them. When something is at threat to him, his first cowardly instinct is to flee. He isn’t that fast…

- Knockout is a sucker for cleanliness. He constantly grooms himself whenever he leaves your bedroom. If you pet him on the spot you groom him in, he will definitely scratch the living hell out of you.

BREAKDOWN

- Breakdown is one large kitten and his meows match that. He is pretty talkative when it comes to you, meowing loudly while also rubbing against you. His meows are raspy and deep compared to the regular cat and honestly it’s cute. He loved talking to you. He rarely hisses too.

- Compared to the other Decepticons, Breakdown could be considered to be the kindest kitten out of the bunch. He enjoys spending lots of time with you, talking and rubbing against you. When you are spending time alone, he’ll go up to you and headbutt you, saying ‘Hey! You can spend some time with me!’. This little guy would never scratch you and is very gentle too, only wanting to show love and gratitude.

- The only times Breakdown will actually hiss and bite is when his loved ones are in danger. Sure, he will flee, but only if he’s being threatened or frightened for a bad reason. He will only attack if it's for you, his fellow decepti-cats or himself. I feel like I have to mention that he kinda waddles when he runs, he’s a bit stubby.

- Breakdown’s little ears are very sensitive to the touch and even soft breezes. It’s almost like his ears are twitching constantly, like somebody was flicking it non-stop. If you pet him, they just twitch faster. They're not hurting him in any way, it's just how his ears work.

SOUNDWAVE

- Soundwave is your usual silent cat. He never will talk or let out any verbal communication. He prefers to communicate with physical signs like pawing at you. Sure, he will send a tiny, raspy meow, but that’s once a week.

- The little critter isn’t the most fond of affection. He will never show you direct love but may show it in different ways. Sometimes he may rub against you or just loaf beside you on the couch. He doesn’t mind a few head pets and scratches though.

- Soundwave is in between being cowardly and defensive, nor selfish or selfless. He usually is very passive and avoids fighting at all costs. If fate goes against him and he is threatened, he prefers to flee to keep himself safe.

- Though this fella has pretty long claws, he LOVES making biscuits. He will knead anywhere that's squishy and soft for hours. You like to think that he’s trying to type on a keyboard and that he’s constantly working. It only made sense since he would sit on your laptop keyboard.

SHOCKWAVE

- Shockwave barely talks to anyone and you. The only time where you hear his little voice is when he needs you to tend to his needs. He would paw at your leg and meow until you helped him. If you don’t he will hiss and he will hiss loudly. He can be pretty fussy is the worst part.

- Shockwave is one of the only decepti-cats that also ask for love from you. He is very polite too when he does. He would go up to you and place a paw on you and meow, asking for you to give him pets. He loves pats but scratches on his chest are much better.

- This big boy is pretty fearless. If he is threatened by anyone or any-cat, he will puff up his chest and make himself look bigger, looking like a predator. If it doesn’t work, he is zooming out of there.

- Unfortunately Shockwave would walk on you a lot when you're sitting or laying down. I say unfortunately because of his metal arm. Your skin sometimes gets pinched by the crevasses of his mechanical arm and it really hurts, but he’s too cute to deny.

AIRACHNID

- Airachnid doesn’t meow, she only hisses. She hisses to get what she wants and she hisses if she feels threatened by you. Though she will seem like she just hates everybody, you know she’s just really defensive. She’ll get used to you after a while.

- She is not affectionate at all, she’s very stone-hearted and cold. She will never let anyone touch her, skittering away with her machine. If you try to pet her, she’d bite you with her sharp-as-hell teeth.

- Airachnid is a fighter and a runner, being good at both. She enjoys fighting with other cats and will lovingly threaten other cats. If she is threatened by somebody more powerful, she’s able to run away with ease.

- When you gave Airachnid her first little stuffy, she was extremely possessive over it. She hides her little stuffy everywhere, willing to keep it as safe as possible. She doesn’t show gratitude for it but you know that she loves it. She somehow gets into your vents just to hide her toys.

[deusvervewrites]

Phantasm: could we get a list of quirks or, at least, a list of quirk types?

Oh good I was starting to worry I did all that work coming up with these for nothing. Some of these names are not finalized, by the way.

In order:

Ghost Puppet

A summonable entity that emerges from user's body and always remains connected to user. It resembles a doll made of bone with six arms, and possesses wolf-like features, including wolf skull head, as well as horns. While Ghost Puppet can sustain damage, it slowly reforms from even being completely destroyed so long as the user is still alive.

This Quirk is the base of Phantasm, and can be physically transplanted from one user to another.

Additionally, it has secondary mutations, including: increased hair growth, canid fangs and ears, and a tail made of bone. While Ghost Puppet is in use, the tail fills out with spectral fur.

Energy Drain

Five-point contact-based Quirk. Drains the life force of living things to empower the user, granting them enhanced physical ability, including minor regeneration, while the drained energy lasts. The strength of the enhancements depends on how much energy is being consumed; the user can burn through more energy at once to increase the potency.

A target drained this way withers, as if severely dehydrated.

Additionally, this Quirk has a secondary mutation, giving the user claw-like nails, like what Burnin has.

Blood Garden

This Quirk allows the user to spontaneously generate plants from their own spilled blood. Blood inside their body does not count. Plants created using this Quirk can have a variety of effects, from being edible to being carnivorous.

The user’s blood is unusually drawn towards nearby soil or plant life.

Switch Teleport

This Quirk swaps the position of the user and a target unobstructed object within range. Only works on a solid object—however, this does work on Ghost Puppet. Objects maintain their momentum; i.e. if he swaps with a moving object, it will continue moving.

Afterimage

This Quirk allows the user to leave behind an illusory duplicate when they move. This can be triggered by any movement on the part of the user, even if they’re still standing in the same place, allowing them to misdirect enemies or avoid attacks, in addition to leaving behind decoys.

Shadow Clairvoyance

While the user is engulfed in shadows, they can see from connected shadows. There is no maximum range on this Quirk, beyond that the shadows in question be connected together. However, it’s more of a strain on the user the further they are from their body, leading to increasingly debilitating migraines and temporary blindness.

Additionally, this Quirk has a secondary mutation, giving the user dark rings around their eyes, like La Brava.

Railgun

This Quirk gives the user control over electromagnetic forces, allowing them to manipulate nearby ferrous metals.

Additionally, this Quirk has a secondary mutation, giving the user a jagged streak of white hair, resembling a lightning bolt.

Blackout

This Quirk allows the user to disable nearby electronics.

Liquefaction

User produces a black ball of energy, no larger than a baseball. When this ball of energy is shoved into an object, that solid matter begins to behave more like liquid, eventually melting completely. The user, of course, is immune, so that they can, you know, shove it.

Hunter

This Quirk greatly enhances the senses of the user.

Emotion Manipulation

Allows the user to enhance or suppress the emotions of people they can see. The user can only manipulate one emotion at a time this way.

Additionally, while this Quirk is in use, the user's eyes glow in color corresponding to the emotion being manipulated.

Toxicloud

This Quirk allows the user to produce a thick, toxic purple cloud from their body. The toxin can be directed by the user to some extent, and the user can control the effectiveness of the toxin.

This Quirk provides high resistance to toxins and poisons, denoted by the skin turning purple until the toxin has worked its way out of the body, sort of like how Ashido's acid turns her skin pink.

Alchemy

Valdo's Quirk from the movie. The science of understanding, deconstructing, and reconstructing matter. However, it is not an all-powerful art. It is impossible to create something out of nothing. If one wishes to obtain something, something of equal value must be given. This is the law of equivalent exchange, the basis of all alchemy. In accordance with this law, there is a taboo among alchemists. Human transmutation is strictly prohibited. For what could equal the value of a human soul?

[generic-sonic-fan]

Omega's Observations: Loved

Summary: To be loved is to be changed. Omega searches for said changes.

For @teamdarkweek. 532 words.

To be loved is to be changed. Omega turns the phrase about in his processor, studying the way Amy’s tone rose and fell as she said it. He then sets about collecting evidence. 

Shadow’s fur is softer, now. Rouge introduced him to proper fur care products. On the ARK he’d only ever used human products, purportedly. There’s other things that are ‘softer’ about him too- the way he has stopped checking the doors and windows, the way he now relaxes fully into the couch. 

Rouge’s boots are covered in scuff marks; there’s a patch of her own blood that can’t wash out of one of her catsuits. Some new scars, here and there, but that never deterred her from bikini season. The floors of her apartment are worn down from heavy footfalls or scorched from rocket shoes. Her couch is torn from quills and claws. 

Omega has noted these things about each of them. And he looks down upon his own frame to find it unchanged. 

Instead, he looks to his left and his right. Rouge’s vitals have finally dipped into unconsciousness, snuggled against the pillow she placed on his right hip. Shadow is to his left, having fallen asleep only fifteen minutes into the movie. 

He slides his claws beneath both of them, at an angle he has calculated long before to damage the couch instead of cutting his teammates with their sharpness. His hands are wide enough for their head and core to rest comfortably within. They do not wake as he carries them. 

First is Shadow’s room. The temperature of the room is 72 degrees fahrenheit, warm enough for Shadow to prefer without covers. He places him down, head resting at an optimal angle against the pillow. He checks, since Shadow cannot, for threats, and finds none. 

For Rouge’s room, he recalls the most recent image he has of its arrangement in daylight. He uses this to avoid stepping on any clothes or other objects strewn about. Rouge’s body temperature naturally runs higher than Shadow’s; the quilts on her bed are heavy and soft. With his free hand Omega pulls them back, then places her down. He adjusts the bedding around her until it matches what he has determined is the optimal arrangement. 

He then returns to his own room. It is empty, save his computer desk and his charging cable against the far wall. He plugs it into the back of his head, and before recharge, he ruminates on Amy’s statement again. 

He determines it to be true. Rouge and Shadow are clearly changed from their time spent knowing each other. Meanwhile, Omega’s frame is unchanged. His arrangement with Rouge and Shadow is utilitarian, based on trust and ability; that is clearly the way it has always been. 

He is certain Rouge and Shadow would agree. 

(Imagine his surprise, upon sharing his conclusion the next morning, to find that they don’t. He will be pelted with the peel from Rouge’s orange, then yelled at about how he literally tucked them into bed the night prior. 

He would have never even fathomed such an action a few months ago, they will say.

. . . And he will conclude they are correct.) 

[star-spacer]

Shortest

Sacred Spaces masterlist, Heart Pirates reader-insert

Being the shortest in the crew has its perks and drawbacks.

Being the shortest came with its fair share of trouble with life on the Polar Tang.

For a submarine, the Polar Tang was built almost luxuriously. But the caveat was that it was built with height in mind. It was a blessing for many of your crew, those like Jean Bart and Shosai being able to navigate the halls comfortably for the most part (though the size of the navigation seats couldn’t be helped). It was a curse for shorter members like you, especially when you needed to get something from the kitchen cabinets.

‘Sugar’ glinted mockingly down at you in blocky letters, the container somehow set atop the uppermost shelf. Grumbling, you glanced around to make sure nobody was there before gingerly climbing atop the counter. Your fingers trembled as they fell a few scant inches short of the container.

How Risso managed to navigate the kitchen despite only being taller than you by a bit always stumped you.

Before you could do something drastic, a weight pressed into your back, pressing all the air out of you as someone invaded your space. Red strands of hair fluttered into your vision, and you muttered a curse as Shachi’s familiar voice rang in your ears. “Aw, does our wittol Taiwor need some help to get something from up high?” 

“Shut up!” You barked, trying to shake off the redhead’s bulk, lunging for the sugar, but too late as tanned fingers swooped them from the shelf. 

The man stepped back for you to hop down, and you did, whirling around to face him. Though he was the shortest of the Swallow Island quartet, he was still tall enough to easily keep the tin out of your reach as you reached.

“I just wanted some goddamn tea!”

“What’s the magic word?”

Incensed, you jumped at him, making sure your boots landed on his toes. “I’ll make a pincushion out of your ass, Shachi!”

***

Being the shortest did really come with its fair share of teasing. 

You ducked, avoiding the arm that Hakugan was throwing over you, ready to use you as an armrest. “Oi!”

The helmsman yipped, toppling over as he couldn’t correct himself in time. “Hey!”

His arm latched onto the back of your suit, bringing you down with him. You both landed on the navigation room floor with a thud, immediately breaking into a half-hearted squabble as the two of you wrestled on the floor.

“You idiot! Why’d you pull me down!”

“I was falling!”

Your fist bonked onto the forehead of his mask, not enough to damage anything, but strong enough for him to feel your ire. “I told you that you needed to stop putting your arm on my head!”

“But you’re so convenient as a table! Just the right height!”

“Shut up, Hakugan!” You gritted, one hand pushing back his own as you fought him from palming your face. “You’re not even that much taller than me!” 

You were ready to grapple him until a winner emerged, but a metaphorical rope was thrown your way when you saw the wobbly top point of a familiar hood. Muscles straining, you froze, pushing back Hakugan’s hands as you quickly hatched up a plan.

“Helmsman on the floor!” You yelled, scrambling off of him as some of the crew honed in on the sight.

It had the exact result you wanted.

“Dogpile Hakugan!” Clione yelled, diving on top of the already downed pirate.

That prompted a chain reaction for some of the other members present, Ikkaku and Shachi following suit. The masked man let out a weak wheeze underneath everyone that quickly turned to terror as thumping footsteps approached. The crew screamed as Bepo’s shadow fell over them.

“Bepo, no!”

“Please stop!”

“I’m gonna die!!!” 

You scuttled away before the navigator could turn on you.

***

Being the shortest meant that Bepo’s hugs enveloped you completely, even more so than any of your other crew members. There were many a time when you’d startled someone hidden in the depths of Bepo’s fur by responding to something. You often used that to your advantage, hiding within the safe confines of his bulk to de-stress

A questioning call of your name roused you from where you lay, swallowed up by Bepo’s fluff. After a moment of contemplation, you poked your head up. “Yeah?”

Tanaka screamed, a high-pitched note that rivaled Mozart’s, startling Bepo beneath you. He pushed his glasses up nervously and cleared his throat as you two leveled an unimpressed look at him. “Ahem. Sorry. Can you help fix my cap?”

A second look showed that he was wringing said brown cap in his hands, his jaw-length locks swaying free. From where you were, you could see the frayed threads, something that would most likely mean a painstaking session bent over your table. But despite your aching back, duty called. You sighed and began to struggle up from where you were lying. “Alright, let me s—”

The rest of your sentence was cut off by a yelp as Bepo’s arms latched around your midriff, pulling you back. He rolled to the side, locking you underneath hid arms. “No, sorry. Rest time.”

“B-But I’m the ship’s tailor!” You protested. 

“Captain’s orders. If it’s not major, then you’re not working,” Bepo murmured, nuzzling his head atop of yours. “Tanaka repair your own things. Sorry.”

~~~

Sometimes your height was useful to the crew in more serious ways.

Law handed you a slip of paper, a rough map drawn on it. A bar’s name was written and marked on top of everything, and you already knew what to expect. “Tailor-ya, think you can scout out this place for me?”

“Sure thing. The usual?”

“Yes. Dress down, and try not to interact with anything too much.”

You took the paper, scanning over the map before pocketing it for disposal later. “Got it, Captain.”

“Uni and some of the younger crew members will be on the island for supplies restocking, but they might not be around when you set out, so expect to be on your own.”

“Yes, sir.”

While the crew prepared their pre-docking procedures, you made your way back into your workshop, digging out an outfit in preparation for those going onto the island. It was during times like these that Law’s strict modus operandi came in handy. No unnecessary, garish, attention-seeking skirmishes, uniforms to blend in with each other as much as possible, and a fair amount of time being underwater ensured that the Heart Pirates’ individual identity still remained in a gray area. That, along with your height, made you especially unnoticeable compared to the other members. So once you took off the distinctive uniform and the more distinctive sunhat you wore out, you were the perfect person to move about unnoticed.

You were rummaging for a shirt when the overhead intercom system crackled to life, Law’s low voice filtering through. “Everyone, we’ve arrived.”

Ditching your current task, you followed your nakama up the metal stairs to the entrance doors. Uni, Clione, and the newer members (though not too new, since they’ve been with you all for a few months already) were readying to leave, the hooded man jumping and rushing over when he saw you.

The blonde shoved a small dagger into your hand, patting the appendage. “I heard you’re going out later. It’s nothing big but just in case.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, squeezing Clione’s hand before he pulled away to vault over the railing to the dock below (to Law’s loud chastising for him to ‘stop doing that goddamnit you’re gonna break your ankle!’).

You and Law watched the merry band head off, you waving, while Law was as stoic as ever. When the group disappeared around the corner, the man turned to head back into the submarine, and you followed suit.

“Do you need anything before you head out later, Tailor-ya?”

“No. I’ve got everything prepared. Should I join the crew to help with our post-docking procedures?”

Law exhaled through his nose. “I told you already. You don’t have to do that whenever I send you out for surveillance. Just rest up. I need you to be sharp for tonight.”

You gave him a joking salute and split off to head to your workshop. “Got it, Cap’n!”

Your workspace did need some tidying, so you puttered around in the little room until the sky outside the porthole got dark, shucking off your boiler suit and pulling on your outfit for the night. Something nondescript, darker to blend into the area, but not so that you’d look suspicious. One final glance at the map Law gave you confirmed where you were going before you shredded the paper and left.

Ikkaku poked her head out to say a quick goodbye as you breezed past, Risso following suit with a reminder to come back in time for dinner.

“I’m making the Captain’s favorite tonight!”

The thought of his warm food got you drooling. “Got it!”

The night air was gentle on your face as you stepped out of the submarine. Law was already on deck, and he turned to greet you. “Do you have everything?”

You nodded, patting your waistband where you hid Clione’s knife. “I have the dagger Clione left me.”

“Good.” Law tossed a rope ladder over the submarine side, and you began climbing down. “Don’t be reckless.”

Your boots hit the wood below you. “I won’t.”

The map was burned into your mind’s eye as you navigated deeper into the little island town. Even with the encroaching night, a few establishments remained lit. However, the number of souls on the street decreased as you headed closer to the bar of interest.

Noise slammed into you the moment you opened the doors, a disorienting contrast from the quiet outside. However, the chaos was an advantage as you slipped in without drawing any attention, eyes skimming over the area. Your ears caught the murmuring of a familiar moniker.

Bingo. Law’s information was true as always.

You slipped into the bar seat nearest to your target, ordering a lighter drink and settling down.

There were always a few things you kept a lookout for. Movements of other powerhouses, mentions, and bounties relating to the Heart Pirates. But the main one was anything relating to Doflamingo. It was a given, with your Captain’s past hanging over the crew. There was no one other than that man who everyone kept such vigilant eyes and ears out for, anything picked up relayed back to Law with haste. Depending on the nature of the information, it would set the course of your trip for the next few weeks, whether it be submerged deep below water or sailing at a breakneck speed to another place.

Their organizations, as well as any and all names the Donquixote leader went by, were long-memorized by you so that you could catch any and all information.

Your skin crawled at the mentions of slaves passed offhandedly between the men at the table. An auction, generously funded by Joker, on an island north of here. A rare commodity considering he never liked to dabble in this part of the Blue, so far away from his normal base of operations.

You stuck around for as long as you could, picking up the date and location passing between booze-loosened lips. Hearing enough, you paid for your drink and slid out of your seat, making your way to the bar exit. As you rounded the corners of the streets, you thought that everything went well enough, until the shuffle of footsteps fell in line behind you.

“Going somewhere so quickly? I’m surprised you didn’t stay for longer.”

You stilled, slowly pivoting to face the man behind you, feeling the way your body broke into a cold sweat. Though you didn’t show anything as you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we had a little rat listening to us. I just wanted to see what tidbits were swiped by greedy hands while my friends were discussing business.”

Resisting the urge to scoff at his cheesy words, you backed up, hand clasping over the hidden blade Clione forced into your hands earlier. Its handle was sturdy under your hands, but you didn’t have a chance to use it. Faster than you could react, he was in front of you. Pain exploded in your gut as he slammed a foot into it, sending you flying and hitting the wall of the opposing building and falling to the ground. You retched, stomach acid and spit coming up as you curled in to cradle your stomach. A shadow fell over your curled-over form, and you tensed, hand clenching the handle in your grip. Scuffed boots appeared at in your vision, and you struck, forcing battered muscles into overdrive as you swiped the dagger up, hoping it’d land.

The blade glanced harmlessly off him and the man slammed into you, vision exploding into stars before your air was cut off. You were dragged up, feet leaving the ground.

Oh no.

Though you haven’t been doing this for too long, you’d gotten careless at the ease in which the previous mission went.

You clawed at the vice-like grip around your neck, your borrowed dagger clattering to the ground as the man choking you out wretched your dominant hand to the side. The tips of your boots scrapped the ground beneath, barely making contact with the dirt. A glimpse of gleaming black on the limb holding you made you curse your luck.

Haki.

Damn him, you thought, baring your teeth in a desperate, animal display, ignoring the throbbing that came from the left side of your face. Even if you still had the knife in your grasp, you wouldn’t have escaped anyway. Someone with Uni’s stature or Moose’s strength could’ve handled it. But not you.

Jeering laughter echoed around you as you aimed weak kicks at the one holding you up.

“Who do you work for? Or are you just some nosy brat?” He asked, shaking you around like a rag doll.

Your eye bulged out of your head as he squeezed. The bones of your neck creaked like fragile butterfly wings within his hold. Against his size and abilities, you were helpless. A toy for the larger dogs to chew up. Your skin prickled as you felt eyes raking down your form, and you felt exposed without your usual thick, baggy boiler suit.

It shouldn’t have been like this.

Law was going to be upset.

“Hm, I could make you squeak. I’ll just have to take you back to my boys—”

“Let go of my nakama!”

The rest of his words were cut off by a grunt as something slammed into him. The world went sideways as you slipped from the man’s grasp, landing with a rough tumble as rocks and pebbles dug into your unprotected skin. Taking a few moments, you drew in wheezy gasps before trying to stand up. 

Hands caught you as your legs crumpled, and you were scooped up into warm arms.

“H-Hang on,” Bowser’s voice reassured you. “Don’t worry! Uni and Penguin’s got it covered, and we’re going to bring you to the captain!”

You tried to speak, but all that sounded was a hoarse rattle, the ring of fire around your neck aching like a brand. Breathing was equally difficult, and you relented to force wheezing, whistling breaths through your windpipe, limp in your nakama’s hold all the way until you were laid out on the infirmary bed, back in the Polar Tang again.

Through the haze of pain, you forced a smile at the figures hovering above you, unable to discern anybody due to the light shining down. You knew it must’ve been an unpleasant sight, the blood vessels in your eyes no doubt ruptured from the trauma.

Your name was said alongside Law’s familiar honorific. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

That was all the reassurance you needed as Law’s Room flickered on. The feeling of his fruit sectioning you apart was familiar at this point, and you closed your eyes. Your full trust laid in your captain’s abilities as you fell into darkness.

For others, it would’ve been terrifying to be on the receiving end of Law’s powers, but you and the Heart Pirates have never been led wrong by him. 

By the time you awoke, you could breathe again. The deep inhale you did came with a dull ache, but nothing of the caliber that you felt before. Shuffling came from the side of your bed, and you glanced over to see your captain standing up from his chair.

“Don’t speak,” Law said brusquely, interrupting you before you could even begin. “You have two fractured ribs and severe bruising surrounding your neck and the facilities there. Luckily, nothing was broken. I did the best I could to realign everything, but there was not much I could do about the ruptured blood vessels. You’re on bed rest until you heal.”

You exhaled, the motion coming with a dull pain as the muscles around your jaws ached. Your captain didn’t meet your eyes, fussing with the various equipment on the bedside table next to you. A common sign of his guilt as he tried to act busy.

Reaching out, you grabbed the edge of his shirt sleeve and tugged, halting the man in his actions. You lifted a hand to mime writing something, which he understood right away. A pencil and paper were thrust into your hands, and you quickly got writing. When done, you shoved the pad at him.

‘Not your fault.’

Law huffed, passing the pad to you. He pressed a hand onto your head, pushing you down. “You’re literally in the infirmary bed right now. Because of a mission, I sent you on.”

‘I chose to go, I’m the best at it. It’s not like our lives are only full of sunshine and rainbows as pirates. And you fixed me up now, yeah?’

“You know better than to over-rely on me,” he scolded.

‘But you take care of us so well, Captain!’

Law scowled, tugging on his hat as he averted his gaze. You squinted, seeing a bit of pink flushing over his skin. “Whatever. Did you manage to gather anything important?”

At that reminder, you brightened, pencil flying across the paper. You wrote down all the information you heard from those men, ripping out the page and presenting it to Law with a flourish. He took it, scanning everything. Gold eyes widened as he comprehended the information written on it. He gingerly folded up the paper and tucked it into his pocket.

“Ah. I see. Thank you.”

Knocking echoed on the infirmary door, drawing your attention away. “Captain?” Bepo’s voice questioned through the door.

Law let out an aggrieved sigh. “The lot of you can come in. Tailor-ya’s awake.”

The door slammed open, and you jolted as a veritable pile of crewmates spilled in, with Bepo’s orange-bright suit in front. Law gave a final word of warning for them to be gentle before the group skidded to a stop in front of you. You smiled at them, ignoring the slight ache that bloomed where you got hit. You could see their hesitation and tilted your head.

“You had pretty bad bruising,” Law told you. “I removed most of the blood from the broken vessels, but the ones in your eyes are too delicate for me right now.”

He gritted his teeth, and you could see his silent decision being made. You could already see him looking for more medical texts the next time the Tang docked at an island.

“Are hugs allowed?” Somebody asked tentatively.

Law exhaled a sigh, lifting an arm to flap his hand dismissively. “Do whatever. It’s mostly cosmetic and very minor injuries left. But don’t be too rough, either way.”

That was all the approval you needed, and you opened your arms.

Bepo’s wrapped around you first, and you relaxed into the Mink, letting out a soft sigh as Law stepped back for more space. A hand landed on your head, ruffling your hair. Uni’s hand, based on the length of the fingers. More arms wormed beneath Bepo, over Bepo, but all of them wrapped around you. An offended squawk from the side signaled that even Law was roped into the mix.

Being the shortest in the crew had its drawbacks, sometimes serious ones. But you didn’t mind. You knew your nakama was there to support you.

[nightblackowlbat]

Unfinished Hiraishin: (Scars) laid bare

A close call in battle forces Tobirama to use an unfinished hiraishin to dodge a lethal blow. The teleportation works in that it transports him to safety… but only him. His weapons, armor and clothes are all left behind. Hashirama is shocked at the whip scars revealed on Tobirama’s back, Madara is shocked at how fine dat ass is and Izuna is traumatized at seeing his rival naked.

It was a seemingly normal skirmish with the Senju when Izuna let out a cry that had every Uchiha’s blood run cold.

“Argh! My eyes!”

Madara’s gaze whipped to his brother’s fight only to find…

“You bastard, how dare you flash your pasty ass while I’m wielding my sharingan? Don’t you know it’s burned into my memory now?! That’s not a sight I want to remember for as long as I live!”

Izuna’s face was beet red as he stared up to the sky and fended off ninjutsu flung his way by a very naked Tobirama.

“Then allow me to shorten your lifespan for you and stop moving!” Said man growled in frustration. The sound paired with such a sight brought a deep flush to Madara’s face.

“Izuna! What is going on? Why is the Senju attacking you in the nude?”

“The fuck if I know aniki, he just used some technique to move faster than I could see and next thing I know I’m cursed with the sight of this!”

Hashirama squawked, his half assed fight with Madara becoming a true farce as both their attention was stolen by their little brothers. “Tobi this is wildly inappropriate! We’ve talked about using untested experiments on the battlefield!”

“Well it was either that or die so excuse me for choosing this humiliation!” Tobirama snapped back as he danced away from a hail of flaming kunai. The evasion turned his back to the elder pair and Madara’s sharingan drank in the so called pasty ass that Izuna had complained about. He had no such complaints. Hot damn. Wait what?

Hashirama’s focus was taken by the sight of his brothers bare shoulders. The skin that Tobirama religiously covered with his fur was gnarled and scarred: striped by ropes of raised flesh. He couldn’t help but gasp out at the sight, baffled as to when his little brother could have sustained such a horrendous injury.

“Tobi! Your back!”

Tobirama ducked as if to avoid a blow from behind, but of course none came. That wasn’t what Hashirama meant. It put him at a bad position to dodge a gout of flame Izuna sent his way and Tobirama cursed as he hastily erected an earth wall.

“Anija, my opponent might be refusing to look at me but I am still unarmed and at a disadvantage so I would appreciate you not distracting me with false warnings about other attacks!”

But Hashirama’s distress was not to be deterred. “No, I mean what happened to your back?! Those scars…”

Madara’s attention was finally pulled from ogling other assets (really, those thighs looked delicious) to see what the tree head was talking about. He winced in sympathy when he did. That was some of the worst lashing damage he had ever seen.

Tobirama did that growly thing that had Madara’s insides flip flopping again. “Really anija? What did you think happened when father found out I knew you were sneaking out to meet an Uchiha for months?”

“Father did that to you!?” Hashirama wailed in disbelief.

Madara wasn’t so surprised. He’d always known Senju Butsuma was a cruel man. No, what did surprise him was- “What do you mean you knew about us for months?”

“I’m the best sensor in fire, of course I knew!” Tobirama’s shout held a tint of frustration as his attempt to retrieve his fallen sword was thwarted by another fire jutsu. “Anija was strong enough to handle it so I let it be. I only alerted father when I felt two other Uchiha headed his way.”

“Tobi I never knew…” Hashirama sniffled. By now he’s given up all pretense of fighting Madara to stare forlornly at his little brother.

“You never used your damn brain!” Tobirama snapped back. “Instead of thinking what would have happened if I let you be ambushed by two more Uchiha you just let your emotions rule your actions like always and shunned me for perceived betrayal while I was whipped for covering for you! Now shut up and let me fight. I need to end this before I’m left with no chakra on top of no weapons.”

“Izuna! Stop attacking!” Madara commanded. If what the other man said was true, and really it only made sense, then he owed him at least this.

“Wha- aniki are you crazy? He’ll kill me! I refuse to die at the hand of a naked man!” Izuna protested.

“Did I say stop defending? No moron, stop attacking. Let the Senju get dressed and you won’t die by nude ninjutsu.”

What followed was the most awkward and tense redressing Madara had ever born witness to and that included the morning after the time he got drunk and accidentally slept with his cousin.

Once Tobirama was dressed, Hashirama took the chance to call for a retreat before their brothers could go back at it again.

[quitealotofsodapop]

The mate bond is also something not exclusive to just couples. It's called a mate bond mainly because it's most commonly seen amongst mated couples, but there are platonic and even familiar bonds, too. The bonds can connect more than two people and well. Wukong's had familial bonds with both the Brotherhood and the Pilgrims, both of which had also broken. There's a reason why he's so careful about bonds nowadays and the fact he went through the loss of multiple bonds in very traumatic ways is a big part of it.

In fact, nobody in the Noodle Gang had realized they had developed a familiar bond with Wukong at first because he kept himself blocked off and muted to the point nobody, not even he, had noticed it forming at all until an outside force caused it to be torn out in the open! Thay outside force being a chili pepper and amnesia, causing Wukong to literally forget the block for a short time, and Pigsy was hit witht he full force of Wukong's emotions and pain. Half hsi freaking out during that episode was from the pure whiplash of how much pain and regret this monkey was carrying and also because his bonded mate was just kidnapped in front of him. On a side note, Scorpion Queen was very quick to course correctly after realizing Tang was Pigsy's bonded mate because it is a very, VERY stupid thing for a demon to steal another demon's mate and there have been actual blood feuds formed that have led to entire lineages being destroyed from a percieved threat to one's bonded mate. She wasn't touching THAT potential problem with a ten foot pole, no thank you!

Prev.

Yesss, platonic soul bonds! Demons/Celestials be feeling so much for their fam that it creates spiritual bonds that can both heal and hurt.

Compared to romantic/mate bonds, the familial/platonic bonds are often shared between multiple people and can wane in strength. Also the telepathic communication between family members becomes very literal - probably further encouraging young demon couples to steal each other away through courtnapping to avoid the family group-chat hearing their activities!

Though this also means that your siblings and/or best friends can hurt you on a spiritual level. Physical too - the sensation of damaged bond acts similar to phantom pain. You feel hurt even though nothing directly physical has happened to you.

The most obvious bond is between Wukong and his Four Stalwarts - that's been present since his birth, forged the moment Ma peeled off the last bits of shell from "Little Stone Monkey's" fur. Literally nothing seems to hurt it, no matter how distant the siblings can be.

Wukong has suffered the loss of not only the bond with his mate, but also that of two sets of brothers; the Brotherhood and the Pilgrims. It was the latter loss that made Wukong so hesitant to open his heart to friendship again, though a happy dragon-horse was quick to break down those walls.

Whereas the Brotherhood are convinced the bond broke with Wukong's surrender, Wukong sees the breaking point being their battle at Lion Camel Ridge.

The bond between the Pilgrims was so strong it impacted the world itself -however, it has broken ultimately three times in the past;

First Time: During the White Bone Spirit arc when Tripitaka sent Wukong away. Tripitaka, being born human, was unable to sense the bonds demons/celestials forge between their brethren - and had not realised that Wukong saw him as an older brother/father-figure. It was only when Tripitaka was transformed into a tiger that he felt Wukong's despair at being turned away. First thing the monk did upon meeting Wukong again was to apologise to him for hurting him so deeply.

Second Time: The incident with the bandits prior to Macaque lashing out at Tripitaka. Wukong wasn't as hurt spiritually this time, as he knew his Master just needed time to cool off - but its what later led to him losing his mate.

Third (Final?) Time: When each of the Pilgrims left Wukong's life. It was all triggered by Ao Lie's passing/disappearance. From there Master Tripitaka disappeared soon afterwards (possibly ascended), Zhu Bajie died, and Sha Wujing went MIA. Wukong was left all alone without explanation of why his pilgrim brothers were all gone now. And it HURT.

Ever since losing his brothers, Wukong has been mega hesitant to let anyone into his life again, even platonically. The Noodle Gang unknowingly drag Wukong into their family group, and he's fighting for his life to repress all the emotions he might accidentally share with them.

Then the "Amnesia Rules" episode happens and Wukong lets down all of his mental and emotional shields...

Pigsy likens the feeling of sharing Wukong's emotional pain to getting punched in the gut. A lot. As a demon, he grew up hearing stories of how married couples, siblings, friends, and even parents and children could share bonds so deep that damage to them could hurt their heart not only in a metaphorical sense but in a real one too.

Pigsy can tell that something is wrong emotionally with Wukong, not not through simple observation, but by feeling the sheer sadness and anger the monkey seemingly felt towards his old Pilgrim brother. Its what clues him into the fact that he's Bajie's reincarnation; he's got the same soul in different packaging.

And let's not forget; Pigsy has a mate-bond with Tang. Tang, being human, is super jealous that he can't feel the telepathic link or spiritual sharing that demon and celestial couples boast about. He can still read his Piggy like an open book though - Pigsy might not even notice a change when Tang's cicada powers allow him greater insight to their bond.

Scorpion Queen was SO flustered to accidentally get between a demon and his bonded mate! Any demon, dragon, or celestial with a brain knows not to do that!

If a demon king, royal dragon, or even celestial god feels that their loved ones are in danger; they can literally move mountains. Or in the case of Xiwangmu (believing she'd lost her seventh daughter forever), tear the skies and Heavenly River open with her claws alone.

When a certain Third Dragon Prince had a fateful battle with Nezha, his father felt his pain.

Additional note; despite their strained relationship, the brotherly bind between Wukong and DBK has never truly broken. Outside of feelings of vengeance; the Demon Bull King still sees the Monkey King as his worthiest little brother.

In hindsight this is kinda of a more metaphysical representation of the idea of the "Red string" in Chinese mythos, albeit including all sorts of bonds. I bet Yue Lao has his hands busy making sure all those threads connect to one another (or he's a spider celestial, and thread making comes natural to him)!

[ouliarts]

Darkest Dungeon 2 spoilers for Abomination Backstory and Hunger of the beast clan update

Just a little character analysis The Abomination and how I feel about his new lore. It's a little long because I have thoughts about the sad science man

I’m probably in the minority with this but I actually really like the Abomination backstory in DD2. Like I genuinely like what it means for the character. I get the appeal of the idea that he was an alchemist who was experimenting with making a curse and accidentally cursed himself. I even had a similar headcanon about it before the dlc. But there's something about his story in dd2 that really hits me.

In the first game there was a bit of mystery around Bigby. he felt like the one hero that probably holds himself with the least amount of care. All the other heroes wear armor, have proper weapons, nice clothes that are well maintained. Bigby doesn’t have that. He wears teared pants, no shirt, no shoes, a single cloth that he isn’t even properly wearing, man is constantly gripping it. He doesn’t even bother trying to hide his brand. This is not a man who sees himself as worth taking care of. Is it because of guilt? Well he probably deserves it right? Maybe he brought it upon himself, maybe he was messing with things he didn’t understand and now this is his punishment?

And then we get the lore drop that the circumstance that led him to be like this wasn’t even his own fault. It was a horrible accident (that probably could have been avoided if he wasn’t being dumb and going to a well known dangerous moor, with no protection, at night, alone with no guide. I love you Bigby but that was not a pro gamer move). He was mauled, he didn’t want to die. Managing to save himself with a serum that ended up just sealing his fate. Then he was taken in and tortured by the church for who knows how long for reasons he didn’t understand (I don’t think he even killed anyone; they just mentioned a mutilated cow).

And then when he finally transforms he's horrified. Could you imagine his feelings? He was tortured, branded and right after that his body transformed into something horrifying before his own eyes. He has no control over it, no say to what happens. And then he wakes up, alone, surrounded by dead bodies he made. Because they were right. They should have been afraid of him. How could he ever trust himself again? When he caused all of this. 

Bro is suicidal as heck man, even his in game dialogue has him constantly thinking he should die. This man does not think he is worth anything anymore.

I would also like to point out that his beast form doesn’t look right. It doesn’t look like a regular rotclaw at least (I think we all can agree it was probably a rotclaw that jumped him, they literally have an attack that mauls you with blight damage)

Like comparing the two side by side. One arm is bigger than the other, he barely has any fur, his legs are different being clawed instead of hooves, his teeth are sharper and he's a lot smaller compared to one (that last could just be cause of gameplay reason, maybe he's suppose to be the same size but he has to fit in the line up somehow)

I like to think it's because he made that imperfect antidote. I think he was legit supposed to either die from the poison that night but he managed to save himself with the mess of a serum he managed to scrounge together. Only that serum was not at all perfect because he used all the wrong things and he couldn’t remember the recipe so he ended up just making the mutation worse. Sealing his fate. Why else would Red Hook purposely make him an Alchemist and not just a regular guy that got mauled.

So in a way he is responsible for why he is the way he is but like, can you really blame him for trying to save himself? Bro forgot the recipe for the antivenom cause he was panicking and just rawdogged it. And now he probably wishes he just let the poison kill him.

But that's a personal headcanon thing not really important to this. 

And then that one line in the last shrine. 

“Goodbye to the man that wished to chart the stars” This line really shows you how little he thinks about himself now. He just wanted to be a study some plants, chart the stars, learn about the world. But he doesn’t deserve that anymore. He doesn't deserve to be comfortable, or treated well. The man he once was is gone, no more. He's not a man anymore, he can never go back.

He made one dumb mistake And now he lives with it for the rest of his life. He hates himself for it. Blames himself, literally puts the chains back on because he cannot trust himself ever again. Because of one dumb mistake he made. He seeks redemption for things that were completely out of his control. His story is a tragedy, because he never had a choice in it. 

Anyway what I mean to say is, I really like this sopping wet cat of a nerd, with so much self loathing, that made one really dumb mistake and is being punished way too severely by the world for it. Quite literally the GOAT of all time