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destourtereaux · 1 year

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just a little bit of hope - peeta mellark x fem!reader

⤷ summary: with katniss and gale both gone, peeta steps in as an unlikely hunting partner for y/n. ⤷ wc: 2.6k ⤷ requested? yes. see request here. ⤷ follow @lovebirdupdates and turn on notifs to be on my 'taglist'!

⤷ a/n: two things - one, peeta has dimples here, it's just how i imagine him, so please bear with me; two, pretend gale's father is alive please, i didn't think our girl would be able to support two families, no matter how strong she is.

___

The day is horridly warm, exacerbated by a heavy humidity. As you wake, hot air suffocates your surroundings, and the sun glares through the window, hung on a span of blue sky. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, your bare feet find the ground, then immediately retract. The floor is burning hot, baked by the sun. You grit your teeth and force your feet back onto the wood, ignoring the searing heat. You have things to do.

You make a bowl of porridge, watery, but edible. You drink half, and leave the rest for your mother. Your father is off to the mines already, his boots absent. You get dressed, pulling on the prettiest dress you own. You're ready. Or, as ready as one can be.

Today, there will be no hunting with Katniss and Gale, no trading at the Hob. Today, there is only the reaping.

___

You spot Katniss at the edge of the square, gripping her sister's hand. Your friend looks nothing like she normally does. Gone are the boots and hunting jacket, replaced by a simple blouse tucked into a modest skirt. You nod grimly at her; neither of you feels like smiling.

Gale is over on the other side of the square, across from the stage they've set up. Your eyes meet, and he mouths "good luck".

After a few minutes of the routine announcements, Haymitch is introduced, then Effie. By now, the crowd has settled into an air of grimness, despite the clear blue sky overhead.

You don't hear Effie's jokes, and nobody laughs. She finally stops smiling, looking extremely awkward – you almost feel bad for her. Almost.

Then, she sticks her hand in the ball of names, each carrying a life, and pulls one out. Her smile is back on her face when she announces, "Without further ado, our female tribute is: Katniss Everdeen!"

You freeze, repeating her words in your head as if hoping they'd sound different. Your oldest friend – determined, brave Katniss, given a death sentence.

But Effie doesn't wait. Her next words are just as devastating. "And for our male tribute: Gale Hawthorne! Come on up now, dear, don't be shy."

Peacekeepers erupt through the crowd, grabbing your two best friends in the entire world by the shoulders, and forcing them up to the stage. Katniss whips her head around, looking at you with pleading eyes. You know what she's asking for.

"I'll take care of her, Katniss. I won't let her die. And you can't let yourself die, okay? Promise me. Katniss! Promise me!"

Your last words are hysterical, but ironically, Katniss is not. Having heard your commitment to Prim, she is satisfied. She yanks her arms free of the Peacekeepers and walks by herself, her head held high and her face serene.

You grab Prim's hand. Her whole body is shaking, wracked with sobs. You don't hear Effie's last words, but you know what they are.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

___

It's been two weeks since the reaping which stole your best friends. It's shocking how quickly you fell back into routine, as if nothing has even changed. The only indicator of their absence is an added part of your day: splitting your earnings between your family and Prim's.

There are now double the mouths to feed, so you spend double the hours in the forest hunting. Villagers are sympathetic – that may be the only reason you're all still alive. They love Prim, and they trust you. Everything you hunt manages to be traded.

But still, you're cracking. It's just too much, and you don't know if it'll ever get better. You have no idea what Katniss and Gale are going through right now, and you don't let yourself think of them. It would break your heart.

___

Peeta Mellark has always been observant. His teachers told his parents this, back when he was a child. It's this trait that makes him notice you. The girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, killing herself day after day to provide for not one, but two whole families.

He doesn't understand how no one else sees it. But maybe they do – it's just that no one in District 12 is really in a position to do anything about it. Still, the fact remains that you're close to breaking. You can't keep doing this alone.

Peeta Mellark has never been brave. His mother yells at him, beats him, and he takes it. He has never talked back to teachers, or dared disobey the Peacekeepers. So when he offers to hunt with you, he surprises even himself.

"What?"

"I'm Peeta Mellark. We were in the same class, and my parents run the bakery. I was wondering if I'd be able to hunt with you?"

So you weren't hallucinating. The baker's son – a boy you didn't think could kill a fly – had just asked to hunt with you. Your shock translates into a small laugh, not that anything about the situation is funny, really. Hurt flashes in Peeta's eyes, and you quickly backtrack.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm Y/N L/N, I know who you are. I just didn't think you'd be the hunting type," you explain. Because you're gentle, and kind, and I've never seen you hurt anyone, with your words or physically. But you don't add that last part.

"I've only ever hunted with Katniss and Gale, you must know them, they were reaped this year." Your voice cracks a bit with those last words, and Peeta acknowledges the fact with a nod. His hand twitches; he wants to pat you on the back, or grip your shoulder, anything to stop the melancholy leaking into your eyes, but he doesn't.

"But you're welcome to join me," you end with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

___

The new partnership starts early the following day. You meet a groggy Peeta near his home, and the two of you begin the walk to the Meadow.

You hear no electrical hum from the fencing, which means it's safe to touch, and you guide Peeta across the boundary which separates the Seam from the forest. This is all illegal, you know, but you're too used to it to even notice. Peeta, on the other hand, feels an exhilarating sense of rebellion as he crosses the barbed wire, following your figure into the woods.

"You've never hunted before, have you?" you probe, although it's more of a confirmation than an actual question.

Peeta nods. "But I'm a quick learner. And I won't get in your way, I promise."

You smile, a genuine one this time. "We'll see about that, Mellark."

Over the next hour, you go over all the traps you had set from the day before, collecting from Katniss and Gale's traps as well. True to his word, Peeta picks it up quickly, and even has a great eye for camouflaging the traps. This becomes his task, using grass and twigs and flowers as his medium, painting a deceptive scene which looks safe and welcoming to the many squirrels and rabbits in these parts.

You also start him on foraging. Only one type of berry is poisonous in the Meadow, and it's easy to identify. You make sure he's clear on which to avoid, and leave him to it, while you head to the hollowed out tree where you've hidden your knives. The familiar sight of Katniss' bow and arrows within the trunk brings a pang in your heart. You leave them nestled within and retrieve only your daggers. You were never a good archer.

Another hour passes, and you return to Peeta with a deer. You're happier than you have been in weeks – this will be enough for almost a week's worth of food. Peeta is not empty-handed either, he has two buckets of progress, one filled with strawberries, the other with raspberries. He gives you a soft smile – he has dimples, you think. He then immediately turns a faint shade of green, having noticed the dead deer.

You're seized with the desire to laugh, "Why'd you offer to hunt with me if you get queasy from the sight of game?"

He looks at you with an indignant pout, and you can't stop the giggle that tumbles out, then the full on laughter.

"I'm not like this with all game, just, you know, the larger animals. I can look at dead squirrels just fine – stop laughing!"

Making your way back, within the District, you stop just outside of the fence to split your gatherings.

"Take the squirrels and rabbits, and the bucket of raspberries. I'll keep the deer and trade the strawberries with the mayor," you offer.

"No, you take it all," he crosses the barrier carrying the buckets, and you follow after him, shaking your head.

"I can't, Peeta. That wouldn't be right. This is a fair split."

"I never said I wanted to keep what we hunt. Only that I wanted to hunt with you, Y/N. Take it. I know you need it more than I do. I'll see you next weekend?"

And with that, he pops a strawberry in his mouth, smiling at the sweetness, and walks away.

You're left with your mouth open, unable to process what had just happened.

___

The next morning, you show up at the bakery. His bakery. You earned a few dollars from selling your strawberries to the mayor, and you figure that if Peeta won't take anything, you should buy from him instead.

A few dollars is enough for two loaves of good bread, and so you head to the bread aisle. But your gaze catches on the beautiful cakes on display, decorated with multi-colored icing and swirling script written in melted chocolate.

"I did those," comes a voice from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you see Peeta himself, looking at the cakes with fondness and a bit of pride.

"You did what?"

"The cakes. I decorated them. My mom bakes, but I decorate. I like doing it – it's like painting, just on a different canvas."

"They're really lovely. You have a talent for it," you confirm, "I bet that's why you were so good at hiding traps yesterday. You can see nature's patterns."

He gives you a soft smile in return, and you can see the dimples again. They're adorable, you think. I want to see them every day.

He gives a small cough, looking at you questioningly.

You startle, and blush a deep crimson. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought. I'm here to buy bread. Two loaves," you say as you lower your head to stare down at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.

It's only when you hear a chuckle that you lift your head back up. Peeta's eyes are sparkling, and his dimples are clear as ever.

"I'll give you three."

___

Two months after the reaping, your partnership with Peeta is still going strong. Every Saturday, the two of you head to the woods, and spend half the day fishing, gathering, and hunting. Originally silent company has evolved into true friendship, with witty banter, fleeting touches, and shared smiles.

You have come to know Peeta Mellark. He isn't just the baker's son, the one who decorates cakes and hates seeing dead animals. He's the boy who saved you, when no one even knew that you needed saving.

Day after day, he has shown up, offering kindness, companionship, and warmth, without expecting anything in return. You care about him more than you thought you could ever care about someone who wasn't family. You care about his messy blond hair, and you care about his broad shoulders. You care about his blue eyes which sparkle when he tells a joke, and his beautiful heart which leads him to give the occasional customer an extra free loaf. Most of all, you care about his dimples, which come out when he smiles at you. You care so much about him, that it scares you.

And Peeta cares about you. He cares about your hands, calloused but nimble, lethal when holding onto your twin daggers. He cares about your face, how it glows when you laugh at his jokes in the woods, but dims a bit when you're back in the district. He cares about your hair, always tied in a ponytail when in the Meadow, but left to flow freely down your shoulders when hunting's over. Most of all, he cares about your smile, which comes out when Prim thanks you week after week for your help, and forces you to take bottles of goat milk and pet Buttercup. He cares so much about you, that it scares him.

___

This hunting day, Peeta comes with news from the Capitol. A few weeks back, he started giving you updates on the Games, after you told him that you couldn't stomach the thought of watching your friends fight to the death.

"Y/N! Good news!" he greets, exiting the bakery. As the two of you begin your walk, he adds, "I'll tell you when we get to the Meadow."

"You're insufferable, Mellark. You can't just hook me like that, and not tell me what it is."

Peeta doesn't answer, so you start walking twice as fast, ushering him toward the edge of the Seam so you could figure out what exactly he wanted to tell you.

Once in the grassy plains of the Meadow, between the forest and the fence, you turn back to the boy, the impatience evident in your face.

"Tell me, Peeta, or I swear I'll –"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, "but it's not really good news, per se. It's just a little bit of hope."

You nod, urging him to continue.

"It's about the Games. About Katniss and Gale."

The last traces of your smile fade. Concern is etched onto your face, and your eyebrows scrunch up, your jaw tightens.

Noticing this, Peeta pulls you in by the waist, so that your head lands on his shoulder. "It's good news, Y/N. Don't look so defeated. They're both still alive, and they're fighting."

"But at least one of them won't be coming back," you whisper into his neck, so quietly you wonder if he even heard. But Peeta always hears you.

"Y/N. That's the news. They could both come back. Caesar Flickerman has just announced that they will be changing the rules this year – allowing two victors of the Games, provided they're tributes from the same district!"

You look up at him in awe. A change to the Games. Katniss and Gale, not one or the other. Both could win. Both could come back.

You choke down a sob, staring at Peeta's brilliant smile and those mesmerizing dimples. And before you can process what you're doing, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a bout of bravery.

Peeta's frozen for a second, before he begins to reciprocate the kiss in earnest. He pulls you in, one hand holding your neck and the other wrapped around your torso, pressing himself impossibly closer. He tastes like icing and strawberries, and you can smell the comforting scent of warm bread.

The kiss ends far too quickly for your liking, and you're suddenly impossibly shy, all bravado gone. You lower your eyes so you won't have to meet his eyes, but realize that you're practically sitting on his lap, having moved there at some point during the kiss. This observation brings a flaming blush onto your cheeks, and you scramble to move away, but you're held in place by Peeta's arms, forming an iron-tight cage around your figure.

He brings a hand to your chin, lifting it up, and kisses you again, more gently this time.

"Don't go all shy on me now, Y/L/N," he teases, and holds the back of his hand against your forehead, as if feeling for a fever. "You're burning up, darling."

"You know damn well that's not a fever–", you start, but you're cut off by his laughter, and once again distracted by those dimples of his.

Maybe Peeta was right. Maybe there is just a little bit of hope left for you.

___

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blackcrowing · 1 year

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Important Facts about Samhain from an Irish Celtic Reconstructionist

Pronunciation

SOW-in or SOW-een ~NOT~ Sam-han, Sam-win etc.

Dates

Most reconstructionists celebrate Samhain on Oct 31-Nov 1, however some may choose to celebrate on Gregorian Nov 13-14 as this would match the Julian dates of Oct 31-Nov 1. Some also believe that it was a three day festival spanning Oct 31- Nov 2 on which Nov 2 is specifically devoted to ancestral veneration, but there is no specific evidence of this, only possible extrapolation from more modern practices.

Following the Celtic method of days beginning at sunset, regardless of the specific dates you choose to celebrate on your festivities should begin at sunset and end at sunset.

Importance in the Mythos

Ná Morrighan has a strong connection to this time of year thanks to the story of Cath Dédenach Maige Tuired (The Last Battle of Mag Tuired) in which she is found depicted as the ‘Washing Woman’ (sometimes washing herself in the river and other times washing the bloodied armor of the soldiers that would die that day), on the eve of the battle which is also Samhain. The Dagda approaches her and couples with her (creating the ‘Bed of the Couples’ along the bank of river and granting Dagda her blessing in the battle to come). This encounter seems to over emphasize the liminality of the encounter by taking place during the changing of the year and with the couple each standing with ‘one foot on either bank’ of the river.

She and her sisters (Badb and Macha) then use various forms of magic to rain destruction on their enemies (in the form of fire and blood). After the day is won Morrighan speaks a prophecy that describes what is taken by some to be the end of days and others to be the events which will later lead to the Ulster Cycle.

Beneath the peaceful heavens lies the land. It rests beneath the bowl of the bright sky. The land lies, itself a dish, a cup of honeyed strength, there, for the taking, offering strength to each There it lies, the splendour of the land. The land is like a mead worth the brewing, worth the drinking. It stores for us the gifts of summer even in winter. It protects and armours us, a spear upon a shield Here we can make for ourselves strong places, the fist holding the shield Here we can build safe places, our spear-bristling enclosures. This is where we will turn the earth. This is where we will stay. And here will our children live to the third of three generations Here there will be a forest point of field fences The horn counting of many cows And the encircling of many fields There will be sheltering trees So fodderful of beech mast that the trees themselves will be weary with the weight. In this land will come abundance bringing: Wealth for our children Every boy a warrior, Every watch dog, warrior-fierce The wood of every tree, spear-worthy The fire from every stone a molten spear-stream Every stone a firm foundation Every field full of cows Every cow calf-fertile Our land shall be rich with banks in birdsong Grey deer before Spring And fruitful Autumns The plain shall be thronged from the hills to the shore. Full and fertile. And as time runs its sharp and shadowy journey, this shall be true. This shall be the story of the land and its people We shall have peace beneath the heavens. Forever

(based on the translation by Isolde Carmody)

It is also mentioned in Echtra Cormaic that on this festival every seven years the high king would host a feast, it was at this time new laws could be enacted. (but it seems that individual Tuathas or possibly kings of the individual providence may have done this for their territories at Lughnasadh).

It seems to be a time considered especially susceptible to (or of) great change as it is the time which the Tuatha de Danann win victory over the Formorians and take control of Ireland, the invasion of Ulster takes place at this time in Táin bo Cúailnge, in Aislinge Óengusa Óengus and his bride-to-be are changed from bird to human and eventually he claims kingship of Brú na Bóinne at this time of year.

Celebration Traditions

Samhain is the beginning of the “dark half” of the year and is widely regarded as the Insular Celtic equivalent of the New Year. The “dark half” of the year was a time for story telling, in fact in this half of the year after dark is considered the only acceptable time to tell stories from the mythological and Ulster cycle (the Fenian cycle being assumed to be no older than the 12th century based on linguistic dating). Traditionally anything that had not been harvested or gathered by the time of this festival was to be left, as it now belonged to the Fae (in some areas specifically the Púca).

This was also an important time for warding off ill luck in the coming year. Large bonfires would be built and as the cattle were driven back into the community from the pastures they would be walked between these bonfires as a method of purification (the reverse custom of Bealtaine where the livestock were walked between the fires on their way out to the summer pastures). Assumed ritualistic slaughter of some of the herd would follow (though this perhaps had the more practical purpose of thinning the herd before the winter and creating enough food for the feasting). In some areas the ashes from these fires would be worn, thrown or spread as a further way to ward off evil.

Homes would be ritualistically protected from the Aos Sí (Fae or ‘Spirits’) through methods such as offerings of food (generally leaving some of the feasting outside for them), carving turnips with scary faces to warn them off (we now tend to do this with gourds), and smoke cleansing the home (in Scottish saining) traditionally with juniper, but perhaps rowan or birch might be an acceptable alternative. It is likely these would be part of the components used in Samhain bonfires as well, for the same reason.

Lastly based on later traditions as well as links in the mythology this is a time where divination practices or those with the ‘second sight’ were regarded to be especially potent.

Art Credit @morpheus-ravenna

#samhain #irish #irish mythology #irish polytheism #irish paganism #celtic reconstructionism #celtic paganism #celtic polytheism #na morrigna #the morrígan #the dagda #fire festival #blackcrowing #Irish reconstructionist

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bokutos-biddys · 2 years

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-I’ve Got A Race To Win-

Xaiver Thorpe X Reader

Part Two

Make out session. And you can very easily tell how down bad I am for this man with how many times I have the reader ‘let out a shaky breath’ Nothing specified about the reader except the fact that you’re shorter than Xavier (which shouldn’t be hard considering he’s 6’2) and that you’re a fast runner. Also I hate that this is what gets me out of my writing funk but oh well

Please tell me if there are any spelling mistakes.

This is about Xaiver and NOT Percy Hynes-White

____ ____

You were going to win. You had to. Everything was in place for you to win. All you had to do was get the flag, run back to the canoe, and win. And even with Xavier being your best friend you were not going to let him beat you.

So why despite all your determination was Xavier standing in the forest with both your flags above his head where you couldn’t reach.

“Looking for something?” He asks, a smug smirk on his face.

“This is a stupid game Xavier. Just drop my flag and run back with yours.” You say walking up to him, hands on your hips.

“I could, but as I hate to admit, you’re faster than me and would make it back to your canoe before I could get halfway.” He replies, moving to put both flags in one hand, dropping the other to his side.

“So we’re at an impasse, what do you suppose we do? Play rock paper scissors?” You quip back impatiently, crossing your arms.

“Hmm, I might have a better idea.” He says, leaning down so your faces are mere inches apart. Which has more of an effect on you than you would like to admit.

You let out a shaky breath before replying “Oh yeah, what’s that?” You ask, leaning in closer to him, hoping to psych him out.

He stares at you, no, your lips, are you imagining that? You can’t really tell considering how nervous you are. Xaiver has never given you any hints, least not any you picked up. Was he giving you hints? You try to think back throughout your friendship for anything that might show the potential of him having romantic feelings for you. None, you presume, but whatever games he’s playing with you now is a very large hint and your honestly pretty confused about it and wow your costume was getting hot.

You bite your lip and he very noticeably notices. This, you realize, might be your chance. With the both of you starting to lean in you can’t help but think about the two flags in his hands.

It’s obvious what he’s trying to do, distract you, then run off with his flag, hoping to throw you off enough that he makes it to the shore first. Well, two can play at that game.

But as soon as his lips are on yours you realize two might not be able to play at that game. Your hands are in his hair in an instant, has it always been this soft? You really don’t know. All you can focus on is him.

You’re practically done for when he grabs your waist with his free hand. He nips at your bottom lip and you let out probably the hundredth shaky breath in the span of five minutes. But who could blame you when he drops the flags and moves his hand to tangle in your hair like that.

You're both pulling, pushing, biting, honestly whatever that could bring the both of you closer. He almost makes you whimper with how he’s placing short kissing on your jaw then drawing longer one from your lips. You’re positively entangled with one another.

He groans when you tug on his hair to pull him away, moving to nip at his neck. But before he can get a strong grip on you you push him to the ground, dashing to grab your flag.

He looks completely undone, with a hickey forming on his neck and an exasperated look on his face, it’s honestly one of the hottest things you’ve seen and it takes everything in you to not pounce on him and continue your impromptu make-out session.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I have a race to win.” You say, and admittedly your voice quivers a little bit that’s besides the point.

You only hear his squawks of indignation as you're running away, trying to wipe at the remnants of his makeup on your own face.

Thankfully the others don’t mention your flustered state, only asking what took you so long.

You win, of course, you knew you would, but something about the look on Xavier’s face as he watches you receive the trophy tells you, you’ll probably be paying for your little stunt later.

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #wednesday #wednesday show #xaiver thorpe x gender-neutral!reader #fanfiction #omg I love this man I can’t even he’s just so gshjhejdjndjs

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fishyfishyfishtimes · 1 month

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Black wenley

The black wenley is a fish belonging to the order Perciformes. It is a slow-growing freshwater fish that is often the apex predator of its habitat. Its colours range from all black to a dark brown. Its diet as a juvenile consists of zooplankton, and as it grows it starts hunting for bigger and bigger prey, moving to crustaceans, fish larvae, small fish and finally medium fish. Opportunistic adults will also feed on small mammals and young birds. While juveniles tend to band together, adult black wenleys are solitary and will readily attack and consume others of their kind if they feel crowded. They prefer cooler waters and tend to inhabit the deepest parts of lakes, ponds and rivers. Their natural distribution spans through Central, North and East Europe.

A young juvenile and a mature adult of a few years of age, respectively. Besides for the eel-ish appearance of the juvenile, the beginning and end of life stages of the black wenley are completely ordinary and unassuming. Likely this fish would've been entirely forgotten if these were the only life stages this most confusing animal goes through. But, no. The black wenley is among the most studied fish in the world, and it's all thanks to its older juvenile phase:

What in the world!! What is that? That cannot possibly be the same animal, let alone a fish! That's a strange frog, in no way can that be a black wenley!

That's an entirely sensible conclusion to come to! A good portion of people used to think the same, centuries and millenia ago. If a community of people lived in a place with no merfolk who could explain the real deal (merfolk used to be restricted to large bodies of water, before the two-legs spell was invented), they would often view the big black fishes that appear each spring and the strange froglike creatures of the late summer as separate animals. Most European languages give them separate names, in fact! Only when information became more available and the scientific method improved did it become clear that these two were one and the same...

So, how exactly does the life cycle of the black wenley work?

The fry hatch in late spring, and start their life as normal. They eat, ferociously! Once they reach about 10 centimeters in length, they not only grow in size, but change in shape, too. Their pectoral fins begin to develop into lobe-fins, then into legs, and two hind legs rapidly sprout from their side. During the summer months their appetite and search for food is neverending, but even then, they still absorb their tail fin and tail into their bodies to obtain any new bit of energy possible. Inside their bodies the swim bladder becomes highly vascularised, and on the outside their black scales slowly morph into a messy green colour. Perhaps the strangest change of all, the head of the fish slowly moves up its body, and its eyes migrate higher on its head to view the environment better. By the time the transformation is complete, it is already August.

That's when the migration begins.

The black wenley juveniles spend more and more time out of the water as they develop, but the moment their four legs are strong enough to carry their weight, they leave their home waters and venture out into the world. Their tall stance allows them to see their environment better and assess possible threats much more efficiently. Their swim bladder now a lung of sorts, the black wenleys can travel considerable distances through forests, through fields, through swamps, and through city suburbs to the amusement of onlookers.

Their stumbling is... very silly. Their flippers seem to be all awkwardly placed hind leg and no front leg, making their walking slow and waddly. It's common to see them fall on their stomach or their knees. For fish on land, they do rather well though!

The goal of the black wenley juvenile is to find a fitting body of water with few or zero conspecifics, many food sources, and deep water. Once the juvenile has found the home of their dreams, they settle down and resume aquatic living.

All throughout winter, the black wenley transforms in secret under the ice. The legs that it spent so much energy building shrivel up: they use the extra energy to sustain themselves in the harsh cold darkness. Slowly, their head moves back down to a straight continuation of the spine, and their body elongates once more. Spines begin growing from their back. In the spring they regrow their fins, as if nothing had happened at all. As if the black wenley had been but an ordinary fish all this time. A one-year-old black wenley is rather slim and small, but as the fish matures it grows in height and develops its distinctive large head. It remains this way for the rest of its life! Black wenleys seldom reproduce in their first year and tend to wait until they are two years old to begin their courtship. They spawn in the spring, and so the cycle begins anew.

The black wenley is a fascinating example of metamorphosis and how the influence of magic in the genes of animals can cause them to develop otherwise-impossible-to-achieve forms. Its semblance to frogs in its middle stage was a key piece in the creation of the theory of evolution, and in times of old before DNA testing became possible it was even hailed as a missing link between fish and land animals, an all new class of animal! Now of course we know that it is a perciform fish, just as distantly related to tetrapods as any bass or grouper. While it is fairly obvious this land-dwelling form is the species' unique answer to dispersal, it is not exactly known how the magic in its DNA causes this froglike form or came to cause it: few animals go through such large changes in their life cycle, magic-induced or not. The species is a common test subject to this day, for these reasons.

The black wenley is a beloved favourite of anglers, due to its aggressive nature and tendency to quickly bite into fishing bait. It is a symbol of change and escape from dire situations by any means necessary, especially in merfolk culture and literature. In everyday life, merfolk view it akin to a fox: it can bite, but only if you bother it or something is wrong with it, so it's best to leave it alone. Kind of cool if you spot it, actually. It's a very beautiful fish!

The black wenley is a species of least concern, though industrialisation and overfishing has made a dent in its populations and their average size is smaller in the modern day. While it is native to Europe, it has also been introduced outside of its range. Due to its extremely high affinity to travel from a body of water to another and eat everything that moves, it is classified as a harmful invasive species in North America and Asia.

Most importantly: yes! Some merfolk in the sirpaverse have the lower fish half of a black wenley. They develop into the older juvenile stage at about 5-7 years of age, and into the mature form at puberty. They don't feel the need to leave their home to find a new one as children.

#unreality #this fish is not real! i invented her! or my brain did. she came to me in a dream as a child :)#im so happy to finally introduce her to you all <3 #fictional animal #fish #art #my art #black wenley #sure why not she gets her own tag because shes amazing #sirpaverse #long post

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writtenonreceipts · 13 days

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Rowaelin Month Day Thirteen: Pregnant @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3

just fluff. wasn't really wanting to post but here we are

.*.*.*.*.

Morning Light

Winter hung low over the city one early morning in December. The gray clouds were impenetrable, even to the brightness of the sun, leaving the world in a pale gray haze. Ever since October, the weather had taken a turn. It left everyone in a violent desperation for warmth. Instead, Terrasen was gifted freezing rain, cold wind, and darkened skies. Everything had transformed in the span of a few weeks leaving Aelin desperate for summer.

She’d always preferred those warm months with the bright sun, blue skies, and warm air. Summer was when everything felt alive and real. Now, as she stared out the from window and at the trees that surrounded the house, the world simply felt bare.

It was strange considering most of the trees in the forest were evergreen and there was only the occasional alder and maple stripped bare to empty branches. And the foliage was still rich and vibrant. Not even the freezing weather could kill the sword fern or blackberry bush.

Still…the world felt different now.

She raised her mug of hot chocolate to her lips taking a long sip. Most of it was still whipped cream. She fully believed that if a mug wasn’t at least half full of either marshmallow or cream, it wasn’t hot chocolate. The sweet drink seeped through her body, warming the near perpetual chill that had been settled in her bones since September.

Through the window she watched a red breasted robin land in the bird feeder, plucking away at the seed she’d refilled yesterday. It didn’t seem bothered by the chill. Or maybe instinct had driven it from its nest.

She took another sip of cocoa.

Upstairs she listened as the bedroom door opened and a pair of soft feet descended the stairs. She didn’t turn, waiting for the inevitable feel of her husband coming up behind her. In a matter of moments, she was wrapped up in his strong arms.

“You’re up early,” Rowan said, his voice rough with sleep as he nestled his nose into the juncture of her neck.

Aelin smiled, enjoying the feel of him against her. “I had to pee.”

A chuckle rippled through Rowan’s chest. He pressed his lips to her skin, kissing and nipping a small love bite there. One of his hands stretched out over her stomach.

“Is the little firefly causing grief again?” he teased.

“Always,” Aelin said. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. She couldn’t help it these days. Ever since learning she was pregnant; she’d been so damned emotional. Every little thing set her off. If it wasn’t Rowan’s gentleness it was the dog giving her morning kisses. And if it wasn’t either of those things it was eating a warm piece of toast. She couldn’t even go to Wal-Mart in case she accidently walked past the baby department and saw little baby slippers for sale.

She pressed a hand to his, keeping it rooted on her barely swelling belly. She was only about three months along and would honestly say that she was still in shock over the whole thing. After five years of marriage, she and Rowan had been slowly moving on from actively trying to grow their family. They’d seen doctors and even done a few hormonal treatments to try and help things along. But with money being tight anything more was outside of their budget. They’d been told it would just take time (some doctors even saying there was nothing to do).

In short, they’d given up hope.

“Please tell me you already ate something?” Rowan asked. “Hot chocolate isn’t real food.”

“It’s what the baby wants,” Aelin insisted. “You know I can’t keep anything down.”

It was true. Everything she even looked at made her queasy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full meal.

“What about waffles?” Rowan insisted. He pulled back enough to turn Aelin in his arms so he could kneel down and press a kiss to her belly. “What do you think, Firefly?”

“You know he’s not going to start moving for another three weeks, right?” Aelin rolled her eyes, though still endeared at her husband’s antics.

“It’s a girl,” Rowan replied swiftly. He kissed her belly one more time before standing, taking the hot chocolate from her. “And baby agrees with me. Waffles are in order.”

It was a common argument of if they were having a boy or a girl. Neither was planning on yielding anytime soon.

“With strawberries,” Aelin conceded. It was the one fruit that she could stomach.

“Absolutely.”

Aelin let her husband lead her to the kitchen and sat at the table while he insisted on bustling around to get breakfast in order. He even made her more hot chocolate without her even having to ask.

It was a simple Saturday morning, but she wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

#rowaelin #throne of glass #fanfic

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manjiroscum · 2 years

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LILY OF THE VALLEY

Character/s: snow leopard hybrid!Rindou Haitani

Warnings: f!reader, mature language, explicit sexual themes, dark content, canon typical violence, blood, murder, dub-con, marking, mentions of mating, hybrid au, kidnapping, yandere!rindou, dom!rindou, sub!reader, cockdrunk reader, implied multiple rounds, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, breeding, blackmailing/threats, pet play, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: commissioned by @httn 💜 thank you love for trusting me with this! i hope you like it 🫶

Synopsis: Only fools come out to play with a feral cat.

WC: 6.1k

Crimson specks marred the freshly fallen snow akin to wine spilled all over a white linen cloth. The bullet wound on his thigh was slowing him down. Nevertheless, Rindou trudged up the small hill to reach the other side of the forest hoping he would escape his pursuers that were looking through his busted car for any signs of life. With his teeth gritted, the lost man was sure he might die today. After getting separated from Ran and the others, a car chase occurred as he fled from the warehouse when a bomb about to blow up the building was shouted out. In all his years of doing the same song and dance, one could say Rindou got used to the chaos that has intertwined into his life since the day he was born with the need to experience thrills.

But, fuck, he could never get used to getting shot or bleeding out. The first time hurt like a bitch and the second time it happened made him want to pass out. It was more irritating to face than shoot those who dare touch his tail. Now, Haitani Rindou was sure he will die. Whatever plan those bastards cooked up that would confirm his demise, he had to give them props because they might succeed. Car dead, his phone without any signal, the temperature dropping fast, and a forest that may span a thousand hectares was just the starter pack he needed to die in these woods.

Rindou can’t die here. It would just be pathetic. So pathetic that they might make jokes out of it. His death would only make people say he deserved it or it is the consequence of having an unpleasant lifestyle. And honestly, fuck them. He has to live. He has to get out of here and seek shelter before the frost bites his fingers, ears, and toes off. What would his enemies think? What would Bonten do? What would Ran do?

What should he do?

A million thoughts raced through his mind as his knees finally gave away. His eyes fluttered close for a moment, inhaling the cold air sharply that he was quite sure it could cut his nostrils like blades made out of ice. A trail of blood followed him from where he started all the way to the top of the hill. In contrast to the icy atmosphere around him, his lungs burned. During these times, delusions would enter his mind to distract him from the impending doom that was looming above his head. Death was now breathing down his neck as if they were old friends. Its voice called out to him through the chilly breeze that brushed past him and the strong trees that appeared like shadows of those whom he wronged and killed to survive. If he had to guess what hell looked like, this was possibly the closest description minus the flames. Why would such a cold environment bother him in such a way? This has never happened before. He could think of countless reasons why a hybrid such as he who was meant to thrive in such an environment was slowing down.

Ah, that’s right… He never had to be out much to do his dirty deeds. It was always his underlings. Pawns who would readily obey him for various goals. He and Ran, without fail, get away from taxing jobs. After all, meaningless fights never appeased their appetite for violence. Something always had to interest the brothers for them to act. Looking back on those memories of merely partying and finding someone to toy with, Rindou couldn’t help but exhale deeply. His lips were chapped due to the lack of moisture in the air.

If my life is flashing before my eyes, perhaps I am indeed dying…

And yet, amidst the snow and harsh winds, a merciful angel came into view. Rindou thought he was already a goner for his eyes to conjure such a beautiful sight. Vivid colors murked into a blur as his vision steadily failed him due to exhaustion finally catching up to him. However, the second that angel spoke, voice soothing despite the panicked tone evident in it, he realized this was reality.

“Sir? Oh my god, w-wait. I need to call an ambulance—”

“N…o.” It took all of his strength to move his lips and tongue. The woman before him met his dazed stare, shifting her attention between Rindou and something behind her. “No am…bulance…”

“W-what? Why? No, you need immediate attention…”

Haitani Rindou, one of the infamous criminals Bonten has in their arsenal and the fearsome younger brother of Ran was still vulnerable to things that exude innocence. Perhaps it was just in his nature to be drawn toward something he can never be and so he tried to push away the person who came out on a snowy night to help him. This earned him a surprised expression and more questions he couldn't answer. Rindou’s efforts were in vain as his eyelids finally shut, and the last of his energy left him unconscious in the hands of a stranger.

I’m sorry, Ran…

There was a sea of trees you had to drive by to reach your parents’ house. The road was slippery due to the snow but you had to go after promising to drive carefully. After a hearty dinner and entertaining their inquiries about whether you will get married or not, you were set on heading back to your apartment. Tomorrow is Monday and you had to wake up early for your nine-to-five job at the cafe your cousin owned. Normally, your schedule ranged from mundane to the occasional unexpected events that usually revolved around your job or your parents. Yet they were never anything spontaneous or something that will make the hairs on the back of your hair stand until you had to rescue this man now sleeping on a makeshift bed in a veterinarian’s clinic.

Ignorance could sometimes save a person’s life. The second you saw the hanafuda tattoo on his neck, you knew the shit you were about to get into could get messy. Never had you ever thought of bringing an infamous person, let alone one of Bonten’s henchmen, into your home. The veterinarian you called for help swore his secrecy after he commended you for doing first aid, but commented that men like him shouldn’t be saved. Yet, your conscience wouldn’t let you sleep soundly at night if you left him there on a cold winter’s night to bleed to death or get feasted on by bears.

“Are you… his girlfriend or somethin’?”

“No, I’m not,” you responded while cleaning up the bloody clothing and gauze after Rindou’s wound was stitched up. “However, as a human being, I couldn’t just leave him there. I’m… not capable of such cruelty.” The man shifted his attention back to the dangerous person fast asleep and then squinted hard as if his patient was just pretending. Grunting, the veterinarian gathered the last of his tools into his bag and made his way to the door, but not before leaving you some sound advice.

“Be careful because this choice you made might just bite you back. I’ll be back as soon as possible when I find a doctor in the area. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this secret doesn’t reach the authorities.”

Thinking back to what happened earlier, you were sure your blood ran cold at the sight of a broken car by the road. Initially, you thought the vehicle broke down and that the owner must be somewhere nearby since it would take around twenty minutes to get to the nearest town. Unless they had to hitch a ride because it was freezing and decided to leave the car. But the second you saw what seemed to be bullet holes in its body, uneasiness coated your nerves like thick molasses. The dread of finding a dead body doubled upon seeing blood on the snow, leading up to where you found the dying unknown man.

Damn it all. He wouldn’t harm someone who rescued him, right?

No, scratch that, this man wasn’t a stranger to you. You were the stranger—not him. Everybody who worked in Tokyo and heard the news was all aware of Bonten, the most dangerous gang in the country to date, enough to rival the yakuza. Those hanafuda tattoos they branded on their flesh bear the symbol of their loyalty to the man who founded the group, Sano Manjiro. The Haitani brothers were as famous all by themselves. It didn’t have to take you long to know everything they committed under the sun or the veil of night. Rumors of the brothers and Bonten always circulate on the internet. In short, they were individuals you had to avoid to live long.

Eyes glancing at your phone sitting by the couch, you debated whether to call the cops and turn him in. Maybe getting Rindou off your hands will be the first step to having your normal life back… Or will just cement the death sentence he shall bestow upon your unfortunate soul once he recovers.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” you groaned into your hands. Sleep was out of the question. You had to monitor Haitani Rindou for two obvious reasons—one because he might wake up and two because he might silence you the second he does. Gruesome pictures of your death flashed on the television screen ran across your imaginative mind and honestly, you were scaring yourself. Clearly, you didn’t think this through. But, what’s done is done. There was no way you could throw him out now. “Let’s… just make sure he’s fine enough to walk out of here on his own. Y-yeah…”

Exhaling a defeated sigh, you sat down on the floor and stared at Rindou’s unconscious form. For a man as big and bad as him, you bet he would snore loudly. Yet, he looked almost like a corpse—unmoving and quite fragile. The biggest shirt you had at your disposal appeared tiny in his huge frame. The veterinarian even gave up on giving him something to wear on the lower part, muttering how he shouldn’t even be bothered to clothe the criminal. The thought of Rindou being naked down there was slightly distracting, making your eyes wander down from the hanafuda tattoo on his neck to the intricate design on his torso until you slapped your cheeks to make you stop eyeing the muscular hybrid.

What the—don’t do this to yourself. He is a criminal, for fuck’s sake!

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone to check for any messages. There was only one from your mother, checking up on whether you arrived home. A humorless laugh escaped your lips as you lied to her. Besides, she will definitely panic if she knew you were looking after a criminal in a vet’s clinic. You hoped to distract your mind from spiraling into endless regret by watching adorable videos of dogs. A good turn deserves another… You just wished Haitani Rindou was a person who would reward good deeds.

The morning was rough on you. With a stretch or two, you cursed your aching back while you proceeded to order breakfast for three. Your cousin was kind enough to give you a day off after phoning in with a fake cold. The minute you finished offering him apologetic words after lying through your teeth, you then grabbed the takeout and sped off to the clinic Rindou was moved to. Caffeine and sweets were the things keeping you sane save for the veterinarian and a doctor, whom he roped into the situation, present in the room. Dr. Hinohara was silently observing Rindou’s body while giving a blood transfusion to the still-sleeping hybrid. Compared to last night, the younger Haitani looked slightly better. He still appeared like he crawled out of hell and survived, though.

“I guess we don’t have to bring this man to the hospital,” the doctor spoke after some time. “There doesn’t seem to be a bullet stuck to his thigh. He did lose a lot of blood. I’ll just make sure to monitor him in case he needs more blood transfusions and if there could be any infections on the wound. If he does turn for the worst, I will have to bring him to the hospital—”

You were quick to object, leaving your cup of coffee to stand up. “H-he told me he shouldn’t go to a hospital. I’ll pay you, Sir. I’ll make sure to pay you for treating him. J-just don’t bring him there. Please…”

Dr. Hinohara sighed at your statement, sharing a glance with the veterinarian. Just as you were ready to shoot down their suggestions of you putting an end to your good samaritan role, the doctor then nodded solemnly in resignation. Appeased, you backed away before sitting yourself down once again. Seeing that there wasn’t anything left for him to do, the veterinarian excused himself and left the establishment. A few minutes later, Dr. Hinohara did the same to attend to his outpatients. It wasn’t until lunchtime when he came back that you decided to head back home to catch some sleep after a long warm bath. To be in a room alone with Haitani Rindou, awake or not, was making you anxious. Your eyes were often fluttering close, trying to stay conscious and alert in the presence of an infamous gang member. To let your guard down would be serenading death.

“You can come back tomorrow afternoon,” Dr. Hinohara said with a gentle smile upon seeing you out. “I don’t think Mr. Haitani would wake up today anyways. Go home and get some rest. I’ll call you if anything changes about his current condition.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hinohara.”

If you knew that the day you saved Haitani Rindou would be the last time you could ever experience a normal life, perhaps the future wouldn’t turn out like this—with you almost sticking to a corner whereas Rindou glared at your quivering form. Dr. Hinohara was nowhere to be found on the second floor and your mind concocted various scenarios at the sight of the trashed room. How could the man be up and ready to threaten you with his sharp claws when he was just barely conscious days ago? You even recall Dr. Hinohara remarking about Rindou being too weak to open his eyelids. So just how?

Irises sharp as his claws remained on you, hues of ultra violet hoping to unmask your intentions by staring right into your soul. Behind his predatory gaze were promises filled with violence and a whole world of pain if you so much as make a single move that he will deem a crime towards him.

Haitani Rindou was not a man to be trifled with.

“You… Didn’t I tell you not to bring me to a hospital?” he questioned in a demanding tone, taking a step closer to you which prompted your weak legs to fall back. This is the very thing you hoped to avoid. Maybe if you were given the foresight that Haitai Rindou would recuperate enough to stand today, you would have come prepared to negotiate. Negotiate with him not to kill you and to leave you alone because you did what he asked. However, he didn’t seem happy at the idea of recovering in a clinic, afraid his location would be alerted to the police. “What’s the matter? Suddenly can’t use that tongue of yours? From what I remember you weren’t mute—”

“This isn’t a hospital. Y-you’re in a clinic, can’t you see?”

The hand you used to gesture at the area shuddered upon seeing him move. Rindou was obviously confused as he surveyed the room, unsure whether to take your word or not. You couldn't blame him, though. Blood rolling down his thigh akin to raindrops on a glass window captured your attention, taking away the assertive statements off of your lips. Your fear for him was outweighed by your concern for his wound that might have reopened due to his carelessness.

Rindou was quick to create distance between you two. Your eagerness was mistaken as an act to lunge and subdue him which was something you couldn't do. He realized this the moment he winced in pain, hand applying pressure on his bleeding thigh. You clicked your tongue and hurriedly helped him back onto his bed. His hostility towards you disappeared with each pang of pain that erupted around his injury. Of course, he just had to be slowed down by this and for you, this was a blessing in disguise.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll go see if Dr. Hinohara has returned.”

Any deity above must have heard your silent prayer for the doctor announced himself inside Rindou’s room, eyes wide at the condition of his patient and the messy room. Minutes passed, and the hybrid was now waiting for the pain to subside once his wound was attended to. Lips in a tight line, you sat by the side, waiting for the doctor to say something—anything that will get rid of the awkward air that settled in the room. Instead of something positive, Dr. Hinohara approached you with a dejected expression that caused your heart to momentarily stop beating. His next words almost had you wishing you were sitting down due to the implications of it.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t do this since I am a practitioner of medicine and should have empathy for my patients no matter who they are… But I can’t have Mr. Haitani stay here any longer. You must understand. My other patients have caught a whiff of his presence here and are too scared to come over. I-it’s bad for me.” Dr. Hinohara then added to soften the blow, “If he stays over at your place, I-I promise to visit and check on him from time to time. Although, I doubt I could do much since he’s close to full recovery.”

Bullshit.

It was utter bullshit. There was no way his other patients knew about Rindou being treated in the clinic. Based on the days you visited the hybrid when he was still unconscious, everyone who visited the doctor didn’t display any signs of uneasiness. Yet, you couldn’t do anything to appeal for Rindou anymore since the doctor was more than eager to kick him out. For all you know, the hybrid trashing the room was his last straw.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, you turned the stove off and poured the hot soup into two bowls. The Bonten executive sat on the living room couch, watching a daytime show. He was unbothered by the small space of your apartment, thankfully. Rindou barely fussed upon arriving, probably because he did not have any other choice. Even with his infamous reputation, throwing him out was inhumane.

You wanted to help him, but it has been years since you took care of someone sick or injured. Plus, your mother’s temperament was far different from Rindou's.

“You okay with miso soup?”

Rindou merely grunted in response, avoiding your gaze while he took his bowl from you. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his moodiness, you took the seat across from him prior to drinking the soup you made. For the hybrid to keep sulking like this, you figured it was because his wound hasn't fully healed, and limped every time he walked. Men like Rindou hated weakness. To display his vulnerability to you like this must be torture to the mighty snow leopard hybrid—someone who isn't used to being on the other side of the spectrum.

Yet, he never dismissed your acts of assistance. No matter how much you teased him in an attempt to lighten the mood or receive his narrowed gaze, Haitani Rindou never made a move to hurt you during his stay here. Or at least that is what he's trying to do—to lure you into a sense of comfort before he strikes like an apex predator. Nevertheless, you continued to meet his needs.

“You okay?” you asked him when his spoon fell to the floor. Your legs were up and running to get a towel once you saw what happened. He dropped his spoonful of miso soup on his bandages because his limpid eyes couldn’t be torn from the show he claimed was too boring. “Mr. Haitani, you shouldn't pay attention elsewhere while eating.”

“Can’t help it,” he answered with a scoff. A ghost of a laugh slipped past your mouth at the thought of him acting almost like he was a big cat distracted by the pretty colors that led to this situation. Shaking your head, you wiped off the droplets of miso soup from his thigh. After you tossed the towel to the side, you stood up straight and placed your hands on your thighs. Rindou’s tail went stiff at your stare which was accompanied by a smile. “What?”

“Are you… enjoying the show? I thought you found it boring?” The giggle that followed your inquiry did not go unnoticed by the hybrid. The tips of his ears turning red were proof of that. Hearing no reply, you continued to tease him. Your hands are busy fixing up the couch before taking your bowl once more. “I mean, it’s alright to admit you like these soap operas. My mom enjoys them too, you know. Well, not enough to be—”

“I wasn't distracted,” he huffed and averted his gaze at your silly smile. “I was just… surprised.” Rindou never elaborated further on whatever stunned him. You merely shrugged and slurped your soup, content with sitting next to him on a Thursday morning. This has been your life lately—taking care of breakfast and Rindou in the morning, going to work afterward, and then coming back during lunchtime. Despite the reasons you came up with, your cousin never questioned you as to why you requested to come in later than your usual hour. He did, however, tasked you to stay until closing time. A small price to pay. After all, this isn't going to be the norm forever. Rindou will have to go back home and disappear from your life as soon as his wound heal.

Somehow, the reality had sorrow creeping up your heart. Rindou staying in the apartment and seeing him every day made you think he has always been there. His sulky expression softens up whenever his guard is down. He wasn't even aware the corner of his lips was curling up once. The way he dismisses you the second he realized he was showing happiness was cute in its own way. You were used to stifling your laughter at his displeased face that did not match well with his tail swishing side to side. His silhouette blended into your little space, making himself at home. And unbeknownst to you, Rindou felt the same way.

“Don’t act like such a big baby. It’s good for you!” You pushed the plate of rice with natto on top. His irked expression eased down while he took his chopsticks. The smell of the fermented soybeans did not sit well with his nose as he ate to appease you. Yet, he willingly ate, especially with you grinning in front of him. “There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it? Can’t believe a gangster like you dislikes natto.”

Innocent things like you were bad for his health. You were poison to his system—having him think of stuff he never gave a second thought on. Rindou lost count of how many ideas of him whisking you away where no one else can see you crossed his mind. Everything about you exuded a normal and peaceful life—a luxury for him who couldn’t afford it anymore. He should’ve turned you away and let himself die that night because now he didn’t want to leave. His wound was almost closed up and he didn’t have to limp around or ask for your help whenever he bathed. Rindou has grown far too fond of you to merely go back and forget about your kindness. For your sake, he held himself back and enjoyed you doting on him despite the numerous teasing you’ve thrown his way. Pretty but lethal flowers were only meant to be admired from a safe distance. Preferring to keep his claws hidden and the space between you wide, Haitani Rindou liked it this way.

Until he didn’t—until he got greedy.

Dr. Hinohara just had to burst the bubble Rindou protectively held with a single statement that the hybrid was free to go. You couldn’t describe the emotion that swirled within you, ignorant to the deathly stare Rindou gave the doctor. Dr. Hinohara swallowed thickly at the heat of his gaze, slowly taking a step back in case the hybrid decided to kill him on the spot. The younger Haitani wished he could turn back time and stop the old bastard from revealing his secret. Despite sabotaging the stitches for so long to keep it from healing too fast, Rindou’s game was up. And yet, not all of his cards were played.

His trump card has yet to fall onto the table.

Ran came over to your apartment the second Rindou rang him up after a month of no contact. The reunion happened under the stillness of the night where not a soul could be found on the streets. The chloroform his older brother brought was put to use to make sure you wouldn't scream or do any trouble as he placed you in Ran’s car. Rindou then discarded the baton hidden at the back of the trunk, already cleaned off of Dr. Hinohara’s blood, into the nearest waste bin before letting Ran drive down the road heading south.

The moment you woke up from what you thought was a terrible nightmare, you were chained to a bedpost in an unfamiliar room in someone else’s bed. The collar on your neck was a bit tight and the chain attached to it wasn't long enough for you to reach the door. A little bell was hanging on the collar and it jingled with every movement you made. You thanked your lucky stars that you were still fully clothed but that feeling of relief waned away too fast. Your head pounded while your eyes frantically searched for signs of where you are. Rindou entered the room with a tray of food. His eyes slightly went wide at the discovery of you greeting the conscious world then his lips broke out into a grin.

“I see you’re awake.”

“R-Rindou? W-what… Where am I? What’s going on?”

Your inquiries fell from your mouth like the teardrops on your cheeks at the realization. Rindou hushed you multiple times while he set your meal down on the nightstand but you never took heed, fearing for your life. It wasn't until he took out his phone to show you a picture of your parent’s house that your tongue felt like it was made out of metal. Your hands balled up into fists at the image.

“Don’t hurt them. P-please…”

“Looks like you're smart enough to guess what I’m implying here, huh?” Rindou chuckles at your horrified tear stricken face. “I guess calling you a big baby right now won’t be satisfying.” Hand underneath his chin, the hybrid let out a contented sigh. “I knew I was right. Other girls I’ve met before weren't as intelligent as you. Saves me from explaining what will happen to your family if you try to escape.”

“What do you want from me?” you demanded, nerves and voice shaky. His irises shone brighter than amethysts as he observed you on his bed. After a month of nursing him back to health, Rindou was intent on returning the favor—just without outside interference, of course. There was no way your parents would allow him to date you and to see you with a faceless nobody would be the icing on top of his cake meant to insult him. He can't have that. “Rindou, what do you want? I-I’ll do anything! Just please leave me and my parents alone. If you want an apology for all those days I’ve teased you or said something wrong, I’m w-will to do so!”

“Nothin’ much, angel. I’ve passed the need for anything.” He then pulled you up by the collar of your shirt. Leaning down to whisper into your ear, Rindou’s lips curled up. “I’ve already got you.” The second he spoke those words, a shiver ran down your spine. Not giving you any time to collect your thoughts or to wipe the tears from your cheeks, the Bonten executive took a step back and gestured at your clothes. “Strip.”

Hands trembling, you did as he said. More tears exited from your glossy eyes which Rindou couldn't wait to lick away. As soon as you got rid of your pajamas, you covered your exposed stomach and breasts until he clicked his tongue. You winced at the sound of it.

“All of it, angel.”

You heaved a deep breath. Your panties slid down your legs agonizingly slow. The rest of your body burned in shame under his piercing gaze. It was as if Rindou would be struck by lightning if he dared to look away from your gorgeous form. You steeled yourself once he took away your clothes.

“Go and eat your meal. I’ll be back.”

Rindou shut the door behind him. You couldn't stop crying even while you ate the meal he prepared. It was hard to know where you were as the window was bolted shut and barely let natural light in. Your heart beats wildly inside your chest whereas you stiffened at the sight of him returning. His violet irises landed on the empty plate before nodding approvingly.

“Good. I’m going to give you a drink now.” He took off the chain from the bedpost and pulled it for you to follow him. But not before commanding you to do it on all fours. His sharp canines peeked out when he smiled at your obedience. The fear strumming its chaotic cords to have you obeying the hybrid. “That’s it, angel. Make sure not to bump into anything on the way to the kitchen.”

Even with Rindou as your sole audience, your soul was close to dying out of shame. Your pussy folds were out in the open, clit throbbing uncontrollably for the wrong reasons as you followed him from behind. It didn't take you long to figure out this was Rindou’s house—or his temporary home. You were too busy making sure you were keeping up with his huge steps and not falling behind to scan your surroundings. The hybrid then paused and turned to you. His hand gestured to a bowl made for a pet sitting on the floor. It was filled up with what seemed to be milk.

“Go on. Drink it all up, angel.”

Cheeks burning, you hesitated for a second. It was when he walked behind you that the panic kicked in again and you unwillingly bent down. Your tongue was stuck out, ready to lick up the milk to appease Rindou, deaf to the sound of unzipping. The palm of his hand was cold against your cunt, causing you to yelp. His free hand was quick to keep your head from turning around to see him.

What the fuck is happening?

“You’re not the only one who’s thirsty… Shit, you’re wet?” He was more amused than disgusted at his findings. This was fucked up. There was no way you were turned on despite what occurred. Maybe you were sick in the head all this time and Rindou’s actions just brought this to light? You would never know as your mind started to grow hazy due to the pleasure of him rubbing his palm across your slit. You were no virgin but it has been a long time since you’ve done it. Perhaps that was the reason why?

Why does it feel like that’s a lie?

Retracting his claws, he plunged two of his fingers into your warm pussy that parted easily for him. Front teeth digging into your lower lip, you kept back the moan bubbling up your throat while Rindou rubbed his fingers against your tight walls. Slick coated his hand which made it easier for him to feel around your gummy walls. His pleased groans were too much for your ears, his hard length brushing on your ass. His tail swished around before curling around your leg. Your hands keeping you upright were trembling as the onslaught of bliss was increasing, gaze glossy.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight… Are you going to let me fuck you, angel? Huh? Does my pet deserve this dick?” he questioned with mirth in his tone. Another finger was added, widening your hole. You couldn’t help the whine leaving your lips, eyes shut as you fought back more from coming out. Rindou held you by the waist when your legs gave out, cooing into your ear. The hybrid brought up his hand coated with your juices, inhaling it then tasted your slick. “It’s that good? I’ve waited so long. Held back and let you have your way. You’ll let me have you, mhm? Been good, angel. The least you can do is return the favor…” A silent gasp was what Rindou earned when he tapped the head of his cock against your pussy folds, rubbing his length on the damp flesh. Slowly, he entered you.

“A-are you gonna—ah!” You were sure he was going to tear you apart. It stung as the girth of his cock stroked your tight muscles, molding its shape there. Rindou took a few seconds to get accustomed to the way your pussy enveloped his dick, hissing under his breath at how heavenly you felt. And now that he has finally held you, Haitani Rindou was damn sure he has found his mate. Now, he will make sure to keep you by his side whether you want to or now. He’ll just have to give you something that will make you reluctant to leave… Or fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk out of this place without him. Maybe getting you pregnant will be the solution to this problem. “Ah, fuck… S’ big. R-rindou!”

“Angel, wanna give you cubs. You’d want that, huh? You want to be mine?”

His thrusts were hard and rough, causing you to moan and squirm. Lust rendered you blind as you took and took what Rindou gave. Time was no longer relevant at this point. All you could remember as he continued to fuck you like a savage beast during the mating season was the way his claws dug into your skin, marking you as his. The place’s layout slowly etched itself into your mind as he made it his mission to fuck you in every area with the endeavor of filling up your womb until all you could feel was his cum running down your thighs. Your breasts and nipples hurt after going through the abuse done by his mouth. Hickeys littered your torso and the skin of your neck. Clit and folds puffy, you couldn’t tell how many times you have squirted. Rindou always patted your head each time before tugging your nipples in a teasing way. The collar still wrapped around your neck jingled along with your breasts, soaked with your sweat and tears.

“R-Rindou! I-I can’t—”

“Yes, you can, angel. You can take more.”

He never gave you a break or a minute to rest and catch your breath. The moment he finished inside you, his balls emptied another load, replacing the cum he spurted into your cunt that dribbled out. Mind all in a mush, you sobbed at the overstimulation. Finally, the hybrid set you down on the couch, panting above you. A puddle of your essence and Rindou’s cum sat around your ass. The furniture wasn’t the only unfortunate victim of its owner’s quest to impregnate you and claim you. Mouth wide open, your eyes were fluttering shut due to exhaustion. Yet even as you stared at Rindou with those tired eyes, he held his cock glazed with both of your fluids right in front of your face in expectancy. The tip was red and super sensitive after hitting your cervix countless times while he fucked your brains out.

“Don’t tap out on me, angel,” he mumbled. Mustering up all your leftover strength, you sat up and licked on the reddish tip, earning a pleased groan. His hand reached forward to brush away the strands of hair from your face then carded his fingers through them. “Good girl. Always remember this, okay? Good kittens should clean up after playing. Good kittens shouldn’t make a mess.”

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zapreportsblog · 1 year

Note

Can I request Carlisle with a black fem vampire reader who became a newborn and it’s almost like she lost her memory when she turned vamp (this is before Bella became a vamp) she tried to attack Bella as soon as she woke up, her abilities include Wanda maximoff’s energy projection attacks, she even tried to attack Emmett for stopping her but then Carlisle said something that got her back?

❝blood cravings❞

✭ pairing : Cullen family x reader x bella swan

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (Y/n) awakes as a freshly turnt vampire and the first thing she wants to do is sink her teeth into the human known as Bella swan, luckily her family is there to hold her back - not without struggle though. And luckily Bella doesn’t hold her accountable for her actions

✭ authors note : look at me getting requests out late at night :) I still have more to go but bare with me

✭ twilight masterlist

In the tranquil home of the Cullen family, nestled deep within the picturesque forests of Forks, lived (Y/n), a young woman who had been adopted by this unique vampire clan when she was just a child. Raised as a human, she had grown up alongside the Cullen children, forming close bonds that transcended the boundaries of blood.

Emmett, the bear-like and jovial member of the family, held a special place in her heart. He had always been there for her, providing guidance, protection, and a shoulder to lean on. To her, he was more than a brother; he was a father figure.

Today was a day that had been looming on the horizon for (Y/n). She had reached her eighteenth birthday, the age at which Carlisle, the patriarch of the Cullen family, had promised to turn her into a vampire. It was a choice she had willingly embraced, drawn to the allure of immortality and the prospect of a new life with her adopted family.

Nervousness coursed through her as she approached Emmett, who was lounging in their living room, a reassuring smile on his face. (Y/n) knew that she could count on him to alleviate her worries.

"Emmett," she began, her voice tinged with anxiety, "can you tell me again about the risks of changing? I want to be sure I'm making the right decision."

Emmett's expression softened as he regarded her. He moved closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulder in a protective embrace. "You know, little sis, there are always risks with transformation. It's a painful process, and there's a chance it might not work out for everyone. But you're strong, (Y/n), and you've got the heart of a lion. I promise I'll be there every step of the way, just like you've always been there for me."

(Y/n) looked into his eyes, finding the reassurance she sought. With a deep breath, she nodded. "Okay, I'm ready now."

Emmett's grin widened, and he leaned down to plant a loving kiss on her forehead. "That's my girl."

With unwavering determination, Emmett used his venom to initiate the transformation, marking the beginning of (Y/n)'s journey into immortal life.

As (Y/n) embarked on her transformation journey, the entire Cullen family rallied around her, offering unwavering support and vigilance. Emmett and Rosalie, who had been her champions from the beginning, were particularly attentive, their protective instincts in full force.

The transformation was a process that spanned three grueling days. It was during this time that the unique abilities of each family member came to the forefront, their collective efforts aimed at making her journey as bearable as possible.

On the first day, Jasper, the empath of the family, was a constant presence by (Y/n)'s side. His ability to sense and manipulate emotions allowed him to understand her pain on an intimate level. He used his gift to create an atmosphere of calm and tranquility around her, easing the emotional turmoil that often accompanied the transformation.

Jasper's soothing presence was like a lifeline for (Y/n) as she slipped into a deep, coma-like state. His calming influence provided her with moments of respite from the searing pain that wracked her body.

Emmett and Rosalie took turns staying with her during the nights, their protective instincts on high alert. They whispered words of encouragement and love, promising her that the pain would be worth the eternal life that awaited her.

During the daylight hours, the rest of the Cullen family rotated their visits, offering their presence and support. Carlisle, the family patriarch and skilled physician, monitored her physical condition closely, ensuring that her transformation progressed safely.

Edward, Alice, and Esme remained on standby, ready to assist wherever needed. Edward occasionally used his telepathic abilities to communicate with (Y/n) on a subconscious level, reassuring her that she was not alone in this journey.

The dawn of the third day marked a significant moment in (Y/n)'s life—the end of her transformation and the beginning of her existence as an immortal vampire. As she slowly awoke from her coma-like state, her senses sharpened, and she became acutely aware of her surroundings.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing crimson irises that bore the mark of her new nature. But as her vision cleared, (Y/n) felt a peculiar sense of disorientation. Her memories, once vivid and rich, seemed to have evaporated like mist, leaving behind only fragments.

She knew her name—(Y/n). She knew she had been human, but the details of her past were shrouded in a thick fog, and she struggled to grasp them.

Confusion clouded her expression as she gingerly got out of bed and glanced around the room. It was beautifully decorated, but the surroundings felt foreign, devoid of familiarity.

With a mix of curiosity and uncertainty, (Y/n) pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway. To her surprise, she was met by a group of people who appeared to be waiting for her. The Cullen family, whose faces should have been etched in her memory, were strangers to her now.

Edward, Alice, Esme, and the others greeted her warmly, expressions filled with anticipation. But among them was a face she didn't recognize—a human girl named Bella Swan, who had been determined to be there when her best friend woke up as a newborn vampire.

As Bella approached (Y/n) with a friendly smile, (Y/n)'s heightened senses went into overdrive. The scent of Bella's human blood was overwhelming, and the rhythmic beat of her heart echoed loudly in (Y/n)'s ears.

In that fateful moment, (Y/n)'s calm demeanor shattered, and a predatory instinct she couldn't control took over. With a snarl, she lunged toward Bella, her eyes filled with hunger and her fangs bared.

The room erupted into chaos as (Y/n) lunged toward Bella with predatory intent, her newborn instincts overriding her sense of reason. It was a harrowing sight, with the Cullens moving swiftly to intercept her, but she was fueled by an uncontrollable hunger.

Emmett, using his immense strength, bore the brunt of (Y/n)'s attack, his grip unyielding as he attempted to restrain her. (Y/n) fought with a fervor that defied her size, her energy projection ability causing flashes of destructive energy to burst from her, creating chaos in the room.

Jasper, with his empathic abilities, attempted to calm her turbulent emotions, but (Y/n) resisted his influence. Her confusion and aggression were too overwhelming, causing her to lash out at anyone who stood in her way.

Carlisle swiftly made a decision to protect Bella, realizing that (Y/n)'s fixation on her presented a grave danger. He turned to Edward, the fastest of them all, and instructed him to take Bella out of the room to safety.

Edward, his protective instincts in overdrive, scooped up Bella and moved at an astonishing speed, exiting the room in the blink of an eye. He knew that he had to ensure Bella's safety above all else.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Emmett continued to grapple with (Y/n), their struggle creating fissures in the walls and shattering objects around them. It was a battle of strength, with Emmett doing all he could to restrain her.

Jasper, determined to help, focused his empathic abilities to their fullest extent, channeling a calming aura towards (Y/n). The air around her seemed to shift as he forced her to experience a moment of serenity.

Gradually, the wild intensity in (Y/n)'s crimson eyes began to wane. The destructive energy she projected subsided, and she started to relax, the chaotic storm within her slowly abating.

Still, the Cullens maintained their hold on her, unwilling to take any chances. Carlisle, the voice of reason amidst the turmoil, addressed his family with a calm but authoritative tone.

"This is normal behavior for a newborn," he explained. "Sometimes their memories are wiped during the transformation. As long as we are patient and supportive, (Y/n) will come to remember us and her past. We must remain vigilant and ensure her safety during this crucial time."

With (Y/n) finally subdued, they continued to keep her pinned down, aware that the path to her full integration into their family would require time, patience, and unwavering support.

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glittering-moonlillie · 2 years

Text

Rough Sketches (Damian Wayne x Artist! Reader)

Word Count: 2662

Warnings: Very suggestive, mild language

Summary: You knew all along that it was a bad idea to bring that dreaded sketchbook to his house, so why were you surprised to find out that things, indeed, went wrong.

The sounds of your 2B pencil hitting the smooth, white paper filled the silence of the wolf gray room. You started with a circle which, with a few more lines, easily transformed into a diamond shaped face. Next was the pointed nose along with the ears and neck, all of which were drawn with masterful precision.

The eyes were always your favorite to draw; they were a deep and lively forest shade that made you melt whenever they came into contact with your own. In this drawing specifically, his eyes were half lidded and showing only a sliver of green, his lips etched into a seductive smirk.

After a few more minutes, you were able to look down at the image of your boyfriend, Damian - shirtless, toned, and looking like he might chain you to his bed if you gave your consent. You held the notebook close to your chest and squealed, face tinted with both embarrassment and ardor.

You were an artist at heart, something that you and Damian bonded over the moment you two met. While Damian drew more realistically, focusing on actual details rather than abstracts, you preferred a more characterized style that personified a person’s personality. It lies between realism and cartoonism. People were always your favorite things to draw. There was always something satisfying about being able to perfectly capture a person with simple lines and colors.

Over the time span of knowing one another, he quickly became your muse, the person you wanted to practice drawing over and over, and as your feelings for him increased so did your desire to get every single detail of him correctly. This desire continued the day he asked you to be his beloved girlfriend.

Innocent drawings of his sharp eyes and cheshire smile morphed into something more risque, something dirtier. There were an array of pages with nothing but a shirtless Damian solely based on your secret desire for him to dominate you.

For that reason, the small art collection was hidden away under the folds of your bed, only taken out during the darkest of nights when you got lonely enough. You were too embarrassed to ever reveal them in the light of day, and you were sure you would die if Damian ever uncovered the sketchbook. If Damian ever did see how perverted you really were, he would undoubtedly break up with you. After a string of terrible breakups, you weren’t sure if you could handle another, especially with the son Bruce Wayne.

So it was a wonder why you left the sketchbook in your small night bag while you got ready to stay over at his house. It was a lapse of judgment, really, a small misstep that would certainly lead to disaster if you weren’t careful enough. And yet, there was a strong guiding force that compelled you to take it out and start doodling. After all, Damian was out on patrol and he said he would be back at 11:15 precisely. It was only 10:30 now, you had time to indulge in mindless fantasy, right?

Your eyes traveled back down to your newest sketch, your brain trying to decide on whether or not you were disgusted with yourself or if you should be pleased. The drawing itself seemed alright, the anatomy was near perfect but the actual content…well…It felt sinful, like drinking too much bubbly soda that left a deep hole in your stomach and spoiled your dinner.

As you glared down at your own creation, surgically dissecting the morality of drawing your boyfriend as often as you did (along with the few lude ones) when the window towards the front left of the room began to slide open. You could only watch like a deer in the scrutinizing gaze of a car’s headlights as Damian pulled himself through the small opening.

“Beloved, I’m home.” He said, an unusual goofy smile plastered on his face. “Dick let me come home early and so I was able to pick up some food for us.”

Any profanity that you had been taught up till now was used at this exact moment to curse anything and everything: Your luck, the cruel gods, Dick Grayson, and most of all, yourself. You should have thrown the sketchbook into the fireplace in the living room once you realized you brought it - or, even better, you should have never created it in the first place.

You shoved the indecent drawings underneath the dark green sheets. “T-that’s…wonderful…” You sighed, breath shaky. Any slight oddity in your behavior could lead to Damian’s detective skills to be triggered. “Welcome home, my love!”

You stared at him, doing your best to imitate a calm and collected smile. Damian stared back, grin slowly shifting into something more curious. He took off his mask, tossing it onto his (frustratingly) organized mahogany desk and took a few steps closer to the bed. The food was left on the desk as well, the enticing aroma wafting over and tickling your nose.

“Wh-what’s up?” You laughed half heartedly, voice trailing off as soon as the laughter escaped your throat. Did he have to tower over you like this - like a cat about to pounce on his prey?

“Nothing. I think…I think I just like the idea of coming home to you on my bed like this.” He plopped down onto the bed next to you, part of his darkened cape folding onto your legs. “That and you are acting quite peculiar.”

Lord almighty.

“O-Oh? I am?” You asked, squirming towards the sketchbook, praying to any demon that would hear you that he would not notice its presence. Your hands crawled towards the book until it covered the huge DAMIAN WAYNE, MY BELOVED label attached to the front.

Despite your pleas, it seemed that fate had something else hidden up its mischievous sleeves.

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he scanned your movements until they landed on the haphazardly partially covered book. “Ah, you were drawing. I have never seen that cover before, can I look at it?”

Every nerve in your body seemed to be doused in gasoline fluid, only for him to kindly light a match and toss it, making everything burn inside and out. The blazing sensation rose to your cheeks and clogged your throat until it burned. Damian’s eyes continued to pierce straight through your soul and you realized the longer you took to respond, the more skeptical he will become.

“Sketchbook? Right, yes, I was drawing while waiting for you to get home. Totally normal, totally fine, not something you would really be interested in.” With hasty hands, you pulled the pad close to your chest carefully so as to not expose the embarrassing label, your arms acting like a steel gate protecting glinting jewels from tempted dragons.

His lips quirked into a frown and he, with minimal effort, raised a singular eyebrow. “That’s nonsense, Habibti. I always love seeing your art.”

“I-I really don’t think you would want to see it. I mean, the sketches are really rough and it might melt your eyes off and your eyes are too pretty to be melted.” You exclaimed.

Damian’s nose scrunched and it was at this moment you realized he did not believe you in the slightest. Unaffected by your behavior though, Damian reached for the coveted drawings swiftly, forcing you to jump off the bed and backpedal to the center of the room.

“Beloved, this is nonsense. Why can’t I see your drawings?” Like a panther, Damian stalked his way towards you slowly yet purposefully.

“Because!”

“Because…?”

He stepped closer, making him an arm’s reach away. Close enough to feel the irritation building up inside him.

“Because I…” You drawed out the vowel. “I want to keep it private..?” It was a lie and you both knew it. Sharing art together was one of your guys’ main forms of quality time and you have never turned down the opportunity to do so. It was a quiet intimacy that allowed the other to see how you viewed the world and there was nothing you loved more.

There was a brief pause, echoing silence filling the room as the two of you engaged in an intense staring contest. It was at that moment, the second Damian’s lips twitched into a tenuous smirk, that you realized you began a competition you already lost. “Forgive me for this, alright Beloved?”

Damian extended his arm and attempted to grab the sketchbook again, resulting in the most terrifying game of tug of war you had ever participated in. Every centimeter of leverage you gained, Damian was there to pull back another 5 inches. You did your best to pull the drawings out of your boyfriend’s grasp but there was no way you could win in a tugging match with one of Gotham’s strongest protectors.

With one harsh tug, you ended up falling on the carpeted floor of the room, hands empty. Damian’s frame towered over you, one hand trapping you under him and the other holding the sketchbook in his hands. A dangerous smile was plastered on his face.

He pulled away, resting some of his weight on your lower abdomen and rendering you immobile. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but feel a certain way with Damian on top of you like this. His smirks were always rugged and somewhat sinister in tone, but now, with him on top of you, it felt like electricity shooting through your body and down between your thighs.

He scanned the front of the small binder and chuckled upon seeing the cover. “I see why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, I suppose. A sketchbook with nothing but me? Habibti, I’m flattered.”

You writhed, you pleaded, you begged - but Damian, with a small hum, began to flip through the pages. He would do anything to inflate his already bolstering confidence. With each flip, you counted down the remaining seconds you had of being his girlfriend. Seconds felt like an epoch and worse, you were powerless to do anything.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, Habibti, these are wonderf-”

Damian’s voice waned as he flipped the next page; you could feel the pressure of his body settling, juxtaposed with his slight gaping mouth, curious eyes, and red tinted ears. Another shiver danced along your spine, like a ghost's touch, as he connected his eyes with yours. The intense green pigment left you feeling dizzy yet paralyzed with need, forcing you to close your eyes lest you might fall for him deeper.

You waited for him to say something, anything, but all he could do was stare. The only comforting noise was the slight ringing in your ears from the loud silence.

“I knew you would think I was disgusting…” You muttered.

Damian shook his head, eyes crinkling from the accusation.“What? No no…it’s not that, beloved. This isn’t disgusting in the slightest.” He said. “I was just a little surprised, my love.”

With a sigh, Damian pulled your dazed form into his arms and picked you up, carrying you back to the bed and laying you down on the covers. He pressed his lips to your temple delicately. “I want to show you something.”

He inched away with a whispered laugh. Damian lowered himself to the ground and pulled out what seemed to be a hidden box of drawing supplies and papers.

“I wanted to show you this for a while, Habibti but a part of me was unsure how you would react.” He tugged out a similar looking sketchbook to yours. The cover was scuffed and darkened with age and each paper spilled out, begging for release. Damian stood back up and lightly kicked the box into place under the bed.

Damian’s hand slipped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. He held the mess of papers in front of you and as he pressed loving kisses along your exposed neck, he murmured a soft “Look through it.”

You hesitantly opened the cover and the first image you see is a beautiful picture of you drawn with the loving intricacy of a photograph. Splashes of your favorite color decorated the outline of the portrait and you could discern the collar of the outfit Damian loved to see you wear. The next few pages were all similar to the first with the same picturesque quality; every portrait featured you smiling, flaws and all.

Damian’s arms wrapped around you tighter, trapping you against him. You could feel his heartbeat matching yours, thumping against your back. His fingers played with your hair, twirling it into delicate curls. The way you were positioned, Damian’s thigh was directly in between your own, and you hated the urge you had to start rubbing yourself against him.

As you flipped the next page, your vision is suddenly filled with drawings of you clothless, sprawled out and blushing. Damian had never seen you naked and yet every curve felt like looking in a silver lined mirror. Your breathing hitched.

“I think you have the most gorgeous body in the world,” He said, “I’ve always wanted to worship your body fully but I wasn’t sure if you wanted that or not…”

His finger trailed down your neck to the opening of your shirt, leaving a fiery trail of butterflies in its wake and teasingly playing with the buttons. “I didn’t realize you needed me this badly, Beloved…” He whispered in your ear.

“D-Damian…”

You shifted around, body suddenly searching - yearning - for something, but you weren’t sure what. It was an exuberant, even wanton, anticipation; a breathless pining that consumed every ounce of your being until your mind became clouded with need. Any previous inhibition you had quickly drifted away.

There was some more shuffling of papers and yet another soft chuckle emanated. “Darling, if you wanted to know how big I was, you could have just asked.”

He held up another picture from your sketchbook, one where you attempted to draw a fully nude picture of Damian that ended up being scrapped, the only remnant being the question How big even is he? 5, 6 inches maybe?

Instead of being embarrassed by this though, the comment only furthered your lack of restraint, and you had to slowly rock yourself back and forth against Damian’s thigh to assuage the increasingly empty pit deep within you. Damian’s lips pressed against your neck once more, surely leaving marks to remember in the morning.

A small whimper escaped your mouth, his hands wandering up further until they palmed your chest. You allowed yourself to move just a bit faster, only for Damian’s hands to trail back down and tightly grab your hips, forcing you to remain still.

“Damian, what the hell!” You whined.

“Patience, my love. If you want me to fuck you then you have to calm down, alright?” He turned you around so that you were now face to face and kissed you gently. “This is our first time after all, I want to do it right.”

He continued to press tortuous open-mouthed kisses down your body, unbuttoning your blouse along the way. “You are so beautiful…” He murmured against your skin.

Your back arched from the hint of pleasure feasting your body, picking away at every last bit of sanity until nothing remained. The comfortable clothes you wore suddenly felt too tight and restricting to breathe.

He pushed you onto the bed so your back was flush against the covers, his frame looming over you, and from the tent of his black pants, you could tell that your estimation of five to six inches was far off.

“Damian…I need you…” You panted. “Please”

“And you will have me, Y/n.” He assured, the loving smile he only showed you in full view. “But for right now, I just want you to stay still and be good for me, alright?”

So as some of you may seen, I don't have as much experience with writing heavy spicy stuff, so I know that this is probably really bad. But! That's okay! Because one day I am going to look back at cringe, and that will just be a sign of my improvement! Also, I wasn't sure how to end it so...uh...OPEN ENDING-

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Al Ghul #Suggestive #Damian Wayne x Y/n #DC #Comics #Romance #Fluff #Damian Wayne x Artist! Reader #Requested!

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aratedfreyjablog · 6 months

Text

A Talk about OG!Gamigin including Theory!

PB why are you likes this!!! Why do you have to pull my heart strings and make me like a character to the point I'd be willing to throw everything, only to off them!!!

Seriously, I'll be willing to throw all my resources for OG!Gamigin or even beg PB for him to either get revived in the story or have his own card so I can see him co-parent our drago!Gamigin and Jjok with Lucifer!!!

*Spoilers for Gamigin's comic under cut

Look at this guy! OG!Gamigin went from looking like this:

To this:

In a span of a single week from pouring his life force to save drago!Gamigin!!!

Literally, giving his all with his thoughts behind his action summing up as finally being able to make his life worth it by being able to save someone from the horrendous war. And that's regardless of race as he willingly gives everything for a dragon he finds injured in a forest.

The comic truly is tragic as it's obvious drago!Gamigin held affectionate sentiment towards OG!Gamigin, not only because, like Lucifer, he saved his life. But it seems like he and OG!Gamigin were able to forge a strong bond where drago!Gamigin goes as far as to swallow OG!Gamigin to prevent him from completely disappearing while making it his goal to fulfill everything OG!Gamigin ever wanted to do.

Drago!Gamigin also refers to OG!Gamigin as his friend in his lobby voiceline, where it seemed that it was OG!Gamigin who used to sing to the jingle of drago!Gamigin's staff.

In addition to all of this and disregarding my biasness towards him, I genuinely would like to see OG!Gamigin in the future content as both drago!Gamigin's voice line and comic emphasize on "disappearance" rather than simply dying. This makes is plausible that there's a possibility OG!Gamigin can be revived/brought back as to existing separated from drago!Gamigin. Unless, PB was just trying to sugar-coat things which would devastate me more than anything else now.

There's also questions on the concept of giving one's life to another being since while receiving OG!Gamigin's life and taking up his existence, drago!Gamigin is able to hear all of OG!Gamigin's thoughts and receive all of his desires. So, on top of taking a demon's existence and becoming said being, it's unclear who's powers these phenomenon belongs to - OG!Gamigin's or drago!Gamigin's.

Another set of questions relates to the whole timeline of Hell's development many of us are trying to find out (e.g., how did demons came to be, who is Hell's first king, who's the actual oldest demon in Hell, etc.). It's obvious OG!Gamigin had been living in Hell longer and perhaps may be older than some of the other 72 demons though to what existent is unknown.

Either way, it's safe to say OG!Gamigin can be added to the list of characters that is probably interlocked with the main lore of WHB and PB's general lore as a whole (looking at Astaroth and not forgetting his line about how it's not bad to fall from grace + Buer's contract with an Inugami).

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb gamigin #maple ramble

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sonic-fankid-showdown · 3 months

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Poll 14, Round 1.

About Ari: (by @pokeypoqi) Ari is the single daughter of Silver the Hedgehog and Amy Rose, she lives a pretty normal life besides some abnormal inheritances (cough cough, Silver's telekinesis) and, well... I mean, having your dad be from the future is kinda rough. Anywho, despite outbursts few and far between, Ari is a gentle spirit at her very core. She tends to be quiet and reserved, but has her mother's compassion and love for the world, and finds a lot of enjoyment in the little things. Her mastery over her telekinetic abilities is... well, acceptable; she has the basics down, really, which tends to allow it to get out of control when backed up by strong emotions, sudden imbalances, etc. Ari's a good kid, but she definitely has SOME repressed grudges against not having a very "normal" family, and being quite isolated in her earlier years. (Note: Yet to make other fankids (besides Wafer, if anyone remembers her) to go with Ari, so hopefully she will get some friends her age EVENTUALLY lol)

About Aster: (by @sushirolledghost) Aster is a lost Echidna puggle (scientific term), who lived in the forest for a good long portion of their life. They have a short attention span, easily being distracted fr anything they’re doing. They can run pretty fast, roll, and do Knuckles’ flying maneuver.Tails found them and Aster just stood with them, Knuckles realized they were an Echidna and started teaching them about the culture. Aster was confused but happy to be included.

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craftersarthoard · 27 days

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Leshy! In The Order of Light! Written in Aegis' perspective. Here is the typed out version v Leshy Est. Age: 5,200 Years old Aliases: The Great Wyrm, Chaos, He of Havoc Race: Wyrmfolk/Lindwurm Home Region: Darkwood Forest Occupation: Bishop of Chaos (prior felling), lead gardener and Disciple of Light (post resurrection) Personality Traits: VERY prideful, inquisitive, distrustful (at first), extremely adaptable.

(Bishop Form - 13ft. tall not counting antlers or crown) Belly plates are as strong as ironwood and span from his chest all the way down the tail. (The plates are no longer as strong after felling, they now feel similar to that of tough snake skin) Wears seed pods that tames his fluffy tail but they also contain many unknown seeds. He can rattle these seed pods when enraged or even happy. Tail plumes are preened often Lindwurm (Eldritch) The sheer size of this form is not done justice here, from head to tail he's almost too long for his own temple courtyard. -Eyes manifested are not real though they may have granted temporary sight. -Acrid spit and black ichor make bites even more lethal! (damaged belly plate?) -VERY resistant hide! Cannot pierce! Follower of The Order of Light (this form is only about 7ft tall) After being brought into The Order of Light, it took him all but 30 years for him to slowly trust us and by his 90th year here, he finally became comfortable enough to socialize with us and now almost 200 years later he's become quite the joy of us all. And might I say by far the most loyal friend one could ask for. From hatchlings to elders, we can't imagine the Order without him... our gardens have never looked more beautiful.

#cult of the lamb #digital art #digital drawing #digital illustration #digital painting #cult of the lamb fanart #doodle #artists on tumblr #photoshop #art process #leshy cotl #cult of the lamb leshy #cotl leshy #leshy #cotl the lamb #bishop leshy #Order of Light au #The Order of Light

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theresattrpgforthat · 8 months

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Hello,

I apologize in advance if you've already answered something like this but my cursory look didn't show anything. I am looking for a game system that has an emphasis on the feeling of a wild west movie while still retaining general fantasy elements from DND. The wild spaces are slowly becoming tamed, increasing technological/magical advancement are pushing disparate communities together, and of course cocky assholes with guns (or a magical equivalent).

Thanks in advance

Theme: Wild West Fantasy

Hello friend, you might want to check out my Fantasy Westerns rec post, to see if anything there fits what you’re looking for. I especially recommend checking out the rec for We Deal In Lead and Clink. For the rest of this post, I try to span a very broad range, so I don't expect everything to stick - but perhaps one or two do!

Inevitable, by Soul Muppet Publishing.

Knights and wizards have defended the Kingdom of Myth for centuries. These lands have known peace and prosperity, but soon the kingdom shall be destroyed. The Prophets have declared that your city shall burn and Myth will fall. All those who follow your King shall die. It is INEVITABLE.

But you shall defy fate. Myth will not end while you bear arms. You will fail, but as long as there are still stories, they will sing of you!

Inevitable is a Arthurian Western roleplaying game for 2-6 players and a GM, where your party of disastrously sad cowboy knights fail to stop the apocalypse. This 284 page book contains all the rules, character creation and the setting for your campaign, thoroughly and evocatively detailing The Barren, the lands surrounding the Kingdom of Myth.

This game might be way you’re looking for: it describes itself as a fantasy kingdom, with western aesthetics. There are wizards, prophets, and rune-carved revolvers. Your reputation in the kingdom is important; it determines how well you can face challenges, and roll pools of d6 on a table of staggered success. If you want a taste before you buy, there’s a Quickstart with some evocative set pieces, a quick overview of the rules, and a quick adventure to run through with a list of pre-generated characters.

Far West, by Adamant Entertainment.

Imagine a fantasy setting that shatters the tropes of Medieval Europe. Imagine a collision of Spaghetti Westerns and Chinese Wuxia by way of Steampunk. Imagine a world where gunslingers and kung fu masters face off against Steam Barons and the August Throne. Imagine fantastic machines powered by the furies comprising the fabric of the universe. Imagine an endless frontier where wandering heroes fight for righteous causes while secret societies engage in shadow wars. Imagine…

This game is a combination of Wild Western tropes and Wuxia fantasy. Your characters are wandering heroes, defending the small and helpless against the strong and powerful. I look at this game and I think of movies like The Magnificent Seven. Mechanically, it’s its own system, but it draws heavily from Fate, using positive and negative aspects to boost rolls and spark complications.This game relies on some tropes that require entire table buy-in: I’m not sure how many assumptions the game makes about the cultures it takes inspiration from.

Holler: An Appalachian Apocalypse (Savage Worlds), by Pinnacle Entertainment.

In Holler, the mysterious “Big Boys” own the mines, mills, and logging operations. They rule over every aspect of their workers’ lives—subjecting them to extraordinary dangers on the job and crushing oppression outside of it. The Big Boys have transformed the land of the Holler—rivers bubble with strange chemicals, strip-mined mountains crumble into valleys, and the air is choked with a toxic fog known as the Blight. The flora and fauna of the Holler grow more monstrous by the day. Demons of every description lurk in the forests. Mutant cryptids haunt villages with their strange cries and appetites. Vengeful haints leer from abandoned shacks and lonely cliffs. No one is coming to save the people of Holler.

The goal of the resistance is to build a coalition, to bring together diverse factions—humble workers, roustabouts, mountain men, dirt track racers, cultists, and even strange creatures of myth and legend to raze the works of the Big Boys and drive them from the Holler forever. Holler draws deeply on Appalachian history, mythic folklore, and culture to create a dark fantasy world of apocalypse and vengeance.

This sounds a little more grim and gritty, with cryptids, toxic fog and demons lurking in the forest. It uses the Savage Worlds system, so you’ll have to pick up the codebook to play with it, but the setting is very very fleshed out. This is a little less Wild West and a little more Appalachia, and the setting is a bit more on the horror side than most of the other games on this list, but there’s certainly a lot of wildness out there for you to fight!

TROUPE, by TheOriginalCockatrice.

A game about travel, discovery, and outsiderness, a combination of the best of Old-School and Story Games. Complete with 6 Jobs, including the Ghelf, the Hedge, and the Ogra, and includes a system for holistically coming up with a character from scratch.

The designer describes this game as an exploration of the road; the odd and unknown of the wild, what it means to belong, and what it means to be on the outside. You’re not heroes - you’re entertainers, jokers, healers and bards. There isn’t exactly magic, but there is myth and legend. This is a great game for folks who want plenty of challenges that exist outside of combat. Each character playbook comes with a balance of mechanical elements and descriptive options, and you’ll be rolling 2d6 plus your stat in order to determine success.

I’m not sure how much of a Western this is, but the designer actually hacked this game for BXLLET, a game about gunslingers in the apocalypse, in the zine Bxllet Clip, so it might be worth checking out!

Shotguns & Sorcery, by Full Moon Enterprises.

Welcome to Dragon City, a grim, gritty metropolis ruled over by the Dragon Emperor, with legions of zombies scratching at the city walls by night.

Whether in the streets of Goblintown or the prestigious halls of the Academy of Arcane Apprenticeship, people try to scrape by, make a living, and survive from one day to the next. You, however, are looking for something more than simple survival. And in this city, if you don’t make your own adventure, another adventure is sure to find you.

Shotguns & Sorcery is a fantasy noir game complete with Dragon City Intrigues, roving hoards of undead, and unexplored mountains rife with magical creatures. You’ll see magical staffs alongside light pistols, bows alongside submachine guns, and greatswords alongside canteens, playing cards and a camp stove. The game uses the Cypher System, with an additional character option alongside the three-part character sentence: your race. This includes the signature hafling, elf, dwarf etc.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Knights of the Road, by bordercholly.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #fantasy #western

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oneknightstand-if · 10 months

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Say deep into the romance(the notorious L word has been said and everything), how protective of the MC's are the RO's? And how would they handle losing the MC(i,e the MC died in the final battle/sacrificed themselves to win the day or something angsty like that)?

Well, a bunch of the ROs will already be trying to protect the MC as much as they can even before any romance, so there's not too much room to improve there. Also high affinity platonic bond can trigger this as much as any romance.

Merlin: Already the resident bodyguard/babysitter/cat-herder of the group. May give the MC a bit more attention when the group is in danger... but they're already watching over you. They'd perhaps feel more regret if they had to cut the MC loose.

For them, MC's death is... expected. Human lives are so ephemeral, after all. They'll always remember you... even thousands of years later and will bring the MC up in random conversations to random people. Probably MC's most embarrassing moments. For anyone paying attention & talking extensively to them in the game, Merlin already has repeatedly brought up their last longterm lover.

Biggest change here would be Merlin nearly killing themself to make certain that the MC's soul doesn't get dragged to Heaven or Hell. That's the fate that they'd find horrific for a loved one, not the natural death expected of all mortals.

Adrian: He's already potentially carrying the MC away from danger through half the city whether they like it or not so there's no room for Adrian to get more protective without going full yandere on you.

If the high affinity MC is dead, then Adrian is also most likely dead as well. He's the most ride or DIE of all the ROs and this already has implications if you go through the route where the MC refuses to leave their apartment and gets kidnapped by Merlin and Adrian.

Arthur: Due to his nature, he's already MAXIMUM THE PROTECTOR. He may be paying a bit more attention to you during times of danger, but he's already protecting you to his full capability and won't be acting any differently... after all, he's the High King and can't prioritize your safety over all others.

The same goes for the MC's death. The Post Apocalypse is still going to be a complete clusterfuck so he won't have time to stop and grieve. (The same as he won't have time to stop and grieve the fall of Camelot and the deaths of most of the people he knew because unlike the other Harbingers who reincarnated or who actually lived through the 1500 years span of time, to him Camelot fell last week.)

He'll create a suitable memorial customized exactly to the MC's tastes once things have calmed down. And Merlin will sneak over to comfort him, because Merlin's one of the few who can see past Arthur's strong front.

Percy: He's going to be hanging around a high affinity MC a lot, romanced or not. You're probably not going to notice much difference protection-wise as he's the sort who'd jump in to help you without a moment's notice even if he didn't like you.

At the MC's death, he'd probably disappear into a forest for several weeks without anyone being able to find him. He'll eventually return to the group though because he knows that he's needed. The MC would've been his first romantic love... and most probably will be his last as well.

4̷0̸4̸ ̷E̷r̷r̵o̴r̵ ̶N̶o̴t̷ ̴F̵o̸u̵n̶d̵: [SPOILERS]

Cassandra: She's a cop, so she's already keeping a protective eye out on the entire group as a whole. She'll be making extra special precautions for a high affinity MC. (This is probably one of the safest positions to have during the Apocalypse... as long as the MC behaves themselves).

Cassandra has some pretty traumatic stuff in her background, so this won't be the first lover she's lost. Her reaction will also depend on how you went... in an awesome blaze of glory (she'll build a statue for you) or something painfully drawn out & full of regret (heads will roll).

Vivian: Uh... you are probably going to need to have a 'discussion' with Vivian regarding her protectiveness. It can get a bit overwhelming at times. Like Merlin, she is well aware of the inherent ephemeral nature of a mortal.

So wouldn't it be better if she just 'took care' of all those people who approach you, just in case they turned out to be dangerous? And actually, why don't you stay with her at the bottom of the lake from now on? All the time. That would be very safe.

Otherwise, whatever killed the MC better hope it's already dead before Vivian gets at them.

Gwen: She's more the type that people protect than the type who protects people. The support from the background type. But you get close enough, that will not stop her at all and she will absolutely try to protect you to the best of her ability. Like right up there in the frontlines. You both may need to end up saving each other in that case.

About the MC's death... it's fine. It's fine. You've already died and reincarnated once. It can happen again. She'll be waiting for you. Eternally if necessary.

Lorelei: She'll already be highly protective of certain types of MCs (romanced or otherwise). Unlike some of the others, there'll actually be a noticeable change in her demeanor.

She's not the type to ever abandon someone in danger, but she will absolutely prioritize a romanced or high affinity MC over others. To the point where highly skilled fighter MCs may need to tell her to take a step back because she's jumping in even when it would be better that she did her own thing.

Will be quietly having a BSOD upon the MC's death (which she' ll blame entirely on her failing to protect and be there for the MC at the last moment). She'll eventually come back to the group as the icy version of Wrath, barely interacting with others while still carrying out her duties. (The other Harbingers are going to really have their work cut out for them there.)

Broderick: Another one who's demeanor will change after getting close to him... especially after what happens in his subplot. He'll be constantly protectively hovering over high affinity MC. But just during the dangerous times. (Which is actually all the time.) The MC will probably need to work through a few issues with him.

He'll be completely gutted by the MC's death and not really functional for quite awhile after that point. Definitely a changed man (and not for the better). It might take years for him to recover.

#Having so many Dead Ends in the game means I've already basically ironed out how the others would react #At least in the way they present themselves throughout the first book #oks-asks #oks-ROs

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦Soldier, Poet, King, Lord. ✦

(I had this idea for awhile as a little blurb. I could draw it, but I don’t have the patience. I wrote this with a headache so it’s not great but I hope you’ll be okay with it anyway) ✧Blurb, GN!reader, They/Them used, no Y/N, random callsign✧

Gaz lifted his head as he entered the common area, listening to some faint singing and some even quieter music. He leaned in carefully and looked around, eyes falling on his teammate. Their sniper, having joined the task force months prior. They had proved themselves quite capable and likable in a short span of time. Kind, strong willed, gently spoken and a good listener. Captain liked that most about them. Johnny liked their creativity, often sharing doodles and ideas for tattoos. Simon…well, he was an enigma, but it was safe to say he liked the new member now. Gaz certainly did.

He crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway, watching them make a cup of tea whilst singing to a song on the phone. He realized that he’d heard it before, they often hummed this tune when things felt too quiet. Occasionally, they could be heard quietly mumbling the lyrics when pulling an all-nighter. Johnny gave them a nickname based on it, and eventually tried to brainstorm call signs for the sniper. Throwing ideas back and forth. Lyre, harpy, songbird. The last one stuck around but was too long for a callsign. It was actually Price that landed on one.

Suddenly, the sniper was Siren.

It was certainly fitting, their voice was rather pleasant. Gaz had fallen asleep to it more than once, much to his embarrassment. He smiled as he listened to them pour the tea. He waited for them to set the kettle down before clearing his throat, startling them. “Jesus! Gaz, you prick, you scared the hell out of me.” Siren sighed, resting a hand over their chest, feeling their beating heart. Kyle chuckled and approached while giving an apology, raising his hands. He watched them add a single spoon of sugar, stirring it. “Good timing though, I finished your cup, it’s still warm.”

Gaz took his specific cup from their hand. Siren had insisted everyone had designated mugs, bought some themselves. Gaz was a forest green with a little cartoon owl on it. They insisted it was fitting for him.

“You’re smart, swift, and deceivingly approachable. People won’t see the danger coming. Plus the flying thing…”

He smiled and took it, sipping the beverage. It was coffee, not tea, and perfectly made to his tastes. It always warmed his soul when Siren remembered something so small about him. About all of them. “Thanks, dove. Those three for the rest of’em?” He asked as he motioned to three more cups, all sporting a specific animal. Siren always enjoyed using metaphors and symbols to represent people, a large sign of their creative side.

Ghost’s was black, sporting a cat with an angry expression. “Because he’s an introvert. Stealthy and sneaky, and dangerous.” Soap had received a red squirrel on a deep blue cup, which he’d managed to chip the edge of within a week of having it. “A small and feisty scavenger.” That was all Siren had said to explain it, which made the team laugh at Soap’s offense at the “small” comment. And the orange cup filled with the strongest, most bitter cup of coffee, displayed a fluffy bear. Siren had given it wordlessly, and when John have a questioning look, they moved on. Refusing to elaborate.

“The guys are getting done with sparring. Captain went pretty hard on Ghost & Soap, tea will probably make’em feel better.” Gaz praised. Siren grabbed their phone and paused the song. “I hope so, you all have been working so hard.” They smiled. Kyle waved his hand dismissively as he took another sip of his coffee. “Oh hush.” They laughed in reply. “I mean it! You guys really deserve a break.” This was something the rest of the team also enjoyed about their most recent teammate. The selflessness they showed, trying their best to make everything easier for those around them. It didn’t go unnoticed.

Siren went to speak again before their phone buzzed loudly. Kyle bit back a snicker as they juggled them device a bit from being startled, thankfully, they caught it. “Ah shit! I can’t stay to chat with you guys, the medic needs my help with some soldiers. Just make sure they get their cups before the drinks go cold, yeah?” Kyle reassured them he would and wished them luck, watching them sprint away.

Kyle sat and waited for the other three men to arrive. But as he waited, he finally noticed a closed book on the counter. A sketchbook. He’d seen Siren using it every now and then. He wasn’t intending to snoop, really, he wasn’t even thinking that much when he slid the book over to him. He opened it and scanned the first page, full of random doodles. Most of the pages were random sketches, some of landscapes, some of objects, a few that he recognized as tattoo designs Siren had proudly shown.

It was toward the middle that Gaz found a sketch of himself. A 3/4 profile of his face. He recognized the moment instantly. After a long mission coming back from a safe house in Siberia, they were picked up in a military issued truck. Gaz spent most of the time staring out the window at the rolling hills covered in snow. Kyle set the cup down and rested his chin on his hand, flipping the page. He found more sketches of his teammates. A bust profile of Soap with a large grin. A sketch from the waist up of their Lieutenant with his arms crossed. Kyle snorted at the drawing of Price, drawn in his typical ‘dad pose’, where he’d lean back and cross his arms.

Siren seemed to draw a lot of inspiration from their team and their life in combat. It was rather flattering, in all honesty. Kyle was so focused he almost missed the sounds of Soap, Ghost, and Price entering the common room. John was first to spot the cups on the counter, gunning for his. “Siren make these?” He asked before taking a drink, Kyle nodded. “What’cha lookin’ at, mate?” Soap asked as he sat beside the pilot, awkwardly stretching to grab his own mug. Simon grabbed his own, but he didn’t remove his mask to drink it, even if they had seen his face before.

“Siren left their sketchbook. Look, they’ve drawn us.” Kyle turned the book to show a page full of doodles of their faces. “Wow…” Soap said softly. “Certainly make my beard look better than it really is.” John complimented. Ghost tilted his head to better look at the pencil marks, gaze softening as he scanned the page. Soap reached for the book and turned the page. These set of drawings were different, and it caught the team’s eye particularly. “That’s Simon and I, yeah? Look like we walked outta fantasy show.” Soap commented as he looked closer. These drawings were more stylized. Johnny & Simon drawn in fantastical clothes and armor. The next page was the designs again, but this time with more movement. Showing both men back to back, Ghost with a sword, Soap with a molotov set ready to throw. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Johnny laughed. Gaz narrowed his gaze at the text on the page, carefully written in swirly handwriting.

“There will come a soldier who carried a mighty sword…” A familiar line situated by Simon’s head.

“He will tear your city down. Oh lei, oh lai, oh lord…” The line finished by Soap.

Kyle blinked and tapped the words. “These words, it’s the lyrics to that song they sing all the time!” He stated. It seemed to jog the memory of the rest of them. Price chuckled and looked at Soap & Ghost with a grin. “Suppose you’re the soldiers then. Soap’s certainly torn down some cities.” He commented. Kyle turned the page again and found himself once more, donning medieval fantasy clothing. Scrolls littered around him with a quill in hand, a book in the other. He dabbled in creative writing, mostly in high school. Very rarely did he ever share it with anyone however. But when he was stressed, feeling overwhelmed and in need of an outlet, he would write. He remembered being rather embarrassed when Siren accidentally found a poem he’d slapped together after a mission. Though, they weren’t judgmental, they’d been encouraging actually. But he didn’t think they’d truly remember it.

“There will come a poet who’s weapon is his word, he will slay you with his tongue. Oh lei, oh lai, oh lord…”

“Poet huh? You do like your words and metaphors, Gaz.” Simon said. Kyle flipped him off but it was all light hearted. He lingered on the drawing, unable to prevent himself from smiling. John continued to casually drink his coffee, but he wasn’t expecting himself on the next page. Dressed in robes, settled on a throne with a cigar, a crown boldly placed on his skull. With the second page once again showing this design more in depth. Crown fallen on the ground with a sword in hand, graphite smudged meant to express grime and blood. A stern and calculated look on his face.

“There will come a ruler who’s brown is laid in thorn. Smeared with oil like David’s boy, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord…”

It clearly meant a lot to their teammate, what the song represented and the team’s dynamic as a whole. So much so that it inspired them. The sentiment wasn’t lost on the four men either. Hence why Soap stole two pages of their sketchbook to make his own addition, taking suggestions from Ghost, Price, and Gaz as he drew Siren. Going away from the lyrics. They didn’t draw attention to it, making sure to leave the sketchbook in the place Siren had left it. Allowing for the sniper to pick it up before they went to bed. There was very little time to relax between errands, training, and missions. So, naturally, when lights out was called, Siren took out their pencil and book.

Humming their favorite song as they flipped past the pages. Breath catching in their throat. An image of themselves in Johnny’s drawing style, distinct from their own, but mimicking the layout they had. Decorated in flowing cloth and extravagant jewelry. Almost omnipresent. They knew the words weren’t written by Soap, the handwriting was too clean for that.

“There will come the lord, gently made on a battlefield. Oh lei, oh lai, oh love.”

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