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scudevils · 2 months ago

Text

land down under — OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x irwin!reader

warnings: swearing, possibly the most fluff i’ve ever wrote, oscar and lando trying not to embarrass themselves in front of the irwins, i tried to make it as accurate to australia zoo as possible (even watched a walkthrough 😭😭, but alas i’ve never been so nothing is 100%), mutual pining altho no too much because i can’t do that to myself, not proofread!!

synopsis: during a mclaren media appearance, oscar can’t help but find himself interested in the youngest of australia’s royal family [6.4k]

a/n: this came to me after seeing the robert irwin bonds ad, i’m also rusty af i haven’t written since december so bare with me pls. although fun fact i have actually had a corn snake around my neck before so i’m twinning with oscar and lando!

MASTERLIST

an irwin.

that's what you were, the name that you carried, the real australian royal family some would call you, the lasting impact of your dad's legacy was something you took pride in, how he and your mom raised you, robert, and bindi to continue his work after he had passed, the importance of protecting the natural world and the role that we all had to play in the conservation of wildlife.

it was ingrained in you since you were a child, continuing what your grandparents had started with the australia zoo, ensuring the effort to raise awareness and preserve wildlife and their habitat, would not end with them. it would endure generations, their work would be worth it.

whilst robert followed in your father's footsteps, crocs and snakes being his speciality, you preferred the calmer residents at the zoo. since it's opening on your 8th birthday, the african safari exhibit was where you spent most of your time, the unofficial name in honour of you, if you had to choose it was easily your favourite place in the zoo, something so enchanting about it that had you spellbound.

it had been built to recreate the serengeti ecosystem, exhibiting how these species lived in harmony with each other, giraffes, one of your favourites since you were young, zebras and white rhinos, existing how they would in the wild together. further up the exhibit were the cheetahs and across from them the tigers, your favourite of the big cats.

the elephants were your favourite to sit with, captivating to watch, their intelligence that only few were blessed to see up close with their own eyes, how they played with the zookeepers, truly gentle giants.

it was your idea of wonderland.

which was why when you were informed the zoo would be hosting the mclaren f1 team as a media appearance before the upcoming race weekend, there was no doubt in anyone's mind you'd give that portion of the tour, including the koala's and kangaroos experience as those were your areas of expertise.

bindi and robert were more into the sport than yourself, both of them occasionally staying up for races that weren't as unreasonably late, and of course, thrived when it came to the races in your own timezone, but you'd have to have been loving under a rock to not know that the team had an australian driver, it was impossible to escape him during a race week, his face plastered across adverts, despite the race not even taking part in the city.

you hadn't expected how many would show up, obviously you knew it was going to be busy, social media a buzz at the fact two formula 1 drivers were going to be visiting, although the number was easily in the thousands, only to be cordoned off from them anyway by the mclaren crew. that was slightly annoying to you, even if they all weren't there to see the zoo, at least they were buying tickets and would hopefully give them a chance to take a look at the work you were doing.

the camera's were on before you realised, filming the two mclaren drivers walking through the zoo entrance as if they were anybody else, your eyes first spotting the one on the right, whose face you'd seen all over the country the past week, and you couldn't help but think 'cuter in person', his calm demeanour making him appear more approachable than his teammate. they introduced themselves to your mother, bindi and robert, finally landing on you, oscar gave you a warm smile and lando, you'd learned his name was, sporting what you could already tell was going to be his signature cheeky grin.

"okay guys," robert spoke a mix to the two drivers and the camera, "we're so glad to have you here, any place you'd like to go first?" he asked them, a part of him having a feeling he already knew what they were going to say.

whilst the attention wasn't on you, you tried not to stare, really, but you kept catching oscar in your peripheral that it was hard not to, the papaya-coloured top was just so eye-catching, was what you told bindi when she caught you.

"don't know about you osc, but i'm just here for the crocs" lando answered with a short laugh and a smile, not that you were staring (you were totally staring), but you'd caught his teammate rolling his eyes beside him, lando nevertheless looking over roberts shoulder at the map of the zoo, trying to find where the crocodiles were on it.

from the walk to the first exhibit, you quickly learned lando was a people person, and it wasn't just for the cameras, his energy was almost infectious and you were laughing along to his terrible jokes as you walked beside him and oscar, who was definitely more eager to take in what your brother was telling him about the enclosures you were walking past at the moment in time, something about irwin's turtles and the komodo dragons, you'd heard it all before, and really, you should've urged lando to listen.

the sight of the first crocodile seemed to finally be the one thing to shut lando up, as he got out his phone to take pictures, oscar still stood beside you fighting every urge in him to copy his teammate, he had to keep it cool in front of the irwins, nicole had urged him in her text earlier in the morning, sunglasses resting on his head. "he's gorgeous, isn't he."

oscar looked down at you, a look as if you were crazy crossing his features before turning back to the enclosure in front. "you and i have very different definitions of gorgeous."

you smiled at his joke, there was truth to his words, growing up around all the wildlife made you appreciate the beauty they had, even the ones with big sharp teeth. "he jokes! thought your teammate was the only funny one."

he let out an amused scoff, taking a closer look at weipa the crocodile in front of him, tuning back into what your brother was saying to the group about him, how your father had saved him from a croc farm before transporting him here for conservation.

you took the time to appreciate the way the team-coloured shirt complimented his tan, the australian sun can do real damage to some people, but not to him, noticing the moles on his neck and face as he continued listening to robert rambling on. or one of the first times in your life you were glad he could talk for days. his eyes were soft, kind-looking, the type that you could spend hours staring into and never getting bored, the way they crinkle when he laughs was endearing, almost too endearing that you wanted to look away but couldn't. maybe it was creepy how you noticed how his eyebrows knitted together when he focused on what he was being told, occasionally looking back down at weipa to make sure he wasn't going anywhere then back to robert. you were staring. hard.

bindi bumping into your shoulder brought you back to consciousness, finding lando and robert looking back at you for an answer. "sorry what did you say." you could feel the warmth creeping up your neck, your heartbeat thumping in your ear, already thinking how you were going to blame it on the aussie sun when bindi teased you for it later. "right yeah, he's only about 10ft when the males are usually around 13-16ft, a short king." that brought a couple laughs from lando and oscar, and you were thankful to move on to the next enclosure.

the walk was minimal, only a minute or two up the trail and you were already at the next one. "this happy couple is graham and bindi, two more saltwater crocs," robert pointed the two of them out, graham half in the water whilst bindi was up on the banks. "these two were a bit mischievous together, and were brought in as part of management program in the 80s together."

another zookeeper gave you the bucket that you haded to lando, pieces of various bits of meat in it, encouraging him to throw in two bits for them, seeing the way his eyes lit up at the snap of their jaws. "her names' bindi? like your sister?" oscar asked, a light tone to his words, he was so easygoing it made you scared at how someone could be so relaxed in this type of situation unless you'd grown up with it like you all had.

"can't you see the resemblance." that earned a laugh from him, it was so infectious and warm, that you wanted to make him do it more, his eyes crinkling, you couldn't help but join him, not catching the glare bindi was sending you from beside lando, who was too scared to laugh instead it be directed at him.

lando handed the bucket over to oscar who looked back at you, nodding in his direction and he proceeded with caution towards where robert had instructed him, a safe distance away in case anything was to go wrong. "this is the original bindi actually, she's definitely got a personality on her." robert commented as her jaws snapped around the piece that oscar had thrown in. "and this big boy, is the only one who managed to get a piece of one of us, poor wes got bit in the backside."

you couldn't help but wince at his words, the reminder of the danger of your jobs, anything could happen in a split second, no matter how long they were rehabilitated for, they were still wild animals and nothing could break their spirit. "on that happy note, acco?"

robert nodded, taking the bucket from oscar and handing it back over to one of the zookeepers in the back, before leading the way to the last of the crocodiles they were going to see. you felt oscar walking beside you, the warmth radiating off him in the already 25° heat. "do you ever get scared?"

his question caught you off guard, no one had really asked you that before, and if they had it came from the kids during question time than someone like him. "do you?" you redirected the question, and he took a second before answering, before nodding his head, adding a 'sometimes'. "i've been around these animals my entire life, i've been scratched more times than i can count, bitten by a few cubs before, but at the end of the day they're still animals. if i get hurt, it's because i made the mistake, they're just reacting off their instincts." you took a breath, thinking back to the time when you were 11 and you were handling one of the cheetah cubs, young and inexperienced and obviously not reading its body language enough and it took a nip at you, it was sore of course, but it was a learning experience you needed if you wanted to continue working with them. "so yes i get scared, but not of them, of making a mistake that could get myself and them hurt."

"i get that fear too." he admitted, his stride slowing down slightly to match your own when you looked up at him, the brim of your hat obstructing your vision of his face. "i can make the smallest mistake out on track, and it can have severe consequences for not only me, but other drivers."

he wasn't entirely sure the reason he was confiding in you like this, a strange feeling of trust with you despite only meeting, and you felt the same, like you could spill all your secrets and not feel an ounce of regret, but it had to wait as robert interrupted you. "this massive guy is acco, just around 16 and half feet long," looking up at oscar, you were about to say something when you saw how his attention was completely on what your brother was saying, like he was actually trying to learn more about the wildlife and the efforts you were doing there, and that brought a smile to your face.

visiting acco always made you a little emotional, his enclosure being where your father had proposed to your mom, it was always like a little bit of him was there when you went.

"he was a bit of a problem child who had a bad habit of trying to attack people. when my dad tried to catch him actually, he sunk the boat that he was in, but he managed to get him and transport him here where he's been ever since." the two drivers were silent as they watched the crocodile moving around the enclosure, the speed of him despite being such a large animal catching them off guard.

and just as quickly as that part of the tour had started, it was already ending, bindi leading the way towards the reptile house, named after your brother, only a couple minutes away from acco's enclosure. "i hope you're good with snakes." bindi jested, gauging from their reactions that they were most definitely not.

"we're not gonna get anything trying to kill us right?" lando questioned, hoping her response to be the one that he wished for. he wish didn't seem to come true however when bindi just laughed off his question, his eyes wide as he looked back at you and oscar, then to robert behind yous. the camera's picked up on his reaction, and you knew that he knew they did.

"it's australia, everything's trying to kill you."

the lighting inside the reptile house was dark, gloomy, save for the bright blue, sterile lights that lit up each of the vivariums, a placard beneath detailing the species they held inside. "that's a big snake." lando blurted out, his eyes wide as he saw the olive coloured corn snake coiled underneath the heat lamp, the background made out to be the australian outback.

"she's actually one of our shorter snakes," bindi guided them over to the glass, unlocking it with one of the many keys she had attached to her belt, before sliding the glass open. "this is sally, she's super chill, she's even met chris hemsworth."

"she's more famous here than you mate." lando bantered, placing a comforting arm around oscar's shoulders.

"you wanna hold her?" bindi had already started lifting her out before they could reply, careful to support her head body with one hand and her head with the other, a loose grip allowing sally to move around freely in her hands without the chance of falling. "she's very friendly," she commented, admiring the way the snake was coiling around her arm, getting comfortable in its new surroundings.

"promise she won't kill me?"

"she won't kill you, lando," you reassured him, carefully taking sally from your sister's hands and into yours, before you slowly started to drape her around lando's shoulders, telling him not to move so much whilst she got comfortable, you could see the fear in his face disappear as she settled, replaced with a grin as he got oscar to take about 100 pictures of him with her around his shoulders, as if he was in his very own jungle photoshoot.

oscar stayed a couple of feet back, he got out of australia early enough he hadn't developed the nonchalant attitude towards the snakes and spiders that resided in his homeland. "you're insane." he shrugged with a laugh.

you looked back at him, the apprehension clear as day on his face, but behind that you could see he was curious, watching the way his eyes followed the snake as it moved around lando's shoulders. "want to try?" you asked, trying to read him an answer.

for the first time since bindi had brought her out, oscar took his eyes off of the snake, looking at you, an odd feeling of trust in them as he hesitated, finally letting out a breath and nodding his head, taking a step closer to you before stopping. "can you hold her with me? please?"

you remembered the way he'd confessed his fears to you earlier, how vulnerable he'd been with what was a complete stranger before today, and nodded your head, already lifting sally off of lando's shoulder, and carefully settling her across your own and oscar's shoulders, feeling the way his stiffened, as if you could feel his heartbeat racing, you placed a hand on the small off his back, bringing him back to reality as he relaxed, the sensation of the snake around his shoulder being forgotten and replaced by the burn of your hand on his back.

"see, told you it wasn't so bad." you chirped, turning slightly to face him, slow enough you didn't disturb sally, to find oscar looking down at you, breathing steady unlike yours, realising just now how close you were to him, and neither of you were doing anything to change that.

"you're far too persuasive." oscar laughed, shoulders more at ease now, comfortable with the predicament that you were in, even more so when he felt the pressure of sally on his shoulder easing as bindi attentively put her back into her habitat.

"and you're braver than i thought." you teased him, bashfully admiring the way his face lights up when he laughs, the sound captivating, you found yourself absentmindedly smiling at it, both of you falling in the back of the group as bindi took everyone to the next terrarium, the poison dart frogs standing out from the rest of the animals there.

"don't let their good looks fool you, these guys are one of the most poisonous animals around, like most guys." bindi jested, despite being in one of the happiest relationships you'd ever seen, allowing lando and oscar to get a good look at the colourful creatures. "this one is wanda," she pointed out the one closest to the front of the glass, black and red in colour, "and that one is buzz." motioning towards the black and yellow one hiding behind some of the leaves.

they watch the frogs with growing intrigue, "it's crazy how something so small can be so deadly." lando remarks, another frog coming out of hiding, a completely different colour scheme than the other two before it.

"everything plays a part in the ecosystem, that's the beauty of it." you hear robert say, and every day you swear he sounds more and more like your dad.

bindi showed them around a few of the other residents of the reptile house, the different species of lizards and the rest of the snakes weren't ones they could touch, holding too much of a risk, so the tour went rather quickly, oscar and you talking amongst yourselves for the majority of it, a complete 180 as now lando was doing most of the listening. "you're telling me, you had a snake as a pet growing up?" oscar looked at you, raising an eyebrow as if you had any reason to lie to him.

"that is what i'm telling you, my little coco." you reminisced, she was a gift on your 9th birthday, named for her rich chocolate brown colour (you weren't very creative as a child). "she was a little princess."

"a scaly, cold-blooded, princess," he muttered with a laugh, a grin forming on his pink lips. he was enjoying talking to you, getting to know you as well as he could the more as the tour went on.

"she was a cutie."

"freak." he jested, tone light and almost breathless as he shook his head again, you could instantly tell there was no malice intended.

you bumped against his shoulder, a shy smile making its way onto your face, and you almost caught yourself blushing at the proximity, the normality of it all, as if you'd known him longer than a few hours at most.

finally, bindi was finished showing around the reptile house, passing the baton on to you to finish the race. "are you guys ready to see the best part of the zoo?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as lando eagerly answered 'yes', like he was on a school field trip, and your eyes drifted to oscar, rolling his eyes as he nodded with an amused smile.

you were immediately hit by a wall of heat as you left the air-conditioned building, taking a couple of seconds to adjust back to daylight from the dark, mood lighting inside, the air had a faint scent of eucalyptus from how close you were to the koala enclosures, a short walk through the birdhouse and you were there.

the first enclosure you came across was the kangaroo walkthroughs, pointing out the animals lazing under the sun. "he looks like he could knock me out." lando eyed up a particularly buff-looking grey kangaroo who was hanging out in the back of the pack.

"he definitely could." you retorted, grinning at the brits insulted expression as you handed him and oscar the cone full of 'roo feed, stifling a laugh at the way they were instantly flocked around as they stepped inside the pen.

following in after them, you bent down to feed one of the kangaroos that had come over to you, recognising her from her distinct markings. "this little girl is teal, she's a sweetheart who loves her cuddles." as if she was listening to you, she nuzzled against your hand, scratching between her ears as he nibbled at the pellets in your hand.

oscar smiled, crouching down to your level as another kangaroo came hopping over to you, this time it was melman, and you knew he wouldn't be leaving without oscar giving him some scratches. he was apprehensive at first, letting the animal sniff at his open palm before gathering some pellets for him to eat, following your instructions as you told him to scratch behind his ears. "i understand wanting to do this every day."

"it's definitely a perk." giggling, you looked up to find lando having what was practically a stand-off with one of the joey's from across the enclosure. "he's not going to punch you," lando nodded at your words, although still, he kept his distance, listening to you as you told him to kneel down slowly, holding out his hands to the little joey before taking a handful of the food.

"this might be the best thing ever." lando's exterior damn near melted as the joey grabbed a couple of pellets with his paws, looking back at you with a grin.

"better than winning a race?"

"it's up there." he laughed, reaching out experimentally to give it a scratch.

the mclaren media team were having a field day with the content you were providing them, of lando and oscar with the snakes around the neck, although the latter looked a lot more uncomfortable, and now lando feeding and cuddling a baby kangaroo, you knew his fans were bound to go crazy over the pictures.

unapologetically, your eyes drifted again, finding yourself subconsciously smiling at the gentle kindness of oscar in front of you, his touch soft against melman, as if he would break if he was any rougher, and when a joey approaches him, he's offering her food with so much patience that it makes a saint jealous, his smile soft and effortless you're not even sure he knows he's doing it. you can't look away, his calm presence, the way he respects the space between them, it's pulling you in more than you'd wish to admit, disarming any type of defence you put up.

you blink, remembering where you are, that you're surrounded by a camera crew, and your brother and sister, and clear your throat like that'll shake it off. "alright, koala time," you say, a little too casually, handing the now empty cone back to one of the zookeepers, motioning ahead as you start walking.

oscar falls in stride beside you, still grinning, and you swear you can feel that glance he throws your way like a spark against your ribs, he's joking with lando about something, and when you look up you see how the light catches his eyes, as if he was carrying a little bit of the sun with him.

the closer you get to the koalas, the stronger the smell of the eucalyptus, and you swear you need it to clear your senses. trees branches stretch overhead, looming over and shading the area. as you approach the entrance of the enclosure, you could already see a keeper holding one of the fluffy animals, awaiting the arrival of the two drivers.

"this is tilly, she's our go-to girl for this experience, super chill and great with people," you explain, introducing her to them as they look back at the koala with wonder, lando quick to volunteer to be first to hold her.

carefully, you show lando how to stand to hold a koala; his hands clasped together forming a sort of bowl for her to sit in, telling him to keep as still as possible and to try not to make as much noise as possible.

"if i knew this is what i'd take to keep him quiet i would've brought him ages ago." you stifle a laugh at oscar's words, seeing the glare that lando was sending him, about to say something back before remembering he was to try and stay quiet.

you scoop tilly from her perch in the other keeper's arms, cradling her with practised ease, you'd been around koalas your entire life it was almost second nature at this point, and gently rest her in the bowl that lando had created with his hands. his eyes go wide, looking between you and the animal in front of him and a grin spreads across his, her soft fur warm against his shirt.

"feel how soft she is?" you ask him, taking his hand in yours and guiding it over her back, letting her settle into his arms, and he nods. "she's got super thick fur to keep her warm and dry, even when it's raining!"

tilly cuddles up against lando's chest, allowing him to gently brush one of his hands against her back, smiling from ear to ear as he gets his picture taken, not wanting to let her go. "what's the fine if i steal her?"

"lifetime ban from australia."

"i can still win the championship missing one race."

somehow, after he’d put up quite the fight, you managed to get tilly out of lando's grasp, showing oscar how to hold her, just as you had shown his teammate, and before he knew it she was being placed into his arms, soft against his exposed skin, already making herself comfortable as she moved in his arms, cuddling up against his chest.

oscar was a little unsure at first, hesitating slightly, but once she's settled in his arms, a look of awe washed over his face, glancing down at the animal below. he barely breathes, eyes wide, the corners of his mouth lifting in a slow, amazed smile. "she's... so chill," he whispers, as if afraid to break the moment. his grip is careful, respectful—he can feel the tiny claws and the steady, slow rhythm of her breathing.

"they're super chill animals." you smile, admiring the sight in front of you, he was such a natural even if he didn't know or believe it. "if you were going to be any animal, it'd definitely be a koala."

"a koala?" he echos your words, with a bemused smile glancing down at the one in his arms as if he was comparing.

"yeah, you know." you shrug as if that was enough of an explanation. "you both just have this calmness to you, but can get shit done when you need it."

his laugh reverberates around your head, hearty, warm, and real. "i'll take it, could've been an emu."

"nah, too cute to be an emu." the words are spilling out before you can stop yourself, and when you realise what you've said its too late to take it back, your eyes slowly find his, cheeks feeling hot and you can hear the rush of blood on in your ears. "i didn't just say that."

an expression you haven't seen before crosses his features, he's smug, a type of smile you want to wipe off his face forming on his lips. "yes you did."

"shut up." you quickly suggest moving on to the final part of the tour, carefully taking tilly out of oscar's hands trying to make the least amount of eye contact possible, and when you're successful, you're already leading the way back to the where you were getting the shuttle to the next part of the tour, the mclaren crew letting you know you had to wrap it up soon as they were running out of time.

the wait for the next bus isn't long, although it feels like an eternity, lando happily talking away in your ear and you politely nod, throwing in a couple of basic responses here and there and a laugh when appropriate, but you have other things on your mind. so now. as you board the shuttle bus, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken tension, what makes it worse is it's just you three and the mclaren media crew, robert and bindi resuming their duty at the zoo.

with the cameras and at least eight members of crew, it's slightly crowded, and when it comes to finding a place to stand beggars can't be choosers, you found yourself squeezed up against oscar and one of the mclaren photographers. he's holding onto one of the poles in front of him, arm stiff and silently begging lando to stop making jokes about the driver's questionable driving skills.

you glance up at him, your hand around the pole just beneath his. the shuttle bus hummed as as it wound its way through the lush paths of the zoo, sunlight dappled across the windows, reflecting back on his features, the fresh sunburn across his cheeks highlighted.

it was hard to tune lando out completely, you'd be a liar if you said he didn't have some funny jokes, but you wished he's stay silent for a few seconds, take a lesson from his much quieter teammate, who was either doing a great job of ignoring you, or was deep in existential thought.

the driver called your stop and you all huddled off, the warm air brushing against your face as the distant call of exotic birds echoed through the trees. lando and oscar are close behind, both of them looking around with the kind of wide-eyed curiosity that everyone has on their first visit to the exhibit.

"alright, welcome to the best part of the zoo." you say, grinning. "welcome to our african savanna, we imitated the ecosystem that exists here," you lead the way down the winding path, lined with acacia-like trees and tall grass, oscar finding his way by your side meanwhile lando is taking more pictures than a mom during a graduation.

the large, serengeti-inspired enclosure stretches out before you, a herd of 4 striped bodies grazing lazily under the sun, a duo of giraffes just behind them, eating leaves from a tree. lando leans on the railing, squinting, taking out his phone and getting more pictures. "mate, they look like horses in prison uniforms."

"i'd like to see you try and tame a zebra," you chuckled, lando making a promise you'd see it one day, and that you'd hold him to it. "the one that won't stop playing? that's lucas, he's easily the cheekiest boy we have, bindi says it because he's trying to impress gigi," pointing over to the zebra by the water trout, you couldn't help but giggle at the fact this was essentially just gossip with but animals.

"i hope he gets his girl."

their attention turns to the giraffes towering over the rest of the landscape, how calm they move with a sort of elegant rhythm. one ambles over to the edge of the viewing deck where a zookeeper offers visitors leafy snacks to feed them. "that's how tall lando thinks he is." the laugh fell from your lips before you could help it, feeling lando's glare from one side and oscar smiling at your reaction from the other.

"that's forest." you motion towards the tallest one at the back of the group. "he's actually the tallest in the world, and he's quite the lady's man, but he's such a sweetheart."

a zookeeper from beside hands you a bucket of fresh carrots sticks and leafy branches, hearing the soft clatter of hooves signalling the approach of the giraffes; tall, graceful, and curious. "yous wanna give it a try?" you ask, demonstrating as one of the female giraffe come up to you, zuri, steps forward, her long neck swaying gently as she eyes the food outstretched in your hands, her tongue snakes out, wrapping around the offering, and with a swift tug, it's gone.

lando's jaw drops, a slight look of disgust crossing his features. "did she just lick the branch out of your hands?"

"her tongue's nearly half a meter long," you say, taking a branch out of the bucket and passing it to him, giving oscar a few of the carrot sticks. "totally built for plucking leaves from tall trees."

oscar gives it a go next, reaching out cautiously and zuri leans in, eyes blinking slowly. the carrot sticks are flat against his hands as he holds his palm out straight, her tongue wrapping around the food and its gone. oscar looks back at you, then laughs, wiping his hand on one of the towels given. "alright, that's cool. slimy, but kind of awesome."

lando's practically itching to have a go himself and just as he extends his hand, a second giraffe swoops in from the side, gently bumping him with its head to get to the food first.

"oi! no need to fight about me," he laughs, steadying himself and you hand over another branch. "there's enough of me to go around, ladies."

you chuckle at his oblivion. "except that's zeus."

"oh." the giraffes continue feeding, taking the branches out of each of lando's hands, their calm, unbothered presence setting a peaceful rhythm for the end of the tour.

you can see the mclaren team signalling to each other behind the drivers, already beginning to walk back to where the shuttle had gotten you from, the enclosure fading behind you, sun a little lower in the sky than before casting a warm glow over the zoo, distant sounds of birds singing to each other and excited passersby.

it's only one stop on the shuttle that the fuss of getting everyone on doesn't seem with it, you’re off just as quickly as you were on, dropped off almost exactly at the zoos entrance, and the excitement in lando's jokes almost simmers out as he realises the tour was coming to an end.

the iconic australia zoo sign comes into view, bindi and robert already waiting for you as you get off the shuttle, and are thanking the mclaren crew for coming one by one before reaching the two drivers.

"thank you guys so much for coming, it was amazing to have you both here." roberts tells them with a grateful smile, lando and oscar match his energy as they thank you all for having them, letting them interact with the animals and for all the cool pictures they got, lando adding the last part.

they're coming in for hugs before you realise, feeling lando's arms around your waist and he's still cracking jokes in your ear, teasing you about oscar and you stiffen, if he'd caught you, then most definitely his teammate had too.

oscar shifts his weight a little behind him, looking almost bashful, then gives you this soft half-smile and says, "hey, uh... i was wondering—if it's not weird—and you can totally say no, can i get your number?" he glances down for a second, then meets your eyes again. "y'know... in case i've got more animal questions."

you pause, that was the one thing you weren't expecting him to say, anything from how he thought you were weird for staring at him from the very beginning, or nothing at all just a simple diplomatic hug, but not this. he takes your silence as an answer of its own, and is about to walk away when you hold onto his arm. "yeah, of course, in case you get any animal questions." oscar smiled and you blushed, taking your phone out of your back pocket and sliding it over to him, looking around to see if anyone had noticed, when you find lando with a smug smile on his face you can't help but roll your eyes.

"come on romeo!" you hear lando shout from a distance, looking over his shoulder oscar gives him a look, one that seems to keep him quiet for a few more minutes.

as oscar slips his phone back into his pocket, something shifts, a moment of soft, mutual stillness between you., it’s not awkward, it doesn’t feel like anything with him could be, just charged in the quietest, most natural way. the kind that lingers, sticks with people.

you step forward, almost instinctively, and say with a little smile, "guess i'll see you around then?"

his eyes soften the more he looks at you, a blush dusting across his sunburnt cheeks, and he nods, just once. "yeah. i hope so."

and before either of you overthinks it, you lean in, arms gently circling around him, he meets you halfway, pulling you in with that calm steadiness he carries on track, nothing rushed or overdone, just warm and sure. he smells like sunscreen and eucalyptus, maybe a hint of whatever cologne he didn't expect anyone to notice, but you noticed, the way it complimented his natural smell.

he lingers a second longer than he needs to, and when he pulls back, there's a quiet smile playing on his lips.

"for the record, i think you’re cute too,"

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emiliaoleary · 2 years ago

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Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook. There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way. The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use. I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines.

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran. If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it. I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted). I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be.

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

#tutorial #rug hooking #rug tufting #rug art #dog #dog art #yarn

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flowersforthemachines · 6 months ago

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Some facts about Lucanis (and also Spite and the Crows) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Lucanis:

Family and the past:

Lucanis learnt to cook while helping the kitchen staff at the villa when he was a little boy. One of his motivations was learning how to make churros

Side note: Lucanis mentions that cioccolata calda was his favourite drink when he was a baby, and he serves churros to a romanced Rook who picks cioccolata calda as their favourite drink. It’s all coming together!

Lucanis wanted to be a Crow when he was a child (at least most of the time)

All of Lucanis's relatives were Crows as well, and all of them were killed by a rival Crow house

Lucanis says Caterina would be proud of Illario hiding his plans well, as well as killing her

Lucanis says that the hard part about setting Illario free would be convincing Caterina

Lucanis says that nightlife was more of Illario's thing, and he never got out as much

On Crows and Antiva:

Viago still stares daggers at Lucanis for throwing his (Viago's) pet snake out of the window in a dream

Lucanis doesn't like it when people confuse murder and assassination ("Murderers are hobbyists, we are professionals")

Lucanis has taken contracts in Orlais

Lucanis doesn’t know Treviso as well as he once used to

Heir didn’t train Lucanis

Lucanis says he has never killed an innocent “by his count” (other people may disagree)

Lucanis doesn’t think of the Crows as a “big organisation” (unlike the Inquisition) because they stab each other too much

Lucanis became a mage-killer at Caterina’s behest (she wanted to tap into new markets)

The nickname “The Demon of Vyrantium” came from Tevinter news-sheets, though Lucanis thinks Viago started it

Lucanis says that there aren't any special tricks to killing mages. Though, if nothing else works, you can try pissing them off, as that could attract a demon that would eat the mage

Lucanis once killed half a dozen venatori while stuck inside an elevator

Lucanis doesn’t consider himself a gentleman assassin, manners are less important than getting the job done

Lucanis sometimes spares his targets. He mentioned letting go of a servant who killed her master, as well as a 14-year-old boy. He thinks it’s wrong to kill people so young because they still have time to change

Lucanis doesn’t accept contracts without merit, and the merit is decided by the talon of the house

General:

Lucanis can make bread

Lucanis has never been to Ferelden

Lucanis isn’t interested in killing wyverns, just looking at them :)

Lucanis has a pet snake

Lucanis stays awake at night by cleaning his gear, exercising, studying Orlesian and knitting ("it’s just another kind of blade work")

Lucanis doesn’t understand a lot of things people find attractive

(In a conversation with Harding) Thinking about cooking was one of the things that helped Lucanis stay sane in the Ossuary (the other was thinking about killing his enemies)

(In a conversation with Davrin) Lucanis survived the Ossuary by shutting down and not thinking about anything except escaping

These two points sort of contradict each other. Either an inconsistency or Lucanis describing his experience differently to different people.

The Wetlands ruined at least one pair of Lucanis’s boots

(If Rook chooses to save Treviso) Lucanis offers to pay for any supplies the Shadow Dragons may need

Lucanis doesn't get a better bed because he's afraid of accidentally falling asleep

Lucanis can identify the killer’s weapon and the height difference between them and the target just through the blood splatter left at the scene

Lucanis considers Grey Wardens dangerous

Lucanis doesn’t like necromancy, because bringing people back to life is a waste of hard work

Lucanis finds the ice coffee from Minrathous offensive (Harding describes it as “snow, but made of coffee, sweet, and with cream and toffee sauce on top”)

Lucanis had never been in a romantic relationship before Rook/Neve

Relationships with other companions:

Lucanis gets into reading Bellara’s serials (very passionately - they chat about it a bunch)

Lucanis is outraged that the Veil Jumpers don’t get paid for their work and offers Bellara his contract negotiator

Lucanis made biscuits for Assan

Lucanis is sceptical that the griffons will be safe with the Wardens

Lucanis think that Assan shouldn’t go soft (referring to the time he took care of a halla) because he is a predator at heart

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Lucanis offers to hold a funeral for Manfred

Lucanis and Harding talk a lot about dreams (mostly silly things like showing up naked for the job, getting chased by someone/something etc.)

Lucanis thinks Harding is deadly with her bow

Lucanis offers to pay Harding for being his lookout/aide at the rate of 6000 gold per contract

Lucanis offers the help of his contract negotiator to Neve after he finds out she doesn't have one

Lucanis made deep-fried peppers for Taash

About Spite:

Emmrich can hear Spite even when he doesn’t take over Lucanis’s body (at least from a close distance)

Spite is impartial to Emmrich, believing him more than Lucanis

Emmrich says it’s impossible to separate Spite and Lucanis without killing them

Emmrich encourages Lucanis to read to Spite to bring them closer. Lucanis agrees to let Spite pick a book

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Spite asks if he and Lucanis can get rid of their skin too

(If Manfred is revived at the Necropolis) Spite asks Emmrich to teach him how to use fire magic. Lucanis isn’t thrilled by the idea

Emmrich sets up wards to prevent Spite from leaving the room when Lucanis is asleep

Spite no longer sleepwalks after “Inner Demons” because he apparently understood the concept of space

By the end of the game, Spite has agreed to stop sleepwalking completely

Spite controls the wings (confirmed in banter with Harding)

Spite wants to try swinging off the astrolabe at the Lighthouse

Spite is very excited about Manfred having hands and feet (Curiosity. Has. Feet!)

Spite finds the wisps in Neve’s room unnerving (as do Lucanis and Neve)

Spite likes to play with whetstones Bellara got for Lucanis (Bellara got them from the Irelin who supposedly got them from somewhere in Arlathan)

Spite wants to try eating self-lightning candles at Blackthorne Manor

About the Crows:

Crows frequently visit Nevarra and have received 20 contacts to assassinate the king. The King has been poisoned 7 times

Crows get a lot of contracts for Divine Victoria

Some seers in Rivain are powerful enough that there are contracts on them as well

Caterina once killed a man with a thimble

When Crows kill someone, most of the time they want others to know it was them (rather than presenting the death as an accident)

The crows buried six different Eight Talons and rarely take contracts in Ferelden after the Zevran fiasco

#dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #veilguard spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #neve gallus #caterina dellamorte #emmrich volkarin #spite #lace harding #datv banters #meta #references #flowers.txt #flowers blogs

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arsanatomica · 2 months ago

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Most people are aware that reptiles like snakes and lizards have two penises. Together they’re called the Hemipenes.

You would assume that they look identical.

They can... BUT NOT ALWAYS.

Usually they’re slightly different, one smaller or shorter than the other. But sometimes they can look EXTREMELY different.

I don’t know why.

This is one of those things that I see in dissections all the time and can’t seem to find any information for it.

These are from a young reticulated python I skinned last week. Look how different they are! I never see anybody talk about this, and as weird as it is, I personally find this really interesting.

From an anatomical perspective: Why are they so different?

Do reptiles have a handedness when it comes to using their penises? Like, do different individuals prefer one over the other?

Do they have different functions or are meant for different types of females?

Different mating strategies?

Are there variations on the female side where one shape is better than the other?

Could this be something that they’re not born with, but develops later from how they’re using them?

It seems more pronounced in some individuals versus others... why?

And also, this is one of those things you never see it reflected in media, I guess it’s too obscure.

I feel like this is something that the furry community and maybe the fantasy erotica community would be all over if it was more well known and better studied.

Dragon erotica is a HUGE genre on Amazon.

Look….I KNOW there’s a huge population of creature designers and other monster enthusiasts following me.

It’s time you guys stopped sleeping on this.....and not a just for erotic art.

Some animals have penises designed to remove sperm from previous partners, so they have a chance to father the child. Could something like this have a similar function?

Isn’t it possible that there could be different types of sperm being delivered?

Different types of females that need different approaches?

Different offspring types?

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iamthatonefangirl · 1 month ago

Note

Hii, I wanted to ask for some "boys being boys" kind of one-shot. The setting is: Sam, Tony, Bucky and Bruce were arguing about how they could make the Winter Soldier some safety protocol for Bucky's gf since she's also a fighter and go with them in the missions (All of this happening while they were drunk, so OF COURSE IT DOESN'T SEEM LIKE A BAD IDEA.) Bucky also doesn't know that the WS knows gf and is already very protective of gf, so when Steve and Reader (who is Bucky's gf and some kind of Steve's little sis) appear, things get a little… weird with WS being a possessive bf.

(Can I be annon ✨🐍/sparkilin snake?)

~✨🐍

bad luck - nsfw bucky barnes/winter soldier

hey anon I love the emoji combo omg. I went a slightly different direction from your ask but this is my interpretation of it :)

disclaimer: mentions of homicide, bucky turns into the winter soldier obviously, fully consensual smut by both parties although not explicitly stated.

for those of you who follow my winter soldier fics - I will list this in my winter soldier masterlist and my bucky masterlist. this will NOT be correlated with my pre-existing winter soldier series.

part 2

~~~

you'd only seen the winter soldier emerge twice, so far.

one time in a hydra base on a mission.

a second time in an ambush he wasn't prepared for.

~~~

you were with him the first time it happened.

in the case anything had gone wrong and somehow it happened, you'd been briefed ahead of time to make a run for it, not to engage the soldier. they would be able to find Bucky later and subdue him.

Bucky gave you a different set of instructions.

if somehow he turned, he instructed you to shoot him on sight. don't hesitate, don't wait. do what you had to in order to stay alive.

"goddamnit, Bucky, I'm not going to fucking kill you," you hissed at him, wishing you could just smack him upside the head. "there's a million other options before that."

"listen to me," he pled with you, "if it comes down to it, you shoot me. you do not hesitate. do you understand me?"

you were appalled.

"I'm not going to-"

"no," he interrupted you, voice stern. "either you promise me you'll do this, or I'm telling Steve to send someone else with me."

you almost felt like crying.

you thought about it. you thought about saying hell no, have him send someone else.

but you didn't trust anyone else to not shoot him if it came down to it.

so you lied.

"I'll kill you if I have to."

~~~

you didn't think it would actually happen. no way in hell.

you were roaming the base, trying to find the information you'd been sent for. you separated from Bucky in the attempts of getting in and out quicker.

after a few minutes, you heard a stark cry of your name from the distance, and your heart fell to your stomach.

you ran as fast as you can, hoping to stop it, do anything at all-

you run up to him, grabbing his arms and shaking him.

"Bucky? goddamnit, Bucky, look at me!" you yell at him.

you're met with those cold, dead eyes that you were told meant run for your goddamn life.

you're too late.

so you began to back up, following the orders you'd been given, trying to run. they could save Bucky, they could, but you had to get the hell out of there. you started to back away, ready to turn and bolt.

it was just your luck that you tripped and fell flat on your ass, all while the soldier was stalking towards you ominously.

you didn't have time to get up.

so you unholstered your gun, pointing it at him, tears coming to your eyes. you held it shakily, trying to make the split second decision,

what do I do? what do I do?

this was not supposed to fucking happen. you weren't about to kill the love of your life.

you were met with the greatest surprise of your life when he didn't rip your arm off, or reach out to choke you to death with his bare hands, or anything of the like.

he grabbed the gun from your hand with ease, and threw it to the side, then reaching for your hand and hauling you to your feet.

you stood there, face to face with him, wondering what the hell was going on. why didn't he immediately attack you?

the sound of gunshots filled the room. someone knew you were there, whoever was left of hydra, surely operating under the assumption that the soldier would kill you and then they could take back their precious asset.

you scrambled for your gun, but he picked it up first, pushing you behind him while he easily decimated the agents running at you.

you were stunned. Bucky never killed anyone, he wouldn't do it. but you had just watched him, not him, kill a dozen people without a second thought.

you prepared for him to turn around and shoot you, but he didn't. he looked you up and down for injuries, saw none, and his face relaxed.

you scrambled for what to do next. "the team, they'll come running at the sound of gunshots. you have to go, they can't know you're..."

you trailed off. your thoughts were a mess.

"I have to go."

he let you make a run for the exit.

~~~

obviously, you lied.

you told everyone that you never saw him. all you saw was the mess of dead, bloodied bodies, and no Bucky. which pointed to the obvious: he turned.

no way in hell were you going to admit anything.

a few sleepless nights passed without Bucky by your side, and with each passing day, you worried more and more that you'd never get him back. that by lying, you'd somehow messed up, and that it was somehow your fault you'd never see him again.

when your apartment window opened in the middle of the night a few days after the incident, you grabbed your gun and watched as the dark figure made its way into your apartment.

Bucky, finally.

"fuck, oh my god, you're okay," you say, running towards him, putting down the gun. you bring your hands to his shoulders, taking in his disheveled appearance.

"you've got to be starving," you comment, but then you look back up at his face.

it's not Bucky.

he's staring at you, looking into your eyes so intensely you'd think it's all he knew how to do.

"are you hungry?" you ask tensely, unsure what else to say. he says nothing in response, but reaches out to you for the second time, this time gripping your waist tightly in both hands as though he owns you.

"mine," he growls.

your breaths become shallow, and you debate your options.

he didn't hurt you last time, he protected you. he let you go. he hasn't hurt you this time.

mine?

you don't fight him when he pulls you into his arms and hauls you to your bed.

you would never admit to a single soul that you were eager, that you were excited when he started to yank at your clothes and began to suck at the skin of your neck.

"no marks!" you exclaim in a panic. you can't have Bucky see it, he'll freak. you're most certainly not sure how you're supposed to explain this to him, but you will.

eventually.

clearly, your request pisses him off, but he lets up on his ministrations, running his mouth across your chest without leaving a single bruise in his wake.

his hands are more firm on your skin than Bucky's. he's not giving, he's taking. he's going to do what he wants.

you moan at the realization.

his hands yank your sweatpants off, not wasting any time as he shoves his hands in your underwear, only to find you absolutely dripping for him.

you hear him grunt at the discovery, quickly pulling his own pants out of the way, not wanting to wait another minute to fuck you.

you've taken Bucky a million times, only a few of them this quickly, with this little prep.

you don't let yourself think about the fact that you've never gotten this wet this quickly before.

he tolds you tightly by the waist underneath him, pinning you to the bed, taking what he wants. he's careful not to leave any marks, just as you asked.

"mine," is all he says, over and over again, the whole time he fucks you.

all the while, you're sobbing out with how fucking good it is, prepared for the neighbors to bang down your door the next day and demand you shut the fuck up.

you don't care. right now, all that's on your mind is that you're his.

~~~

when you wake up the next morning, you're not sure what to expect. you see him laying there next to you, dead asleep. at some point, you both must have stripped off the rest of your clothes to sleep.

you slip out of bed, pulling on your pajamas, telling yourself to not think about how you're going to explain this to him until after you've had coffee.

you're looking out the window above the sink, sipping your beverage, when you hear a familiar voice say your name from behind you.

you whip around, lukewarm coffee sloshing over the sides of the mug, to see him standing there.

"Bucky," you say in relief and run to him.

when he begins to ask questions, you lie. you shouldn't lie to him, but now isn't the time to tell him. you have to wait until he's come to terms with the fact that he was turned again.

you'll tell him when he's ready.

you feed him the same story you fed the rest of the team. you never saw the winter soldier, you only saw the mess he left. when he came in the window last night, you were asleep.

you never saw the winter soldier.

and that's what you told everyone when you brought Bucky in to show everyone that he was alive and himself again. that's the story you stuck to when everyone began arguing over what they were supposed to do, how they were supposed to deal with this. they fought over how to keep you safe going forward, assuming that you would be the first person on the winter soldier's kill list.

you bit your tongue as the anxiety of keeping the secret broiled in your stomach.

~~~

the second time it happened, you weren't there to stop it.

he was only a few blocks from the compound, going for a run around the city, when the ambush happened.

another handful of rogue agents grabbed him, this time intending to set him loose on everyone in the compound. surely they could prevent what happened last time, that they could direct him to kill whoever they pleased.

they were wrong. in the same fashion as the time before, he killed them all without hesitation, the only thought in his mind: you.

you were alone in the fifth floor kitchen, thinking about how it was long past time for you to tell him. it'd been weeks, and he deserved to know.

you just hoped he wouldn't leave you when you told him, that he wouldn't try to convince himself you were better off without him, safer without him.

suddenly, you hear the door slam.

you turn towards the noise, having scared the living daylights out of you, when you see Bucky walking in.

"fucking hell, don't do that, you scared me," you say, tending to your food on the stove, building up the courage to bring up the subject weighing heavy on your mind. "I made lunch. I was hoping we could talk."

he doesn't say anything in response, walking up behind you and wrapping his hands around your waist in the same manner as the time before.

"mine," he whispers in your ear, and you freeze.

not Bucky.

you barely flick the stove off before he's grabbing you all over, a metal hand running up your shirt and his other hand dipping into your pants.

"fuck, how did you-" you begin to ask him, but you know he won't answer you. he probably won't even know the answer.

you lean back against him, letting him carry your whole body weight as he gropes at the flesh of your breast and begins to rub circles over your clit.

"mine."

you almost wonder if it's the only word he knows with how much he repeats it to you.

"yes. yours," you affirm, spurring him on.

this time, he leaves a mark on your neck.

"yours, fuck, I'm yours," you whine as you come too quickly, giving yourself over to him willingly.

"you belong to me," he growls in your ear, wrapping a metal hand around your throat and gently squeezing. the unspoken implication of "not him" is not lost on you.

you don't have it in you to disagree.

~~~

do we want an angsty part 2?

edit: part 2

masterlist

join my tag list

bucky tag list:

@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @bananababygirl10 @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy @starstruck-cowgirl @doubledizzy22 @yvespecially @shereadzzz @flow33didontsmoke @blaineandergel @iiamlynn @tellybearryyyy @belovedmoony @doilooklikeagiveafrack @analovesmarvel @izzy698 @ketchumid24 @annabethboleyn @luv4koo @uh-buckybarness @buckyseternaldoll @planetzeidy @thegirlfatherr @mandoloriancookie @cieraboobear

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ddejavvu · 1 month ago

Note

also u KNOW that hiccup is a hair puller anyway bye

this post is 18+, minors dni.

i think he does it a bunch outside of sex and so it pretty seamlessly integrates itself into sex. once he's comfortable with someone he seems to adopt some of that Little Shit energy that he might withhold from a stranger or an acquaintance. But once he's comfortable with you he's gonna get on your nerves a bit because he loves u <3

so he'll wrap a lock of your hair around his finger and tug, barely-there pressure that lets you know he's come up behind you while you're doing whatever you're doing. It prompts you to turn your head up at him with those pretty surprised eyes of yours, and he plants a big fat smooch on your lips to greet you.

sometimes he just plays with your hair too, raking his fingers through your hair and scratching at your scalp, braiding it if it's a reasonable length to be braided and combing it this way and that with those constantly-moving hands of his. so it's really not that surprising to feel his hands in your hair, you're completely used to it by now.

sometimes he'll grab the entirety of your hair, whether it's braided and he can grab it easy, or if he has to sweep stray strands from over your shoulder to get it all in his fist. Then he uses it to pull you wherever he wants you to go, usually when you two have already been laughing and giggling and play-fighting for a while and he's trying to lead you somewhere. you two have a terrible habit of getting lost in time with one another and it can take you an entire day to cross the village if hiccup is walking with you, because you're pushing him backwards over a rock, and then he's dragging you down with him, and then you're smearing mud into his tunics, and then he's threatening to stick a raw fish down the back of your shirt, and then you're wrestling with him in the mud and meanwhile the villagers down the road have been waiting three hours for the chief to come and commemorate the birth of their child. point is, he's a hair puller as a means of lovingly irritating you, so you're totally used to it before you ever start having sex with him.

when you do, i'd bet the first time is pretty soft and sweet and nothing more than missionary skin-on-skin. very simple, very routine, just love and sex and that's it. once you start experimenting more, though, he doesn't do it because he knows hair-pulling can be sexy, he just- does it. he's just used to doing it, he wants to get you upstairs and into bed where you're pressing him into the wall and kissing him so he tugs on your hair to lean your head back and free himself. it's nothing more than getting you to where he needs you to be but you moan, a wanton, raw, lustful moan and he's shocked. you are too, to be fair, and the two of you stare at each other for a second while you process the new information. you'd best believe he uses it later.

he'll yank on your hair to pull you off of his cock, but that's only to get it inside of you. he's not usually one to pull you off of his dick but when he does he'll grab a fistful of your hair and yank. he'll use it to pull your head backwards during doggy style, so that he can crane his neck and kiss you as best he can despite the awkward angles. he'll do it when he's balls deep in your sex, hot and rough and grunting and one of his hands snakes up behind your head to pull at your hair, trying to get you to moan louder where you're already whining through your throat.

he's the kind of man who knows you, who gets to know you and never forgets what he learns, and you know he'll use it to make things better for the both of you.

#hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup haddock smut #hiccup haddock imagine #hiccup haddock blurb #hiccup haddock fanfiction

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clockwayswrites · 3 months ago

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Fresh Birb! Part 32

masterpost

“Thanks for the excuse to get some fresh air,” Danny said. He sounded grateful enough that Jason felt a little bad for using the ‘stroll around the yard’ as an way to gather some intel.

“Hey, trust me, I get how overwhelming the manor can get,” Jason said, “and there are a lot of us in house right now. It’s easier in small doses for sure.”

“I could see that,” Danny agreed. “But there’s also something nice about the full house. It’s all very… alive feeling.”

The words were more melancholy than they should be. They were more like how Jason, who knew the feeling of death all too well, might say them. It brought troubling thoughts to mind.

“Yeah, that can be nice about it. Sure is quieter if I’m not here or at Roy’s,” Jason agreed after maybe too long a moment.

“Is Roy that much more talkative when it’s just the two of you?”

“Oh, no. Well, yeah, but it’s more about his little girl, Lian. She’s three and a half and an absolute handful most days. She’s also at that age where she’s pretty much narrating her own life in half understandable babble so there’s just a lot of constant noise.”

Danny chuckled. “I bet. Stayed with a friend for a bit when I was between jobs and stuck there for a few months by a non-complete clause. Her one kid was that age at the time and the oldest five. I didn’t know just how much everything there was when having kids that age. It made me actually feel a little sorry for my parents.”

“You the youngest, oldest, or middle?”

“Youngest. I’ve got one older sister, Jasmine,” Danny said. “You could sorta say there’s a half a sibling too. I basically grew up with my best friend and there were some weeks I spent more time at his house than ours.”

“That close to him?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. That and it was easier, sometimes, to not be at home.”

“Oh.”

That implied some unfortunate things that Jason hadn’t quite been expecting. Danny seemed pretty well adjusted. He was even good at handling Damian, but Jason supposed that maybe part of that was because Danny had been through his own issues.

Danny just shrugged. “I have a life long friend out of it. We don’t see each other in person much these days since we’re on other sides of the country, but we still talk plenty.”

Jason gave a soft hum and, a beat later, asked, “What made you end up in Gotham of all places?”

“Wayne Enterprises, actually,” Danny said. “The rep in the industry as place to work is unparalleled really, especially for what I want to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Help people,” Danny said, honestly and with a crooked little smile. “Which I know sounds cheesy, but I really wanted to create things that help people. It’s not like I mind making a better cellphone battery or anything, but it’s nice to know that I get to work on things that help not just with the little, everyday issues but also the big, life changing ones. The fact that those things get to help the city I live in too is a real plus.”

“Gotham has a way of getting to you like that,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” Danny replied softly, gaze in the direction of the Gotham sky line.

And then a scream split the air.

Not a human scream, thankfully, but a repeated screech that had both of them starting and looking around for the source. The screech turned to a warbling clucking as Jerry emerged from behind the landscaping. His tail was high and spread, his wing tips brushed the ground, and he was looking almost shockingly colorful.

“A turkey?”

“Damian’s.”

“Damian has a turkey,” Danny said slowly.

“And a cow,” Jason said. “Cat, dog, a few snakes. He tried to keep a rat but Alfred stopped that pretty quickly.”

Danny rubbed at his temple. “This is why he knew how to take care of wings, isn’t it?”

Jason tried not to smile. “That came up, huh?”

“He’s been sending Bruce information about it,” Danny answered.

Jerry made another loud warble and struck what Jason could only describe as a pose.

“So… does he do this often?”

“His name is Jerry, and nope,” Jason said and pulled out his phone.

Jerry strutted closer to Danny, tail feathers shaking.

“Oh… oh,” Danny said with the tone of someone for who horrible realization was dawning. “Can you, ah, talk him down?”

“I’m afraid I’m morally obligated to film this,” Jason said somberly. He couldn’t hold back his smirk any longer.

Danny shot him a withering look and started to back up towards the Manor. “Really.”

“Really. Good luck.”

“Well, fuck,” Danny said and then took off running.

Jerry followed at top speed with a scream.

Jason sent the video to Bruce. ‘You have competition.’

#dp x dc #birdritch #Danny/Bruce #spirit halloween ship

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pigfacedbitch · 2 years ago

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Phobia

idea : your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : phobia speaks for itself. personally, it's thalassophobia for me. 😓

here is my masterlist!

Jason Grace | Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)

Due to having the same fear as his sister, Jason is completely aware of the dos and dont's when you're an acrophobic.

If you two are forced in situations where you need to be in high places, he always attempts to distract you with anything he can think of.

He prefers embarrassing stories over jokes. His delivery is too deadass and his 'i'm-trying-hard-here-it's-not-funny' look makes you laugh before the punchline.

Knowing that it can be associated with the fear of falling, Jason will reassure you every time that he's going to catch you.

If you did fall, during some battle for example, he will asks you to close your eyes and hold you tighter before slowly bringing you down.

He really lives up to that Superman nickname so much, the others started calling you Lois Lane.

Percy Jackson | Thalassophobia (Fear of Deep Bodies of Water)

Percy would be bummed out. Being the son of Poseidon, he loves to be in the water.

Everything about him— from his favorite hobbies to his happiest of memories, revolves around it and he wants to share that with you.

He plans on taking you on trips underwater; introduce you to the majestic marine creatures nobody else has seen before, unravel mysteries the sea has to offer, and form a big bubble where you can do whatever you want without being interrupted (ehem👀).

But how can he make all of it possible when your fear is literally all of those?

Percy would want to help you get over it. He wouldn't force you but he will at least try convince you.

If you refuse, he will respect that.

But if you accept his help, he'll try to take it one step at a time. Probably by starting to show you how the sea, no matter terrifying it is, is also beautiful place.

Leo Valdez | Pyrophobia (Fear of Fire)

Initially, Leo will laugh. I mean, who wouldn't?

You're a pyrophobic yet you're dating someone who is actually made out of fire?

After he notices that you're not joking, he will begin to be terrified for you. Expect that Leo will be extra careful when you are with him, especially when he is working on something.

His contraptions deemed too dangerous like explosives, will be kept somewhere far away.

As much as he thinks your presence will make Bunker 9 a lovelier workspace, he will understand if you don't want to go there. The essense of it is from the god of fire himself— I mean you need a blast of fire to enter.

He also will refrain himself from using his fire abilities in a fight, making do with his inventions instead.

While pyrophobia doesn't have specific causes, it may be possible that you had some traumatic experience relating to fire. Leo doesn't want to hurt you or make you feel worse.

Frank Zhang | Zoophobia (Fear of Animals)

Frank is confused. He doesn't know that the fear of animals is a thing and would wonder why you agreed on dating him in the first place.

He will ask you tons of questions; what caused your phobia? Are you afraid of all animals, a few, or just one? What can I do? After your conversation, he's going to search more information.

If you're afraid of one animal only, Frank will forget it ever existed. He will never talk of that animal again even when you're not around.

The others will joke about it. Example, if you're scared of snakes—

"What is a snake, Frank?"

"What's that, Leo? I have no idea, so let's never speak of it again."

In the case that you're afraid of all animals (this is a rare condition), he will not use his abilities and will train harder in combat.

When he really doesn't have a choice but to shapeshift in a fight, you two will separate with your friends' assurance that they got your back.

Frank is a nice guy but if someone made an offensive comment about your phobia or hardcore pranks involving that animal? Expect the wrath and rage of Mars.

Nico Di Angelo | Phasmophobia (Fear of Ghosts)

I'm sorry but Nico will slightly judge you. Really, a ghost? What are you, five?

Like Frank, he will ask you what caused your phobia.

He will feel terrible and comfort you if you have the same experience as Reina and Jason, who's loved ones turned into a mania. If it's because of horror movies, he will awkwardly pet your head.

You may think the subject is dropped but Nico will make sure that no ghost will ever come near you.

Having the infamous title 'Ghost King', he will not hesitate to torment and threaten the spirits who try to approach, scare, or talk to you.

He will take you on dates to McDonalds but he will not bring you to any 'ghost business'.

If you want to get rid of your phobia, Nico will summon ghosts who can entertain you; like singers, dancers, those that can do tricks, and stand up comedians.

He will also show you how easily he can bend any ghost to his will, proving to you that there's nothing to be afraid of.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson headcanons #heroes of olympus headcanons #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #hoo imagine #pjo imagine #jason grace #jason grace x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang #frank zhang x reader #nico di angelo #nico di angelo x reader #riordanverse

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yandere-sins · 9 months ago

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Monstober - Day 5: Naga/Lamia [Elemental Sacrifices Part 1/4]

I am fashionably late and since this story was supposed to come out on my birthday I switched the prompts since we all know Nagas are my roman empire, hehe >:3

Also this is part 1 of 4 of a little mini-series happening in this Monstober Challenge, and I will lovingly call it the Elemental Sacrifices. I know we already had a sacrifice before, but what if—hear me out—we have 4 more? Yes, I thought that was a good idea too, glad we agree :D

(They are not much related aside from the concept, but they are in the same universe, so maybe there's some potential for future ideas! :D)

Prompt: Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous Warnings: Yandere, AFAB!Reader, Sexual Actions (Dub-Con, Use of Aphrodisiac, Drinking said Aphrodisiac and getting it stabbed into your arm, Deep Kissing, Accidentally cutting your own tongue, Fingering), Violence (Biting with fangs, Description of (meager) fighting, Cutting the enemy, Blood mention), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Light self-degradation, Long Post

The tradition had always existed.

From the moment you were born, you were told about the sacrifices made to the four gods, which took place twice a century. The four tribes would unite in peace and unity for this month of reverence, choosing their sacrifices carefully and laying down their weapons to organize and strategize the ceremonies so that no god would feel aggrieved. It was a wonder that people that worshipped different things, lived by different means, and usually clashed like hot and cold, light and shadow, could work together meaningfully to pay their respects, assure that everyone would continue to be in the favor of the different gods that roamed the lands you lived on.

And yet, somehow, it had always worked out.

"There, almost done," your mother mumbled, curling your still-damp hair around her finger so it would frame your face. You clenched your fists in your lap as you sat in front of the mirror, unable to even look at yourself without retching. 20 years ago, when you were told the stories for the first time, no one had assumed you'd be the one to be sacrificed in the next ceremony. No one informed you that your days were numbered, your purpose to be nothing but monster fodder.

Because that's what they were, monsters, nothing more, nothing less.

A two-headed snake, an ancient tree, a tentacled beast, and a fire-spewing reptile with wings—those were the four monsters you and the other tribes worshipped with offerings and sacrifices. All your life, you practiced the mindful handling of the teachings, learning how to hunt, fight, and serve your god. But even so, just because you were born the child of the leader, you were going to be discarded by your own people, and your hatred was as fiery as the vulcanos that surrounded your homeland.

"I heard the water tribe sends their most wonderful singer this year, too."

It was a frail attempt at small talk, and you couldn't care less about how pleased your mother sounded as she told you about the other sacrifices. The other poor souls that probably wanted nothing more than to run away about now. You had hidden your tears very well with your head hung low, but you couldn't imagine the other sacrifices felt any less miserable as you did.

You had plans for the future, plans that involved leading this tribe and creating a family sometime. Maybe participate in a war with the other tribes and show off the prowess of the fire tribe leader's oldest child. It was in the nature of your people to be strong and powerful, as was the exceptional artistry of the water people.

"And the earthclan sends another one of their scholars. I don't understand why they think the nature gods would like all these people hiding with their noses in their books, but I'm sure they have their reason for choosing them. Oh, but the wind people are also sending their ruler's child, just like you!"

A tone of pride swung in her voice as she continued arranging vividly red flowers like a crown in your head, pulling at strands of your hair to wrap them into the stems so they'd hold. "And yet, you'll make the prettiest sacrifice of them all. You'll make us all so proud!"

Inside of you, a war broke loose. A war you knew you couldn't win as you knelt on the floor of your childhood home, the place you always thought safest in all of the lands, yet it was no longer the place you'd return to after this expedition. All your good deeds and all your achievements were for naught because when the announcement was sent out that the sacrifice was going to be held that year, it ended your life instantly.

A part of you knew it could happen. Although you never wished this fate on anyone, you had always hoped for a sibling, born or adopted into your family, that could take this responsibility from you ever since you learned of it. Other tribes voted. They chose by luck or by skill at the time of sacrifice. But not yours. Yours had traditions, which meant the leader's strongest family member would go to the gods and ask for their blessings. Get eaten in exchange for a promise of safety and prosperity that the monsters could easily break on a whim. Returning would mean the blessing failed, so that wasn't an option. If you couldn't appease them alive, you would do it with your death. The ultimate sacrifice.

"Now, you're perfect. Look at you, my pretty child."

Pushing her fingertips into the underside of your jaw, your mother forced you to look up into the mirrors. Tears tumbled from your eyes as your head snapped upwards to avoid the discomfort of her nagging touch, and you watched her expression fall in her reflection. Not from sorrow, mind you, but anger.

"This is your duty," she reminded you. "Now that you have grown up and proved your worth, you should feel honored to be chosen."

You bit your tongue, swallowing the disrespect you wanted to voice. You couldn't care less about the sacrifice, about gaining the ire of some monster that some old people had decided to worship. About your mother's opinion or that of anyone else!

Deep inside you, you were afraid. Fear, first and foremost, had always been your teacher. It showed you the boundaries of your abilities and pushed you to perform deeds beyond your capabilities in times of need. It wasn't something to be ashamed of or scolded for; it was natural and normal.

But right behind it was anger. Anger at this tradition, anger at your family, and anger at the monsters for demanding lives in exchange for peace. Gods they called themselves, but there was nothing godly about how they conducted their demands. They were cowards with a taste for human blood, and instead of fighting and being slain by those humans, they demanded sacrifices to satisfy their hunger.

And there was nothing you could do to save yourself.

If you rebelled, you'd be dragged out by your limbs and hair, even if that destroyed the work they put into prettying you up. Who needed to be pretty when they'd be eaten alive? Still, as a warrior at heart, you couldn't imagine a greater shame than to force your friends to bring you to that dreadful sacrificial space, even if they might think it was for the greater good. If you had to go out, you wanted to do so with your head held high, no matter how foolish that pride of yours was. It was better than to put your unfair death entirely into the hands of others.

If you were going to be a martyr, then you'd at least die fighting until your last breath.

---

"That's far enough," you announced, coming to a halt at the edge of the lush green forest you used to hunt in. Before you, vulcanic stone spread in dark hues as far as you could see. Ash filled the air, mixed with the taste of metal and fire. Nothing grew on the stone ground, it was as welcoming as a death threat. Veins of red broke through the stone, leading to pools of lava that was cooking beneath the stone surface, the air simmering from the heat that immediately greeted you, coating your skin in a sheen of sweat. Once you had found the duality of this place beautiful. Now you dreaded it, hands curled into fists as you took slow, steady breaths to calm yourself.

"I wish to face the gods myself."

"Go forth then. Make us proud," your father expressed, resting his hand on your shoulder. A simple squeeze was all you got, and much like your mother who hugged you before your departure, their gestures were too brief to be any comfort. You wondered how they could have possibly come to terms so quickly with losing their own child when you, the one to be sacrificed, were struggling with your fear and pride.

Every step on the hot floor was like a stab of a knife in your back. The hunting party that had accompanied you watched as you continued your journey towards the sacrificial space the ancestors had created, their gazes like whips that spurred you on. But they didn't linger. Since they didn't have to tie you down on the altar, they had no reason to watch the gruesome death of their own kind, knowing that either way, you weren't going to return. You knew the way back to your village like the inside of your pocket, years of roaming the jungles teaching you how to go home. But they'd kill you before you cursed the village with your failure to be sacrificed. Merciless, cold. You were no longer a part of them. You were a meager part of the tradition now.

However, the way to the altar was actually more of a challenge than going home. You had only been there once as a child, laying flowers down for your uncle, who had been the last sacrifice years before your birth. Your father may have called him your uncle, but it turned out he was an adopted orphan who ended up paying for his dedication to your family much later. Your father seemed unsympathetic towards him, but it dawned on you that he must have never been close to this brother of his, probably knowing the fate that awaited him.

You never knew your uncle, but back then, you had been proud of him, too.

That day was also the first time your father explained the traditions and the importance of keeping them up. How much honor it brought to your family and how many lives it saved to lose one person. You wondered why, after he taught you so many skills, worked so hard to make you a respected member of your tribe, and loved you like a father would, he could so easily send you to your death. But it slowly dawned on you what kind of person your father was. One that didn't truly cared for his "family", only for his own pride and gains. And you had been so easily fooled as to believe him all this time.

It took you much longer than you remembered, but eventually, you reached the grounds your ancestors had created for this spectacle. It was close to the foot of the volcano, an altar erected from the stone sprouting from the ground with nothing else present in this wasteland. The heat had increased substantially over time, every breath burning in your lungs, your eyes dry, and your feet chafed from walking over the smoldering stone for so long. Dread was no longer a constant companion as acceptance slowly crept into your mind. You had seen the bones of many humans on the way to this place. Apparently, not everyone had been so lucky to have made it this far, either the environment or the monster killing them before they reached the altar. Or maybe themselves, now that you thought about it.

The sight of the raised altar forced a shuddering breath out of your lungs, the stinging sensation barely enough to distract you from the blaring truth. You were going to die. One way or another, you would. Touching the side of your leg, you felt the leather holster beneath your dress. The dagger you sneaked would probably not be enough to kill the monster, if there ever was one. Still, if you could inflict some damage to it, perhaps your tribe would one day snap out of the trance that it was this immortal threat that your ancestors appeased by offering their own children to it. Maybe they'd see the wounds and realize they didn't have to cower in fear of it, and thus, maybe your sacrifice would not be in vain.

Brushing your hand over the warm stone, you felt an untypical cold shudder run down your spine, knowing it was meant to be your deathbed. You wondered how many before you had laid here, waiting for the monster to come. How many had prayed, hoped, and begged to be saved, and how many had fought and struggled like you were going to. Following in their footsteps now, you knew they did what they thought was their best. That was the greatest honor you could bestow on them.

You hoisted yourself up, struggling to climb on top of the massive stone slab, before you sat close to the edge and stretched out your legs, feeling the burned and chafed soles of your feet crack as they finally got some rest. Hissing, you were confronted with the pain, yet you only sighed, swiping your hands over your face to free you of the sweat that was desperately trying to cool you down. Even if you were used to the warmer temperature of your home, it was nothing against the volcanic heat, and you almost admired it for burning for so long, never bothered by anyone. The air was as heavy as your soul felt, trapped in your body and scared to the heavens.

Imagining the snake did very little to soothe your mind, but you still tried to prepare for the shock its sight undoubtedly would be. You imagined a snake as tall as a building, with two heads splitting apart at one end. Heads with sharp fangs and venom dripping out of their mouths, eyes that ate you up before their maw even got close to you. It would slither over the ground, nimble, avoiding the lava pools, but too large to hide behind the wasteland it reigned over. Bloodlust urging it on as it smelled the sweet fragrance of the flowers on your head, which were delighted to bloom in the warm temperatures. A green tail? Brown? Perhaps a little of both? Maybe its scales were dark red like all the blood it drank from the sacrifices.

"Look at that, they do sacrifice their own kind."

Deep in thought, the heat probably having gone to your head, you hadn't noticed the chafing sound that slithered closer from behind. Only when someone suddenly spoke did your mind alert you of the danger, and you jumped down from the altar, swiftly spinning around and bracing yourself. One hand hovered over your dagger beneath your dress, and the other arm stayed defensively in front of you. With the distance you managed to jump and the massive altar separating you from the monster, you were at a surprising advantage, and it felt good to have the upper hand.

Your eyes widened at the sight of two men standing behind the altar, one of them leaning down on the stone surface right next to where you had sat. In contrast, the other stood straight with his arms behind his back, but both watched you with burning intensity. Immediately, you noticed their similar appearances, the light grey hair falling from their heads, bound by braids, and still with countless strands falling over their exposed chests. Their eyes were like marbles, reflecting the different colors of the area in them, elongated pupils slightly vibrating as they fixated over and over on you. But what really put you off was their size. Their legs must have been easily as tall as the altar, and that was no size a normal human should have had.

"Mother never told us sacrifices were this cute."

The man leaning on the table rolled over on his side, his hair splaying all over the altar in waves. And yet, even while moving, his gaze never trailed off—but yours did. You let out a horrified gasp as the scaled tail of a snake buckled and arched to accommodate the man's movements, and with a surprised jolt, he reared upwards, exposing even more of the tail that started at his hips.

A moment of silence washed over you three, and you felt incredibly exposed and stared down by two pairs of eyes as if they were pinning you into place. Willing you to not move a muscle, to be eaten without putting up a fight. No one said anything before the startled man laughed out loudly, shaking his head and holding his belly before slapping his free hand attention-seekingly against his companion's arm.

"That scared me," he chuckled. "I've never heard that kind of sound before."

The other man let out a hum of agreement, nodding his head before looking back at you. You were at a clear disadvantage, unsure where to look first and who to focus on, as you were outnumbered by the two. The one that kept talking was smaller than the other, although this could have been the heat playing tricks on you. Both were muscular, but he was less refined than his almost-twin. You wagered you could take him on if there wasn't a scaley tail winding from his hips. That would be additional weight you couldn't topple, no matter how much you playfighted the other hunters and warriors of your tribe, which sometimes outdid you in terms of weight and size.

The quieter one, on the other hand, had the typical looks of a working man in the village: big arms coming from a strong back and toned muscles that the woman would drool over, while the other seemed fit and nimble. But your eyes unwillingly focused on the tail as the two scaled the altar, moving forward oddly in sync until it became clear why.

Their two strands of tails flowed together between them into one massive one.

It was mesmerizing, you had to admit, the scales an iridescent white. But whenever the tail moved, it took on the hues of the land, grey and red, only to return to their original color as it wound itself. You were awestruck and panicked at the same time, as the tail seemed to be neverending, wrapping around the altar, finding hold on the stony ground that even your feet struggled with. Fear filled you as you watched their slithering movements, the mistake in your thinking now glaringly clear: The monster existed, and it had come for you.

"Y-You're the monster!" you screamed, and the smaller one of the two scrunched up his nose, taking offense. The white scales swept over the altar, landing in the space between you and the stone with a heavy thud. His body was barely shaken by the impact, so perfectly in balance with itself despite their unnatural split into two different entities, and the seriousness of the situation rained down on you like their sharp gazes as you realized there would be no chance of you overpowering either of them.

Even with their connection, they spread out too far to reach both simultaneously. They could still move independently, even if their range was limited to what their body could give. But even without them rearing up on the tail, they were almost two heads taller than you were. They knew their body better than anyone, and you didn't doubt they had some tricks up their non-existing sleeves to best you.

Biting your lip, you finally slipped your hand beneath your dress, never letting the monster—monsters—out of your sight. To your surprise, you watched their gazes slip to where you raised the fabric, observing you with curious intention, their split tongues slipping out from their lips, tasting the air as they ogled at your exposed thigh.

Your hand curled around the grip of your dagger, and the moment you pulled it from its holster, the snakes lept forward. There was no time to be proud of yourself, but your reaction was immaculate. You jumped back just in time to avert the nimble one's grabby hands, even drawing blood as your blade slit open the skin between his thumb and pointer finger.

However, as fast as you dealt with one of the snakes, you couldn't recover quickly enough to avoid the second pair of hands. Much like you anticipated, their range was too extensive to fight both of them at once, and although you ducked beneath one hand of the stronger monster, his second hand latched on, right in your hair. You watched as the red petals of the flower crown loosened and swayed in the air like a sad veil of defeat.

Your head was yanked back, and you acted quickly, directing the knife towards the unprotected free shoulder, somewhere that would hurt. Somewhere that would leave a visible scar and show everyone that these monsters could be injured. But a bloody grip around your wrist prevented you from pushing the dagger into the creature's partially scaled bodies, your hopes crumbling into ash.

"You good?" the more muscular man asked, and the other clicked his tongue in annoyance while you flailed and struggled in their grip. Your free hand was useless as you couldn't even reach forward enough, and so were your legs as you stood on your tiptoes while they yanked you around.

The latter lifted the hand that was holding your wrist to his mouth, licking up the blood that spilled from the cut on his as he maintained eye contact. You bared your teeth in both pain and defiance, not showing any of the miserable fear and panic you felt inside. You didn't manage to do what you came here for, and you felt the power surging through their bodies just from their hands on you. The failure gnawed at your determination, the fight as good as lost.

"We're not monsters," he hissed, glowering at you, although it looked more like a pout. "But you sure are quick on your feet."

Their comments should not have caused your heart to swell with pride, but hearing it from the monster you swore to hurt in exchange for your life did feel good.

"Surely you wish you'd have gotten an easier meal, monster! But I won't go down until I have shown everyone that you can be wounded and defeated! That you will bleed if the people unite! There will be no more sacrifices once they've seen what I did to you!"

"We're not monsters!" they repeated in unison before exchanging a brief glance with each other.

"Well, I won't call you god and beg for your mercy!" you spat, and the lips of the snake with your hand in his grip curled into a grin.

"Are you sure about that?"

With his blood coating your hand, he raised it way over your head, causing you to gasp as your whole body strained to accommodate the movement. His hand slipped upwards, a few fingers holding you in place, while some snaked between your palm and the knife in your grasp, prying your hold from it inch by inch. You let out a soft whine as the leather grip was torn from you and watched the metal clatter to the ground.

But you didn't have the time to mourn the loss of your only weapon, not when your arm was bent backward. Immediately, your free hand shot up, trying to dig your nails into the fingers wrapped around your wrist still.

That was your greatest mistake. With his free hand, the quiet monster immediately reached for both of yours, wrapping them in his palm as quickly as their tail could around your body.

You were kept on your tiptoes as you felt the scales of said tail slither over your skin. Creeping beneath your soles and running up your ankles, squeezing the flesh of your shins firmly together before wrapping around each thigh individually. You kicked and squirmed, but their tail was almost as unrelenting as their hands, and you involuntarily winced as your wrists were squeezed together as if tied by a rope.

"It's true we are not the monster you're trying to defeat," the leaner one claimed again, licking his wound like an injured animal.

"That's our mother," his brother explained curtly, and your head whirled around to him, the questions etched into your face.

"Look at us; we're only half the snake she is."

With an exasperated huff, you looked back and forth between the two, reeling at the revelation. "That's not possible! You... you are a snake with two heads. It's exactly as it's told in our stories!"

"They're not wrong..."

"I mean, she is a literal snake with two heads. And she's gigantic. You should be glad she didn't find you first, or you'd be even less than a small snack for her."

"And our dad is human. Like you."

You must have looked rightfully befuddled as the two went back and forth on their explanation, but once they were done, you could only gulp, unsure what to make of the situation. "So... you're not the monster that demands sacrifices?"

"No."

"Not really."

"Then..." It was hard to form the words that zapped through your mind, your mouth suddenly feeling dry again as the adrenaline sifted from your blood flow. Nothing could rationalize this situation, and you were still strung up by their hands and tail. This almost felt too good to be true, so you had to take your chance as long as you could. "You'll let me go?"

A moment of silence hung over all three of your heads before the brothers slowly ripped their gazes off you to exchange sly smirks. You wobbled as their body—and by extension, yours—set into motion, slithering back to the altar until you were sat down, your back forced to rest on the stone like a lamb to slaughter, hands hanging over the edge above your head and legs still wrapped by their tail.

"Oh, you can't just leave," the lean one purred, coming up from below you and planting his clawed hands firmly on either side of your arms. "The nights get so cold, and the days are so lonely with our mom busy occupying our dad. She never lets us play with him or come back to our home. Won't you keep us company for a while longer? I'm sure you can teach us some things, and we can teach you."

The other settled on the opposite side, still holding your hands in place as he grunted in agreement. You felt the bile rise in your throat as one touch slipped below your line of sight, claw-like nails raking up your thigh and moving beneath your dress. Their intentions got more apparent as the fabric was gripped from above, too, slowly, sensually raising over your skin until the hip strap of your underwear was revealed.

In a last-ditch effort, you tried to struggle once more, legs tugging upwards and kicking at the ever-winding tail while your hands twisted in their hold, causing it to crush down onto your bones even more. That wasn't how you wanted to go down; it wasn't the fight to death you thought you'd have!

"End me, then. Get it over with," you yelled out, laying your head to the side and closing your eyes, the reality too hard to face. Sooner or later, you'd die anyway, and if this were the things you'd have to endure, you'd rather be dead. It wasn't the kind of sacrifice you wanted to be, one defiled and molested before you'd be killed, so you'd rather be dead than witness it.

"Hush now," someone murmured, and you felt a hand sweep underneath your chin, turning your head forward again before tugging it up and over the altar's edge. Your eyes snapped open as your instincts kicked in, but as you opened your mouth to scream, it was quickly covered by another.

A tongue slipped between your opened lips before you could close them, slashing around inside harshly and clogging your throat. There was too much to take, and you gulped down the wetness it brought, sloshing it everywhere to the point it dripped from your lips, running down your face that immediately heated up beneath the fluid. It tasted sweet and even when you wanted to stop, you couldn't, gulping down all that was given to you.

Your body began to relax while you felt a hand drive down the front of your torso, brushing an entire palm over your breast and getting stuck on your nipple. You jolted, a pang of electricity flying to your head and down your spine, your back arching as you couldn't understand what was going on anymore. You had never felt this sensitive before, and as the hand continued to roam from one side to the other, finding the budding nip beneath your dress and twisting it, you let out an unholy moan into the mouth of the monster, your own tongue lashing upwards until it got caught on a sharp fang. Despite not feeling it, you were pretty sure your tongue was ripped open, but even more of the sweet-tasting, addictive stuff dripped from the fang, gushing into your mouth. You gobbled it up, considering you had nothing to drink throughout your journey, and your mind was not getting enough of the taste.

"Considering how quickly you got hooked on our mating fluids, I'd not be surprised if you do end up calling us gods when we're done with you."

You barely heard the voice of the curious onlooker beyond your line of sight, your mind wholly crazed by the liquid that coated all of your mouth and senses. It took almost more work to extract the monster's tongue from your throat than it had putting it inside. Your head followed it upwards, unwilling to part while the drool kept dripping down onto your face.

As you were freed of the kiss, a shameful, miserable sigh of disappointment escaped you, and you barely regained the ability to reply, "Never," in response to what the snake had said. That caused both of them to chuckle, and the sound sent a core-clenching, spine-tingling warmth throughout your body. Your lips quivering as your mind begged for more of that deep rumble cursing through their bodies.

"We'll see about that," the monster from below mumbled as he raked his claws over your thigh. Immediately, you were jolting upwards in their hold, caught between pain and pleasure as he lightly scabbed your skin. It was a small revenge for his own wound, and the scratches burned deliciously as they welcomed the hot air all around you two. "You're already so wet for us."

"It's called sweat," you mewled defiantly, the sound of your voice not befitting your sarcasm. You clenched your legs together, but it was a vain effort with the tail still stuck above your knees, easily prying them open by driving upwards. The scales rubbing over your skin didn't help your misery at all, and you wanted to throw your head against a solid wall with how dizzy and needy you felt. It wasn't you on that altar, but a very distorted version of you, one that wanted to be fucked silly even though what you really wanted was a good fight.

The two laughed at your comment, and you moaned in annoyance at the electricity that sapped through you at the sound of their voices. Your head fell back over the edge, and you came face to face with the more muscular one of the brothers as he lowered himself to your eye level. His eyes raked over your face, then up to your exposed neck just waiting to be bit.

"You're so cute," he mumbled, split tongue darting out again, tasting the air. Your pussy clenched as you wished for that tongue back in your throat or, even better, caressing your quivering folds below that were begging for something to fill their loneliness. The experience was new to you, as you had never wanted intimacy like this with anyone before. You had been so focused on your goals and diligently upholding your parents' rules and traditions that you never craved anyone, but especially not these two beasts.

"I'm not cute," you mewled, closing your eyes and biting your lips as you felt the sharp claws hover above your abdomen, gently stroking the skin below your navel from side to side, your core clenching even harder with pure, undiluted desire. But when the fingers slipped beneath the rim of your underwear, you moaned as you expected them to dip into the wet mess that lay just beneath, the expectation almost enough to send you over the edge.

"Oh, yeah?" the snake-man grinned, and you felt one finger press into your slit, your folds welcoming it warmly and with a shudder going through your body. You quaked in pleasure, eyes blown wide open, and the two fangs of the monster were all more prevalent as his lips split into a toothy smile. "So cute," he doubled down, pulling your arms taut until your body stretched to the last of its capabilities.

With his lips gently brushing against your forearm, you were wholly unprepared for the sharp pain as he dug his fangs deep into your skin. But the shriek quickly turned into a moan, your hips grinding against the finger probing at your entrance as more of the aphrodisiac went straight into your bloodstream. You watched the dark fluid drip off your arm, causing even more heat to spread where it flowed, and you were mercilessly whining as you couldn't move your hips nearly enough to satisfy your needs.

"Please," you snapped upwards, staring at the creature settled on top of the altar next to you, leisurely rubbing his hand along your pussy.

"There goes the begging," he reminded you, and you bit your lip to the point of hurting yourself.

Fuck, that wasn't what you wanted to say. It wasn't how you wanted to die, you never intended to let it get this far. Pathetic, pathetic, absolutely pathetic. You were a fucking warrior, you fought threats and hunted prey, you were not going to surrender to them—

"Fuck!" you gasped out loud this time as one digit slipped inside you. You felt it hook inside your pussy, slowly dragging out despite being clung to firmly by your insides. All the faster did he push it inside again, every joint that buried inside you made you arch your back and rejoice. You nearly avoided being scratched open inside, purely by how slick your pussy and his hand were by now, more fluids gushing out as he pulled his finger from you again and again.

Simultaneously, another digit curled down, fondling the heated folds until it pressed down on your clit, forcing a mewl from you. Fangs tore out of your skin, but you barely noticed as the two fingers united, taking up more space inside of you and scissoring your walls apart until you felt your pussy gaping and drooling obscenely.

"I'll not... submit," you stammered between bated breaths. "I'll not... be your plaything."

"And we wouldn't want it any other way," they chimed in unison, exchanging a satisfied glance before grinning.

"Mom always said to look out for the feisty ones."

"We just didn't think you'd come to meet us so soon."

"Or that you'd be this fun to play with."

Your whole body shuddered as both fingers were pulled out of your terribly needy hole. Your breath was almost non-existent, the lack of air only stimulating you more as you heard the sloppy sounds of your wet pussy letting go of the monster's fingers. A hand slipped beneath your head, helping you to hold it up as you watched the leaner brother lifting his pointer and middle finger to his face, split tongue lapping out to taste your slick pulling strings in the gaps while maintaining eye contact with you all throughout it.

"They're perfect," he purred as he looked up, stretching his arm towards his brother, who leaned forward to have his taste of you from his brother's fingers.

"Damn, that's sweet," he commented too on your fluids, licking them from his lips as he looked down at you in a mix of surprise and awe.

"And so pretty, too."

You felt their eyes in the same way their claws had raked over your body. Hungrily, with the intention to harm you. And yet, your hole kept gaping, needing more stimulation, wanting more. You were the pitiful prey you kept denying you were, but it seemed that in their eyes, you were so much more than that.

"Our little fighter," the one at your side murmured, stretching upwards to hover beside your face.

"Are you not even finishing what you started?" you spit, your venom not nearly as effective when your voice sounded as if you were drugged and disgruntled.

"Oh, I will, little fighter. We're going to make sure you can take us before spreading you on our cocks and make you cry out in pleasure until you call us "god". But before that, you have to be good and let us take you to our nest. Bonding will take so much time, and you are much too vulnerable out here."

"Fuck you," you grunted, trying to elbow him, but your arm barely moved.

"Keep it up," he grinned. "Wouldn't want you to give up too easily. Breaking you in is part of the fun."

"You're a fucking monster after all."

The snakes hummed thoughtfully as you were finally pulled off the table. Instead of being dragged by your arms or wrapped in their tail, however, you were slung over the bigger brother's shoulder, feeling his hand immediately settle beneath your asscheek, not so subtly poking at your pussy with his claw.

"Let me go!" you demanded weakly, your sore hands pounding pitifully into his shoulder.

"And miss out on all this fun? I don't think so," the leaner brother answered.

"Mother told us you can't go back anyway," the one carrying you added, throwing salt into the wound. They were right, but that didn't mean you'd go down so easily, even if your legs were still quivering and your head throbbing with need. "They'll kill you on sight, won't they? And then they'll return you to the altar so we can eat you."

A hand clasped around your jaw, claws digging into your cheeks as your head was lifted to face the leaner brother. "You know we prefer a different taste," he grinned, and you felt your anger rise again together with the shame of his implication. Collecting your saliva and some of the residues of the aphrodisiac, you spit them into his face, not caring whatsoever what that meant for you.

The snake-man scrunched up his face, quickly wiping it away. "Save your drool," he snarled, and you grinned victoriously despite the clasp he held your face in.

But as if on cue, a large palm flattened against your ass, and you jolted forward on the shoulder, eyes blown wide open as you gasped. You couldn't believe it as the wave of pleasure finally crashed into your rockfest resolution, your toes curling upwards and your eyes rolled back, your orgasm hitting you harder than even the slap had.

"Oh, god," you whispered breathlessly while riding the high of pleasure and shame as you felt your juices leaking even through your panties, dripping and running down the body of the other stronger brother.

"Seems like you finally get it, sacrifice," the guy in front of you noted, brushing his thumb over your lips, which opened automatically to his beckoning.

"Let's go, brother," he urged. "Seems our little fighter needs just a bit more convincing as to why they'll love being ours. I can't wait to make their belly swell with our clutch, just like Mother has always told us."

"We're lucky we found a mate so quickly," the other agreed, and you let out a defeated huff, no more words to counter them with coming to your dazed thoughts.

Their tail set into motion, scales slithering over stone, while your mind drifted off, the aphrodisiac having too much of a hold on your conscience for you to be rid of it quickly. You were going to be taken by the monsters, and if you thought you were helpless before, your body now barely felt like it belonged to you. It was as if you weren't its master anymore, but that drug and those snakes were. You could only shiver, even though the air was getting hotter the closer you three got to the volcano, wondering if you at least fulfilled your duty as a sacrifice.

And when that duty would finally end.

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arabellasleopardcoat · 3 months ago

Text

Valar Morghulis (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon cannot understand Viserys. Trusting Otto Hightower was one thing, but a Red Priestess? His brother must be out of his mind. But if he is, why does Daemon want you so much?

Warnings: Mature language. Lord of Light. Stalking (Daemon's version)

A/N: Now with a Pt 2. For the anon that said "I wanna be yours" x Daemon, you have my whole heart. Tagging: @just-some-random-blogger and @aias-fxtns because I need the support (First fic after breakup) and both of you are lovely artists!

EXILE HAD ALWAYS suited him. Or at least, that was what Daemon liked to pretend. It made Viserys’ constant dismissals easier to bear. Easier to accept.

And he had to accept it. Because he could not imagine a world in which he wouldn’t love Viserys, wouldn’t attempt to protect him. If he resented his brother, that task turned harder and harder.

It wasn’t as if exile was so bad. Daemon loved getting to know the world around him. He had a taste for the foreign and exotic, at least per westerosi standards.

It was only natural that when the rumor about the Red Priestess Viserys’s court reached his ears, he had to return. Planning a war in Driftmark could wait. Viserys' sudden bout of madness could not.

A red witch of all things! What was Viserys’ thinking? Daemon knew all about them. About how they were fanatical in their worship, how they performed blood magics similar to those that had brought the doom of Valyria, how they burned alive those they perceived as unfaithful. But most of all, how great they were at bending men to their wills.

So focused Daemon had been on the infestation of local snakes they had at court, he had never thought there would be room for essosi ones. Now, he had to rid Viserys of his latest plague.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen!” The guard announces, and truly, the security here is so lax, Daemon is surprised no one has murdered Viserys yet. Is Otto trying to purposefully get him killed, has he forgotten Daemon is technically exiled or is it just that he is done too with the witch?

Whichever the cunt’s reasons are for allowing him into the Red Keep, Daemon will not question them if they benefit him. He strode inside Viserys’ rooms, finding his brother carving some figurines, accompanied by the mousey Hightower girl.

She has The Seven Pointed Star in her lap, in a pitiful attempt at piety. She is also dressed in a gown that shows far too much of her chest to be considered demure. Daemon isn’t impressed. He has seen prettier whores in Flea Bottom.

“Brother! You have finally joined us.” Viserys sets down the knife and the figurine, looking surprisingly whole for a man who has just lost his wife and heir. But then again, he seems to have gotten himself a far too young distraction to make up for it.

Daemon tampers down his fury at the greeting. It had been Viserys himself who had ensured his distance, denying him even the barest acknowledgment in the form of a dragon egg for his future children.

He takes a deep breath, and channels all his fury into giving a cold glance at the Hightower girl. It sends her scurrying off, which makes him smile. Seriously, what did Viserys see in her? The girl is as common as any of the serving girls. Aemma had been a true Valyrian beauty, even entertaining the thought of replacing her for this mouse was an insult to her memory.

“I heard disquieting rumors.” Daemon says, voice loud enough the girl can hear him from the doorstep, where she lingers. Probably to inform her cunt of a father. “Of strange visits.”

Daemon watches with amusement as the girl splutters, turning a bright red, before she falls out of the room in her haste to get away. He can hear the guards ask her if she is alright, but Viserys makes no move to help her, his attention firmly on him. He cannot help but preen a bit.

The House of the Dragon would always feel drawn to one another. They were flames, meant to burn together. And no Hightower cunt would get in the way of that. Daemon

is not so naive as to think the girl was in his brother’s rooms in the middle of the afternoon only to read to him about the Seven, though. He would ensure someone spiked her usual tea with some moontea. No need to give dear Otto what he craved so much, after all.

“Do you mean the Red Priestess?” Viserys asks him, not even considering he could be referring to his whore.

“Indeed. Are we in Essos now?” On the bright side, if Daemon is bedding the Hightower girl, Daemon doubts he is bedding the priestess. Which makes her far more dangerous than Daemon expected. A woman so adept at manipulation she can get a King to bend to her will without using her feminine wiles? She had to be a sorceress of the worst kind.

Daemon had to remove her before it was too late.

“Oh, not at all! She just made some interesting insights, that’s all.” Viserys gets up from his chair and takes out a book. It’s bound in red leather, and it has nothing on the cover. “Her views are most refreshing.”

He hands the book to Daemon. He pages through it, eyebrows raising. At least the damn thing is written in High Valyrian, though he doesn't appreciate all the talk of R'hllor and this Great Other.

“By the… Viserys, are you losing your faith?” The more Daemon reads, the more he realizes these stories, from past and futures not yet come to pass, are incompatible with any other gods. It is no wonder the Red Priests and Priestesses are known for burning others if this is their sacred book. “Calling the Fourteen false idols…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Daemon.” Viserys frowns. He doesn’t seem to understand what Daemon is alluding to.

“First, you have Lady… Alicent reading you The Seven Pointed Star. Then, a Red Priestess. Should I expect an ironborn here too? What happened to the Fourteen Flames?”

Viserys meets Daemon’s eyes. For a second, there is silence. Then, much to his indignation, Viserys starts to laugh.

“Oh, brother, is that what worries you? My faith in our ancestral religion is firm. The Red Priestess interested me because she made mentions of an ancient prophecy, one her order should not know about. It was originally made by Aegon the Conqueror.”

A prophecy made by Aegon the Conqueror? Daemon had never heard such a thing. He was quite knowledgeable about the dreamers of his line, yet he had never read mention of Aegon being one.

“Aegon the Conqueror? A dreamer?” Daemon doubted it was true. The priestess must have made it up to get an in with Viserys. He had to admit it was rather clever of her. Somehow, she had looked at him and saw his weak spot. His fascination with dragon dreams.

“He was one. Our grandfather had told me so. The Priestess had no way to know, yet…” All of this was news to Daemon. His eyebrows raised. As if sensing his disbelief, Viserys went on. “His dream is passed from King to heir. It has only made me more confident in naming Rhaenyra as mine. There is no one else better suited to hold the realm.”

“I see.” Daemon, did not, in fact, see. What was the connection between the dream and Rhaenyra ruling? And if this prophecy was passed from king to heir, why was he just learning of it now?

“The Red Priestess isn’t so bad. In fact, I think the two of you would get along quite well. Otto has insisted on banishing her, but I cannot do so in good conscience. Not when she sees so clearly, and when she is able to wield the magic of the pyromancers of Old Valyria.”

“Does she?” Daemon echoes, faintly. His mind is still reeling with the fact that Viserys had never truly considered him his heir. Viserys continues talking, and Daemon continues making all the right noises, but the thought haunts him for the rest of the day.

R’HLLOR HAD BLESSED you with a large family. Your heart swelled when you thought of it, the joy you felt so profound, it brought tears to your eyes.

You had sisters and brothers strewn all over Essos, and soon you would have more of them in Westeros. At least, if things went as planned. Which you were now doubting, knowing you would mess this up.

You had never met your birth family. When you had been very young, they had sold you to the Red Temple in exchange for six gold coins. You remembered nothing about them, and for it, you were glad. It was best, your mentors have said, to not remember the night and its terrors and to only know light.

Many of the children who were sold to the temple never managed to amount to anything. If they were lucky, they became servants, cleaning and cooking after the priests and priestesses. If they were not, they grew up to be the temple’s prostitutes.

When you had arrived at the temple, young and half starved, one of the priests had seen something in you. No otherworldly beauty, no talent at servitude, but an unyielding spark and a keen intelligence that one could not acquire, no matter how much one meditated and prayed.

Some people were just born with it. Touched by the God of Light, a shining crown placed atop their heads that only trained eyes could see. Destined for great things.

You had never seen it yourself, but whatever the priest had seen had been proven right. They had soon learned you had an uncanny ability when it came to learning new languages. It had made you star rise among your peers. You were the perfect envoy to spread the word of salvation.

Anyone could scry through flames, if given enough practice, and any could manipulate fire if they knew the secrets of the ancient arts. With the careful nurturing of your mentors, you had been ready to go out in the world as soon as you had reached your majority, but this was actually your first trip. Any woman on her own was in danger, and so, not only learning the mysteries of your god was needed, but confidence and abilities at self-defense.

By the time you had been ready to venture out in the world, you were a respectable age, though absolutely inexperienced. Not that you would tell King Viserys that, of course.

You had chosen the Seven Kingdoms as your first destination on recommendation from your mentors. It was likely you would be rejected by the King, though you would not face any danger. The followers of the Faith of the Seven had mellowed out after that nasty business two Kings ago, and so, no one would call for your immediate execution.

It was supposed to be a good experience, to learn how foreign courts worked and to practice your opening speech. There was nothing really at stake, not their faith nor your life, so the rejection wouldn’t matter much in the great scheme of things.

Yet, you were still nervous. Crippling, terrible doubt had taken hold of your heart. What if the people hated you so much, their hearts and minds closed to the word of your Lord? If you made such a bad impression they refused to be saved?

The only thing that reassured you was that everything was going as expected. The commoners feared you, the Hand protested your presence and the King, too peaceful to refuse, had agreed to see you.

Today was the day you had been waiting for, and you were feeling nervous. Speaking in public, thanks to your training, wasn’t longer nerve racking as it once had been. Speaking in front of a court caused you a bit more anxiety, but you took comfort in all the formalities. What worried you wasn't making a bad impression, you worried you were about to be so terrible they would refuse to let you speak at all.

The throne room was filled to the brim. Nobles and commoners alike had come to see the foreign witch, said to be able to kill men with a glance and make night into day. Between all of them, one face stood from the crowd. The Hand, Otto Hightower, had a pinched expression, and he clutched at the pin denoting his station as if it would protect him from you.

He, just as the crowd did, imagined you as some enchantress, a sorcerer capable of bending reality to her will. You didn’t want them to be disappointed, so you had put on your best red gown, one that cling to the curves you had, and gave the illusion of those you didn’t. The curly red hair, that you dyed every month with crushed leaves, only served to give you a more otherworldly air.

The Iron Throne was a terrible thing, made from half melted swords that looked more likely to stab anyone sitting on it than serving its purpose. King Viserys was sitting on it, fresh blood dripping from a cut on his forearm. A bad omen, if what you had heard was to be believed.

You dropped into a graceful curtsy, making sure to keep a coy smile on your face. The King didn’t seem interested, which was good. You weren’t interested in him either.

“Your Grace, I come bearing news about salvation.” You started, as you got up. “I was hoping you would allow me to share them in your court.”

“Of course, Lady…” King Viserys was beginning to agree, but as your eyes scanned the crowd, you saw her. The silver woman.

She was standing a bit to the side, hands clasped behind her back, looking just as lovely as she would in a few years, when she would birth the Prince who was fated to be a part of the line that would bring Azor Ahai.

Dazed with the revelation, you stumbled towards her. To think your order had sought all over Planetos, only to find her here. In the single corner of the world your light had not managed to reach.

And, oh, the honor it was, to be the one to meet her, to guide her, to serve her… You could hardly believe it. Your heart beat so hard inside your chest, you feared you may faint. Your hands sweated. This was your destiny, your purpose. You could finally understand it all.

As you moved towards her, a spear was placed in your path. You stared at it, and at the man who held it. Young, tanned, and wearing a white cloak. With a gesture, you set it alight. It took you considerable effort to do so in such a small amount of time, flames weaker than you would like, but it was enough to burn the fingers of the knight and not make you look too threatening.

“Ah!” He jerked back, letting go of the burning metal. Before he could draw his sword, you lunged for the silver woman.

“I have seen you in the flames.” You said, curtsying as low as you could. Yet, another white knight stepped in, sword drawn. “In hearths, candles, in pyres. Wearing a golden crown.”

The Hand scoffed. But the King, suddenly, was attentive.

“Let her pass.” He ordered.

“Father, surely…” The woman, your silver princess, looked afraid, but the knight obeyed and you were already moving. You threw yourself at her feet and kissed her hands. Her skin, pale as alabaster against your darker one, felt supple in your grip.

She was lovely and terrible, and silver. A beacon of light, in this very room. Unbidden, the prophecies dropped from your lips as water poured from a goblet. Even with the little time you had been in her presence, you could feel your powers sharpening, your vision extending. She was a being of pure magic.

“Azor Ahai shall be born from your line. The Prince promised to unite us all.” You looked into her eyes, hoping to convey the importance of your message. There had been times when you had doubted your faith, but when her amethyst eyes met your brown ones, you felt alight with righteous purpose, flesh turning into goosebumps.

The silver woman gasped, breaking the eye contact to look at something above your head. You turned to look, too, annoyed at the disruption. The only thing you found was the King looking at you in what you thought was the same way you looked at her.

“Rise, Priestess. I would like very much to have you in my court. I look forward to hearing your insights.” King Viserys said, voice shaking.

And that was it. The matter was settled, you were staying in the Red Keep. You even had a suite of rooms for yourself, that included a working space, a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathing room. You! The girl who had been sold to a temple for six gold pieces.

Your whole life had been leading up to this. R’hollor had light up your path, guided you through the darkest nights, pulled you down the worst terrors, only to get you here. Next to your silver princess.

As you willed a small bonfire to life, you prayed to your god for guidance, during the vigil that awaited you. King Viserys had only allowed you small fires, contained to the braziers placed in your workspace. It didn’t matter. You knew he was listening regardless.

“Lord of Light, guide me. Defend me, protect me in this darkness. Lord of Light, that your face shines upon us. Guide me to the right path, allow my mouth only to form words of praise to you, allow me to speak the right sentences to convince them of our righteous cause.”

This was the greatest challenge you would face, you thought to yourself, as the flames raised higher and higher. As the sun fell, and you stood, alone during the long night.

“Strengthen me, show me the way. If you have chosen me for this task, you must guide me to complete it. Celestial father, God above. You who sees it all.”

He had to help you. He had to. Because no matter how good at sorcery you were, you had never preached his word to anyone beyond the faithful of your temple. Now, you stood between Westeros and the long night, and it was imperative that they converted so you could save them all.

Around you, the flames roared.

A SHAME YOU were the worst kind of snake there was, for you were the most exquisite creature Daemon had ever laid eyes upon.

He had been standing in the secret passage for a good half an hour, watching you putter around in your working space. The suite of rooms Viserys had given you was adjacent to the rooms that he was placed in, which made observing you much easier.

The rooms looked like a nightmare come to life, a roaring inferno inside them that made Daemon worry you would catch fire. Between braziers and candles, you stood, dressed in long red robes. You were chanting under your breath, in rapid fire High Valyrian that even he struggled to understand.

“Keep us away from darkness, my lord. You are the light in our eyes, the fire in our hearts, the warmth in our bellies. Yours is the sun that warms our days, the stars that guard us in the darkest nights. For the night is dark and full of terrors.” You spun around the room, in figures that only made sense to you, dancing in wild abandon. A lesser man might find it terrifying, but Daemon only saw beauty.

Dangerous beauty. Beauty that could be destroyed at any instant, if you moved the wrong way and your robes caught fire. Yet, somehow, you steered your steps just right, dancing between the flames.

“Thank you for the sun that warms us, the stars that light our paths. Thank you for the fires in our hearths, and the torches that will keep darkness at bay.” In the confusing low light of the chambers, bathed by red light from the fire, you didn’t look human. You looked like something beyond humanity, a terrifying witch taken straight out of the cursed Valyria. Yet, it was impossible to look away. Your beauty was inhumane, dark skin shining like polished obsidian in the low light, red curls tumbling like a cascade of fire over your shoulders.

“Lord of Light, protect your servant. Guide me, do not allow me to stray.” You danced in an odd circle, stopping right in front of the wall where Daemon was hiding in. “Show me your mysteries.”

And somehow, it felt as if you were talking to him. Daemon froze in place, not even daring to breathe. How could you know of the secret passage? You had only resided in the Red Keep for a couple of days.

You didn’t move. You stared at the wall, or rather, through it. Even with the stone and the metal screen separating the two of you, Daemon felt as if you were staring him down.

Perhaps, your sorcery wasn’t just clever parlor tricks. Perhaps, you were even more dangerous than he imagined.

You were pure fire. And dragons loved to burn.

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cheezeybread · 1 year ago

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I've been seeing concept on my feed lately so I have to ask: Jamil taking his lover's last name when they get married. I've been seeing arguments on how this could actually free him since he technically wouldn't be a Viper anymore. So can I have headcanons for this scenario? Also how happy does he get when he's called Mr.L/N?

I've never really thought about it, but that's a pretty good point...poor Jamil needs all the good stuff he can get in this life TwT

𝐆𝐍 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 (𝐞𝐱)𝐕𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫! :𝐃 𝐅𝐭: 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥, 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲

┏━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┓

He never figured that there could be so much freedom in marriage. In all honesty, he had never really considered marriage an option for him. In Jamil's opinion, marriage was for the wealthy, those who could easily afford to have so many children and not worry about feeding them. He saw how hard his parents worked day in and day out serving Kalim's family, all so they could afford to live.

It was honestly one of the things he grew to resent Kalim's family for. They had it so easy, and they didn't even appreciate it!

And, why would Jamil want to bring a child into this world only to have them indebted to the family he himself has slaved for his entire life??

Marriage was a snake pit, and Jamil knew how to avoid those all too well.

Well, but then he met you. To be honest, Jamil never looked twice at you, assuming that you were one of those stuck-ups who enjoyed everyone's attention. But after his overblotting incident, he began to see you in a new light. You weren't craving attention. You were simply being kind. And generous. And you were oh so smart, and gorgeous...

Before he knew it, he was head over heels with you, and a relationship blossomed.

Despite his uneasiness around marriage, Jamil couldn't stand to not have you permanently bound by his side, his love for you written down on an official certificate.

You knew good and well why he was so anxious about the marriage ordeal, so a few weeks before the wedding, you went to Azul to ask him his personal opinion on the matter. After a few hours of consultation (which was, surprisingly, free! Azul said to consider it a wedding gift!), a solution was found. If Jamil took your last name, then he wouldn't legally be a part of the Viper family anymore, and therefore wouldn't be in servitude to the wealthy family of Kalim.

You presented it to Jamil with excitement, and he joined in with your happiness, although he was still a little uneasy on how to tell his parents about it

In the end, you two decided not to tell his family until the day of the wedding.

"Jamil Viper, I hereby bound you eternally to (Y/N) (L/N), to stick together for all the time in this world. You may now kiss to solidify your bond," The priest said with a loving smile, looking at the two of you like a father looks upon his child with pride "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I now introduce you to the newly wedded couple...Jamil (L/N) and (Y/N) (L/N)

Jamil's family wasn't too happy about the name change, but what could they do?? Absolutely nothing! His mother especially was upset, and pulled Jamil aside to hiss at him about how he's disgracing their family and practically shoving the Al-Asim family's face with rotten dung

HOWEVER, Kalim showed up to save the day (of course he was there! Even if he wasn't invited...he still would find a way to invite himself), informing Jamil's mother that his family was overjoyed at Jamil's decision, and wished him all the best luck in his newfound life and marriage.

Jamil's mother shut up real nicely after that.

And, after this situation, Jamil saw Kalim in a new light, untainted by his servitude to the boy. The two of them slowly became actual friends!

And for the first month after the wedding, Jamil's face would light up with an insane amount of joy whenever someone called him by his full name, proud of sharing a last name with you.

Even several years after the wedding, you can still see the sparkle in his eyes over it all.

It was the right decision, for sure

┗━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┛

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst fanfic #twst x reader #disney twst #jamil twst #jamil x reader #twst jamil #jamil viper #jamil twisted wonderland

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seaslugandscylla · 9 months ago

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Some notes under the snacking issue of Sebastian post caused my brain to weeoweeo it way too much than I expected, so well here are the continuing of topic xd

Sorry it's an essay because I can't write succinctly

1. How did the evil corporation(insert it’s name please) feed?

As far as I’m concerned, the shady corpo experimented on him to check/make people to able to breathe under water. Keeping him alive was quite crucial to success so I think they would provided him with proper amount of of food or at least the full nutrient content preparation. However, it changed when his body started to rapidly mutate, grow and evolve into what he’s now. The vast increase in his need of food and the fact that the gills didn’t develop very well, due to the scientists not very smart move - mixing his DNA with atmospheric oxygen snake and whale, caused the team to shrink his portion and gave him bare minimum in form of drip-feed… Auch

2. How didn’t he die from literally any nutrient deficiency sickness?

As I said it before I do not know the lore very much only basis. So forgive if I mess up some facts about the events. Going back to topic, after the event of beating the life out of his guards/special troops everyone left the lab immediately. Leaving everything behind including the rations, which were sent there for the staff to eat, all kind of medicine - pills, drops, syrups, injections etc. and whatever crops left( no idea if in the game is any „farm” but the transport would be extremely expensive so I think they would love to slash costs especially when there are vertical farms which are efficient, cheap and easy to maintain and during evacuation they could simply destroy it if nothing like this exists there). He simply gain most of crucial elements via all those supplements. Especially via drips which are the least painful without activating all digestive track. I like to think the reason why his extra arm is in the bandages is the fact that he often injects himself with various needles and his veins are in horrible state. At some point point all these supplements will end and it won’t end well for him, but not yet. That’s solves a bit the issue of lack of scurvy, nyctalopia and any other issues alike. Here’s the misery fish and his banana bag of lovely Zn and vit C

3. Another snacking issue

He is in constant state of hunger. No escape from it. The small human stomach ruthlessly dictates the size of his next snack and for how long he cannot eat, because it’s full, but it’s better to have at least one full than none. That could cause another big issue which is connected with the unconditional reflex - food in mouth equals activiting the synthesis of digestive enzymes and HCl in both tracks at the same time. Both are connected to one nervous system and the information goes to both, no matter if only one should start working. Not good situation, one belly is digesting itself,easy way to get ulcers or esophagitis, which not only are extremely painful but also deadly especially in his case with no health care or even chance to get any. He had to figure it out quite quickly how to make his eating as harmless as it’s possible. The easiest way I think would be simply some herby stomach drop, the one which highers the ph and stops HCl from being created. But I fear it works on human part- So he had to create strict timetable - when he eats, when he takes drops, when he can eat again. To keep the snake stomach in check and never letting it be fully empty and miraculously avoid the sinister autodigestive ideas of snake element. So his best friend is a tiny bottle of disgusting drops from a nurse office

4. How not to starve to death with body like that?

Dense soup. Maximum proteins in the smallest velocity and in easy to consume and digest way. It passes both stomachs faster because tough long chains are already broken into smaller ones so it can be faster absorbed and used. It’s also very easy to make and can contain many ingredients giving the biggest diversity in one sip. Still starves because it’s not enough, but there is no better way :”)

And no he wouldn't threaten anyone that he would add them to his soup. He was a human and he exactly knows there are too many weird fellas out there. No way he'll risk getting new traumatic event, he won't take it anymore-

The last thing is this two sentences:

Honestly I wasn't prepared to read something like this with straight face at 6AM. It wasn't in my weekly bingo card, but jup it made my day, thanks

#sebastian solace #roblox sebastian solace #sebastian pressure #pressure sebastian #sebastian #roblox pressure #pressure fanart #the pressure #pressure

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cobragardens · 2 years ago

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The Colors of Crowley

Black is the color Crowley uses to cover himself, red is the color that represents Crowley to himself, and yellow is the color that represents Crowley to Aziraphale. What each color symbolizes and how it's used give us important information about Crowley (and to some degree Aziraphale) and about the ineffable relationship.

I feel kind of dumb writing this post because I'm sure it's glaringly obvious to everyone else, but there's this Metro UK article of all things (the Metro is owned by the hardcore rightwing Daily Mail, btw, so please don't link to it) that mentions the red stitching on Crowley's gloves in 1867, and it made conscious some details I had only subconsciously noted, so fwiw to anybody else, here are my notes on the colors associated with Crowley in Good Omens and their significance in the context of the way each one is used.

I don't think we need to cover black-as-evil in Western color symbology. [And yet here's a long-ass paragraph about it anyway! --Ed.] Light:dark::good:evil has been a thing with Christianity since before Christianity was even Judaism. The Israelites picked it up from the Zoroastrians way back before YHWH had subsumed El as 'God,' which may have been before they were Israelites as well; I mean it was a LONG time ago. Good Omens has been using black and white to represent Hell and Heaven, respectively, long before the show. In the UK, the book was published in paperback with a choice of black or white cover with an illustration of the contrasting character in the contrasting color: Crowley illustrated in black, Aziraphale in white. The current hardcover is grey.

Crowley wears black, and the Bentley is black. At the metanarrative or authorial level this is obviously for the purposes of the black/white demon/angel contrast, but on the intra-narrative level, the Watsonian level, it's interesting to note that Crowley doesn't have to wear black. He's obviously not free to choose from the full color palette, but Furfur's shirt and sash are is dark emerald green, Dagon is in ultramarine (as befits a marine Elder God), and Shax has only been on Earth for four years before she's wearing head-to-toe oxblood. When she shows up later in battle dress she's got a lot of oxblood there, too. And yet Crowley wears black.

Authorial reasons aside, black suits Crowley for a couple intra-narrative reasons. For much of history, black was the most expensive color to dye and maintain in clothing, and as a result it has always been fashionable. And for several centuries in Christendom, wearing black was also a sign that you were in mourning, which was a social and religious obligation when someone close to you died. Whether you could wear other colors with it depended on how long ago that death had occurred.

Again: black is what Crowley chooses to cover himself, and as there is a sharp distinction between how Crowley presents himself to fulfill his obligations and who he thinks of himself as being, there is likewise a distinction between the colors that represent those two quantities as well.

Red is the color the show uses to represent Crowley to Crowley. The most obvious reason is his hair. This is another change from Book Omens, where Crowley is described as having hair that is "dark." A lot of fans in the UK hated the change when S1 came out because fans hate change and the British have a thing against gingers, but Crowley's red hair suits him better than dark imo because the Mother of Demons in Jewish religious literature, Lilith, is traditionally depicted with red hair. Red hair has been associated for more than a millenium in the Middle East and England and Wales with sorcery, witchcraft, demonic influence/possession, and satan-worship.

Crowley wishes his mom was this cool with snakes.

A good case can be made that Crowley genuinely likes the color red in addition to considering it demonically appropriate. I say this for three reasons. Firstly, because when he has a (limited) choice of (again, demonically appropriate) colors, he always chooses red. The marble of the desk in his apartment is not green or grey. He can have any color stitching on his gloves or lining of his jacket collar he wants, but it's always red. Secondly, it's not only red he chooses, it's almost always bright red.

We know Crowley's red isn't supposed to represent blood or violence, because we have another demon character whose use of red represents just that, and it's not the same red:

Compare Shax' oxblood and burgundy to

and

Crowley's red isn't just red, it's lipstick, cherry, crimson red. And in case we weren't sure that we should read this red as symbolizing passionate, romantic love:

Romantic symbolism aside, bright red is also the color of passion (romantic or otherwise), optimism, heat, vitality, life, (hell)fire, and warning.

Red and black says don't fuck with Jack.

The third reason I think we can safely say that Crowley actually likes the color red is that he hides it. It's always tiny little touches, some of which you have to look for to see. (I still don't know where they snuck in the red on his Elizabethan habit, e.g.) And we know this color is a risk for him, and that he is right to hide it, because Ligur, who doesn't approve of any of Crowley's less-than-fully-demonic embellishments and may share Hastur's opinion that Crowley has gone native, comments on one of Crowley's more noticeably colorful items.

And I think the red tells us one more thing about Crowley, too.

Bright red is the colorest of colors, you know? When we can choose only one color to represent all colors, to represent colorfulness itself, we choose bright red (even in cultures where red symbolizes other meanings than it does in Western art).

Remember how Aziraphale gives Crowley's jacket a tartan collar when he swaps bodies with Crowley and impersonates him in Hell because Aziraphale feels the need to maintain some small secret token of his identity, some tiny unremarked sign of something he loves and thinks is beautiful, when he is down there alone in the gloom among enemies?

Crowley is down there alone among enemies every second of every day and night, whether he's in Hell or on Earth. And he's already had his identity stripped from him once. If you were someone who said

about this

and then you got recruited by the fash downstairs bc the fash upstairs threw you out for not being fashy enough and you had to start wearing nothing but dark colors and more importantly had to hide everything that made you feel warmth or softness or joy, and that was it, that was the deal for eternity, but you could add one (1) little touch to everything you wore to remind yourself that there is some beautiful part of you left, something you loved once, that no one has yet been able to steal or brutalize out of you...what color would the stitching on your gloves be?

Lastly, Yellow represents Crowley to Aziraphale. I'm going to skip the chain of evidence for this bc I think it's obvious, but the way it's used also lends itself to some inferences supported in other areas in the show.

Here's where I think changing Crowley's hair to red from Book Omens' dark is a good decision in another way. Crowley always has red hair, and if he has any color in his clothes it's going to be red. Red is eye-catching; it always stands out, but it doesn't stand out as demonic. And yet the color Aziraphale associates with Crowley and calls "pretty" isn't red.

I suspect that when Aziraphale says he can make Crowley an angel again, Crowley hears "You're not good enough for me to accept you as you are, let me fix you" because these are words Aziraphale has said to him many times, and has meant some of those times. But

tells the audience differently. The color Aziraphale associates with Crowley, the color he calls "pretty," is the color of Crowley's only overtly demonic feature. Aziraphale doesn't love the angel he knew who isn't Crowley, he loves Crowley, the demon, the person he is now, his yellow demon irises.

Yellow appears in three other places in S2, and they're all symbolically significant, and in fact serve to establish another symbolic significance to the color yellow in addition to that of Yellow Is the Color of My True Love's Eyes.

One of them is a feather duster:

Crowley reacts to a feather duster like a cat confronted by an unfamiliar object

The other three are private conversations between Aziraphale and Crowley:

The walls that surround Crowley and Aziraphale when they speak openly about their situation and how they will handle it are drenched in yellow, and that is super interesting, because in Western color symbolism yellow is the color of fear. The archangel of whom Crowley and Aziraphale are both (rightly) terrified wields a tool the color of fear. The color of fear saturates the backdrop of conversations between Aziraphale and Crowley when they have to discuss their situation and their actions openly.

Remember how Aziraphale's voice shakes here?

Crowley realizes the crows have just handed an angel evidence the angel can take to Hell and use to have Crowley killed

Even the Bentley, that clear sign of Aziraphale's love for Crowley, is also a yellow coffin enclosing him. For Aziraphale, thoughts of Crowley are always entangled with fear, because Crowley is not just Crowley, he is also Crowley's Fall.

And I think fear is what Crowley's eyes themselves represent. For Crowley, fear is now a fundamental part of his perception, his nature, his identity.

The angel Aziraphale once knew is not Crowley, and yet from what we've seen, the chiefest difference in character between this sweetheart and this mischief-maker--

--is that the Starmaker does not know yet that he should be afraid, and the Serpent does. That knowledge and its fear has, shall we say, colored his view of the world.

Aziraphale learns that fear early by observing others rather than Falling himself, and knows enough that by the first time we meet him in the Before, he is already afraid.

Pink was once symbolically equivalent to red; in modern Western color symbology it is a color of innocence, youth, beauty, and first love. Hashtag just sayin'.

The cruellest thing this suggests to me is that, rather than rebellion or his propensity to ask questions, rather than the knowledge of good and evil, the Starmaker's Fall was caused by his innocence. it wasn't the questions that were the problem: it was that he didn't know any better than to speak them out loud.

Y'all, Crowley and Aziraphale do not suffer from communication problems. Despite both being male-coded and British, they don't even seem to lack emotional intelligence. What they do have is a universe of silence and fear they have to communicate within and around. What they lack is the safety to speak and love freely. The true color of Crowley is crimson, but someone gave him those eyes, and Aziraphale either watched that happen or knew about it, and now Crowley covers himself in black--which btw is also the symbolic color for mystery and secrets--and only lets Aziraphale see him as he really is now, because Aziraphale won't judge him for his yellow eyes (or punish and forsake him for his questions). Because Aziraphale carries that fear with him too.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens analysis #good omens crowley color analysis #good omens crowley color #crowley #good omens colour analysis good omens crowley colour #good omens colour #good omens meta #angel!crowley #starmaker

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