#arion & ven

[killjpeg-reblogs]

misc shit

[pine-lark]

soup (Caged, Whumptober Day 4)

Whumptober comes a lil bit early today. Here it is: the aforementioned, infamous ‘soup drabble’. Be aware of a lack of editing, haha. I’m very impatient and I wanna air the other piece I wrote last night that goes with this. Enjoy some really, really angsty comfort. 

CW: tiny!whumpee, tiny!caretaker kind of, mention of self-harm as a coping mechanism/out of boredom/to distract from pain, food, (nonsexual) forced nudity, torture (...Arion is forced to straddle a bar for. Awhile. Nonsexual. Just really really painful.) Implied withholding of food and starvation, neglect, caged, mention of systematic hunting of tinies for their wings. 

They had to put tape over his hands, this time, to keep him from scratching himself, from making his own wrists bleed. It was the only thing Arion could do to distract himself from the pain, the only thing to keep him from going insane all alone, with nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to talk to in the cage. And now Arion can’t have even that. They’d kicked him once they saw the blood, and Andras pinned him down with his boot, while they wrapped his hands together with a square of big, dull, silver tape from Heston’s drawer.

And now he’s alone again. The others are gone. A part of him is horribly grateful that they’re out, hunting for new victims, for new arivies Heston can mutilate and sell. Part of him hopes they don’t find anyone. Part of him hopes that they do, and that one survives the saw, and that they will become Heston’s favorite toy. Arion hates that part of himself. But it’s the only morsel of hope that he can hold onto… so he does.

They hadn’t always made him stay in the cage like this. They used to just tie him, for the first few weeks after he was taken from the tree, over a year ago.

The cage was a red, decorative candleholder, originally, so right in the center was a raised circle and a sharp protruding spike to mount a candle.  It was too short, too thin to tie him to without an easy escape, so right from the beginning Heston had welded a small angled, L-shaped rod over the top of the spike in the shape of a T to keep the twine from slipping off when lifted.

And then-young and naïve little Arion saw something that looked like an opportunity, and he took it. Untying the rope hadn’t been that hard. He ran. Or, tried to. He didn’t make it far. Not even out of the garage. They’d dragged him right back to the cage, slammed him against the sharp metal bars, and tied him again. Differently, that time.

“I think we need to teach little birdie here a lesson, though. I’ve got a funny idea.”

That was over a year ago.

Now, even still, long after he’s been broken and long after he stopped trying to fight it, stopped trying to run, stopped clawing through the ropes, it’s the same rule, the same funny idea. He straddles the crooked angle bar, with his feet barely unable to touch the ground. Unless tied there, and they do. They do tie his feet, to a weight. His heels shouldn’t be able to touch the ground but they do and it hurts but there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can do but wait for mercy. Every night, every morning, whenever they’re gone, he waits to be let go.

There’s no more tying for his hands, now, though-- this day being the only exception, with the tape. They don’t even lock the door. They know he won’t run. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He can barely move after so many hours of sitting there, can’t even stir his legs, let alone try to climb off. Someone always has to lift him. And often, they forget to. Or… they don’t care.

They only left a little while ago, but Arion’s been here since dawn. It will be a painful wait, today.

After so long, after sitting over a sharp metal angle for hours, everything becomes numb and unfeeling. The hurt dulls to a low unrelenting hum. Still, it hurts, and he can’t take his mind off it, can’t think about anything else. Arion draws a long, shallow breath, and he tries to wipe away the mess of tears over his face with a shoulder.

Small footsteps come from the other side of the desk, out of his line of sight until they round the corner. Arion tenses. His stomach flips. He thought… he thought they all left.

Someone steps up to the cage door, pushes it open.

It’s Ven.

Arion notices he hesitates before stepping in. He sees the discomfort flick across his gaze, the same way it does with Andras and Kai. They all hate the cage, except Damon, and he’s never figured out why. And next to the discomfort, Arion thinks, maybe, he sees a little trace of sympathy in Ven’s eyes. But it could have easily been a trick of the light.

Ven sets something down that Arion can’t see, and then he moves closer.

Arion flinches. His breath picks up, his heart starts racing, mind goes blurry. His head shakes wildly, pleadingly. “D-don-don’t, don’t, please, please, I’m, please, please don’t, don’t-I-I, I’m, ‘m, ‘m so, tired,” he begs, voice breaking, panic sinking into his gut like sharp poison. He keens, eying Ven with wild fear, frantic dread. He can barely talk, barely form words over tears and uneven breath and his raw, scratchy throat. “Please, don’t h-h-ur-ur, hur, hurt me, please, please don’t, d, nh, hn, pl-“

“It’s alright,” Ven murmurs. It’s sudden.

Arion’s breath hitches and he quiets, and for a moment, he stops breathing.

He nears Arion, sinks to his knees without a word, and unties the weight from Arion’s bleeding ankles. “I won’t hurt you,” he says. He stands, briefly looks Arion in the eye. “I’m gonna help you off of this now, alright?”

Arion swallows hard, pushes away the whiplash of emotion and braces himself for the moment when the weight shifts and all the feeling comes flooding back, when all the pain that was building up crashes into him anew.

Arms snake over his torso. But they’re gentle.

“On three. One, two-“

A harsh metallic taste meets Arion’s tongue when he bites it, when his breath hitches after Ven lifts him up and over the bar. He’s set carefully on the floor, on his side, which he’s grateful for. Heaving, heavy breaths take his mind off the horribly searing pain, but don’t ease it. Eyes screwed tightly shut, Arion presses his face into the cold metal floor of the cage. He fights the sniffling and his wobbling lips, wills himself to keep it together.

A soft voice comes from over his head. “Better?”

Arion gives a small nod. A small squeak of a timid thank you catches in his throat. He hears Ven shift to stand and then he’s walking back toward the door, but only to pick up what he’d set down when he came in. It’s a little bowl, Arion realizes. A little wooden bowl. A bit of steam wafts from the top and Arion’s mouth waters. Of course, it’s not for him, he knows. Couldn’t be.

That’s what each of the others were given before they left. Arion hasn’t earned one. Hasn’t been hurt this morning yet, so he can’t be fed. Those are- those are the rules.

That’s what he thinks even as Ven comes back to him with the soup in hand, even as he sits down next to Arion and holds it up to him. “Here, um. I want you to have this,” he says.

Arion’s eyes gloss over in unbelief and hesitant gratitude. He glances up at Ven, checks his expression, checks for any hint of malice or trickery, and he finds none.

“You need it more than I do,” he murmurs. “But, um. I can’t. I can’t take the tape from your hands. I’m- I would. But they’d, they’d be worse to you, if I did.” Ven pauses. Arion can see he’s genuinely apologetic. He’s seen flickers of that in Ven before. But it’s never been like this. “I can… I can help you, though, if you’re okay with that? I don’t. I’m not going to make you eat out of the bowl like, like an animal.”

Arion stares at him, bewildered. There’s a question, there. A choice.

Arion’s starving. He nods.

With that, Ven sets the bow aside. He helps Arion sit up, lets him lean on him to stay upright. Ven brings one of his black wings around him, partly to keep Arion from falling, and partly in respect, to cover him.

Then he brings the bowl into his hands, whispers one more thing to him. “Don’t feel like you have to drink it all at once. Nice and slow, okay? It’ll be easier to keep down that way.” As an afterthought, he adds, “It’s not going anywhere, I promise.” Arion nods without taking his teary eyes off the food. Ven tips the bowl to his lips, then, without any demand, without force, and just lets him drink. Lets him lean against his shoulder, and take the only food he’s been allowed to have in nearly a week.

---

tagging: @whumping-every-day​​, @deluxewhump​​, @sola-whumping​​ @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @much-ado-about-whumping ,@whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze​​ (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

[universallyladybear]

Claas arion 640 un tracteur qui assure adblue et cabine panoramique pour les nouveaux tracteurs claas 90-140 ch claas arion 520 puissancemoteur 120 hp…

https://www.youtube.a%20href=http://www.salon-eureka.com/high-tech/com/com/a/watch?v=D0tmxjboR_g

Arion 520 occasion

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Arion 520

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Tracteur claas arion 520 cis

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Claas arion 410

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Claas Arion 520 Claas arion 640 un tracteur qui assure adblue et cabine panoramique pour les nouveaux tracteurs claas 90-140 ch claas arion 520 puissancemoteur 120 hp...

[frennalexander]

Te importa la opinión de los hombres?

Es muy común ver mujeres que se someten a aumentos mamarios porque desean complacer a sus parejas o porque relacionan su situación de pareja con su aspecto físico o por inseguridad. Las mujeres las portan y a los hombres les fascina, pero claramente las mujeres y los hombres no piensan sobre ellas de la misma manera.

Que prefieren los hombres: ¿Mamas grandes o una mujer segura de su cuerpo?

En general pareciera que los hombres prefieren mujeres que tengan mamas de buen tamaño y con eso es suficiente. No importa si son reales o no, texturizados o lisos, provenientes de Allergan o Arion, cualquier tamaño que se vea y se sienta bien es suficiente. Pero más importante aún (y esto es irrefutable) ellos desean ver en una mujer, alguien que se sienta orgullosa de su cuerpo en general. Ese es definitivamente el mayor cambio de actitud que se percibe, cuando una mujer aumenta sus mamas.

Una mujer fuerte y segura es definitivamente objeto del deseo para un hombre.

Es una cuestión de actitud

¿Sabías que la mitad de las mujeres que se someten a un aumento mamario, suelen hacerlo por razones relacionadas a una baja autoestima? Si bien, puede que no te sientas para nada identificada con ésto, la baja autoestima es una realidad y puede estar íntimamente relacionada con la insatisfacción del aspecto físico de una persona. Una mujer confiada y segura saca lo mejor de cada hombre y puedes dar por hecho de que éste atributo será fácilmente perceptible para ellos. Una mujer fuerte y segura es definitivamente objeto del deseo para un hombre. La confianza indica que una mujer se siente cómoda con quien es. Piénsalo de esta manera, es más fácil sentirse atraído por una persona que ya lo está haciendo por sí misma.

Cuando el aumento mamario te da ese “plus”

El aumento mamario puede ser significativo en tu calidad de vida y es posible que percibas un incremento en tu autoestima y confianza. Gran cantidad de mujeres experimentan ésto luego de la cirugía, ya que se ven más “sexy” y los hombres se lo hacen notar. Como verás, un aumento mamario, no es simplemente una modificación física, sino también un proceso que ayuda a remodelar la personalidad y la determinación de una persona.

Source: http://www.portalprotesis.com/2017/06/24/te-importa-la-opinion-de-los-hombres/

[pine-lark]

hold him

Takes place before both ‘last’ and ‘still’. If you’d like to see a clearer order of all the drabbles, I’ve updated the masterlist!

CWs: This is another really mean piece, oops. Tiny whumpee, tiny whumpers. Referenced/implied past/future noncon, manhandling, noncon touching, forced nudity, captivity in general, explicitly described beating, and a lot of that is uh, a bunch of low blows, if you catch my drift. Arion’s kicked where the sun don’t shine. More than once. Geez, how am I supposed to tag that, lmao. Also! Vomiting. Not extremely gross or anything, but it happens, and it’s mentioned that Arion has been forced to eat worms before. 

"Hold him." Damon took a step back, eyes alight with furious sparks. His lip twitched, feet shuffled, hands curled in and out of fists.

"Nh, n-no, n-n-no, no-" Arion's whimpering cut off with a yelp. His arms went to cover his head, where he'd just been hit. Dragged off his feet and just dangling a little off the floor, Arion fought weakly in Andras’ grasp, and flailed when Kai came to take his other side. A hand went up to grasp a fistfull of dusty brown hair and tilted his head back just so. With his neck wrenched back like that, swallowing with a dry throat became a painful, laborious task.

"No," Arion gasped, a strangled whisper. "No, please..."

"I'm going to need you to keep his legs apart, too.” 

Kai, at his right, smirked and whispered in Arion's ear. "Hear that, little guy? Wonder what he's gonna do to you, hm?"

Andras chuckled under his breath and then turned to look over his shoulder. "Ven, get over here. You get his arm, I'll--" he clapped one of Arion's thighs from the inside and held it out further sideways-- "yeah, there we go. Ven! Are you coming?"

More hands fell over his skin wordlessly, presumably Ven’s, held him back from under his arms.

Andras slid his hand, slow, higher up on the inside of Arion's thigh, and laughed when Arion couldn’t stop his own frightened whimper. He stopped, then, right at the top, and rubbed small circles with slow, teasing fingers there, until Damon snapped at him.

"That's not what this is," he said. "Take him later if you want, but he's here to answer for that little incident last night.” He took a heavy step forward. “You tried to sneak away, didn't you?" 

"N-no! I-I, I wouldn't, I-" Fwp. He gasped and jerked his arm, instinctively trying to bring his hands to the red blossoming on his cheek from the back of Damon’s hand.

The slap didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy the new anger in his glare. Arion's stomach dropped. Damon kicked him square in the groin. "How many times, is it going to take, before you understand?" he spat, and he lashed out again, with his knee this time. Arion cried out and would have doubled over, but Andras and Kai held him in place, tighter then. His eyes-- tears once welled in the corners already spilling over-- were wide and wild with pain and fear. "I know!" Damon yelled, spit spraying angrily in Arion's face, "when you lie to me, see? I know, that when I caught you tugging at that rope you were trying to break free. What, in your right mind, do you think gives you an excuse to move when you haven’t been allowed?"

"I-I was just- ngh!" His head bolted forward after a third blow between the legs, and when his head was pulled back again for another two, the words dissolved into broken whimpers. "W-w, w-was ju-uh-st, mhands, were, were, bleed, bleeding, an- and, and I wasn't tr- trying to, to- agh! Stop, stop, stop, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't- ngh!"

Each kick, each blow was followed by another harsher one, angrier, round after round, and soon Arion's pained shouting just about matched Damon’s snarled words in volume. Dots bounced in his vision and bile climbed up his throat.

Somewhere between the shouting and cursing and rising sobs ventured Ven’s voice. "Maybe he's had enough," he said. But Arion wasn’t listening over the sound of his own broken breathing and whimpering.

"Enough?" laughed Damon, and in one swift move he landed a sharp punch to Arion's gut.

In instant response, he retched and vomited everything he'd eaten, which included nothing but the one bowl of worms, which in itself was already a feat to keep down for so long. The sight of its remains all at his feet, alone, even blurry through his vision, made his stomach churn painfully once again. Quickly, out of disgust, he was let go, and he dropped right to the floor, head first in his own bile. 

Damon landed one last kick in his side for good measure. Best he could, shaking and weak and dizzy, Arion curled up on himself, but didn’t bother to move away. Even if his legs would have let him run, he wouldn’t have budged. He closed his eyes. Swallowed. Half-heartedly fought the wobbling at his lips, stifle the sniffing, but lost the battle halfway. 

Damon’s voice came from above him. “Be still, next time,” he muttered. 

And then they left. And the cage door hadn’t been locked. 

But it didn’t matter, anyway. 

---

Tagging:  @whumping-every-day​​, @deluxewhump​​, @sola-whumping​​ @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @much-ado-about-whumping @whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze​​ (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

[pine-lark]

later at night

Hi so last time you heard of Ven in “soup” was when he was just starting to let his sympathy get the best of him, right? Well, I have a bad habit of skipping around in timelines, and this is a big leap! There’s a lot of development coming in between these drabbles but for now it’s just… a BIIIIG jump from “hi I’m a decent person now probably” to “oh look they’re in love now”. So uh. Without any context or further ado, enjoy! ✨

(also, for those of you who looked at the masterlist going, “wait wait wait…. RECAPTURE ARC???” uh…………. Yeeeeah. About that. *slips into vent*)

CWs: tiny!whumpee, tiny!whumpers, tiny!caretaker, romance (nonsexual- these are my lil tiny hopeless ace romantics!!), forced nudity (nonsexual), implied recent noncon/aftermath of noncon, captivity and implication that only some captives are ‘allowed’ clothing, implied starvation, implied wing whump/amputation, implied reluctant!whumper/caretaker dynamic where Ven essentially has no choice but to participate in the torture of Arion and then comforts him when no one else can see, this is generally just a pretty sad drabble about Ven sacrificing the few things he has for Arion who he feels needs it more. 

Arion’s legs collapse when he tries to stand, so when he slips into Ven’s cupboard, quiet and hurting, he’s half-crawling, half-sliding. He’s a mess. A bleeding, aching mess with sharp, pained eyes and tear-stained cheeks, still red from the backhand slap and the following deep, burning shame. He feels horrible. Used. Disgusting. Uncomfortably warm, that same sickening feeling on his skin that a fever may invoke. But it’s not a fever.

Being completely spent, with no more energy to spare, his arms tremble to a halt once he’s within the safety of the cabinet’s walls and he collapses right there, headfirst, one limb failing at a time.

“A- Arion?” Ven yelps from somewhere in the room, surprised and panicked and heartbroken all at once. Arion barely registers Ven’s hurried footsteps before he’s at his side, handing him a thin, worn blanket to cover with, brushing careful, fleeting hands over his shoulder and through his hair. Ven’s black wings move to shelter him, to hide him from the lingering gazes and hands that aren’t there anymore, but still stain like ink in his mind. “Arion… what- what did they do to you, what did they- Ari…” His voice drops to a hoarse whisper as Arion breaks into sobs. Ven reaches for him, pauses to ask before touching. Gathers him in his arms.

Arion seems thinner than he was the last time Ven held him. His hair is matted, greasier, thin. Brittle. All of him is brittle. Ven’s noticed his healing is slower than it used to be. It only took a few days to mend his own bones when he first got here, Ven remembers, after Heston lost it and broke both Arion’s legs with the big sledge hammer that always had hung near all the knives. Ven had cowered then, safer in his cabinet with his hands over his ears, backed up in the corner with wide eyes as he heard the screams and Heston’s yelling. You thought you could run? Just thought you could pack up and leave? That you had a right to go to some nice little house, and heal and sleep and eat like a pig, and you thought that was fine?

His body had healed quickly then, from nearly a year of mending, nearly a year of being safe in a warm cabin with someone there to protect him. But now… now it’s been a week, maybe two, since Arion had been knocked off the garage desk and crippled; and he still limps, if he can even manage to walk at all.

The blanket, the one that’s been there even before Ven, is scarce and small and full of holes and barely covers Arion, let alone keep him warm. It’s been passed from captive to captive over the years, Ven assumed, until finally it was himself who landed the luck to be placed in a cabinet like the others, and not a cage.

Ven’s stomach lurches. It wasn’t really luck, though, was it.

Arion chokes on his own tears and coughs at the breath that catches in his cracked ribs. He shifts closer to Ven, arms to his chest, nuzzles pleadingly at the collar of Ven’s shirt. Closer, please, closer, hold me closer, the gesture says, but Ven’s afraid of holding him any tighter, afraid of brushing up against an open wound, afraid of hurting what’s already hurt. He presses a kiss to Arion’s temple, instead. “Want to lie down?” he whispers. “We can lie down on my mat.”

He nods in answer but as soon as Ven shifts to stand, Arion’s voice breaks, his fingers tuck into the folds of Ven’s shirt with a white-knuckle grip, he holds tightly to him with renewed desperation. Don’t let go, he says, words broken and taught and barely audible, please don’t let go, please, don’t let go of me, I need you, I need you, and by the time he says those last words his voice is gone and he’s just mouthing them. Just silent, heavy truths.

Ven hushes him in the gentlest, most patient voice, weighted with the sheer ache nested deep within his chest. “I won’t. I won’t,” he promises. “I’m not letting go, Arion. Not until you ask me to let go. I’m here.” He moves to stand once more but this time he makes certain to keep a firm hold on the other shaking arivie. “I’m here, I’m staying,” he murmurs. “They won’t find you here.” With some effort he helps Arion to stand, but only so that he can easier sweep him off his feet, and carry him the rest of the way.

Ven’s mat is no nest, and it’s no dollhouse bed. It’s dirty and worn and the old fabric is itchy but it’s so much better than the floor, so much better than the cage. Arion melts into it as Ven sets him down. The tension in his shoulders eases and the growing headache at the base of his skull begins to ebb. His breathing still hitches but its slows, deepens. Ven sits at the side of the mat, but hesitates there.

It doesn’t sit right with him, that all Arion has is the pathetic little piece of cloth to cover. Ven’s own clothes start to feel too hot, though he’s only wearing a black t-shirt and pants that feel of thin, synthetic fabric. He knows it’s wrong. Knows that Arion wouldn’t be here, cold and bare and terrified and starving, if it weren’t for Ven’s selfishness.

He’d still be at that cabin.

He watches Arion try to curl in on himself, draw his legs closer to his chest, move the flimsy blanket forward to feel less open, less seen, less vulnerable. Ven feels a sharp pang in his chest, just from the sight.

“Do you remember, when, when I said I would give you the clothes off my back, Ari…” he says, quietly.

Arion turns his head to meet his gaze.

“I, um.” He swallows. “I meant it, you know.” He thumbs the hem of his shirt, just a little too big and meant for a doll. He lifts his arms, pulls it over his head.

“Ven, I, no no no no no, you don’t, don’t have to-“

“Please take it.” He says. “Both. I- I’d rather you have them.” He watches the sad way Arion regards his long, pale scars. He hates having them uncovered. His skin starts to crawl. But it’s better than what he knows he’d feel if he deliberately let someone he loves go unclothed while he didn’t, while he held them but still wouldn’t let them have what he was unrightfully given. Ven swallows thickly against the crashing, threatening waves of guilt resting in his throat like a stone. “It’s not fair. Ari, please let me.”

Arion shakes his head, wipes away a few stray tears with a bruised wrist. “I-I can-can’t, can’t, can’t, I, I can’t, Ven, can’t. Don’t. You need- they’re yours.”

“I have wings, Arion, I- I’m okay. I’d rather it be me than you. I’d rather it be me.” Those words have more weight to them than he voices. I’d rather it be me.

Arion takes the shirt in his hands, but he doesn’t move to put it on. “I’ll, I’ll get them, I’m dirty, I-“

“They have a little blood on them anyway. I don’t care. Arion. Please.” He waits for Arion to shift to slip it over his head before he sinks his hands to his waistband- and Arion softly turns to look away- and Ven pauses only briefly at the vague breath of a horrible memory before sliding off the only other layer of clothing he’s allowed to wear. His wings circle around him, wrap over his sides like a long, thick black towel, and even still he feels guilty that at least he has that, at least he always has something.

Arion looks like he’s about to cry, as Ven hands that last piece of clothing to him. Like he’s about to refuse, like he wants to so badly, but he knows that it’s only out of love that Ven’s doing this and for that reason he can’t quite bring himself to. It’s as if this is some grand gift, the greatest sacrifice, something so tremendous that he can’t except and it shouldn’t be that way, it should never be that way. Ven whispers small assurances that yes, he still means it. Yes, take it. Really, he’s okay. He’ll be okay. He’s just fine. Please take it. Please sleep.

And even as he says it he knows that if anyone found them like this they’d both be dead or worse by morning. But, at this point, for both of them, to be alone and to have the opportunity for a little comfort among all the suffering…

It’s worth the risk.

---

tagging: @whumping-every-day, @deluxewhump, @sola-whumping @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @ahorriblebimess

[pine-lark]

Arion & Ven Artbreeder face claims!!!

I saw @much-ado-about-whumping’s character’s artbreeder portraits by @jack-vistas, and I thought, hey, maybe I’ll try that! 

(Left: Arion. Right: Ven.)

I’m super happy with the results actually. This is pretty much exactly what they look like in my head! 

[For those of you wondering what Artbreeder is- it’s a website that uses AI to blend images. There’s a ‘portrait mixing’ option that allows you to make faces with other faces. Be aware, though, that the website displays lots of weird ai-generated images from the community. The ‘portrait’ option tends to stay very normal-looking, but the front page of the site has like, a dog-bubble, and weird color faces and bendy things, so be careful if that squicks you out. I’ve come across no NSFW images, in case anyone wants to know, and I think they must filter things like that out effectively.]

It’s super neat, definitely recommend! If any of you try it, let me know. I’d love to see! 

[pine-lark]

Heston you're a sour little bitch with no real career prospects.

also Ven you treated Arion like utter shit just to protect yourself. He'll probably forgive you but he shouldn't and you know it. You'll always know it.

Heston, with a black garbage bag in one hand and the other half-outstretched for the garbage bin lid, doesn't seem like he knows how to respond to the raccoon who stands before him on two tiny feet. He opens his mouth. Closes it. "Selling wings pays well, actually," he settles on. "Besides. You're one to talk, scavenging for food every day." He smiles. "I have a hat that looks like you."

- Ven ducks his head. "I know," he says. Bites his lip. "But I-" He stops himself. Swallows. Averts his gaze. "I know. He doesn't-- I don't want him to forgive me. That's not. I just want to get us out of here. After that... he can hate me all he wants."

[pine-lark]

Tag Masterlist

*still under construction, but the main tags are all linked now! keep in mind that a lot of tagged posts still don’t show up in the links because Tumblr does a horrible job at organizing- so it may be better just to scroll through my blog depending on what you’re looking for  :)

LINKS WILL OPEN POSTS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER! so you can read from the beginning! yay!

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Character Tags

Amber | Arion | Damon (bonus: #Damon is gross) | Andras | Ven | Kai | Heston 

Object Tags

the cage | amber’s scarf | the table | 

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Misc.

Arion’s weird food obsession tag (in which I ramble in asks and in the tags about Arion’s weird arivie cooking. Feel free to send me a submission with a picture of any plant you want Arion’s opinion on (preferably with a description or photo of what is inside the plant or what the texture is etc. as it’s hard to guess from a picture. not required though!)

Ari thoughts tag (things that remind me of Arion/rambles/anything else Arion-related)