#creaturedom

[the-ghost-of-jetstream-tormod]

Boy I am in a fucking mood today, lol

[mxmorbidmidnight]

Hey! Sorry for the ask outta nowhere, but we saw some posts of yours and we recently opened up a server for otherkin, with an emphasis on demonkin, divinekin, and eldritchkin, and was wondering if maybe you'd be interested in joining? All good if not!

I greet thee friend, such a thing does indeed sound compelling to have a community for otherkin on the side of creaturedom, existing in strange and eldeitch states! I would adore to be apart of it. I fear I am not on the discord so if it is on said platform I cannot join. If thou does wish to speak upon otherkin matters or rather anything at all my ask box is open to thee.

Shapeshifters well wishings unto thee and Prithee joy on this day.

[markparrish]

top 5 mythical creatures/cryptids

i am less a cryptid person than perhaps i ought to be, but i AM obsessed with mythical creatures so thank you extremely for this one. will include media recs for each bc i’m thinkin about it anyways

1. vampires. obvious but true. versatile, sexy, and always. and please excuse me for this one. a bloody good time. they’re even gay! recs: the invitation (movie), what we do in the shadows (movie and tv), the lost boys (movie), interview with the vampire (tv), tanz der vampire (musical)

2. depictions of death. reapers, death gods, etc etc. objectively fascinating as a lens to how cultures/creators view death. are they relentless? are they gentle? are they frightening? can they be bargained with? i love these funky little dudes. recs: hades (game), bill and ted’s bogus journey (movie), anything terry pratchett that involves death (books)

3. faeries. (please god do not mistake me for a sarah j maas fan.) i love that they’re weird and interesting and have their own rules in traditional lore and i love that they’re cute in modern lore. recs: shadowhunters (tv) does a surprisingly good depiction of fae, and a court of fey and flowers (d&d series) isn’t 100% faerie faeries, but it’s fantastic feywild-but-regency stuff (there are gay people in it! go watch it or any dimension 20 series!)

4. dragons. while i was not a massive dragon kid you gotta respect perhaps the objective goats of creaturedom. who among us has not wanted to sit astride a dragon. also httyd was so formative to me i feel i would be betraying hiccup and toothless to leave dragons off. recs: how to train your dragon (movie), dragon rider (cornelia funke book), the dragon prince (tv), nimona (comic/movie)

5. kitsune/kumiho. this is not bc of naruto, my mom blessedly saved me from that show when i was like 7. this is bc of okami, which you should absolutely play if you’re into like. zelda games and such. you play as a wolf who is also a goddess and the art style is beautiful

honorable mentions: dullahans, angels/demons, golems, and specifically shin megami tensei/persona’s depiction of mothman

[creaturedom]

The Thurible

I can’t believe I had to actually sit down and do research for this incredibly self indulgent thing, I’m not religious LOL. @kazewohiita , this one goes out to you. To everyone else… My only warning is mess, let’s hop on the gross priest train X’D

“Father Izaak,” a voice fretted as charcoal so carefully clasped between tongs sparked under a fresh flame, “please, I can prepare that for you! I used to always help Reverend Father Tully with…” The nun’s voice trailed off as the name left her lips, a visible sadness flashing quick as the reddening charcoal as she looked away. It had been some time since the passing of their last priest, but she like many others of the church still found great sorrow in it.

This didn’t disturb the process by any means as the thurible closed gently, chain pinched between the father’s rich dark fingers to fan the flames within. He was a bit of a quiet man compared to the more open Father Tully; spiraled hair styled in a short afro, dark brown eyes that carried a certain warmth to them, not as tall as Tully, but broad shoulders that filled out his cassock nicely. Square jawed, a beautiful rounded nose, and the way he formed his words with each sentence…

“I like to do it myself. Makes me feel… More connected.” The priest explained, already shifting to hang it and gather the various scents to go inside. He paused to sniffle a bit, glancing over to her with that spark she had noticed earlier. It wasn’t uncommon for a new priest to be chosen beyond their walls by any means, though maybe due to their last priest being there so long she was feeling hesitant. Something about how he carried himself today seemed sluggish, but her thoughts snapped as he spoke again. “A few things will be done differently from this point on, Sister Margret, though I appreciate your offer. I’ll take it from here…” Though she hesitated the nun simply dipped her head and left the room, leaving the man to resume his work and methodically fill a mix of incense into the thurible.

In her absence he began to rub his knuckles against his septum, squinting as the fragrance began to flow in heavy clouds of smoke within the room and invade his reddening nostrils with a smirk. “That’ll do…”

----------------------------------------------------------

All stood to attention as music rose loud and true to the high ceiling above, the thurible swinging faithfully towards the pews with its swirling smoke. A few whispers were shared here and there as Father Izaak passed, some rather curious and others already passing rumors. Nothing too serious really, he’d been through this song and dance before. What Izaak was really focusing on was the sharp sniffling just barely buried beneath the echo of song all around them.

If one looked carefully enough they could see a tinge of redness around his nostrils, his upper lip carrying a light sheen to it. His eyes were beginning to grow red as well, and yet he continued to swing the thurible rhythmically, smiling warmly and nodding to those who met his eye. His nose felt like it was crackling with a heat intense enough to summon the devil itself, and yet he seemed excited as he got into position and handed off his rather precious tool.

As the air grew quiet and still he did his best not to clear his irritated throat as someone from the clergy stepped forward to introduce their new priest. His mind was starting to feel fuzzy and the cassock felt a bit too warm at the moment. And yet he still stood, smiling as the sensations grew worse, nearly missing his own name: Father Izaak Hartley. Nodding gratefully he stepped forward to the podium and looked to the crowd with a quiet but watery sniffle.

“Welcome, and thank you for joining us on this Sunday of celebration…” The priest breathed, wincing a bit when he swallowed back and found a sharp ping of pain. For the most part things were going smoothly, the crowd surprisingly gravitating towards his words and new style of preaching rather quickly. He was formal enough, but he liked to pace a bit, speak more with his hands, and pause to punctuate the meaning of his words a little more. On top of that the little jokes he managed to sneak passed the clergy got the crowd chuckling, and Izaak was quickly winning them over.

“In John 3:16, we learn that God so loved the world that he gave us his only son. What greater gift is there, and what does it mean for h-hihhm to…” His pacing stopped as his heart began to flutter. For a moment there was silence before his breath sagged, quickly dipping into both hands a harsh “hih’bTSCHhh!” Startled a few in the crowd offered him blessings, but by the look on his crumpling face it was too soon. “T-To give uHSTCHHH! H-Hih—tSCHhhoo!”

He didn’t mean to but a soft, savory moan escaped his lips, partially grateful it was harder to see how red his cheeks felt. “Whew, excuse me… Quite the entrance on the first day, huh?” A few chuckled so he waved his hand, his smile a bit more watery now that his system was rebelling against him. “… I have a question for you all. Doesn’t it feel good sometimes, to let go and be yourself…?” An unsure murmur arose, causing him to half chuckle and stifle a few coughs.

“I’m not talking about sins of the flesh or breaking any rules laid out by God, but rather the gift he gave you: yourself. Jesus took our sins to allow us to find ourselves, but most live in guilt for that which we will always inherently do. They each teach us every day how to be better people, it’s just a matter of how… Gh’tshxx!” He managed to stifle at the last minute, though it was wetter than he expected.

Sniffing thickly he swiped a quick hand under what he felt was a growing mess, spinning on his heel with a bit of flourish. “How we live by His word. Pleasure can take many forms, a delicious meal, the joy of being around one’s family, even… E-Even—huh’tSCHZZzew! Ugh, a good sneeze, am I right?” He grinned as laughter filled the room again. “Song of Solomon 4:7 states: ‘You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.’ So the danger of pleasure is not within your own body, or your own simple joys, it is in acts which affect yourself and others for the worse, beyond the call of God!”

This seemed to stir the crowd a bit, some of the older ones a bit thrown, but a few… A few he could see he had attention in a different way. A few eyes trailing as he so carelessly sniffed back and merely dabbed at his increasingly itchy nose with a handkerchief offered to him. If they chose to stare that was on them, but he wasn’t about to give up his own passionate remarks and certainly wasn’t going to step off the podium as a few mortified members of the clergy seemed to want him to.

Burying his nose his eyes screwed shut as he took a long, shuttering breath, a few tears slipping as he bobbed into the handkerchief with a few wet sneezes “HHEGTSCHH! H-Hih—HEHD’JSCHHhhew! HeH’JESCHHhh! Hah… O-One moment… A-Almost—! KhhH—! Hiih’tSCHHHhhoo!” It took everything in his power not to moan aloud as a visible shiver ripped through his body, crushing his nose with a squelch under the ruined handkerchief. Whether this was from a nasty set of chills or something more, hardly anyone could say. Though from the faces of members in the audience, there may have been some doubt as to whether or not they were fully honed in on his preaching.

----------------------------------------------------------

“The body of Christ…”

“Amen.”

“The body of Christ…”

“Amen.”

“The body of Christ…”

“A… Amen…”

Through it all the priest managed to stand strong, no one managing to shoo him off even as he seemed to grow worse. The crowd was oddly enamored with him, his presence magnetic and mystifying, after all who could compare to his style? Each careful motion and charming flash of a smile glued the people to their seats, and seeing that he still took it upon himself to still provide this service to the people. He found himself quite amused as some shyly cast their gazes away, others boldly meeting his weary eyes or even dropping a quick word of wellness.

Their focus helped them see past the glazed look in Father Izaak’s eye, the wet sheen of his upper lip combined with the mess he kept sniffling back and shaky exhales in a fruitless effort to keep his nose in line. If only everyone could be impressed so easily though. As soon as the Holy Communion ended and people began to shuffle out he was tugged roughly to the back, the church echoing with the heavy slam of one of its old wooden doors as older nun narrowed her eyes at the sniffling priest.

“You’re ill, Father?”

“No, I believe I’m Father Izaak…” Sister Margret didn’t seem to appreciate his joke, hanging the still smoking thurible on its proper stand. She was squawking about something or other as his eyes trailed ever so slowly back to the mischievous smoke behind her. He was always a little sensitive to such things, especially when he added a few extra things to make it smell nice and strong. A few extra scoops of myrrh in the frankincense, a little copal resin to really dig into the sinuses…

“… Father Izaak… Father Izaak!” He was snapped back to attention as she grabbed both of his shoulders, looking down to see an expression mixed with frustration and worry. “Are you listening? If you’re ill or feel under the weather you could have asked to preach next week, or at least asked someone to help lead! This is serious, you made a fool of yourself!”

“Really..? I thought they rather liked it…” He mused as he tried to bring a hand up to swipe at his nose though Sister Margret forced his arm down again. “Ah—careful—“

“That wasn’t at all professional, not at all gracious! If Reverend Father Tully was present he would have known to pace himself, or ask for help—!”

“—H-Help, wait, khhih—“

“Exactly! Is that so hard to ask, to plainly say out loud that you, the great Father, need—?”

“Hih—! Hih’tsCHHHhh! HeH’JESCHHhh—tschh, tSCHhh!” His head bobbed back up with a heavy sniffle, cracking an eye open to look once more to her. All things considered not the worst thing, but her clothes were certainly splattered and she was locked in shock. “… A tissue, Sister Margret? I would kindly like to ask to be r-released before I’m forced to give another bahpt… Baptishhiih…” Thankfully she got the hint, releasing him just in time to grab the soggy handkerchief again and bury a fit of wet sneezes, visibly darkening the delicate cloth in his hands.

When Izaak finally pulled back he was breathless, yet looked oddly at peace. As if God himself came down to offer a gentle blessing and a kiss to his warm forehead. Sister Margret muttered a bless you to the Father while he cleared his leaking nose. “… Do you remember what I said earlier?” Her head turned curiously to him as he neatly folded the handkerchief in his hands. “I said many things would change from here on out. While I respect the path laid out before me, I felt in this time of need the people of this church needed a true show of faith and dedication. A priest willing to be with them through thick and thin, to guide them without knowing each face, willing to put aside his own suffering… For the good of the people.”

Something shifted in the priest as he stepped forward to the nun below him, his smile still soft yet his stance more stern. “I won’t apologize for displaying my faith proudly, and for wanting to make as good an impression as possible. And from the look of that crowd, I’d say I did a rather nice job.” The nun diverted her gaze with a huff, making Izaak hoarsely chuckle. “I’ll do better in the future, Sister Margret. I can at least promise that much, though I…” His breath hitched again, a frantic hand raising to catch his dipping nose, only to find purchase in something firm but almost silky “Huh’tsSCHHmphf—! Gh’pmphf!”

“… Bless you, Father Izaak.” The nun lowered her own handkerchief from his quivering nose and sighed heavily. “There’s no time like the present. I understand you’ll be taking the former priest’s quarters in the courtyard?” Dazed, Father Izaak offered a small nod, managing to make her huff in amusement. “Very well, Father. I’ll ask someone to send you an extra blanket as well as prepare some food for you, while you settle in.”

“… Thank you, Sister Margret.”

“Don’t get used to it, I’m no mother hen.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Sister!” He playfully placed a hand on his chest, earning a short but true laugh from her. “Off to bed with you, we’ll take care of things from here.”

“Yes, Sister…” No better timing in his opinion. As he departed one last glance at the thurible was spared, smiling to himself as the last of the smoke seemed to billow out. “Thanks for the help, old friend.” He breathed to it, smirking as he reached both hands into his pockets and felt his fingertips brush against some ‘borrowed’ incense inside. With that he spun on his heel and made his way to his new quarters, the last of the smoke and embers dying with a harsh, wet sneeze echoing through the halls once more.

[sunflowersnz]

I really played myself with this one

thanks for coming to my ted talk

[snowshinobi]

so all people make story, right? intentionally or otherwise. we live, we observe, we do, we reflect. that's story.

there's formal Story which is narrative and theme and pacing and character development and all that good stuff. the tiniest unit of that, the moment where independent acts/observations/reflections become story, is meaning-making. you've always had a soft spot for maps. maybe you just like looking at shapes and colors. maybe you've noticed how maps are like cameras bc they show you reality through the specific lens you set them to. maybe neither. or both.

the action/person/object is the same whether or not you ponder it. the pondering is the key. the pondering is how you create story.

[stonyponyofficial]

my contribution to his creaturedom <3

don't mind the blood red background i thought it suited them

[vampacidic]

i wish you merry creaturedom

thank you (scuffles into the dirt like a little worm)

[bigsnzstanacct]

Secret Santa For Creaturedom

Hey @creaturedom! This is your Secret Santa! Hope you enjoy! And I hope I did Corva and Morgan justice. Enjoy!

“Well, buddy, you ready for the big party?” Detective Corva asked, as he and his partner, Detective Morgan made their way towards a pleasant-looking suburban home. The streets were lined with cars—many of them police-issue; technically they weren’t supposed to be using their department vehicles for regular travel, but this was official business, for all intents and purposes. In their precinct, there were few more important activities that happened all year, and that’s why, despite all his wishes for another option—any other option—Detective Morgan could make no other answer than:

“Of course I am! It’s a big party so…” Detective Morgan mustering his usual slightly sly, conspiratorial grin. Morgan’s energy was so upbeat that most people would have been fooled by the smile, the jaunt in his step, the warmth of his energy. But Corva knew him better than that. Corva could spot the pinkness around the rims of his nostrils, the faint shadows of bags beneath his eyes, the slight heaviness to his gait. Morgan wasn’t looking forward to the big precinct party, but for the life of him, Corva couldn’t figure out why. Normally Morgan was, if not the life of the party, certainly in his element around the rest of the officers and detectives they worked with. Perhaps not as open as with Corva himself, but comfortable, and having fun. But something was off this time…

“You sure?” Corva asked again, “You know, if you’re worried about something, you can talk to me about it, it’s no big deal. And we don’t have to go right now…”

“We’re literally at the door,” Morgan said, rolling his eyes and patting his partner on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, I got this.” But even as he said it, projecting confidence as best as he could, there was something Detective Corva knew was off, and he was wracking his brains for reasons why. One of the other offices? No, Morgan seemed to get along with everyone. A romantic fling gone wrong? Surely Corva would know about that. The long-haired man pondered on it, adding up his clues in the moments that they waited for someone to come open the door: the house, the hesitation, the slight pinkening of Morgan’s nostrils…

The answer came to him just as Carla, a fellow detective, came to door… along with her two of her “fur-babies”—a large, hairy cat, and a still-larger, still-hairier dog.

“Oh.” Detective Corva said aloud without meaning to.

“Oh what?” Carla asked, “Oh you better come in here and enjoy this party?” She said, grin on her face.

“Oh yes he will!” Morgan responded, although now that he understood the reason for his hesitation, Corva could spot even better all the signs: Morgan must be lacking energy because he stuffed himself full of soporific anti-histamines, and with Morgan’s allergies, even that might not guarantee an allergy-free day, hence Morgan’s slight recoil at the appearance of the pets, particularly the dog. Morgan’s nose objected highly to dogs. Corva learned that the hard way with his own Akita. Hopefully Morgan would have more luck avoiding these pets than Corva’s—after a valiant attempt at denying his undeniable nose, Morgan succumbed to a pretty alarming fit of the sneezes. But perhaps meds would dull the reaction this time. They could only hope.

They entered the party, and before Corva knew it he’d lost sight of Morgan, as they were drawn into different conversations. For a long while, Corva strained to hear the hushed puffs of air he expected from Morgan, not that it would be particularly audible over the noise of the various officers enjoying each other’s company. He looked for Morgan from time to time, trying to see if his allergies were acting up. More than once he caught his partner looking terribly itchy, nose wiggling, eyes beginning to glaze over. Even from a distance, Corva could tell how Morgan’s eyebrows were arching, his nose running. He saw, more than once, how Morgan would hold the back of his wrist up against his nose, pressing against it, scrubbing back and forth, both to deal with the slight moisture starting to trickle down his nose and to forestall the sneezes that were surely itching at the reddening rims of his nostrils, teasing at the back of his throat, the roof of his mouth.

Still, Corva did have to actually attend the party; he couldn’t just focus on Morgan. And so Corva smiled and enjoyed the other officers’ company. They talked about surveillance, about cases they’d closed, about the annoyances of paperwork… they’d been there for about thirty minutes before Corva caught the first pair of tight, stifled “hhh… hiittscxxxx! G’TScchh!” sneezes. Morgan was hidden in a corner as he sneezed, clearly having wandered away from the party to try to get his nose under control. But these sneezes clearly slipped beyond his control. And slipping away would prove to be a mistake, because Carla’s dog, failing to get attention from the crowds of people talking, clearly decided to try to get some engagement from the one human off in a corner by himself. And so the dog ran over to Morgan, trying to jump onto him and engage him and play with him. Corva’s eyes went wide. This wasn’t good.

Quickly excusing himself from the conversation he was in, he headed over to Morgan. “You alright?” He asked Morgan. “Shoo!” Corva told the dog. He regretted being rude to the animal but he couldn’t worry too much about that now. He looked over at Morgan, who was clearly fighting the urge to sneeze as hard as he could. Corva rolled his eyes and patted Morgan’s shoulder. “You might as well let it out, Morgan. You know you’re going to eventually.”

“If I… hh-huh! if I st-start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to st-stuhh…” and here he wavered on the edge of a sneeze, his hand lifting from its place at his side as though ready to fly up to his nose to try to stifle at the last moment… but some desperate edge of willpower managed to stay the sneeze for a moment. But Corva knew that wouldn’t last too much longer. “I m-might not be able to st-stop.” Morgan said, still feeling the tickle but having somewhat of a handle on things for the moment.

“Morgan,” Corva said, rolling his eyes, “you know how allergic you are. Why didn’t you just tell Carla that you couldn’t make it? Or at least ask her to put the pets upstairs or something?”

“D-didn’t… snfff didn’t w-wanna be rude.”

“Well you might as well just sneeze, you know you want to. And then we’ll get out of here.”

“N-nnuhhh… n-no…”

For a moment, it crossed Corva’s mind to just grab the nearest pet and stick it in Morgan’s face just to get Morgan to finally give in and let himself sneeze, but that’d just be mean at this point. And besides, it seemed Corva wouldn’t have long to wait, as suddenly the dam broke, and Morgan’s hand shot up to his face, and his head tipped back and…

“H’KTtscch! Hehh… hetttcchhxxx! ttcchxxxx!” Three stifled sneezes pummeled their way out of Morgan, albeit typically stifled. But even stifled into relative auditory irrelevance, Morgan obviously in the throes of a sneezing fit couldn’t go unnoticed by the other officers, and as Morgan kept sneezing—“tchxx! ttcchxx! tscchxx!”—a few noticed him and wandered over to see if he was okay.

“You okay, Morgan?” One fellow detective, Jasmine, inquired.

“H’Tcch! G’Tscxxx!” Morgan sneezed.

“Just allergies,” Corva explained, giving his best “this is fine” smile. But of course a few more noticed, and soon it seemed like practically the whole group of officers were watching Morgan succumb to his allergies.

“Is he okay? How many times is he gonna sneeze?”

“Is he still going?”

“Ah, I’ve seen Morgan like this before.”

“I was wondering how long he’d make it with that dog around. Last time I saw Morgan within ten feet of a puppy I thought he’d never stop sneezing.”

“Poor guy, he’s got pretty bad allergies.”

Morgan attempted a few replies, but he could barely get out a few struggling “I’m f-fihhhhh… hihhhh…” before he jerked forward into cupped hands with another “ETtcchxxx!” And another. And another. And another.

Corva grabbed his arm and tried to whisper in his ear between sneezes. “Just let em out man. You keep stifling like that, your head’s gonna pop off.”

Morgan only shook his head and stifled another painful-sounding sneeze. Clearly he was seriousu about not being able to stop once he started. Corva could only imagine how much his nose had been tickling, how hard he’d fought to avoid this very moment, everyone watching him have a seemingly endless allergy fit. And so he made a decision.

“Alright, alright buddy. I got you.” Corva said, and then, putting a hand on Morgan’s shoulder, he gently but firmly guided Morgan through the crowd of officers, towards the front door. “Just a sec, just gonna grab some fresh air.” He said, while Morgan kept stifling sneezes.

When they finally got outside, Corva marched Morgan a few houses down, back towards his car, before he finally told Morgan, “Alright, we’re out of the party now. Now will you please let yourself just snee—”

But before Corva could even finish getting the instructions out, Morgan finally gave into an unstifled, rapid fire fit: “Tisshhhoooo! hahhTTssshh! ttscchh! ittscchh! hhisssh! ittshhh! Hittsshhoo! Isshhhoo! hhh… yehhhh… yessshhHOO!” Corva just left his hand on the other man’s shoulder, offering the comfort he could give in place of the relief Morgan could only provide himself. Well, that and getting away from all those damn pets.

As the fit calmed down, Corva looked at his partner: teary-eyed, moisture flowing freely from his nose, irritation still visible all over his face. And he made another decision.

“Alright, get in the car, Morgan.”

“Wh-whaahhh… uhhh… uttsschhoo!”

“Get in the car. I’m making up some excuse to send Carla and the others, but I’m getting  you out of here. We’re not aggrivating those allergies of yours anymore, ok?”

For a second it looked as though Morgan was going to protest, but he was stopped by another “ettscchhoo!” and then just shrugged his shoulders.

“Great. Now we’re going back to your place, and I’m getting you some more of that Benadryl, if you can take more, and you’re gonna take a nap. You deserve it after all that.” Corva said as they got into his car, and before long they were speeding away, Morgan still occasionally sneezing softly, and Corva gently patting him on the shoulder.

[dontratoutyourfriends-moved]

i really identify with little creaturedom because i feel as though i lack humanity because my brain works differently than most people’s

[metalpunkspawn-blog]

After a brief introduction to LOTR (!), the rest of my DND etc relationship to creaturedom was grounded on Terry Pratchett.

how to tell if your worldbuilding is Bad

[creaturedom]

13 or 15 for father izaak please!! can’t pick!!

Honestly, why not both with a little narrative twist, at least from my usual style?

CW Priest and mess below the cut 🔥

13 and 15. Rain and Fever - Father Izaak

“Hih’tscHHHhhh!”

Seven.

“Hihh’BTSSCHhh!”

Eight.

“H-Hih… Ghihh—! Eh’tSCHHHhh—Hih’tschHHXxxt!”

Nine and ten? Your heart was racing as you stared outside at the shivering, soaked form of the new priest. Not long ago you sat captivated like the rest of them, drinking his words of passion and thrown through a loop to see just how shamelessly he powered through each wracking sneeze.

Out here the only thing that seemed to rival the downpour was the mess that sprayed from him, the end of the fit leaving him panting and visibly shaking in the cold. Why he’d be out there during the storm only God could know but you found yourself rushing to the doorway, and pausing as he lifted his head.

Though his skin was darker there was an aggressive redness to his leaking, flaring nostrils, his eyes glazed and puffy, yet that smile of his. That same smile he wore on stage that lit the room and fought against any doubts in the crowd’s mind, it still crept up despite the hoarse tone of his voice.

“Oh, hello there. I don’t… Don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure to meet directly yet…” He was breathless, sniffling uselessly at that which barely washed away in the heavy rain. Unable to think straight you took hold of his hand, pulling him back into the safety of the building, which only made him devolve into a wheezing chuckle.

“I’m sorry, have I worried you…? Seems I’ve made a few people up… Upset today…”

“Come closer, Father.”

“Pardon..?” What were you thinking? Swallowing back doubt you held out your hand expectedly, and though dazed Father Izaak lowered his head to press a hot cheek into your trembling hand.

“My goodness Father, you’re burning up!”

“That I… Ihihh…” A far more glazed look came to his features as his jaw slacked open against your palm, only a squeak managing to escape your throat as his head shot down to your clothes, your eyes widening as dark circles began to spread from the sudden, wet sneeze of the Father. He sniffled yet he only leaned further into your tense hand, those exhausted eyes staring wearily back into yours.

“B… B-Bless…. Bless you, Father Izaak….”

“… And with you, oh lamb of the Lord’s flock.” The way the phrase slipped almost felt sultry, goosebumps similar to his rising quickly as he unknowingly crushed a dripping sneeze against your palm, and too delirious to see both the mess he made and your own reddening cheeks. “Theeee Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want… He m… Makes me lie down in green pastures, leads me beside still waters, r… R-Restores my soul…” Sinking, why was he sinking?

In a swift motion you managed to brace the priest before he could collapse, the motion enough to jolt him into a small moment of clarity, but he couldn’t muster much beyond more scripture. “Father, where are your chambers? I… I-I can help you to them.” You insist, feeling your chest tighten with anxiety. Surely this was the clergy’s job, you didn’t know this man, and yet every time he spoke you felt yourself giving more and more into action, and repressed feelings.

Father Izaak wanted to protest, but it was clear he was quickly losing the battle, and eventually gestured towards where he was standing before. “Out… Out back. I was… Trying to go home.”

“Okay then,” you breathe as you hook your arm with his, “home it is, before you get in any more trouble. Father Tully’s old place..?” You catch more of a laugh this time as he leans into you, and you freeze in place at what you see. Beyond plush quivering lips it’s as if… As if there was a sharper row of teeth. A trick of the light, a strange angle surely, but you swear you…

Saw nothing. Your mind drifts as a weak hum, a low but gorgeous tune, manages to rise from his throat into your heart, and you feel yourself at ease again. Leaning deeper into his form than he had been earlier, and gazing with a sense of awe as he feverishly mumbled something about the lord providing help. You couldn’t quite keep up, but slowly you walked with him back into the downpour to his new home, as if you too were consumed by the terrible fever rising from his skin.

Who truly was Father Izaak Hartley, and why did the world dim the moment you both stepped inside..?

[snowshinobi]

creature theory

one time a friend of mine said “for you, objects are not objects" and that is the essence of creature theory

so in Japanese folklore there’s a type of yokai (cryptid being) called tsukumogami. these are tools/objects that, upon existing for over 100 years, gain a kind of sentience. they have a kami (spirit) now and that means they can haunt you. spooooooky.

creature theory takes this a step further; if an object can gain creature status after 100 human years, then any object that has the potential to exist for over 100 humans years has the potential to reach creature status. and anyway, who decided 100 human years marks the threshold for creaturedom? why classify objects, who do not experience time the same way living things do, along a linear time scale? 

creature theory posits that everything is a creature from the moment it exists. things possess a record of what they are, what they were made from, who made them, where they’ve been, where they could go. tables gather scratches. garments fall apart and get patched up. river rocks wear smooth over time. antique silverware gains a rich patina. mosses accumulate across tree trunks. these little changes are stories, don’t you see?

basically i have parasocial relationships with every living and nonliving entity this world contains and you should too bc it makes the mundane into a kaleidoscope of possibility

[creaturedom]

Trouble in Paradise

H/ome/stuck...? H/ome/stuck >w>

“Sit up.”

“C’bon ban…”

“That was not a request, sit up.” It’d been going on like this for what felt like hours. Cronus had come back to Kankri’s hive after some big commotion in one of the dream bubbles, huffing and puffing about how no one ever took his side when he was “clearly” trying to pal around with the others. 

Kankri had to remind that most of his actions were less than satisfactory when it came to that of comradery and the closeness Cronus craved. Which, in the end, was more than likely the reason Kurloz hip checked him into a flutterbeast bush. He’d come back covered head to toe in various little flowers and leaves, and being the good troll he was… Well, Kankri couldn’t quite turn him away. But, that meant he had to deal with the aftermath of it all. 

“Huhh’gGTSCHH—!” Kankri winced as Cronus curled in on himself, hands barely cupping over his face to catch that familiar, almost lavender colored mess. He could barely sniffle, but the mutant blood could see how his now purple rimmed gills flared and twitched helplessly, bits of ooze even coating them as if to soothe the burning sensation. “Good catch.” He sighed, merely rubbing the man’s shoulder as he groaned miserably. 

“While I at least understand the discomfort it may bring you to do so, the result will always be the same. You’ll never get it all out like that, and I certainly won’t go blabbering on to everyone about how the oh so independent and suave Cronus Ampora needed a little help from myself, as I’m sure you’re aware of how I would be ridiculed myself, even as an act of kindness. I admire your grit and respect your boundaries, but we have been together far too long for you not too—” His speech was cut short by a muffled fit of gasping, gills twitching against Kankri’s lap as Cronus sneezed wetly again “Hah’tschhhh—etschh! H-Hih—! Hih’pstchhh!”

“By the Empress, Cro…” Kankri’s expression softened as Cronus glanced at him with those big, watery eyes of his, the young man closing them briefly to cough a bit. “S—Sorry, Kanks…” The look the two shared was silent, but powerful enough to let Cronus know enough was enough. Sighing he shuffled upright, head hung low as he slowly removed his hands. The mess left was heavy, but at least Kankri’s handkerchief was pressed with care into his hands to allow Cronus some time to clean himself up and blow his nose. Though now came the more difficult part. 

“Take it off, come on now.” 

“C’mon Kanks I’ve done this before, you don’t have to.” 

“I want to… Besides, you always manage to miss something and come back for help anyways, so it’s best to just take care of it now, don’t you think?” Cronus couldn’t argue with him there, but he still gave him that ol’ kicked barkbeast look before eventually sighing and slipping off his steadily drenching shirt. Both the sides of his neck and ribs carried long, raking gills, currently soaked with purple mucus. It was always fascinating for Kankri to see this up close, no lowblood was ever allowed close enough to see the delicate frills and movements let alone trusted to help touch them, and yet here he was. Long, slender fingers caressed one of the lower ones testingly, forcing a shiver and visible twinge of both his nose and gills almost immediately from Cronus. “E—Easy babe, pluh… P-Please…” 

“Sorry, sorry…” He needed to be as delicate as possible. Excusing himself he left for a moment only to return with a wet rag and a small basin. Cronus, used to this routine, turned his back more comfortably to Kankri for the smaller troll to sit behind, straddling him more securely before getting to work. Kankri started at the base of his neck, using one hand to massage the gills just enough to get them to spread before wiping them with the wet cloth, doing his best not to stare when Cronus let out a shaky sigh. It took some time, but he eventually started to fish out bits of loose leaves and flowers trapped within, doing his best to mop up all the pollen, but knowing full well there were some things he needed to ride out alone. 

“Cronus, you feeling alright?” He asked as he moved to his right side, the highblood only able to manage a few shaky gasps and a nod. “Do your best to breathe steadily, we’re nearly finished.” 

“E—Easier said than done, Chief.” He rasped with a bit of a smile. Kankri nearly rolled his eyes, though he quickly pulled back when one of the gills snapped onto the rag suddenly “HUH—IptSHHhxxx-! Tsch, tsch, tSCH!” Cronus pulled back from the soaked handkerchief with a thick sniffle, the rag once trapped now slipping to reveal it too was lost to the same fate. “Oh dear… Do you need a break, was that too rough?” 

“D-Do, course dot…” Cronus winced at the sound of his voice, attempting to blow his nose to clear it some, but to no avail. “T… Tibe for the worse bit?” 

“I’m afraid so… I’ll be as gentle as possible, I promise.” It’s like Cronus had said: easier said than done. He was already sensitive enough around the gills, but nothing compared to the ones along his sides. Maybe it’s because they were the main part of his respiratory system, but the slightest touch could sometimes send him over the edge, and required more breathable and soft fabrics to keep in line. They were already fluttering and caked with mucus, perhaps even more flushed than his face and neck when Kankri brought the freshly rinsed rag to them. “On the count of three, ready? One… Two…” He waited for Cronus to squeeze his eyes shut before proceeding as he had before. 

Light, almost teasing strokes more to the edges this time, whispering soft notes of encouragement as Cronus hitched and held his head back. For the seadweller it was a mixture of pleasure and agony, like having one’s horns pulled when they weren’t looking. He was doing his best to keep his panting at least to a minimum, but with how much deeper Kankri’s hands had to plunge he could already feel his eyes streaming from the irritation. “Kuh—K-Kadkri I—I-I cad’t—!”

“Please, just a little longer, I think…” 

“D-Do, do I—I’ve godda—godda—!”

“It’s jammed, just one more..!” It took everything in him not to just start ripping the flaps apart to keep digging, but Kankri was rushing as fast as he could, hands fighting against the contracting gills as they nearly forced the irritants further into Cronus’ body. And then, he felt it: the last vine. Breath catching in his throat Kankri wrapped it around his fingers and pulled with all his might, catching it over and over with each hand as it threatened to tear and wriggled against the inner walls. Cronus was gasping for breath, eyes welled shut and face streaming, and as voices for him seemed to grow distant he felt a distinct pop and triumphant sound before he snapped forward with a violent force. 

“Huh’ehtsCHHH! Hih’tpbtch! Tsch, tsch, tsch—tSCH-TSCH!” He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think straight as over and over he bobbed, feeling his gills grow slick and a pressure around his midsection grow with each harsh sneeze. He must have been going for a while, because once he was done he felt limp and dizzy, hesitant to move his hands until he was sure the tickle was gone. 

“Cronus?” The voice made him flinch as he looked back, guilt immediately rushing through his system. Though Kankri had rolled up his sleeves it seemed his beloved sweater couldn’t fully escape the inevitable, dark wet splotches located around the arms and sides, but that seemed to be the least of Kankri’s worries. With a quick rinse of his hands he reached up and smoothed out his matesprite’s now disheveled hair, wiping away whatever tear remained and offering a worried but caring smile. “That better, do you feel anything? I think I got everything, but you feeling better, can I get you anything..?” 

The violetblood shook his head, leaning into Kankri’s soothing touch with a purr that radiated through his entire body. Kankri offered him a kiss to his forehead, pressing his own against it afterwards with a bit of a chuckle. “Maybe that’ll teach you to stop picking and prodding at everyone’s social status, hm? Oh Cro… I’m just… I’m thankful I was able to help in some way. How about we get you washed up, hop in the recuperacoon, and just put the day behind us, hm? How does that sound?” 

Despite the glazed look in his eye Cronus managed a smirk, his canines flashing as he leaned a bit closer. “Ya gonna join me for a lil while chief, or..?” Face flushed, Kankri shoved his face back gently, chuckling at the small whine escaping from Cronus’ throat. “Rinse off first, Moobeast-Boy, then we’ll talk.”

[creaturedom]

Crackling Light [Part 1]

Part One (Here) | Part Two

Okay, time to get back to my fics lol. Been running from this for a while cause of personal stuff, but feeling low and hoping this’ll raise my spirits and kinda help me back into the community here! Hope you enjoy my DnD oc’s, not too much sneezing for this start, but hey that’s what multiparts are for 🧡

Plip… Plop… Plip… Plop…

Illuminated by the dim light of the fire, the large form of the blue dragonborn winced with each gentle drop of water from the stalactites high above their heads. It had been hours since he rushed inside with the human currently stoking the fire, and yet still no sign of their aggressor.

Ravomorn Hegrax, the prodigal son. He was powerfully built, long white horns curving back behind his head above a shower of smooth blue tendrils and a few smaller spikes lining his jawline. Currently, his stomach was wrapped tight with makeshift bandages, and despite a long scar crossing diagonally from his forehead across to his right cheek he surprisingly didn’t have many scars to speak of. A barbarian turned part-time performer… Oh how his ancestors must have been twisting in their graves.

Beside him was Nenna Vuz, a tan skinned woman with bright green eyes and tight chocolate curls, which she often tied back the top layer of to keep out of her face. Though quite shy and soft spoken the short human had found herself gravitating towards him back at the tavern they once worked, uncovering a surprisingly tender side to the intimidating Dragonborn during work. Normally she was the more positive of the two, calming him with sweet nothings and grounding methods, but as Nenna stared into the flames it was clear even she was at her limit.

“We’re running low…” She murmured under her breath, forcing her hand to steady as she poked at the dying embers. “D—Did you gather any more? Perhaps we…” Nenna paused as she noticed her partner tense, shifting to gaze into her eyes with his own purple ones. “That was… All I could manage.” He admitted softly. “But—I’ll get more. I can get more, I just—“

“No!” Her squeak managed to catch them both off guard, the human quick to look away and cover her mouth. He could see how her body trembled, how fear danced in her watery eyes. “N-No, no no, what if they’re out there? What if they’re still looking..? And if they see you, what then?” Ravomorn frowned, forcing himself to reach out and place his hand on her thigh. “Easy, easy Nenny, that won’t happen. I don’t want you to go workin’ yourself up, and some firewood won’t kill us…”

“You know how Charlie is. You know he won’t stop until we’re… W-We’re…” His expression softened as he saw tears finally spill down her freckled cheeks, quick to tug at her until she finally caved and curled against his chest. The Dragonborn whispered softly to her, stroking the human’s bouncy hair gently and nuzzling against the crown of her head. “Baby, stop. He won’t find jackshit, you hear me? I didn’t let him hurt you at the tavern, I’m not gonna let him get you out here—”

“Yeah? A-And where has that gotten us? He tried to skin you on stage, he sent h-his goons, I just…” Nenna buried herself further with a heavy sob, shaking her head against his chest. Ravomorn thought back to when they first met, how he nearly tripped over himself at the sight of her. Miss Vuz, once Charlie’s star and prized jewel of The Glistening Pearl. He never meant to get mixed up with her, especially with how Charlie had acted around her, but there was a natural chemistry between the Dragonborn and human that couldn’t be ignored. He could listen to her talk for hours about everything, and Charlie… Well, the bastard was lucky all he got was a zap into the band equipment when Ravomorn caught him manhandling Nenna. Which, of course, brought them here now… And yet he still held her closer.

“Nenny, listen… He’s never gonna hurt you again. Not as long as I’m around…” Ravomorn murmured as he pressed a kiss into her forehead. “You’ve got me and I’ve got you, remember? Closer than the moon and the sea, and stronger than any hurricane. I’d give up everything if it meant you’d be safe, and I’m not gonna let him so much as catch a glimpse of you when we bounce. We just need to wait this out a little longer, understand? Tomorrow morning, bright and early, the two of us’ll be on a boat to Furnuu, and we never, ever have to worry about him again. But you have to trust me…” He pressed, pulling the human’s chin up gently to look her in the eye again. “Promise you’ll trust me, baby…”

Though her breath still snagged in her throat she nodded softly, earning a tired smile and a soft kiss on the lips. “I promise Rav, I do…” Just one night. One night of this nightmare, and the two would be off to their new lives… Their true happily ever after. That’s what she told herself as they nestled close for the night as the last of the embers flickered out.

————————

Nenna woke in a bit of a daze the next morning, light barely kissing the earth and not a bird within earshot. They’d been in the cave long enough she’d grown used to the damp and freezing stone all around them, so why did she feel… Overheated? The cloaks they’d fashioned into makeshift blankets weren’t thick enough to keep much in, and as far as she saw even they’d been a little scattered that morning.

Shifting carefully out of Ravomorn’s arms she rubbed her face some, relaxing as the cool air brushed over her skin. But, the heat wasn’t completely gone yet. In fact, it felt like it was radiating rather close. A bit more alert now she glanced down at her sleeping partner, noticing the tight wrinkle of his expression and how tightly he curled in on himself. Normally he was sprawled out or murmuring, but this time it looked like he was trying to curl up and be as small as possible.

“Rav?” Nenna leaned in and stroked his forehead in an effort to comfort him, but what she found shocked her to her system. The intense heat, the sweatiness of his brow, and how he unconsciously winced to her cool touch made her skin prickle with anxiety. “Rav? Rav, honey, wake up, please…” The bard begged, cupping his cerulean cheeks as his expression tightened further. And then, she saw it: unfocused and glossy eyes.

One could blame the rude awakening for such a thing, but she knew him far better than that. Dark circles were forming under red, unfocused eyes, the bob is his head was far too slow, and as he rasped a response, she could swear her heart shattered. “N…. Nenny…? Wha’s… What’s goin on..?” As she dipped to kiss his scaly forehead comfortingly the only result was another taste of that rising heat and a bit of a flinch from him. “Ravi, baby, can you lay back please?”

Oh, why did he have to give her those soft confused eyes of his? It wasn’t like she was yelling, so why did it make her heart ache all the same? With some effort she managed to lay him back, quick to go back to the wound she tended to the night before. Her magic wasn’t nearly strong enough to heal the amount of damage he received, but it was all she had left before this was resorted to. Could it have..? Hands shook, a lump rose in her throat, and as she peeled back the bandages…

Oh. They’d actually closed rather nicely. A little swollen maybe, darker in areas too, but no clearer sign of infection… No, maybe something more internal? “N-Nenny…? M’not…” She cut him off with a soft hum, energy surrounding the wound in a flash of pink light, swirling within and soon sealing it even tighter; but again it hardly changed. Maybe if she found some herbs, or put alcohol on it—did they even think to bring any in case of emergency—?

“H-Hah….” She paused, glancing over to his face again. Once more his expression was strained, but it was different this time, more scrunched around that long snout of his and maw hanging open as if struggling to find his words. His nostrils were starting to grow a bit pink with each huff and snort, those tired eyes tightly shut as his maw opened wider and wider until…

“Hah—H-Hah-! G’ttTXXchhHHhh!” Even as he tried to stifle it with a tight clamp of his hands she could see how little bolts of lightning leaked through his fingers, and worse still the immediate wince from his abdomen. But, she knew him. Normally a couple here and there, but when he started to work himself up like that— “G��txXXCH!” —it was more than any goons or risky wounds.

“Ravi, don’t!” Back to his head again she cradled it into her lap, much to his clear protest. The weather was too clear to let this slide, but it couldn’t be bounce about in the cave, and she couldn’t let this build into what it wanted to be. “Baby, I’m sorry..” Was all she could manage before she did what she knew he regretted discovering with her. Long nails starting from his forehead, slowly snaking down his snout and tracing the tight, trembling wrinkles of it. Helpless to the burning tickle that rose his mouth opened wide again, crackling blue energy clearly building at the back of his throat while ticklish tears poured from his eyes. Down the river, through the sea, until she found… The spot right between his two large nostrils, a dimple straight to the back of them. It was game over for her dear love.

With one last desperate hitch she positioned his head to the mouth of the cave and braced herself “G-Guh—HaAAaah—! Guh’tssSSCHHOOooo!” Like a loaded rifle she held right with the recoil of his head, lightning sparking forth in a powerful arc about thirty feet out, each inch of the cave bathed in that gorgeous bluish white light. Even as he panted in her arms the amount of electricity that still danced around his face made her heart skip a beat at its natural beauty, but the worst of the fit was over. He could only manage to use that once a day, and now that it was spent they were safe another day. But, that just left…

“M’sorry…” A sadly bigger problem. “Bless you Sweets, bless you…” Nenna cooed to Ravomorn, stroking back a few loose tendrils while he caught his breath. “W-We’re not goin anywhere today, understand? Baby, you’re burning up something awful…” Even now he couldn’t put up a fight, just staring up at her with those sad glossy eyes of his. It took every ounce of strength to bite her lip and glance away before he could bring tears to her eyes. It was her fault, she saw the cave in the middle of the night, she was the one too exhausted to move another step, and through it all he pushed and strained, and this was his fate?

“Nenny, I can keep goin…” How selfish could she be for him to still be dotting on her like this, reaching up to hold her trembling face. But still she pulled away, shaking her head quickly. “Y—You’re just gonna get worse! The ferry’s still a day’s walk out, maybe even longer with sneaking around, we can’t—”

“Afford t… To wait long…” As much as he didn’t want to worry her, she knew just as well as him how important it was to catch it before it left the port. Maybe a good week or so until the next one came, no guarantees on how long it may need to stay in for last minute maintenance, they’d be sitting ducks. So he put on his best smile, nudged his little worrywart so sweetly with his head, clearing his throat before daring to speak again, though it only helped a bit. “J… Just a lil weary Nenna, I’ll be right as rain before you know it. The fresh air’ll do me just fine, you’ll see…”

“Ravi, you’ve got a fever—”

“—I’ll keep a wet cloth on the back of my neck—”

“—and the rest, how you gonna manage to walk there?”

“I’ll just… I’ll do it. I can do it.”

“It’s not about whether you’re strong enough to keep pushing, it’s about pushing too hard, it’s the risk of getting even worse!” He could always count on her to care so tenderly and passionately for him. Still, he shook his head and forced himself upright. Steady, steady hands, he needed to remain steady as he held her shoulders, forcing his head not to bob like it wanted as he looked her in the eyes. “I will personally strap myself down in the bunk, and guzzle nothing but hot soup and that terrible, terrible herbal tea you love so much.” A betrayal of her fears, he could see, a stifled laugh and glance away. He managed to crack her, just a little.

“We gotta hurry, and you gotta trust me. Everything’s gonna be alright, but you’ve gotta trust me…”

————————

Oh, he was regretting every step. They must have been walking for a good two hours now, sneaking around foliage and dodging just about every passing cart or guard they saw. It was bad enough to walk the main road by foot, but the fact they needed to take the path around it was agonizing even by regular circumstances.

The cool rag he’d promised had grown useless within the first half, and lopped off in secret by the last. His head still felt like it was swimming, and worse still his stupid nose was twitching and dripping all over the place. It was a miracle he’d used his breath weapon so quickly, but with each sneeze little bits of electricity still bounced from his overheating skin, and while not dangerous it was pretty annoying and embarrassing for him. Just a little longer, he kept telling himself, just a few more steps… But how could he keep going with the terrible pounding in his head?

“Ravi…?” Oh. That’s how. His heart always fluttered when he heard her speak his nickname so softly, even more tender and careful in this moment. He sniffled and scrubbed at his snout with the back of his wrist, forcing a big smile for her. “R—Right as rain! You holdin up okay?”

“Yes, but… Maybe you’re feeling up for a little break? Surely at least sitting down a couple minutes won’t waste too much time, will it?” Ravomorn’s knees nearly buckled at the notion alone, but hard headed as ever he shook his head roughly. Ugh, maybe a bit too rough with how the world swirled after. “Nope, we’ve lost enough daylight as it is. Let’s keep going, we’ll rest…” Oh no, not again. His eyes rolled as his breath sagged again, quick to whip his head to the side as his body snapped with another wet double “Huh’tSCHHhoo! Hah—Rah’tschHHHHhhah! Guh, s’cuse me… I-In another hour or so…” The sneezing was putting too much strain over the mostly healed wound, and it was getting harder and harder not to yelp whenever those sneezes slipped.

“Ravi, I don’t like the sound of those sneezes, aren’t you exhausted? At least let me check your temperature—”

“Nenna.” They both stopped in a mix of shock and attention. He would never dare raise his voice at her, but when he was firm it was easy enough to quiet any room. Sighing he forced his body to relax, those glossy eyes meeting her worried ones once more. “… I feel fine. Another hour, we’ll take a few minutes to catch our breath. Until then though, we… We need to keep moving.” She stared at him for a long time, clutching at a necklace he himself gave her a couple years back. A silver songbird wrapped in a flowing, rose-gold ribbon, now perhaps one of her only comforts on this long road to freedom.

Finally she sighed, dropping her gaze and holding that bird in both hands as she continued on ahead “Ravomorn Hegrax, you better live up to your promise.” A sigh of relief escaped him before he followed on. “Another hour, tops. We’ll rest at the split in the path, then…”

“… Then what? Have some magical tea party, you get better in a pinch, and we’re whisked away by some big dragon?” Nenna sighed again, gaze now lifting skyward. “I… I do trust you, I’m sorry Ravi. I’m just tired myself... I love every ounce of you, but you worry me to my core sometimes, and it’s not about being the biggest, toughest guy alive! I don’t need you to be tough. I don’t need some meathead who thinks he has to protect me every time someone so much as coughs twenty feet away, I need you. That sweet, caring, gentle boy who asked me how my day was. Who looked me in the eye not as some obsessed fan, but someone who knew I needed a friend more than anything. You’re strong in such a genuine and unique way, and I love you so much for it. I mean what kind of barbarian covers up and apologizes for each and every little sneeze or cough, or fumbles over himself to learn an instrument just so he can watch you sing your little songs on the big stage huh?” The last part made herself giggle, but when no response came from him her brief gushing faded to a somber frown.

“… I love you, and I love and trust in us. But you have to meet me in the middle here Ravi… Can you promise to trust me a little more and speak up when you need help?” Still nothing. Not a grunt or sniffle, not… Not a footstep. Confused she turned around to find him a few feet off, staring at seemingly nothing. “… R… Ravi?”

A brief moment of recognition, a little glimmer in those eyes. True to his nature a small delirious smile arose, but even that wavered the dragonborn spoke back. “… Nenny… I… I don’t f-feel so…” a solid thump, a terrified scream.

Ravomorn Hegrax had collapsed.

[creaturedom]

27 for Beto…? 🥺

BETO, MY BELOVED?

It’s been far too long for one of my favorite boys, so anything for you Anon 🧡

27. Reading Together - Beto and Lucas

It’d been a rather long day at work. While Beto always loved helping out where he could the day just felt like it dragged on so much longer than it should have, and it didn’t help that he’d picked up more shifts the week before to help out the new employees gaining their footing. For any other man this would have been Hell to wake up and repeat all week, but the now drained man had a little trick up his sleeve for motivation.

“Beto, welcome home!” His heart always skipped a beat when he heard that familiar voice. Rounding the corner the shorter, brightly smiling Lu greeted the weary man with a gentle kiss on the lips. How long had they been together now, a few months? They got on like a house on fire, and while they hadn’t moved in together yet, it felt like it with how often Lu came over. “You ready to read more, I’ve been dying to see your reaction for the next chapter!”

Beto chuckled at that, sniffing back a bit as he playfully bumped Lucas’ forehead with his own. “You wouldn’t have to die if you just let me watch the movie with you instead, but if you’re promising cuddles and dual voice acting, theeen…” Lucas only smiled wider, leading Beto by the hand as he allowed himself to be taken to the bedroom.

Everyone got a chance to dress in their finest pj’s before hopping in, Lucas nestled into Beto’s side and propping up his rather bent but well loved copy of The Hobbit. Beto lazily put an arm around his shoulders as they began to read aloud together, something they started doing together a few months back. Started as a jab at the little mumbling Beto noticed when Lucas would get to more exciting parts, but the two quickly set into a routine, and now here they were. Though tonight it seemed Beto was a lot more out of focus.

Quiet sniffling and pawing at his face was making it hard to keep up with the lines on the page. His eyes felt rather puffy and the longer he tried to focus, the more he noticed a dull throbbing sensation in his head. Had he not taken enough breaks, running around with this constant brain fog all day? He perked up when he realized his boyfriend was staring, clearing his throat as he skimmed for whatever voice he needed to use. “Go back? No, not good at all! Sideways? I-Imposs…” Beto’s voice wavered as he drew a shaky breath, turning his head quickly to the side.

“I-Ihh— hihh, hih—Hih’ktsschxx! Hihh….. hITSCHHH! Ghuhh… S’cuse me, um: i-impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!” Lucas blinked a bit owlishly but offered a gentle pat to his chest. “Geez, you been holding that in all day? Bless you babe.”

“Hah, maybe a bit. Where were we..?” He asked with a more watery sniffle, making the other pause but continue with his narration. Beto could feel the dull buzzing rising to a more fiery burn in his nose as he imagined the cold tunnels of the underground, the drip of water off in the distance and just how much Bilbo’s own head must have been swirling with questions as he once more drew a shaky breath.

“Gtschhhh! Huh’tschhhh!”

“Bless you! Those… Sounded rougher than usual, are you feeling okay?” Beto tried to nod but his nostrils were growing pink with irritation, his eyes screwing shut as he rocked with another set of powerful sneezes, three this time, leaving him with soft panting and a sympathetic hand rubbing at his chest. He watched in a daze as Lucas took the time to put the book down and feel at his skin, leaning in to the cool touch of his hands with an unconscious sigh. “You don’t feel warm, that’s good, but you’re looking a little pale… You doing okay babe?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, just a little worn out. We put up some new decorations before opening today, so maybe the dust j-just… Hah, I feel fine, what’s next? S-Something bout him seeing a l-lake, or…” Beto was lying, and it felt like his nose was punishing him for it. Sucking in another breath he put his head to the side again, gasping for air before exploding with “H-Huh’pTSCHhhh! Hih’tschHHhhh! Tsch, tsch, tSCHhh! H-Hah—! H’PTSCHHhhh!!” That managed to get his boyfriend to sit up again, now encouraging the more limp and panting Beto to do the same. He could feel the other squeezing him as a few more sneezes ripped out, eventually leaving the waiter limp and dripping in Lucas’ grasp.

“Oh hun, I think you caught something real nasty…”

“Lu I’b fide…” Beto winced as the stuffiness reared its ugly head, reluctantly accepting a few tissues offered from the now stern looking man beside him. “Nope, that tears it. I knew you were more sluggish this morning, I should have said something sooner! Poor thing, have you been feeling bad all day?” Ugh, his hand felt so nice brushing back the curls that bounced over his forehead, Beto couldn’t help but lean in to the comfort of it and close his eyes. “Kidda, but I… I thought I was just ready for the weekedd.” He croaked, the sympathetic hands cupping his cheeks with a sigh. “Now do I sound nagging for questioning the overtime? You’ve been working yourself to the bone… I love you, but I think it’s time to admit defeat.”

Beto looked mortified, but soon he found himself nodding, a bit of tears building at the corners of his eyes. Seeing this Lucas’ features softened significantly, peppering Beto’s face with gentle kisses. “Shhh, it’s okay, nothing to feel bad about. I’ll call Valencia in a bit to let her know, but you want anything? Some medicine, more tissues, maybe order some…” At first it looked like Beto was zoning out, but following his gaze the other soon found it was a look of longing and exhaustion, leaving him to chuckle softly.

“… You want me to read to you instead, help lull you to sleep?”

“Wha..? B-But it’s your favorite, I dod’t wadda sleep through it!”

“Which means I’ve read it a million times. I’ll stop the second you doze, cross my heart, so long as you lay back down and let me work my magic. Sound fair?” His question was answered with a thick sniffle and another sneeze, but like a white flag to the wind he simply nodded and got back into position. This time the shorter man settled a bit higher to let Beto rest his head on his chest before continuing, the rumble with each new voice and narration putting that lazy smile back on Beto’s face.

“I love your voices best, Lu…”