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#critter chitters
queerbatting · 1 year
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people need to realize that dissolving the lines between gender also means dissolving the lines between sexuality. you cannot say gender is fake and then say sexuality is strict and rigid.
there are multigender/genderfluid people who are lesbians and gay men at the same time. there are mspec lesbians/gays/straights who have a complex relationship with gender and their sexuality. there are gay men who are women and lesbians who are men because male isn't the opposite of female.
"conflicting" labels are a part of many people's queer experience, because the human experience isnt simple enough to be put into neat perfect categories. if you truly support trans/genderqueer people, you need to accept the fact that gender and sexuality is complex and there will be people whose identities you don't understand
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justadino-ig · 1 month
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my sister is like a walking bag of bones that can rattle at will
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vulpinefrost · 5 months
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} New URL finally decided, new tags alongside this
#Foxy {Amane} - #Frosted {Amane NSFW}
#Tribal {Valkyr} - #Bristling {Valkyr NSFW}
#Curious Kit {Ask Memes}
#Chittering {Dash Commentary} - #Gekkering {Random IC}
#Friendly Critter {Open Starter}
#Set in Ice and Stone {Headcanons}
#Ancestral Legends {Story Post} - #Ancestral Tale {Short Story Post}
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mr-hearts · 1 year
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Its so evil when I have a really good idea but no way to execute it
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dougielombax · 7 months
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Mollusks, whelks and limpets, oh My!
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scribbledghost · 8 months
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Do you think yautjas get cuteness agression with their ooman mates at times like how we do with pets? Whether their sleeping or just existing? You got any headcanons for how they react or behave with their ooman when that cuteness agression just suddenly hits or something similar to the feeling?
100% think yautjas get cuteness aggression with their mates. Absolutely. You're just so soft and warm and they can't help but feel it.
It is not unusual for a yautja's ooman mate to be woken up out of a dead sleep or interrupted out of nowhere by very forceful squeeze-hugging.
Coupled with nips of their mandibles or teeth.
Your yautja is very careful to not break skin when he does this, but the urge to bite and squeeze is simply so irresistible he can't help it.
Lots of purring and happy clicking involved.
It's also not unheard of for them to grab a weapon and just bite down really hard on the handle of it, just to help abate the urge lol
The severity of it varies from yautja to yautja, but all of them have experienced it at least once.
Some with more innocent activities like sleeping or puttering around the ship
Others when you're covered in blood and proudly holding up a small, low-on-the-food-chain alien critter.
But yeah, like I said. Lots of squeezing.
You're definitely gonna have to smack his arm or something to remind him that you need to breathe and that your bones are more fragile than his are.
Sometimes you'll be minding your own business and your yautja will just come up to you, grab your arm, and just. Place it in his mouth and hold it there.
Not biting down, just holding your arm in his teeth while he happily chitters away. Helps with the urge.
Though, depending on how hot-headed the yautja is, it's not unheard of for certain ones to respond to cuteness aggression by launching weapons around.
Many a tree and inner ship wall have been speared this way.
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citruslullabies · 24 days
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idea
fox smiling critter reader x catnap after hour of joy
where reader is the only critter catnap left alive and they follow in his footsteps worshipping the prototype only because they love him but end up dying by the player
Got a lil carried away ..
Trigger warnings: blood and death, malnourishment, obsessive tendencies and unrealistic/delusional relationships
Romantic/platonic: romantic (I'm assuming)
Requested by: anonymous
Category: angst
Ship (romantic or platonic): Catnap x fox!smiling critter!reader
Word count: 571
I Did it For You
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The Hour of Joy was.. a painful time. You hadn't enjoyed it, but you only participated in it to survive and to appease the one you loved the most.
You had always loved Catnap, loved him so much you were willing to throw everything away and even worship a god you personally didn't find much interest in. But you did it all for him. He was quiet after the hour of joy, not speaking much but he didn't have to. You still understood him better than anyone else, even better than the prototype. Your skinny malnourished body of a fox leaped through the building.
You found Catnap finally taking a moment of rest, a moment that was so rare for him nowadays. And you approached him with clawed paws and a bone structure tapping against the ground as if you were the boogie man. Maybe to some you were, but you weren't a bad person. You just.. simply loved someone more than you should have.
“Catnap?” You managed to chitter out, sitting beside him despite your hips cracking with every movement and your skin fighting against them as if it would tear wide open. He slowly woke up and looked up at you, silent besides a low rumble as if accepting your presence.
A smile permanently etched into your face as you pressed your head against his, not like you wouldn't be smiling either way with him. Your matted fur that was slowly ripping out was still soft in a way that was comforting, your fox tail looking more like a stingray with how thin and torn apart it was. But you wouldn't have it any other way just to be with him.
You let out a cackle as you felt Catnap’s tail wrap around yours, knowing it was a tactic of manipulation but you couldn't care less. If he said jump, you'd ask how high. Your attention was quickly yanked away from Catnap, hearing footsteps in the distance and the robotic sound of pressing buttons. You growled knowing it was the player, maybe in a previous life you wouldn't mind them. But they were an enemy of Catnap's so they were an enemy of yours.
You half expected Catnap to get up and handle it himself since he liked the chase, but he stared at you blankly as he slowly began to growl from irritation when you sat there and did nothing. You took the hint and left your beloved there to rest, getting up and moving through starvation just to get silent praise from the feline.
You couldn't even care less about whatever praise the prototype might provide you, only caring about the sadistic cats.
You moved and chased after the player, growling and stalking them. Just as you were about to get them.. your eyes suddenly widened as you yelped out in pain. You let out a weak and pitiful sob, thrashing around to get out from beneath the heavy metal crushing you and breaking your nimble bones with pressure. You let out yips and sobs for help, begging catnap to come save you. But he never came.
He later found you, dead and bloodied from your skin tearing apart from shattered bones that always pressed against it. He took you out from beneath the rubble and grieved a bit, licking your wounds as if cleaning you before offering you to the prototype.
It was a shame, really.
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Thank you for requesting!
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thresher-art · 4 months
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The Mind Reader (Chapter 1)
Pairing: Astarion/AFAB!Reader
Eventual Background Tadpolycule
Summary: You're a sorcerer with a particular proclivity for telepathy - other people's minds were an open book to you long before the tadpole wriggled its way into your brain.
Astarion's a rogue who thinks he can charm his way in or out of any situation, always having the upper hand in conversations and flirtations.
A bond between the two of you can only go smoothly.
Warnings: None for this chapter. Fic will eventually contain smut/18+ content.
A/N: Astarion lays it on really thick with his flirtations in Act 1, given his plans to secure his safety. While it's just a smidge obvious he's lying through his teeth early on, I wanted to play around with the idea of someone who genuinely sees right through him - and all of him at that - but still decides to play along for shits and giggles. I'm also taking liberties with how telepathy actually works in the DnD world, so that won't be canon-compliant.
Like most of my works, this fic will feature background Tadpolycule (everyone dating everyone at camp), but it'll only be mentioned - this fic is Astarion-centric.
Full list of tags available on AO3 (will be updated each chapter).
Next
XxxxX
You hear him long before he ever comes into view.
His mind is racing, so desperately loud with fear, terror, and utter confusion. It's what causes you to come close in the first place, clambering up the cliffs at the beach - it's someone who's surprised they haven't burnt to a crisp in the sun.
You can't exactly reason why you would approach a possible vampire, but with Shadowheart and Gale at your side, you suppose you stand a chance at knocking this one out.
When he hears your footsteps approaching, you can tell he throws together a shoddy little plan to threaten you into an alliance. Why he can't just start with a 'hello' is a mystery to you.
It turns out, the racing thoughts belong to an elf, paler than moonlight, and strikingly beautiful. Judging from his appearance, your assumption of him possibly being a vampire may even be correct. He's even got two very obvious bitemarks on his neck - though it appears that whatever bit him damn near ripped his throat out. The elf looks awfully suspicious all around, with the way he's crouched over, seemingly watching something intently.
When he sees your little group approach, he calls out for help. He's...quite the terrible actor, really, but you're far too curious about him nonetheless.
"Hurry!" He says quietly once you get closer. "I've got one of those brain things cornered."
You don't need to look around to know he doesn't. Mindflayer tadpoles aside, you're quite fond of the Intellect Devourers - you don't know where Us has disappeared to, and you kind of already miss the little critter. The Intellect Devourers speak your 'language', to the point where you've discovered you can easily order them around. Shadowheart had found it helpful, while Gale had turned suspicious that you could make them freeze with seemingly just a look, ready to have you fry them with a firebolt. You'd blamed it on the tadpole - no need to let them know just yet.
But right now, you can't hear the excited chitter of an Intellect Devourer, so you know this elf is lying through his pretty, sharp teeth.
"There, in the grass. You can kill it, can't you? Like you killed the others?"
"You seem quite capable on your own," you reply. "Those 'brain things' aren't particularly strong. I'm sure you can take care of it yourself."
Gale and Shadowheart don't trust this elf one bit. Neither do you. You'd rather not waste any more time on him, and step away.
'Why, you haughty little shit!'
You anticipate him drawing his dagger, and before he can pull you down, you swiftly flip him over. His grip on his dagger loosens, and he's prone on his back, staring up at you, now kneeling over his head, his own dagger at his throat. Gale has a spell at the ready, while Shadowheart stands ready with her mace. The elf has no way out.
"What happened to 'hello'?" You quip at him. Confusion and befuddlement is a nice look on him, you think. His half-baked plan just went up in flames, and clearly, he didn't forsee you gaining the upper hand on him. "No manners at all."
The elf tries to lay as still as possible.
"I just want information," he says through gritted teeth. "I saw you scuttling about on the ship. You're in league with them, aren't you? With those tentacled-"
He doesn't get any further. You feel the tadpole wriggling in your brain, connecting to his. You see through his eyes, now - stalking through dark streets, clearly on the hunt for something. You feel hunger, intense, unending hunger, clawing at your insides. Then the taste of rotten meat and fur on your lips.
You push him out of your head. You don't want to see more of whatever he's been through.
You're not sure what he sees in your brain. It's a terrifying feeling, having your little habit no longer be a one-way street. You feel naked. Exposed. Vulnerable.
Luckily, he seems distracted by the connection itself, too much to question your own fears.
"What was that? What's going on?"
He looks downright boyish like this, wide-eyed and confused. You get a better look at him up close like this, and yes - red eyes, fangs.
He checks all the boxes for what you suspect him to be.
"The worm in your brain. It connects us."
You don't know much more than that, but it seems to placate him.
"The worm! Of course. That explains things. Somewhat. And to think I was ready to paint the ground with your innards. Apologies."
He cracks a smile at you. He's pretty. You know his kind of pretty. It's a type of pretty that's been used and weaponized. His smile doesn't reach his eyes, though. You scare him. He's never had a mortal dodge him so effortlessly, and that unnerves him. He's essentially one giant ball of anxiety at this point, though he'd rather die than to let it show.
"Apology accepted. I likely would have done the same to you."
The lie comes easily to you. You wouldn't have - you'd have no need. You'd have sifted through his mind, constructed the perfect mental map of him so you'd know exactly what to say to him to get on his good side.
It's what you're doing right now.
"Ah, a kindred spirit."
He may be more right about that than he knows, but not in the way he thinks.
"My name's Astarion," he introduces himself. "I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me up."
"Hello, Astarion," you reply after telling him your name, dagger still in hand. "Will you behave if I let you get up?"
'Cheeky thing,' he tuts in his mind. He's not any less scared of you, but he's amused, at least.
"I'll be on my best behavior. I swear it."
You have a feeling his best behavior can be a possible pain in the neck. He's intriguing, though, and so you let off - his dagger is yours for the time being, though.
"So, do you know anything about these worms?"
Astarion eyes you curiously. His fingers twitch with the urge to snatch his dagger back - you've no problem letting him, in due time.
You tell him what you know, that these worms are ticking time-bombs, capable of turning you into Mindflayers in what you've witnessed to be seconds. You're taken aback when Astarion laughs bitterly at that, defeated at the prospect of being turned into a monster.
'Just my luck. I escape one horrible fate, just to land in another.'
You almost feel sorry for him, really. You can feel the remnants of surprised elation at the realization of being able to stand in the sun again after who knows how long, and the dread of having his body warped and ripped apart to turn into one of those tentacled freaks. Astarion wants, for once, to just be himself.
You don't dig further. You feel you've come up against the mental barrier everyone has, the one that lets you know there are delicious secrets beyond. The barrier comes sooner or later depending on the person - Astarion's mind is so tightly wound, you can only easily detect his fleeting thoughts and emotions. All his memories are fiercely guarded, if not entirely repressed.
You're itching to keep pressing. But you've just met him, invited him on your little adventure, and you're not sure if Gale is wizard enough to sniff out what you're doing. You don't want them to know so soon.
Astarion joins up with you, and the four of you carry on, hoping to find somebody to help you with your predicament.
_____________
Astarion's mind, though kept under a tight lock and key, is still terribly fun.
It's easy to tell he's not used to roughing it. He's not entirely alone in this - Gale is, at most, used to climbing up and down the stairs in his tower, but hasn't truly been outside in a good while. The wizard keeps a chipper attitude about it, though, and keeps going without complaint.
You and Shadowheart have no problem adjusting to your circumstances. You both know how to survive out here, and start delegating camp tasks once you decide to rest for the night. Gale eagerly offers to cook. You were lucky enough to find a fisherman's cart out there with his daily catch and a few vegetables, one he no longer needs due to. Well. Being crushed by a Mindflayer ship. Gale knows his herbs and finds enough to add to the dish, and busies himself getting your dinner ready.
Astarion, meanwhile, is still struggling with setting up his tent.
You ladies had quickly set up your respective tents, whereas Gale had no problem sheepishly asking for assistance. From what little you've learned of Astarion, you know that he would never stoop so low as to ask for help.
You hear him spitting curses in his mind, damn near mentally screaming when his tent collapses for the third time in a row. He hopes nobody saw, but everyone did and is kind enough not to publically comment on it. Shadowheart's thoughts on it are the mental equivalent of the most severe side-eye you can imagine, while Gale almost pities him.
It's when Astarion draws his dagger - he'd nicked it back from you earlier - to take his annoyance out on the tarp that you step in.
"What part of this is troubling you?"
He freezes at the sound of your voice, before sheathing his dagger. You need to be careful with how to word this - if you come across as belittling, he'll send you away, and end up sleeping under the stars out of spite.
Astarion is debating his next move. He wants to bark at you to leave, that he doesn't need your help, that he's not struggling. He doesn't struggle. He doesn't need anybody.
"The grounds a bit tough here, I took a while to get my poles in properly, too," you say, diverting blame to the external conditions, and not his own inexperience.
It helps. Astarion visibly relaxes, and you even hear the worst little internal laugh in his mind about you 'getting your poles in'.
He's horrible, you decide. Horrible, but entertaining.
"Ah, yes. The terrain truly is less than ideal," Astarion concedes.
He clearly has no idea you've chosen your words purposefull, but is grateful that you, at the very least, aren't making fun of him. You get the feeling he's used to being reprimanded for even the slightest possible failure.
"I can lend a hand if you want," you offer, giving him the choice. It's not much of a choice, really - either you help him and he can sleep in a cozy tent, or he'll be freezing tonight. "It'll go by much quicker if there's two of us, and we can head to dinner."
Astarion relents. Neither of you make mention of the fact that you narrating your actions actually is your way of teaching him how to do this. You word it carefully, again, pointing out how it's the environment making it difficult to set up a tent, and absolutely, definitely not his lack of experience.
You set the tent up in record time, and know Astarion has tried his best to imprint the process in his memory, so he won't be forced to accept help in the future. You don't mind - the quicker he learns how to survive out here, the easier it'll be on all of you.
The fish Gale cooks up tastes just as divine as it smells. While you eat, you hear Astarion's disgust - to him, any sort of food that touches his tongue aside from, presumably, blood, tastes like ash. He forces himself through a couple of bites with remarkable fortitude, before excusing himself from eating, claiming the day has left him with little appetite.
It's a straight lie, of course. He's starving. You've once read that vampires are hunger personified, and with the way Astarion's thoughts race around the prospect of sustance, it's clear to you he never feeds often.
You decide to help Gale with the dishes after dinner. You make idle chat as you work, and Gale points out how good of a leader you've been so far, stating that you're remarkably perceptive.
"Just a habit from flitting about the streets of Baldur's Gate," you deflect. "And being a woman, of course. There's plenty of the unsavoury sort who may want more than to just give you a compliment if you're not attentive enough."
"I see," Gale hums. "A skill for survival, then."
He's staring right at you, blue eyes sharp and inquisitive. He doesn't believe a word you just said, beyond the sad reality of actually needing to be more perceptive as a woman roaming around.
'You can hear me, can't you?' he thinks at you. His brow twitches in question, his gaze trying to pin you down.
Unlucky for him, he's not the first to have ever asked you this. You know how to keep yourself still and calm in the face of being questioned like this.
"Is there something on my face?" You ask. You're the perfect picture of innocence, eyes blinking up at him in feigned confusion. "I can be such a messy eater at times."
It's an out for him. Staring at someone for so long is weird.
"Ah, yes. Right on your cheek," Gale says, pointing out a spot on his own cheek for you to mirror. You wipe away the 'something' you both know doesn't exist, and thank him.
'I'll get you next time,' Gale thinks, and you have to repress a smile. He won't. You won't let him.
You're not sure yet how to feel about him thinking about just how pretty he finds you.
Astarion is lounging around the campfire once you return. His hunger is clawing at his insides, and you have to commend him for still appearing so nonchalant on the outside.
"Done playing housewife with the wizard?" He teases, and you roll your eyes at him as you plop yourself down next to him.
"Jealous, Astarion?" You reply. "Don't you worry. If Gale's our camp cook, it'll eventually be everybody's turn to help him with the dishes. So you'll get to be Gale's sweet housewife, too."
You love throwing people off their game - their minds usually respond as if shocked, turning into an incomprehensive tangle of words and sounds, before catching themselves again. It's a rather striking look on Astarion.
He catches himself quickly enough, and smiles at you.
"I promise to look twice as lovely as you do doing it when it's my turn," he says.
You laugh at that. "I'm sure you'd cut a finer figure than me in any type of garment."
"Oh don't be like that. I'm sure in the right dress, even you could outshine me. This little outdoor adventure isn't doing anybody's looks any favours, I'm afraid."
"Mhm, who knows. I hear some people like the rugged look," you comment.
"Do you?" Astarion's voice lowers. He's trying to flirt.
What in the hells is this elf thinking? You don't need to be a mind reader to understand what he's trying to do - he's trying to get on your good side, and he knows no other way to do it other than this. You're not sure if he's desperate or just plain stupid, however - it's not particularly common to flirt with a person you tried to threaten with a dagger mere hours ago.
You respond to his flirting regardless. You suppose he's a welcome distraction out in the wilderness - though you're not fool enough to fall for this in earnest.
"I like them pretty," is all you say, giving him a telling look. "Not very picky otherwise. I like beautiful people."
Astarion's mind flutters in excitement, happy that you apparently are taking the bait.
Silly elf.
Silly, silly elf.
"What a coincidence! So do I. We really are more alike than I thought," he purrs.
Once more, you get the feeling that you really are alike - but not in the ways he is implying.
"Perhaps we are."
Despite his flirting, you can tell he's getting antsy. He wants to leave, go out and hunt, so that he can try and fill his belly with something he can actually stomach. You decide to release him.
"Aren't you tired?" You say. "I know I'm dead exhausted."
"So am I, my dear, but given everything that happened, I doubt I'll be able to truly rest anytime soon." He gives you another one of his practiced smiles. It's...too perfect. Immaculately rehearsed. You don't like this smile of his. "I'll take first watch. You go ahead and sleep."
"Are you sure?" You ask, feigning concern. You're nothing of the sort - you want him to go out and feed, and you want little more than to pass out in your bedroll.
"Very sure," Astarion affirms. "Besides - it'd be a crime to rob a pretty thing like you from her beauty sleep."
You can only shake your head at him as you get up. "Good night, then, Astarion."
"Good night, darling," he calls after you.
"Sweet dreams."
You're not sure how sweet these dreams of yours will actually be. With everything that's happened, your own racing thoughts, not to mention everyone else's are prone to keep you up.
Your mind only quiets down once Shadowheart has completed her final prayer, Gale snuffs out his candle for the night, and Astarion disappears into the woods.
Astarion's piqued your interest, that's for sure.
But what unsettles you just a touch is that, amongst all the flirting and fake frivolities, he truly does think you are beautiful.
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lucifermonsii · 2 months
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H!Keegan X Male!Reader
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Chapter 2: "There you are.."
The subtle sounds of footsteps along with slight leave crunches awakens the critters in the darkness as the men walks through the thick forest, mud and dirt stains their boots with every step of the way. Wearing night goggles to see clearly through the dark as it was a hue of blue, M/N keeping his firearm tight and close to himself as he walks behind the other operatives, keeping his eyes open and his ears sharp to detect any threats within the area. His body tenses from the slight rustle of the bushes or the small soft steps of the creatures along the dense forest, the cold atmosphere surrounds them as they were accompanied by the moon. The moonlight dances around the surroundings as it shines the midnight creatures who roams in the dark.
Eventually reaching their destination they stopped, standing all together as they report back to the ones at base. With a crackle of one of the operatives radio:
"We're here sir."
Says the operatice before signaling the others to follow inside the building in front, all of the men sneek inside the building with no problem as they surrounded the area within. Hiding in the shadows as they took out any enemies on sight, of course splitting up to cover more ground. M/N hurries along his way in the shadows as he moves like a wraith, keeping silent with his footsteps. Upon seeing an enemy on sight he stops and crouches, the person walks along in a lab coat, walking pass M/N before getting pulled into the shadow and getting their neck cracked in a singular twist by the man. He releases the body before picking up the keycard that was in the pocket of the dead body, stuffing it into his own before proceeding to find the room for it. Walking down a long hallway there were many metal doors in sight along the dimly lit hallway.
M/N walks along before stopping at the last room of the row of doors, another one of his men arriving at the hallway as they met with a nod. He signals the other to try unlock the other doors as he attempts to unlock the that stood infront of him, taking out the keycard the door opens with a soft beep. Opening before him as he steps foot inside, cautiously he walks around. Still keeping his firearm close to him as he spots the large empty cells, ones that were stained with blood, dirt and many other unpleasent things to witness. At the corner of his eyes he spots a dark cell that has a humanoid figure at the corner of it. Out of curiosity he gets closer, taking small and cautios footsteps towards the cell.
"Who's there...?"
He asks with precaution, his tone smooth and monotoned but still terrified of what may be the entity. The creature responds with a low growl, slowly turning its body to look at M/N with its blue eyes. The rest still remains hidden as there was a faint silhouette of a long tail with a pointed arrow at the end of it, its eyes furrows as it shifts deeper within the shadows. Making itself smaller as if showing submission. A light chitter escapes its lips as its tail slightly swings. M/N's eyes spots the mechanic device where a keycard was needed, so being the curious person he was— he decided to step into the cell and approach said entity.
Eyes fixated upon the creature as he hums, furrowing his eyebrows while he slowly approaches it with cautuon. Taking slow steps as he got closer, and closer to the creature. Firearm slowly lowering down as he was now a foot away from it, narrowing his eyes as his gaze sharpens, focusing on the entity. Then— he got a glimps of it ocean blue eyes, him making himself smaller as his tail wraps around him. A hum escapes his lips as he stares up at M/N with those blue doe eyes.
He couldn't believe it...
Was this really him?
"Keegan, what happened...?"
He questions ever so softly as he crouches down infront of him, his firearm now placed at its holster as M/N's hand slowly approaches Keegan. Wanting to caress his cloth face in the shadows. Slight tears pricked at the corner of his eyes as his gloved hand contacts with the fabric of Keegan's balaclava, palm again his cheek as he gently caresses his cheek with his thumb.
"I- Im scared M/N... I don't want to be here anymore."
Keegan whimpers as his voice slightly cracks, light tears fall down his cheek as he jumps towards M/N and hugs him tightly. Not wanting to let go or lose him ever again. Legs wrapped around his waist as he kept a tight grip around his body, face buried into M/N's neck and his tail around the male's thigh, M/N falling back slightly and landing on his butt, making him seated on the cold ground. His hands finds his way at Keegan's back at the smaller male sobs softly.
M/N's eyes darts around Keegan's new form, realising what he has become. A demon of some sort. Having horns and a tail, along with some other things he suspects. His hand goes behind the back of his head, slightly lifting his face away to inspect it. Keegan's sclera were dark, black even and his ocean blue eyes were more vibrant.
"What happened...?"
He murmurs softly with furrowed eyebrows as a tinge of sympathy lingers within him of what Keegan had experienced from the past few days. His grip on Keegan tightens as he sighs, pulling Keegan back in his embrace as they sat there in the warmth of eachothers arms. The sergeant sobs softly against M/N's neck as tears streams down his face, clearly traumatised from the experience of being locked up.
"I miss you so much.."
@arthurmorgansballsack
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The Assistant 11
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Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour, violence, anger. These warnings are not exhaustive.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.
Characters: Clark Kent
Note: I expect we're near the endgame now.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖
🖊🖊🖊
Clark lands with an impact that makes your skull rattle. Your ears ring as the world around you smears. He lets you go and you stumble away. He keeps you off balance as he grabs you again, spinning you as you whimper helplessly.
He rips your hoodie down your arms, tugging it free only to use the sleeve to restrain your wrists. He keeps you facing away from him, forcing you to your knees as he shoves his knee into your back. He puts you on your stomach and bends your legs up, securing your feet with the other sleeve so you’re facedown in the dirt.
You heave as your tears spring out unchecked. He parts from you, his soles mulching the dirt as your sobs echo. You squirm until you fall onto your side, bound helpless as you let your horror mount to frantic screams.
“Help! Someone!”
He hushes you and bends to grip your jaw. You quiet, choking on your voice as you look past him. Canopies of leaves ripple above him, you smell water nearby, a freshness that lends a coolness to the air. He snarls and drags you across the ground, placing you against the brush along the jutting rock wall.
“Scream all you want. No one out here.”
“Please, Clark, please,” you plead through pathetic babbles, “I didn’t–why– why did you– Richard—”
“You promised you loved me. That you would never hurt me–”
“I was scared–”
“You lied to me,” he growls as he paces back and forth, “you betrayed me!”
“No, no, I was just afraid. I was afraid you’d hurt me, Clark, honey, I swear–”
“Hurt you?”
“You’re married,” you whimper, “I knew we could never be together–”
“I know.” He grits out as he stops to face you, his eyes glowing eerie crimson, “you know. Lois is dead. This was our chance and you ran–”
“Dead? Clark–”
“Stop lying,” he barks, “I can hear your fucking heart amp up every time you do. So stop.”
You sniffle and shudder in the dirt. Prickly vines poke at you as you give in to the futility. You’re not getting away this time. Your lashes are webbed with tears, adding a soft glare to your vision. You look up at Clark and pout.
“I can be better… please,” you beg. “What are you going to do to me?”
He raises his chin and stares up at the sun. You murmur and curl your fingers into your palm. You wait in the deafening silence of the moment. The chitter of birds and scramble of critters is dulled by your dread.
“Make you better,” he says as he spins to face the sprawl of trees.
He clutches his fists tight and a sudden rush of air blows over you as he zips up into the sky. It feels as if the earth lurches beneath the force of his departure. You fall back against the rock wall, leaning your elbow on it as you gape up after him.
“SOMEONE!” You screech, even as you know he’s right, that no one will hear, “SOMEONE PLEASEEEEEEEE!”
🖊
Your lungs burn and your throat turns raw. You have nothing left. Your fruitless screams die as you lay in the dirt, wriggling only a few inches this way or that. Twigs and pebbles jab through your clothing and the dewy patches of grass stain the fabric. 
This is it. This is the end. The sheen of disbelief slowly fades. That denial that it couldn’t be real. You are just an intern and he is just a journalist. A lonely man looking for company where he shouldn’t. No, he is a murderer. You witnessed it. You’ve seen the rage in him, you felt it, the insatiability that cannot be denied.
More than that, he is inhuman. He is something else. He is lauded as a superhero yet lurks like a villain behind the mask of Clark Kent.
You quiver and let out a deep heave. Breathless, exhausted, defeated. You let your head rest on the ground as the warmth of the sun pools over you through a gap in the branches above.
Sweat beads over your forehead and dampens your cheeks. It gathers beneath your clothing and trickles along your neck and back. You languish there in the beating of the summer heat and wait. For what comes next. For the inevitable.
As resignation sets in, your fate doesn’t seem so scary. Death is a finality. It is an end. It means that you will be free, even if that freedom is nothingness. There is relief in knowing that those weeks of torture have come to a head. You’ve met the climax and now you’re in the falling action, plummeting towards the finale.
A gust sweeps over you and the earth shakes. You let out a yipe at the flash of colour and the clatter left behind. In a second, he is gone again, whooshing up into the expanse as the din of the forest resumes. You look over at the large ax leaning against the cliffside, a hand saw beside it, and few other tools you can’t place. What?
He returns, surprising you again. The clunk of a heavy chest hits the dirt. You flinch and try to turn your body. The effort leaves you hollow as you manage to roll against the jutting rock wall. 
Several more hurtling trips and Clark finally stands still, curls mussed from the excess but otherwise unshaken by his efforts. He grabs the ax as you stare at the wrapped packages of insulation, the bucket of plaster, and litany of materials. It can’t be–
He approaches a tree and swings the ax. He cuts through the trunk with a single strike. He lifts the gargantuan tree with a single arm and tosses it behind him. It bounces and rolls to a stop on the soft ground. He does it again, and again, and again. He clears at least a dozen trees without a glance or word in your direction.
You linger in stupefied silence. He approaches the pile of trees and pulls one out. He is little more than a blur as he works at breaking them down into neat planks. This has to be a nightmare. The distortion, the unreality of the moment can’t be true.
You gulp and lower your head. It makes you dizzy to watch him. You listen to the furor of his labour. The zip of the saw, the crack of the ax, and the rhythm of a hammer. When you peek over again, vision hazy with the beaming heat of the sun, there is a foundation built.
You shudder and blow out through your dry lips. You try to wet your mouth but your tongue is arid. You will against the ground, crushing your shoulder as you clench and unclench your fists.
You’re stunned by a sudden grip on your jaw that brings your head up. You nearly choke as Clark puts a bottle to your lips and pours water into your mouth. Your body gulps it down greedily as your thoughts remain disjointed and distorted.
He backs up and pulls the stump of a log over to sit across from you. He drains the last of the water and brings forward a paper bag. He doesn’t say a word as he reaches inside and takes out a granola bar. He wraps it and leans forward to offer it to you.
You stare at him. He presses it to your lips. You turn your face away.
“Eat,” he demands.
You sniff and push your head back against the side of the cliff, “why are you doing this?”
He sighs and retracts his arm. He breaks off a chunk of the bar. He doesn’t answer you.
“Clark, what are you doing?” You croak.
He gets off the log and comes closer, nearly straddling you as he drops onto his knees. He grabs your skull, turning your head straight, and forces the granola into your mouth. You murmur as he holds your jaw in place and your stare up at him with wide eyes.
“Eat.”
You don’t resist. You chew and swallow. He takes another piece and jams it through your lips; he does it again and again until the wrapper is empty. He backs up and perches again on the log.
You watch him as he looks over at his work so far. A whole wall built. It's not hard to guess at the goal, but you don’t understand why. Why doesn’t he just kill you? Like Lois. Like Richard.
“I’m building us a home,” he says as he drops his head into his hands and scratches along his hairlines, “just you and me.”
He sits up and combs his hair back. He stands and dusts off his palms. He stretches and peels off his shirt, revealing his broad chest and thickly muscled stomach. The hair along his torso speckles with his sweat.
“It must be done by nightfall,” he declares as he marches away.
You turn your attention back to the endless forest. You stare into the daunting sprawl and deflate. It isn’t a home he’s building, it’s a prison.
🖊
The house is complete. Clark carries you through the front door and puts you against the wall, just beneath the window. The interior is barren. No furniture, only a gaping fireplace and a small hoop anchored in the floor.
He unties you and stands over you, watching you as you sit up. Your shoulders and knees throb from being locked the whole day. He bends and pulls your left leg straight, he closes a metal cuff around your ankle and pushes a bolt into place. You kick your foot in fright as he lets it go and a chain clanks loudly as he lets it unfurl.
He attaches the other end to the loop in the floor. You whine and get to your knees.
“Clark, please, what are you doing?”
“I can’t trust you,” he sneers, “it’s for your own good…” he stands and looks above you, to the window, “you would only get lost out there.”
“No, please, you can trust me–”
He raises his hand and you quiet. You sit back on your heels and clasp your hands together. He shakes his head and waves you off, striding away without another word. He goes through the open door as you focus on the chain, touching the links in dread.
He returns and unzips a sleeping bag, spreading it over the floor. He leaves again, coming back with pillows and another blanket. He backs up, hands on his hips and looks over the makeshift set up.
“Tomorrow I will find a bed. Other things,” he turns and approaches the fireplace, resting his hand on the mantle above, “I will start a fire for the night. It’ll be cold soon.”
You want to scream. You want to wail. You want to call him a monster, tell him that he’s insane. But you know that won’t make this any better. You let go of the chain and raise yourself on your knees. You crawl on the blankets and make yourself small as you sit against the pillows.
“Thank you, Clark,” you squeak as you pull off your shoes and place them to the side.
He keeps his back to you, bowing his head as he sighs. Slowly, he shifts and glances over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours and he drags his hand off the mantle. He faces you as you carefully recline.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he says grimly, “but it has to be like this. Just for now.”
“I know,” you say as you wince and rub your shoulder.
He sniffs and reluctantly turns away. His steps are lighter as he goes back through the door, returning with an armful of split logs. He stacks them by the fireplace before he works at starting a fire. You listen to his efforts and close your eyes. Only to hide, not to sleep.
The scent of the fire fills the cabin and he pulls the door shut. He nears and his shadow looms over you. He tugs on the blanket as he climbs down next to you and swoops it over you as he wraps an arm over your middle. He draws you closer, his breath fanning across your hair.
“I know you’re scared but one day, you’ll see,” he rumbles as he bends his arm, fondling your chest. Your stomach knots as he presses his pelvis flush to you, “I saved you… like you saved me.” 
His hand trails down and you hold your breath. His fingertips touch the top of your jeans and he pauses. He brushes his arm back up and embraces you again.
“Not tonight,” he resigns glumly, “I don’t forgive you yet.”
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queerbatting · 1 year
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if you've ever wondered what gender euphoria feels like, this is it right here
(original tweet this post was taken from)
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someidiot-withadhd · 1 month
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when writing, I absolutely love having characters make random animals sounds
like, slimecicle is a slime right? He’ll sound squishy or muddy sometimes and he’ll chirp and chitter. The fuckin’ little sounds that critters make,
or quackity will quack or honk when he gets mad!
and Jaiden’s screams sound like parrot sounds!!
it’s really fun
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justadino-ig · 5 days
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i sit down to draw with my sister. i look over. she has put her whole hand in paintwater. she shakes it off and moves on. what the fuck
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yukipri · 1 year
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Having been here since Tumblr's Golden Days and having watched its slow decline into a graveyard (albeit one with a pretty active infestation of chittering goblins), it's been fascinating this past week.
Blogs that have been silent for years, that I'd assumed long dead and abandoned and among the many graves that litter this hellsite...are suddenly come back to life.
I'm not sure if it's more like seeing critters come out of a very, very long hibernation blinking around at how everything's a wee bit different from what they remember—or perhaps something a bit more timeless and undead, like vampires kicking open their coffins or zombies bursting out from the graves where they'd laid.
I hope the time has come for Tumblr's zombie reawakening.
Welcome back, y'all. Welcome back.
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Stuck Outside
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Characters: Reader, Niffler, Pickett
Warnings: Cuteness?
Summary: You were left behind while Newt entered the chasm to retrieve his brother. Fortunately, you were with two of his trusted companions.
Waiting for Newt to rescue his brother was a painful task. Teddy was making some small noises from his locked cage for a few minutes now as you paced.
“I know it’s been a while.” You answered. “I can’t imagine that they’ve made it easy.”
The guard grunted, looking from the niffler to the human. “You can understand that thing?”
You glanced at him for a split second and sent the man a scathing look. Pickett piped up from her side of the cage and you turned your attention to the bowtruckle.
“Nothing will happen to Newt, I promise.”
Teddy chittered and you scoffed. “No, you can’t can’t take a trip to Gringotts if something goes wrong.”
You were already stressed about not being there to help and Newt’s beasts weren’t helping. You continued to pace and noticed an orange crab-like creature scurrying across the floor until it slid beneath the metal bars and into the deep prison cave. 
At first you didn’t think much of it but when you caught a glimpse of its stinger, it clicked! It was a manticore. You had documented the fearsome critters a few years ago for Newt’s book, recalling that they travel only with the mother beast, dislike bright lights, and there could be thousands at a time. 
Fearing that that was what lurking in the cells beneath, you ran towards the gate and grabbed the bars only to receive a sharp jolt which threw you a few paces back.
“Damn it!” you cursed.
Stepping close once again, you were careful not to make contact and instead cupped your hands around your mouth. Taking in a deep breath, you let out a high-pitched whistle that bounced down the cavern walls. You paused and then repeated the sound twice. 
It was a warning call that you and Newt had established, to the untrained ear it sounded like a noise but to Newt and yourself, it was a message.
Manticore. Swivel.
Suddenly, you were grabbed by the back of your shirt and pulled backwards by the guard.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He growled, shoving you back towards the desk. “Your friends are as good as dead.” You smacked into the edge of the hard stone and rubbed your arm as the man turned his back to eat. 
If you had your wand on you, you would have turned him into a toad.
Pickett chirped. Escape?
You scowled at the man’s head and turned your gaze to Newt’s critters, shooting them a wink. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Masterlist here
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alcides · 6 months
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stan..stan..
can we have a nimona x gn reader who wears glasses but is nervous to show them to her?
or a nimona x gn reader who comes back home with a wild animal?
IM TIREEDDD STAN, TANK YOU PUTTONH UP WITH THIS!! FEEL FREE TO IGNORE ME
Rue….Rue…ofc you can!! I decided to do the second one!!
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Nimona w/ a reader who randomly comes back home with wild animals
Romance or platonic: Your choice
Headcanons or oneshot: Oneshot
Reader: Gender neutral
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The door creaked open as you hid a squirrel you had caught. You were silently giggling and smiling at the thought of having a squirrel running around Bal’s house. What’s better is Ballister specifically told you that’s no wild animals are aloud in the place.
I mean, no one can take it from you if they don’t know about it, right? Little chitters and squeaks came out of your shirt as it sat inside of it. You were hoping that neither Nimona or Ballister heard it. All you had to do was make it to your room and make a place for it. Easy right?
Well..that’s where you were wrong. “Hey! Bal was wondering what we wanted for dinner tonight. Any thoughts?” Nimona popped up, Either you could sit here and talk, risking losing the squirrel or you could just go to your room and have a squirrel. Second one.
“No ideas here!” You poured out and hurried yourself to your room. Close call.
Soon as your do shut behind you, the squirrel was out from under your shirt and making a ruckus of you room. “Hey, hey! I just cleaned!” The squirrel payed no mind to you. “Dude!” Your once clean room just was as dirty as before. You were scolding yourself for bringing a squirrel into the place when you heard two taps at your door.
“Ah! Hold on I’m getting dressed” the simplest excuse you could think of in this overwhelming situation that you put yourself in. You look around for the squirrel realizing you had to hide it somewhere. Your eyes darted around each inch of your room looking for the furry critter. It was gone.
You sighed and opened the door, hoping that the brownish creature didn’t want to make an appearance now. It was Nimona. “Hey, what’s going on with you? You’ve rushed yourself away from everyone today. Why is that?” Could you sit there and just lie to her? You could tell the truth but that would mean losing the squirrel you worked so hard for. You could also…
You were spacing out. “Hello..? Earth to Y/n.” Nimona waved her gains in front of your face. “Oh! I’m okay! Just busy, busy, busy, today! Y’know.” The pink haired girl rolled her eyes “okay mx. busy, what’s been keeping yo-“ a critter came from a area of your room.
“What was that?” You looked around confused hoping your little gig would fool her. “What was what? I didn’t hear anything?” Nimona was ready for anything to even breath “mhm..” she grumbled out as she shapeshifted into a cat.
It’s over for you.
Just as quickly as Nimona turned into a cat was as quickly as the squirrel was gone. Nimona had caught it. You got a lecture from the both about how you could’ve gotten rabies and how those things are disgusting.
You were sitting on your bed, looking at the mess your ex furry friend and left you when you heard the same two knocks that made you lose him. “Come in…” you let out an irritated groan. Nimona came in and sat next to you. “Hey, y’know you can just ask next time you want a wild animal in the house, I mean I’m here if you ever want a squirrel”
You let out a laugh. “Thanks…”
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