#hamster habitat

[allperfectpets]

The best bedding for hamsters: Choosing the Best Options for Your Pet!

Choosing the Ideal Sheet Material for Hamsters: Investigating Top Decisions to Spoil Your Fuzzy Buddy!

Hamsters, those wonderful and small animals that give pleasure to our lives, merit only the greatest possible level of solace and care. With regards to giving them a comfortable habitation, picking the ideal sheet material is of vital significance. In addition to the fact that it adds to their general prosperity, however, it likewise guarantees a cozy climate that emulates their normal territory. In this article, we will leave on an excursion to find the best choices for hamster bedding, permitting you to spoil your darling fuzzy companion.

[rolandomerav]

Terrario para Hámsters, elaborado en madera, no tóxico. Crudo. $1,550.

70x40x40cm

Frente con acrílico transparente.

Fácil de armar y desarmar, para niños pequeños con supervisión de un adulto. Se entrega sin terminar para pintura posterior (a elección del cliente).

En tamaño ideal para un hábitat de Hamster Feliz.

Entregas en Ciudad de México y por paquetería a toda la República Mexicana. Atención especial para distribuidores, veterinarios y tiendas de mascotas.

Informes y pedidos a los teléfonos:

553811 1500

551893 2685

Texto: Hábitat.

crmarketingmx@gmail.com 📩

#habitat #habitathamster #hamsters #hamstersofinstagram

[5mind]

🔫 SACRIFICE 🦹 BOSS FIGHT

BOTH! For Doom and Coldsnap! If you feel up to it. Let's put these two idiots together and make them work together. (Doom will be okay, she can take a hit and heal very quickly) x)

@the-haunted-office

🔫 SACRIFICE - My muse takes a literal or figurative bullet for your muse

🦹 BOSS FIGHT - Our muses must work together to defeat the big bad villain of the week

Coldsnap watched as the bolt of a mechanized crossbow pierced Doomsday's shoulder. He would've said she'd been in the way but really he knew that shot had been meant for him. Whether she intended to or not, she had protected him.

He didn't like that.

For someone to be injured for his sake, whether she intended to or not, was wrong. He was supposed to be the superhero here. It wasn't just about the pride (it still was partially though, mind you), it was also about the responsibility. This was his fault. Or at least that was how he felt.

Coldsnap pushed himself up from the ground. Blinding fury pushed the idea of first aid down his list of priorities. At the moment it was unclear to him who that fury was directed towards - the villain, Doomsday, or him.

But still, before he charged ahead, he did put up a wall of ice between himself and Doom. Partly as a barrier and partly as a message for her to stay back at least for now.

The villain that had shot the crossbow was quick to duck back behind his monster - a robotic mimicry of a kaiju slightly larger than the villain's own van. A similarly constructed robot lay in shambles a couple of meters away. This had been a battle that had been going on for some time.

[pinkanonwrites]

HANDS-ON LEARNING

Read 'Handle With Care' here!

Rodimus/Human Reader, NSFW, First Contact AU, AFAB Reader, GN Pronouns, G/T, Experimental Sex, Fingering, Oral (Receiving)

Since this is a First Contact fic, dialogue that is both bold and italicized are words that both the reader and Rodimus understand.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Of all the ideas you'd had over the course of your life, this had to be one of the worst.

Granted, it wasn't as bad as trying to follow the blinking light into the woods after your car broke down, only to end up abducted by aliens. But it was pretty high up there.

But between said abduction and your ensuing rescue by the gigantic alien robots and the spaceship they called home, you hadn't exactly had a lot of time to yourself. And after days melted into weeks and you eventually began to lose track of how long it had been since you had been plucked from Earth, you were starting to get a little… wound up.

Most days were spent in between the massive metal fingers of a robot that you were pretty sure was named Rodimus as he shuttled you from room to room and presented you to his fellow crew members like a first-grader showing off their new pet hamster. But despite the glaring communication barrier and the ever-present threat of being squashed under foot, Rodimus was very careful with you. He made sure you were safe and comfortable, never picked you up without letting you know ahead of time, and did his best to communicate simple thoughts and ideas with you through hilarious, size-difference charades. It could be a little awkward sometimes, but he was nice! It was nice.

And then, about a week ago, Rodimus accidentally made you cum so hard you almost blacked out. And you couldn't stop thinking about it.

But honestly, how were you supposed to stop thinking about it? Sure, it was an accident, (or you were pretty sure it was, at least. Giant robot charades isn't always a perfect system) but it was an accident that refused to leave your mind. When Rodimus would lay on his big slab of metal to sleep, or recharge his batteries, or whatever it was that giant robots did at bedtime, you'd be lying awake in the little habitat he'd built for you out of his desk craving the sensation of sitting on the world's best and most attentive washing machine and letting the vibrations spark stars behind your eyelids.

So maybe it was a bit stupid, and horny, and frankly desperate to search out that feeling again from a guy four times your size who could crush you in his hand like a grape if he ever wanted to. But God damn if it wouldn't be worth it.

So that's how you found yourself in the position you are now. Naked, sprawled back against the surface of the desk with one of Rodimus's massive hands cradling your upper body, and a giant finger from the other tracing up the inner curve of your thigh. He seemed almost enchanted by the way your goosebumps rippled to the surface beneath his touch, letting out a pleased, mechanical warble.

He seemed to adore your softness compared to the rigid metal of his own skin, as Rodimus liked to squish you quite a bit. Never enough to hurt, just enough to feel the warm press of your skin between the joints of his fingers and hands, or to drag a curious fingertip down your cheek. But there was a particular meekness with the way he touched you right now, like he was only just realizing how easy it would be for him to hurt you. It was painfully sweet, and if you weren't absolutely aching for something more right now you may have been content to let him continue his gentle fondling.

"C'mon, big guy." You murmured instead, resting your hand around his wrist and pulling him up closer to the apex of your thighs. He let out a soft, surprised revving sound at your boldness, glancing at your face a few times before finally pressing the top of his finger up between your thighs, lying flush against your folds. If you had to compare the sensation, you'd say the feeling of leaning a little too far forward on a motorcycle seat was similar. It was warm, rumbling, pressing up against all the right places, but not quite enough to get you anywhere you really wanted. Still, you couldn't stifle your shaky moan, and that seemed to really get him going.

"Yes?..." He all but purred, one of the few words you had actually managed to learn between the two of you. The pointed chevron of his brow seemed to quirk up a bit on one side as he glanced down at his thick finger between your legs before back up to your gaze.

"Yes. It's good, I just… want more." You knew he couldn't understand your words, but the slow roll of your hips and the slick coating of your arousal over his knuckle seemed to get the message across just fine. He rocked his finger up against you, wet with your drooling heat as the jut of the joint slid up and over your clit again, and again, and again. Still slow, yes, but almost painfully good. Your hips jerked towards the sensation and he cooed, engine rumbling louder to course vibrations up through your aching cunt.

He murmured your name, or the best that he could approximate in his echoey, mechanical trill. From the hand cradling your upper body his massive thumb slid forward, dragging along the curve of your jaw and down to the jut of your collarbone with a delicate curiosity. Panting, you let yourself melt into his touch, rolling your hips against his other hand and shuddering at every other press that seemed to hit just the right spot. Fuck, this was good. Better than good, you felt like your brain was going to melt out of your ears, molten heat pooling low in your stomach as a pleasant buzz of arousal seemed to crawl through your muscles and out to the tips of your fingers and toes. It was probably way too early to be cumming, but you'd been pent-up for far too long already and the relentless vibrations only pushed you higher and higher, a rubber band threatening to snap as you gasped and shuddered and tossed your head back against Rodimus's enormous metal palm.

It was all you could do to keep your feet from kicking out as your orgasm washed over you, the aching clench of your cunt around nothing making you whine as his fingers slowed to a lazy, comfortable stroking. You blinked blearily up at him, a look of incredibly sly pride on his face as you went limp and content in his palm.

"Fuck, Rodimus." You groaned. It startled you, the sheer volume of his engine's snarl in response to your simple, fucked-out sigh of his name. But more surprising was the sudden press of two blunt fingers against your messy hole, slippery with your own arousal as they tried to work their way into you. "W-Wait! Rodimus, fuck, it's not gonna fi-MMGH!?"

With a wet pop, the tips of his two massive fingers slipped into your still-twitching cunt, stretching you wider than you'd ever been before. Even one of his fingers was more than big enough for you, but he somehow fit two? Your entire body trembled as you flopped back, slave to the impossible stretch and press of unrelenting metal against your most sensitive spots. Whimpers and groans were forced from your body with each minute flex and press of his fingers deeper, deeper, scraping spots you could never reach with your own two hands and stuffing you so full you felt like you couldn't breathe in properly. The heat that had only just receded was building again, impossibly quick, a tingling jolt underneath your skin that made the muscles of your legs twitch and kick outside of your own control as your mind struggled between spearing yourself further on this impossible stretch or wriggling helplessly away.

He was talking again, an incomprehensible clutter of mechanized boops and whirrs that you only barely managed to process in your pleasure-drunk mind. Then, with a sudden rush of motion and swoop of your stomach with the G-force, you were cradled off of the table with his free hand and held up to his face. There was a glow to his cheeks, a bead of liquid trailing down the side of his helmet as he gazed down at you. Robots could blush? And sweat? Apparently this one could, a gush of warm heat rolling over your body as he huffed, mouth hanging slightly open. Behind his giant teeth you could see a peek of a silver-grey tongue, a rippling smooth expanse of rubber and metal-mesh that crept towards you until Rodimus dragged it oh-so-carefully up the length of your cunt.

"FUCK!" You wailed, hands scrabbling for purchase against the joints and bends of Rodimus's hand as he swept his massive tongue between your folds. He let out a low, growling groan at the taste, burying his face between your thighs as he stroked and massaged your pulsing clit with the tip of his tongue. His fingers kept working, curling up towards your stomach on each thrust as you sobbed, abandoning your grip on his hand to clutch to the yellow chevron on his brow like your life depended on it. Your head was swimming, buzzing so intensely with heat that you could barely form a thought beyond the deep, impending well of your next orgasm. It pulsed from so deeply within you, a relentless wall of pleasure rushing towards you faster than you could prepare yourself for. All you could do was cling desperately to Rodimus's brow and hold on for the ride, sobbing and gasping and shivering as it crept ever higher, warmth blossoming out from your cunt and crawling across your shaky frame as pleasure exploded behind your eyelids. You wailed his name again, barely comprehensible, as each press of his fingers forced a gush of slick from your quivering hole and spattered into his giant palm. As quickly as it came his tongue swept it gently away, fingers slowing and letting out a low, melodic hum as your wails and moans trailed off into soft, sniffly whimpers. Finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than a minute at most, he began to lower you carefully back down onto the desk, thumb rubbing a tear from your cheek as he pulled his fingers from your puffy, overworked cunt.

He cooed your name again, cradling your body in both palms. "Good?" He murmured, warmth from his metal palms seeping directly into your sweaty skin and aching muscles. You heaved another shaky breath, unable to form words so you instead shot the giant mech a wavering thumbs-up. In any other scenario that may have been a cripplingly embarrassing response to what was possibly the best orgasm of your life, but it pulled a beaming smile to Rodimus's face regardless.

In a few minutes the tacky feel of slick and sweat and robot saliva drying on your skin would begin to border on intolerable, and you knew you'd eventually have to rise to fawn-like legs and stumble to clean yourself up. But for now you were more than happy to lay sprawled in your giant companion's grasp.

Hell, maybe he'd even help you take a bath, too. After all, it's not like you had anything left to hide.

[vestaignis]

Болотная сова (Asio flammeus) – среднего размера сова: длина ее тела колеблется от 34 до 42 см, вес самцов - 0,23-0,39 кг, самок - 0,24-0,43 кг. Крылья у нее длинные, ноги украшены пучками из перьев, на голове расположены маленькие вертикально стоящие "ушки" из перьев.

Болотная сова распространена очень широко, она обитает на всех континентах, кроме Австралии и Антарктики и населяет соленоводные болота, прибрежные равнины, хвойные леса, тундру, трясины, поля, прерии, высокотравные степи (часто с солончаками), луга (в поймах рек и озер), гористые местности и субальпийские луга, сельскохозяйственные угодья и парковые насаждения. Во всех местах обитания болотная сова придерживается открытых пространств.

Большую часть рациона этой птицы составляют мелкие грызуны (мыши, полёвки, лемминги, крысы, хомяки и ондатры), кролики, землеройки, летучие мыши, птицы (кулики, крачки, мелкие чайки, жаворонки и дрозды), насекомые (кузнечики, жуки, гусеницы) и иногда рыба.

Охотится болотная сова в любое время суток, низко паря над открытым пространством. На добычу она обычно нападает с полета или из засады и несёт ее в когтях. Болотные совы – моногамы и образуют постоянные пары. Самец привлекает самку на свой участок красивыми пируэтами в воздухе. Иногда в брачных полетах участвуют обе птицы: они гоняются друг за другом, сцепляются когтями или в шутку борются. Гнездом обычно служит расчищенная самкой ямка диаметром до 40 см на вершине плоской кочки среди густой травы или тростника. В кладке 4–7 яиц, которые насиживает самка.

Swamp Owl (Asio flammeus) – medium-sized owl: its body length ranges from 34 to 42 cm, the weight of males is 0.23-0.39 kg, females - 0.24-0.43 kg. Her wings are long, her legs are decorated with tufts of feathers, and small vertically standing "ears" of feathers are located on her head.

The is very widespread, it lives on all continents except Australia and Antarctica and inhabits saltwater swamps, coastal plains, coniferous forests, tundra, bogs, fields, prairies, tall grass steppes (often with salt marshes), meadows (in floodplains of rivers and lakes), mountainous areas and subalpine meadows, agricultural lands and parkland. In all habitats, the swamp owl adheres to open spaces.

Most of the diet of this bird consists of small rodents (mice, voles, lemmings, rats, hamsters and muskrats), rabbits, shrews, bats, birds (sandpipers, terns, small gulls, larks and thrushes), insects (grasshoppers, beetles, caterpillars) and sometimes fish.

The swamp owl hunts at any time of the day, hovering low over an open space. It usually attacks prey from flight or from ambush and carries it in its claws. Swamp owls are monogamous and form permanent pairs. The male attracts the female to his site with beautiful pirouettes in the air. Sometimes both birds participate in mating flights: they chase each other, lock claws or jokingly fight. The nest is usually a hole cleared by a female with a diameter of up to 40 cm on top of a flat hummock among dense grass or reeds. There are 4-7 eggs in the clutch, which are incubated by the female.

Источник://www.ebirds.ru/vid/225.htm,/bigenc.ru/c/bolotnaia-sova-bb9577,/zoogalaktika.ru/photos/aves/strigiformes/asio-flammeus, //www.mos.ru/news/item/86280073/,://ecology.polotsk.museum.by/node/42982,/russia.birding.day/v2taxon.php?s=423&l=ru.

[cypherdecypher]

Animal of the Day!

European Hamster (Cricetus cricetus)

(Photo from LiveScience)

Conservation Status- Critically Endangered

Habitat- Western Europe, Russia

Size (Weight/Length)- 300 g; 25 cm

Diet- Cultivated vegetables; Fruits; Grasses; Seeds; Nuts; Small animals; Insects

Cool Facts- Despite being absolutely adorable, the European hamster is no pet. Roughly the size of a guinea pig, these hamsters are highly aggressive to fight off rival hamsters and predators as large as ferrets. European hamsters spend their days sleeping and their nights foraging. Unfortunately, these hamsters are critically endangered due to poaching for their fur, habitat destruction, and persecution by people who believe them to be agricultural pests. Captive breeding programs throughout Europe are working to increase the wild population of these delightful furballs.

Rating- 12/10 (Can carry 20% of their body weight in their cheeks)

[mistycreativelilacs]

Can you please write a Bruce Wayne imagine where he catches her singing or something cute like that?

Welp… it only took me -checks watch- three years to respond to this, but uh… here’s a 5000 word drabble I guess.

Kitchen Off Limits

About a year into living at Wayne manor you enacted an (ever growing) list of rules. Originally the list only had three rules on it:

1. Sunday is family day. Baring any Gotham destroying/world ending catastrophes everyone is to be in the dinning room no later than 11am for brunch followed by a previously voted on family activity.

2. Family Activity planning occurs on the first Saturday of the month, activities for the whole month will be decided then.*

*Attendance is NOT mandatory, however those who do not participate do not get to complain when we spend 3 Sundays in a row at the zoo.**

**No liberating animals from the zoo.

3. Monday thru Saturday the kitchen belongs to Alfred. Sunday morning’s the kitchen belongs to Mom*.

*That means no one, not even Alfred can enter the kitchen until AFTER brunch**.

**Yes Tim that includes you. You can wait for your morning cup of coffee***.

***ABSOLUTELY NO coffee pots, mini fridges, microwaves, blenders, hot plates, or dry food storage in your bedrooms or you WILL be personally hunting down every rodent and bug that comes crawling into the manor****.

****You can NOT train an army of cats to hunt vermin as a trade off for a mini fridge.

Certain amendments had to be made to the list with each new addition to the household. The final amendment to rule three inspired the creation of its own rule.

243. If you bring a pet into the house, YOU must personally care for it at all times. This includes feeding, grooming, walking, training and cleaning up after them as well as insure they have a proper habitat to live in*.

*Your bedroom is only a proper habitat for regular domestic animals (ie. dogs, cats, fish, small reptiles, small birds, caged rodents such as rats, Guinea pigs or hamsters and snakes, within reason - no large pythons). Large animals whether native to our region or exotic must be housed in a properly built enclosure on the grounds.

Needles to say the Wayne children kept you on your toes. Which brings us to now.

You awoke at the crack of dawn this morning to prep for the day. In a not so shocking twist, Damien had lied, cheated and outright bribed several of his siblings in order to get a zoo trip in this month. The Waynes were such regulars at the zoo (and contributed so much in donations) that they’d named an entire section after the family. The Wayne Reptile House (filled to the brim with several of the reptiles you’d ‘rescued’ from Damien’s room upon Alfred’s discovery of Damien’s unsanctioned renovation of his closet). It was important to you that the children experienced even just a smidge of normalcy amongst all the vigilantism.

You’re staring into the pantry, debating whether to do pancakes or waffles, when an old favourite song comes on the speaker. This was your favourite part of Sunday’s. Once everyone realized how serious you were about the rules, Sunday morning had become your alone time. If the kids were fighting, they handled it amongst themselves. If someone had a question, they went to Bruce or Alfred for answers. Mom was not to be disturbed.

The word Mom still brings a small smile to your face. You’d never really pictured yourself as a mother but when you’d stumbled your way into a romance with THE Bruce Wayne, he’d already gained 2 of your ever growing hoard of children. You’d stumbled your way into motherhood much the way you stumbled into Bruce’s arms.

You begin to softly hum to the song as you decide to just make pancakes and waffles. With a family full of crime fighters more was always the safer option. No one wants a repeat of Tim and Richard’s destructive fight for the last cinnamon bun. You had to spend a fortune redoing the dinning room after, replacing antiques was not cheap, and your heart still hadn’t recovered from the sticker shock. Needless to say the boys were still working off their debt by assisting Alfred in the daily runnings of the manor. As you got lost in the gargantuan undertaking of cooking for the whole Wayne clan, your gentle hums morphed to soft whispers of lyrics.

Just as you were frying the last batch of pancakes the opening chords of your and Bruce’s song came through the speakers. It would be more accurate to state that you’d unilaterally declared it your and Bruce’s song. During your second year of dating you had slowly begun introducing him to the world of romcoms. One particularly chilly fall day that year saw Bruce catching a cold. You took advantage of that to force him into a binge of some of the best and cringiest of your favourites from the 2000’s. Two particular movies seemed to make the notoriously stoic Bruce Wayne emotional. The obvious one being ‘Two Weeks Notice’, but it was the Hugh Grant, Drew Barrymore semi-musical ‘Music & Lyrics’ that would produce the perfect song for your and Bruce’s life together.

As the sounds of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore came through the speaker you began to sing in earnest.

‘I've been living with a shadow overhead

I've been sleeping with a cloud above my bed

I've been lonely for so long

Trapped in the past, I just can't seem to move on’

Your mind drifted to how you and Bruce met. Recently heartbroken and determined never to let another man hurt you, you’d sworn of men and decided to dedicate all your attention to advancing at work. Your first steps were taking the assignment no one else wanted to touch with a ten foot pole. Being Bruce Wayne’s personal assistant. Those who succeeded at such a gargantuan undertaken seemed to excel through the ranks at Wayne Enterprises, but those who fell short well, you’d heard his last personal assistant had moved back home to small town Kansas and given up the corporate ladder completely.

Your first week had been a cake walk, seeing as Bruce had been away on business meetings in Europe. It’d given you time to get settled in and a system in place. You were determined to be the best personal assistant he’d ever had.

Upon Bruce’s first day back in the office, you’d mustered up all the courage you had and waltz into his office. With barely a good morning you’d launched into a tirade of how things were going to be and that unlike his past assistants you were going to set boundaries. He’d blinked at you slowly, and you were convinced you were about to be fired. His mouth opened and the word okay seemed to unintentionally fall out. You both stood there a moment, seemingly shell shocked at the interaction, before you gathered your wits. With a pivot of your heels you rushed out your own okay before returning to your desk.

Unbeknownst to you Bruce himself had been going through a touch of heartbreak, having had a fall out with his former paramour Selina. His accounts of your first meeting paint you in a much fiercer, more beautiful light. But you’re sure he’s simply remembering the day with rose tinted glasses seeing as you had a poorly concealed coffee stain on your blouse and your hair had definitely begun its escape from the clip you’d rushed it into on the train that morning. Nevertheless he claims it was your fierce determination that stunned him into submission and not his utter exhaustion from sleep deprivation.

‘I’ve been hiding all my hopes and dreams away

Just in case I ever need ‘em again someday

I’ve been setting aside time

To clear a little space in the corners of my mind’

The weeks following your initial meeting were a full of meetings, calls and insuring your boss took proper care of himself. It took exactly three days for you to realize he’d forget to eat, four to realize he seemed to not be sleeping either.

You quietly placed a standing order with the sandwich place down a couple blocks from the building, and then methodically went through Bruce’s calendar and put a two hour meeting blackout everyday around 2pm. You’d also had the couch that sat on the wall just outside his office doors moved into his office proper. The next day you simply waltzed into his office at noon and dropped the sandwich on his desk before returning to your own desk. Two hours later you waltzed in dropping a pillow and blanket on the couch and closed the blinds without a word. As you turned to leave Bruce questioned what you were doing. You simply informed him that you’d place a permanent daily block on meetings between 2pm-4pm and that his office doors would be locked for that period of time as well.

When asked, Bruce will claim that as the day he fell in love with you.

You continued on that way for months, the world seeming to move in a blur around you. Your friends encouraged you to start dating again, but you just weren’t sure you could ever trust a man again. Besides, work was so exhausting most days that you were certain you’d simply pass out at the restaurant if you did go on a date. What a terrible first impression that would make.

It was a seemingly unremarkable Tuesday morning when the world came screaming into focus again.

‘All I wanna do is find a way back into love

I can’t make it through without a way back into love

Oh’

You’d been tutting about the office while Bruce attended a meeting with Lucius in the lower levels of Wayne Enterprises. You had just started printing off a report for Bruce’s next meeting when your printer ran out of paper. Normally this would be a none issue, except for reasons unknown to you, the night cleaner had developed a habit of putting the box of printer paper on top of the bookcase in the corner. A bookcase that stood nearly three heads taller than you. He’d been doing it for weeks despite your many conversations with him about it. You had tried bringing it up to Bruce, but he just blamed it on the language barrier and claimed it as a non-issue since he could just grab it for you.

It was just your luck that the printer would run out when Bruce was in the midst of a meeting and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour, probably two seeing as his meetings with Lucius always seemed to go over their allotted time slot. You’d been certain the office would have a step ladder hidden around somewhere, but after nearly twenty minutes of searching and being put on hold with maintenance, you’d given up. You could just wait till Bruce returned, but you had only printed half of the first of ten copies of a 40 page report that was required for his next meeting. You’d begun cursing everyone from the night cleaner for his obsession with moving the paper to the head of marketing and research’s assistants for not sending the reports yesterday when you’d requested them. Difficult problems required creative solutions, however the only thing you had that was light enough to drag over to the bookcase while giving you enough height to grab a ream of paper was your office chair. As the head of the companies employee safety committee you knew this was a terrible idea, as Bruce Wayne’s golden assistant the risk of letting your boss down for the first time ever outweighed the risk to your personal safety.

Even with the chair you needed to climb the bookshelf to actually reach the shelf the paper was on. Ream firmly in your grasp you moved to step back into the chair. As your foot touched the chair your hand slipped from the shelf and you felt yourself go backwards. You closed your eyes and braced for impact but it never came. Instead you felt arms wrap around your back and hip, securing you to a firm chest. You opened your eyes coming face to face with Bruce. Had his eyes always been that blue?

“What the hell were you doing.” He was angry, his blue eyes tightening with worry. A warmth flitted through you at the thought that he cared about your safety.

“Grabbing the printer paper.” You gasped out, bending to grab the ream that had fallen to the ground when you’d lost your grip.

“You could have injured yourself if I hadn’t shown up in time.” Bruce was still in your personal space and it was starting to overwhelm you. ‘Had he always been this… large?’ He seemed to tower over you.

“Yes, well I wouldn’t have needed to do all that if the cleaner would stop placing my printer paper up there.” You’d stepped back from Bruce, needing something to keep you from ogling your boss, you began fiddling with the printer.

“You could have waited for me.” He got in your space again, his voice softer now as he took the paper from your shaking hands.

“Do you understand how ridiculous it is to have to wait for the CEO of the company just to load a ream of paper into my printer?” You huffed out, turning back towards him now. The two stood there, chest to chest just staring at each other. You didn’t want to be the one to back down first, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep from blushing while staring into to his eyes.

‘What was with you today? You’d never had a problem going toe to toe with Bruce before. Now suddenly your acting like a horny school girl, daydreaming about climbing this man like-

“Fine.” Bruce stalked off to his office, an indiscernible glower on his face, leaving you to ponder what the hell had just happened. And why you seemingly out of nowhere had very inappropriate thoughts about your boss.

That night marked the first of many failed blind dates, agreed to only after having decided that it was your lack of a love life that had you daydreaming about your boss.

The next morning the box of paper was on the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

‘I’ve been watching but the stars refuse to shine

I’ve been searching but I just don’t see the signs

I know that it’s out there

There’s gotta be something for my soul somewhere’

Things between you and Bruce changed after that day. You’d never realized how comfortable you two had become with one another until you suddenly weren’t. You’d taken to communicating with him almost exclusively through emails and his calendar due to how awkward everything had become. He’d try to ask you about your life and you’d just clam up, not wanting to tell the object of your recurring lusty dreams about your string of failed dates. Failed because after less than two minutes you’d start comparing all of them to Bruce. The whole thing was getting so out of hand, you’d started seriously contemplating putting in for a transfer.

You’d been so lost in thought it took Bruce loudly clearing his throat for you to notice him standing in front of your desk.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” You’d resolved that complete professionalism was the only sure way to put everything back to normal. Or at least it will hopefully allow you to cling to some semblance of normal until you stop chickening out and put in for reassignment.

“I was wondering,” he seemed nervous, fidgeting with the snow globe I kept on the edge of my desk. “Do you have a date to the Christmas Gala?” Oh. He’s not? Is he? He couldn’t possibly-“I was just thinking if you didn’t have one, we could go together.” He was- “just as friends. We are friends aren’t we?” n’t.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne I suppose I’ve come to regard you as a” the word friend seemed to catch in your throat “friend over these last few months. But, to be quite honest with you, I wasn’t planning on attending the Christmas Gala.”

“You have too. In fact, I’m making it a mandatory requirement of your job that you have to be there. I’ll pick you up at 7pm.” He didn’t even give you time to respond before waltzing back into his office. It took all of 30 seconds for you to follow after him.

“You cannot force me to go to the gala Mr.Wayne.” You’d stopped in front of his desk, arms crossed over your chest.

“Why not?” He leaned back in his chair, smug smile glued to his face.

“Because I’m a human being with free will and, according to the Wayne Enterprises Employee Handbook, attempting to force me to attend would constitute harassment.” The smile slowly dropped from his face as he rose from his chair.

“If you truly don’t want to attend, I won’t push the matter.” He took slow, deliberate steps towards you, halting just far enough to be considered proper, but still close enough for you to catch the scent of his cologne. “However, it’d mean a lot to me if you did attend.” You’d been so distracted by his eyes and the seemingly sincere look on his face that you hadn’t even noticed he’d reached for your hand. You stood there utterly unmoored by the events of the past few minutes. You mentally shook your self out and opened your mouth to once again decline his invitation.

“Okay.” You were stunned with utter disbelief at the disconnect between your brain and your mouth. Bruce smirked.

“Perfect, like I said early I’ll pick you up around 7pm. If we’re going together, I really should match my tie to your dress. What colour is it going to be?” He’d started heading back to his desk.

“Mint.” You mumbled out. If you were going to be photographed on Bruce Waynes arm, even as just a friend, there was only one dress in your wardrobe that was even close to passable. Turns out you would get a second wear out of the bridesmaids dress from your sister’s wedding.

‘I’ve been looking for someone to shed some light

Not somebody just to get me through the night

I could use some direction

And I’m open to your suggestions’

The Christmas Gala was a disaster. The gala itself was wonderful, decorated to the nines, wonderful little hors d’oeuvres being passed around on trays that looked suspiciously like real silver. You however were a disaster. After entering the gala on Bruces arm, to the flash of what seemed like a million cameras, you’d been immediately pulled away to solve a crisis for the marketing assistants. The crisis turned out to be nothing more than a minor tear in her dress. One strategically placed safety pin later and you found yourself in the midst of the gala uncertain where Bruce had wandered off too.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing standing alone?” Oliver Queen. You’d had several run ins with him whilst working for Bruce.

“Oliver, not that it’s any of your business but I’m looking for Bruce.” You didn’t even bother glancing at him, lest you encourage his flirtations. “You haven’t seen him recently, have you?”

“Does Brucie really have you working on Christmas? He truly has no shame. If you were working for me-“ You cut him off before he could descend into what was sure to be a thinly veiled innuendo.

“We’ve talked about this Oliver. I’m not interested in you, professionally or personally.” You levelled your iciest look at him.

“Sheesh, can’t even give a guy a shot in the spirit of Christmas?” You harden your glare. “Fine, fine. I can take a hint sometimes.” He raised his hands in surrender before placing them on your shoulders turning you in a full 180. “Your beloved Brucie is right there, and it seems he’s decided to use the spirit of the season to rekindle an old flame.” You were met with the sight of Bruce and Selina Kyle in an arch way locked in a kiss.

“Oh.” Logically you knew you had no right to be upset. Bruce had made it abundantly clear the two of you were just friends. But if that were true, why did this feel so much worse than any breakup you’d gone through in your near 25 years of life. “Excuse me, I need to- I should check- I…” You left Oliver standing there as you rushed from the ballroom.

‘All I wanna do is find a way back into love

I can’t make it through without a way back into love

And if I open my heart again

I guess I’m hoping you’ll be there for me in the end’

You wrote your two week notice on the train ride back to your apartment. You were sure you looked quite the sight, shivering in your evening dress, makeup running down your face from the tears you couldn’t hold back. It took an hour longer than normal to reach your corner of Gotham, it gave you time to compartmentalize. Due to the Holidays you’d only have to work out one week of your two weeks notice, but that was still one week of having to see the man who had unintentionally shattered your heart. The worst part is you couldn’t even be mad at him. He’d done nothing to lead you on or imply that you were anything more than friends. You’d simply allowed your imagination to get the better of you and now here you were crying because you’d broken your own heart. You were so lost in your own heartbreak you failed to notice the man standing outside your apartment building until you literally walked into him.

“I’m so sor-“ you began to tumble out an apology as you lifted your eyes to the face of the torso you’d just slammed into, only to be met with achingly familiar blue eyes. “Bruce?”

“You left.” He looked upset, almost as if he were the one heartbroken. “You didn’t even say goo- Have you been crying?” His hand lifts to your face, thumb trailing under your eye. You have to repress a shudder at the feeling of his warm hand on your cold cheek. “Was it Queen? Did he say something again? I’ll have him bared from the building.” You step out of Bruce’s embrace.

“No, it wasn’t Oliver Mr.Wayne.” Professionalism, detachment, that was the only way you were going to get through this final encounter with the man you’d come to love. “It was a personal matter and it’s been handled. But since you’re here I might as well do this face to face. I’m resigning from my position as your personal assistant effective immediately. I’ve already emailed HR and-“

“No.”

“No? This isn’t a yes or no, situation Mr. Wayne. I’m not asking your permission, I’m telling you. I quit.” You’re astonished at the level of strength in your own voice.

“No, you don’t. And while we’re at it you’ll stop with this Mr.Wayne nonsense and go back to calling me Bruce.” He’s agitated now, angry at you.

“Mr. Wayne once again it’s not up to you. I’ve already sent my notice to HR, and accepted a new position elsewhere.” A small lie, but a seemingly necessary one seeing how hard of a time Bruce seems to be having with grasping the concept of your departure from his life.

“Then I’ll buy this new company you work for.” He’s invaded your personal bubble once more.

“Mr. Wayne you can’t just buy a corporation to stop me from quitting.”

“Bruce, and yes I can. I’m a billionaire if you’ve forgotten.” You’re nearly chest to chest at this point. “If this personal matter is the reason you’re quitting, then let me help. I’m sure with your brains and my money we can figure out a solut-“

“I’m in love with you, you idiot.” You push at his chest, anger fuelling your every movement now. “I’m in love with you and I didn’t relish the thought of having to sit in that office day after day watching you moon over Seli-“ He’s kissing you. Bruce Wayne is kissing you. Your to stunned to do anything other than let him.

‘There are moments when I don’t know if it’s real

Or if anybody feels the way I feel

I need inspiration

Not just another negotiation’

When he’d finally pulled away, self satisfied look on his face, you began to berate him. It was his turn to be stunned into silence while you cursed him out in the middle of the street (unbeknownst to either of you, one of the teens from your apartment block filmed the whole thing. It went viral by morning and Wayne Enterprises PR team had to work overtime to spin it in the companies favour). It would take the better part of a week for him to convince you that what’d you seen was Selina’s last ditch attempt at winning him back. It’d taken him another two months of failed wooing attempts to finally get you to agree to be his girlfriend.

‘All I wanna do is find a way back into love

I can't make it through without a way back into love

And if I open my heart to you

I'm hoping you'll show me what to do

And if you help me to start again

You know that I'll be there for you in the end’

The song fades out and your left standing in the middle of your kitchen lost in thought when a gentle chuckle penetrates your subconscious. You whirl around to find Bruce leaned against the entryway, smile lighting up his face.

“How long have you been standing there?” You could feel a blush beginning to bloom across your cheeks.

“Does it matter?” He advances on you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Yes, I need to gauge how embarrassed I should be.” You sink into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around his neck. He bends down and plants a gentle kiss on your lips.

“What were you thinking so intently about?” He gently sweeps an errant strand of hair behind your ear. It was your turn to plant a distracting kiss on Bruce’s lips, the last thing you needed was to inflate his ego. “Ah, so you were thinking about me.” He smirks when you break for air.

“I was not.” Your blush deepens, as if thinking about your husband was the most scandalous thing in the world.

“Mom’s always thinking about you. It’s kinda gross actually.” Jason sat atop your counter eating a cinnamon bun. “What do you even see in the old man anyway? You’re young, attractive and funny. You could do a lot better than Bruce.”

“Off my counter.” You pulled out of Bruce’s embrace to admonish your son. “And put that down, those are for brunch.” You swat his hand away from the fruit tray. He hops off the counter planting a kiss to your check, as he grabs the fruit tray and starts carrying it to the table in the adjacent dinning room.

“It is brunch though mother.” You startle a bit at the sound of Damians voice coming from beside you, nearly 15 years in and you still got startled by the way they all seemed to move in utter silence popping up from seemingly nowhere. At 5’4” your youngest was nearly eye to eye with you, a few more years and he’d tower over you like his brothers.

“Did you all collectively wake up and decided today was the day to disregard all of mom’s rules?” You move to turn off the speaker, mourning your few hours of peace and beginning to mentally prep for the chaos of having all 7 of the Wayne children in one dinning room. “Tim you better be putting that coffee into a cup.” You had a sixth sense for Tim’s caffeine habit and, unbeknownst to him, had been taking steps to curb it. Your most recent ingenious plan was slowly mixing decaf into the regular coffee. Your current batch of grounds was 60% decaf and only 40% caffeinated.

“Of course mom. I wouldn’t dream of breaking your rules.”

“Bullshit.” You whisper under your breath. “Aren’t you all currently breaking rule number 3?” The boys had the decency to at least feigen sheepishness.

“But it is brunch.” Duke, Stephanie and Cas shuffle into the kitchen together.

“Technically the wording of the rule does state that we’re not supposed to enter the kitchen until after brunch, which is why I entered the dining room through the hallway.” Richard leaned his head through the entryway between the two rooms.

“We get it, your mom’s favourite little suck up.” Jason slaps the back of Richards head on his way back into the kitchen. He loads his arms with various platters from the counter before turning back to his siblings. “Well come on half-wits, if you’re gonna break mom’s rules might as well make ourselves useful.”

“Jason, don’t hit your brother.” Your admonishment is half hearted at best, knowing full well your second eldest was likely to simply pretend to listen, while waiting till you turned your back to strike his older brother once again. “And Richard don’t even think about retaliating while he’s holding those platters.” You lean against the back counter running a hand through your hair, releasing it from its haphazard bun. You watch the other kids with the eyes of a well seasoned mother, fear for your antique dish-ware seizing you. You really should just invest in plastic dish-ware at this point, or perhaps you can commission Lucius to develop a line of indestructible dish-ware. There has to be a market for that, right?

Bruce comes to stand beside you, placing a mug of tea in your hands. You lean your head against his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your lips.

“No regrets?” He asks, as the sound of a squabble erupt from the dinning room.

“Not a one.” You smile. No, you wouldn’t trade this for anything. CRASH Okay, maybe you’d trade out whichever child just broke- CRASH - TWO plates. “Boys what did I just say about fighting with my antiques in your hands!”

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Marbled Polecat (Vormela peregusna)

Habitat & Distribution

Native to southern Europe and central Asia, from Serbia to northern China

Found in deserts, scrublands, and low steppe country

Physical Description

Weight: 295 to 715 g (10.4 to 25.2 oz)

Length: 29–35 cm (11.4 to 13.7 in)

The marbled polecat resembles other mustelids, with a long, slender body and a triangular face

The head is marked with black and white, and the body is yellow with mottled black spots

Behaviour

Marbled polecats rely on their sense of smell to find food, namely squirrels, hamsters, voles, mice, birds, lizards, and insects

Adults are solitary, and will defend their territories against rivals

They live in subterranean burrows, which can be self-dug or abandoned by other animals

Their main predators are larger mammals like foxes, and birds of prey

Key Advantages

Marbled polecats will adopt a defensive posture when threatened, arching their back and raising their tails

They may also emit a foul-smelling odor from their anal gland which can deter predators

Like other mustelids, they have sharp teeth and claws

Their keen sense of smell allows them to detect prey and avoid predators

Photo by Elias Neideck 

[tribbetherium]

The Early Rodentocene: 5 million years post-establishment

Doomed If You Don't: Remnant Lineages of the Early Rodentocene

In the race to evolve and diversify at the dawn of the Rodentocene, about twenty or so subspecies of Cricetulus griseus emerged as early as 1 million years post-establishment, all in turn radiating into available ecological niches still vacant. Unfortunately for some, certain lineages would come out on top, with advantageous traits or adaptations to thrive in different habitats, and with everyone vying for niches, some, in the end, would be outcompeted and eventually disappear.

As of 5 million years post-establishment, only eight of the original twenty-plus subspecies still have living descendants, the rest lost to time, having lost the race and being unable to secure a niche to thrive in before they were outcompeted into extinction. And while four of the remaining eight subspecies are diversifying with great success, and in hindsight have a bright future ahead of them, the other four are less so: enduring merely by momentary fortune and surviving for now, but will ultimately be short-lived experiments in the evolutionary tree.

C. griseus musculus, a long-tailed mouse-like subspecies, would survive as its burrow-digging omnivorous descendants, one of which is the evening squeaker (Murocricetus lutosucauda), a nocturnal seed-eater that lives out in open grassland, foraging for food throughout the night and hoarding seeds to take back to its burrow. Its thick fat tail serving both as a balance and a semi-prehensile grasping limb, it climbs precariously up grass stems to harvest its seeds growing atop tall stalks. While currently secure in its current niche, this clade would eventually decline with the success of the jerma's descendants, the furbils and the jerryboas. Both faster and more agile, and occupying the same territories, and competing for the same resources, the furbils and jerryboas would be able to collect larger quantities of food more efficiently and more quickly before the evening squeakers could get to them. And while the evening squeaker would hold out in small corners in the vast grasslands of the continents, it would eventually die off as its small range and small species count left it more vulnerable to localized extinctions, all too common in the hectic ecosystem of a newly-seeded planet.

C. griseus macrotia and its descendants like the big-eared dustbun (Macrotiacricetus magni) would fare somewhat beter, its large ears and long legs enabling it to thrive in deserts and arid equatorial savannahs by shedding more heat and being able to cool off in the sweltering hot afternoons, taking over a biome mostly inaccessible to other hamsters. It became a nimble hopper, leaping on its back legs to reduce its contact with the hot ground. But, in time, it too would fall victim to the spread of the jerryboas, also hoppers but far more flexible and agile. When the desert-dwelling jerryboas that overlapped its territory also evolved large ears as heat sinks, its primary advantage was lost, and it now was left behind by those occupying its same niche but better at it. As the desert jerryboas in time began splitting into multiple species, the dustbun was pushed ever closer to the brink by an increase of competitors, and, in periods of unpredictable droughts, the reduced resources were better-exploited by the jerryboas, ultimately spelling the end of the dustbuns with their smaller populations, fewer species, and lower resistance to sudden ecological changes.

C. griseus giganteus, as its name implies, grew larger than other subspecies at the time and would eventually settle on a form somewhat larger than the typical hamster, becoming a guinea pig-like herbivore, with one species, the goliath broadhead (Gigacricetus gigantis) developing a large, blocky head structure with powerful teeth and jaw muscles to feed on tougher plants. Such harder-to-eat vegetation was scarce in the Early Rodentocene, as the gouties had not yet evolved to push the local flora into defensive diversity, and so the broadhead was content for some time in its small but stable niche, feeding on the sparse fibrous grasses other hamsters could not eat. But the coming of the gouties' descendants the hamtelopes and the cavybaras would bring about an unfortunate irony, as, with their grazing pressure came at first an increase in tougher plants, which proved initially beneficial to the broadheads, but later would prove a bane too as the cavybaras and hamtelopes then became better adapted to to eating the increasingly hardier plants--including the original grasses the broadheads had specialized to eat. This early woody grass would go extinct, and the broadheads and kin would soon follow, making vain attempts to specialize on other grasses but ones already in high demand from the new grazers, and would entirely be replaced by smaller relatives of cavybaras known as cavilets by the time the Middle Rodentocene came about.

And last of these would be C. griseus mirabilis, which included members such as the piebald patchling (Mirabilicricetus varicolor). This lineage was a holdover from the earliest diversification of random mutations, one of which, piebaldism, spread among the populations with no negative consequences in the earliest days. In the earliest days less than one million years PE, a wide range of sporadic mutant traits emerged, like colors, markings, size, shapes, ear sizes, tail lengths and more. Of these, some traits persisted since there was no negative consequence for them. The piebald patchling was one of them, standing out with its unique coloration of black, red, white and yellow markings that randomly blotched each individual like a fingerprint. But then, predators began to evolve, and the striking patterns of the C. griseus mirabilis lineage now became a liability rather than a benign trait. Easily seen with its lack of camouflage, and devoid of any other survival characteristics, the piebald patchling would become easy prey for the keen-eyed hammibals and be eventually hunted to extinction. Its slightly more cryptically-colored cousin, the black-pawed dendend, would persist for somewhat longer and be remarkable as the last surviving species not from any of the four main clades, but it, too, will eventually go extinct without leaving any descendants.

While the four main clades would go on to flourish and bring forth incredible and untold biodiversity, these species would, in the end, just be short-lived experimental branches that would be relegated to the evolutionary dustbin of the fossil record. In the race to occupy new territory, new food, and new niches, some species diversified earlier and gained the upper hand. Those slower to the take would hold on in niches for some time, but, in the ever-changing and fickle kaleidoscope of adaptive radiation in the Early Rodentocene, would either be pushed out by someone else better at the niche or prove unable to cope with sudden changes in the environment. Ultimately, it is the ability to change that determines a species' and lineage's longevity: a trend that will continue to be apparent as countless species emerge, diversify, decline and disappear throughout the eras to come.

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

[presumenothing]

post-aa2 brainrot, etc // on ao3

The lines of the closure paperwork have liquefied to dance merry chaos across the page; Miles can only attribute the next moment to such, should he be pressed upon it in any court of law. "I stand by my words, you know."

Wright has been sitting motionlessly silent on his office couch for what feels like an eternity of hours now, not that Miles can blame him. It's a minor miracle that the man can still scrape together enough cognitive resources to squint in his vague direction with a furrowed brow.

"Saving lives," Miles says in answer to the unvoiced question. "An admirable goal, but hardly a tenable one. You should have taken up firefighting instead if you desired heroics."

The thought of Wright shouting objections at a house fire from atop a firetruck comes as sudden as it is hilarious to his exhaustion-addled mind. Miles blinks away the mental image and turns back to tackling the next section – fortunately or otherwise, a year away has not erased enough memory to hinder him from completing it on autopilot, if only the words would just hold still for more than three darned seconds.

Wright's response comes then, belated and uncharacteristic: a halting half-mumble. "It's not arrogance, or anything. I don't think."

Taking the accidental bait left out on the latter half of that would be too easy, true as it would be. Wright is hardly an intellectual slouch, much as his usual behaviour leaves Miles occasionally loath to admit it, but his true brilliance lies in reacting; it is how he has gotten as far as he has against opponents far worse.

(And worse then only in magnitude, not the precise devastation of the recent days. Miles has been conscientiously avoiding unbidden thoughts of the likenesses between his office and Lana Skye's, both left like untouched scenes in absence of their former occupants, but that has hardly been necessary over the witnessing of Wright falling apart in slow motion. If – when he gets his hands on de Killer, it will assuredly not be a pretty sight.)

The temptation to rub at his eyes is increasingly strong, tempered only by certainty at the uselessness of it. "Semantics. The reasoning hardly matters, only the outcome."

Though it is doubtlessly true, that he cannot imagine an accusation of hubris against Wright, of all people. Sheer belief, on the other hand, or bloody-minded stubbornness… perhaps therein lies the reason why Miles had to walk away from court to find an answer that Wright could only have found within it.

And lucky for them all, that he had. Miles has not fully shaken off the chill of hearing his own letter thrown back at him during that very last recess earlier, nor the cold surety that it would be far more permanent a departure than his had proven to be.

Wright huffs in something approaching amusement. "Objection."

The prosection briefly considers balling up the paperwork and tossing it at the defence. Miles settles for the light duvet still neatly folded in the last drawer of his desk; slightly musty from disuse, yes, but serving well enough the purpose of covering up that singular annoyance of a face.

"Overruled," he intones over the satisfyingly indignant yelp. "And you have already saved someone, should you insist on such lofty goals."

Phoenix emerges with his hair resembling a hamster habitat even more than usual. "Whazzat?"

"Nothing," Miles says, flatly, instead of me, you fool. "Get some rest, I'll wake you when I'm done for the day."

("Hypocrite," Phoenix yawns in response, but any smugness is rendered moot by the way he goes out like a light promptly after.)

[emilybeemartin]

Just a hello, and thank you for writing!

I found your stuff through your humorous Boromir comics (man those make me laugh, I've shared them with several people) and then when you mentioned you were an author I got excited, and then when you mentioned which of your books you liked best I got even more excited! So I read through Sunshield and now I am reading Floodpath, and I want to say, I really really enjoy your books and writing and I hope you write (and enjoy writing!) a lot more! I have limited time these days but I look forward to when I can enjoy some more of your stories. And please don't hesitate to tell people about the books you have written too! Tumblr is a beautiful place but awfully disjointed, and it's fun to find new authors here. Thanks for putting your stories into the world!

Thank you so much!! I'm so glad you enjoyed Sunshield (and ostensibly Floodpath as you sent me this lovely ask like a hundred years ago, sorry). Self-promo is the worst, so I appreciate the kind words of support, and sure, I'll take the opportunity to say:

If folks have enjoyed my comics or fics, maybe check out my published novels. The Creatures of Light trilogy starts with Woodwalker, which follows an exiled ranger guiding a deposed queen through the wilds to reclaim her throne. The Outlaw Road duology starts with Sunshield, where a desperate outlaw, a sheltered diplomat, and a political prisoner find their paths crossing in a quest to expose a system of corruption.

And if you like my illustrations, take a look at my middle-grade eco-fantasy, A Field Guide to Mermaids. It uses the behaviors, adaptations, and habitats of mermaids to explore real aquatic ecosystems. I like to think of it as a science book with a fantasy veneer.

I'm hoping to have more novel news soon after many months of being stuck in the publishing industry hamster wheel, but the timing on that is anyone's guess. Which is what fan art is for.

[pengychan]

One reason why I hate browsing for hamster supplies online is that I always end up having to lay my eyes on this kind of shit

what is this

what the ABSOLUTE FUCK

IS THIS

It takes a whole two minutes of research to know none of the above are in any way suitable as the habitat of any type of hamster, so anyone who has this type of cage either has done zero research or is knowingly letting an animal suffer, and in neither case should they be allowed to have a pet, ever.

Here’s a decent enclosure for reference

What the fuck.

[aggro-my-beloved]

₍ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ₎ Redacted Characters If They Owned Hamsters ₍ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ₎

note: based on my son, my lil bean, the loml (pictured below). if he is ever harmed not out of his own volition i WILL throw hands. mkay enjoy :)

Huxley: possibly the biggest animal lover out of all the other redacted characters. he’s an earth elemental after all, therefore he’s most in tune with flora and fauna. however, only two days after owning his first pet, a hamster, he hugged him so hard that the lil guy suffocated.

Sam: at twelve years old, Sam almost couldn’t believe the news of his local pet store being broken into and all the animals being set free by the perpetrator. until one day after school, he found a hawk circling a hamster in his backyard. he wasted no time scooping the almost-meal into his hands and bringing it inside to nurse it back to health. in just days, the shoebox filled with cotton balls and newspaper shreds turned into a habitat he begged his parents for, equipped with the highest-quality food, water bottle, and silent running wheel. 

Asher: as anybody loathing animosity would do, asher tried introducing his cat and hamster to each other one day in hopes that they would become friends. perhaps he wasn’t supervising as well as he could’ve been. fifteen minutes after booting up Halo, mittens returns with the fluffball in her mouth, presenting it to him as a gift. he curses the family’s cat to this day. 

David: after the passing of his mother, gabe thought an animal would help his son with the mourning process. david’s hamster was smarter than most—as in, she could sense David’s predatorial stance the moment they locked eyes. anytime he tried feeding her a treat or handling her, she would bite him out of instinct. this would result in david supplying her with double the treats and enrichment toys as if to earn her trust. eventually, she did come to trust him but kept "disliking" him for the extra food. 

Lasko: upon receiving the pet as a birthday present, they couldn’t be seen more than a day apart. He’d get one of those mini harnesses to walk him every day after school, and even snuck the animal in class one day for show and tell. ten years later, lasko still has a photo of the two of them framed in his closet. 

Milo: after witnessing several children’s films with talking animals, Milo became convinced his furry friend was hiding something. every day, he’d creep inside his room and peer into the cage, only to be met with the sight of them scurrying underneath the bedding. he’d bribe the thing with treats to just say his name. one day, he got a bit too impatient and dismembered the shade from his desk lamp. Aiming it at the rodent, he demanded through clenched teeth to “fess up.” the light blinded them, and they died of shock. 

Geordi: being awkward and an introvert left geordi slim pickings of friends if any at all. his hamster became his outlet, his micro-sized therapist who had an obsession with carrots. every bad day at school, or club he didn’t get accepted to, or commentary on star trek’s latest episode would be reported to her. though she never talked back, it kept geordi out of his head most of the time, and that was the best kind of relationship anybody could share. 

Damien: uncomfortable moments with his magic source weren’t an issue for damien as a child. the boy was so cold natured a ninety-degree day to Venice beach felt like the perfect temperature. without a second thought, he brought his hamster along for the road trip so he could show him the world and all it had to offer. the day ended with a sunburnt damien and a buried hamster in his backyard. cause of death: heat exhaustion. 

[kingofthe-egirls]

SOUP: SANJI x Y/N

(a sequel to a sequel, this is based off "between what was and will be" by @thus-spoke-lo and the following "like it's the only thing i'll ever do" written by @zimzalabimmmmm. plz read these first!)

(cw: sanji has a pet hamster, reader had a hamster who recently passed, [same, so...sanji is helping me grieve], food, kissing, dirty talk, consent, safe word selection, slut/whore/daddy used, swallowing, cunnilingus, fingering, blowjob, self-insert, streamer, stars indicate switching narratives)

(a/n: ok so now im desperately in love with sanji so plz enjoy this self indulgent sequel to a sequel)

Songs: "i hope you know what you're doing" by KING MALA,"dirty dishes" by KING MALA, "punchline" by KING MALA

words: 5.6k

Sanji huffs as he gets back home, setting his backpack down by the door. He'd had another late shift, and his feet hurt.

He hums, loosening his tie on his way to the shower. He leaves a trail of discarded clothing in his wake, strewn across the wooden slats of his apartment hallway. Steam fills the bathroom as he starts the shower, raking his hand through sweaty hair.

The shower is slow, as he lazily scrubs his body down of all the latent smells of soy sauce, ginger, and garlic. He shakes his head under the stream of water, pushing his hair back to wash his face.

Someone knocks at the door.

He grunts, shutting the water off a little earlier than he would've liked. He rubs a scratchy towel over his head, throwing another one around his waist as he steps with wet feet back to his front door. What now?

He swings the door open without a second thought.

****

"Oh--!" You say, face filling with heat at the sight of your neighbor's steamy, nearly-naked form. "S-Sanji! Hi," you scratch at the back of your head, shuffling awkwardly now between your feet. Sanji, for his part, stares at you with parted lips.

"H-hey there!" He steps back a little, hiding half his frame behind his front door. "Sorry, love! I was just--showering." He grins a little, crooking a swirly eyebrow up a hitch. His hair is pushed back from his face for once, giving you the rare sight of both his blue eyes at once. You bite your lip.

"I can see that," you start, stepping a tad closer. "Sorry to interrupt."

"No, no! Not at all," he opens the door wider, allowing you to step in after him. He rushes off to the back of his apartment, swiftly escaping back to his bedroom to get dressed. "Make yourself at home, sweetest! There's iced tea and apples in the fridge!" He calls before kicking the door shut behind him.

****

Shit.

She looks familiar, somehow, and Sanji's not sure how to place it. She's lived next door in the apartment building since he's been here, so that's probably it, but...Sanji shakes his head.

She's waiting for him.

Sanji sighs, soap suds sliding down his calves as he casts about his closet for something suitable. She's--so pretty.

Sanji rakes his hands through sopping hair. He decides to just go with the first two articles of clothing he sees: a white t-shirt and dark blue denim jeans. He wonders if she's hungry.

"Sorry about that, sweetheart," he says, making his way back to his living room. She is not where he left her, hopefully helping herself to some iced tea from the fridge, but instead staring silently at his hamster habitat. She's crying.

"Sweetheart?" He asks again, slowly stalking towards her. She's been over once or twice before, sharing drinks or a dessert he'd whipped up, but never really more than that. She's definitely never cried in front of him.

"Sorry," she whispers, fingers ghosting over the shiny aquarium glass. His hamster is trudging through her colorful tubes, slowly making her groggy way to her food bowl. There's freshly sliced carrots and celery already filling up the dish. She traces the hamster's movement with watery eyes. "She's so pretty."

Sanji's heart softens, as he steps up to stand beside her.

"Brie," he introduces his lovely pet to his even lovelier neighbor, "She's about two months old, so she's still adjusting." The hamster in question is now sitting with her tiny hands holding a carrot slice. A soft, strangled sob echoes from her delicate throat. Sanji's hands go to her shoulders, almost as an instinct, "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

She shakes her head.

Fuck.

Sanji grimaces, as he recalls the last time a sad, beautiful woman stood crying in his apartment. He hopes this time won't be as soul-wrenching as that. She sniffles, still staring at his hamster.

"Mine died last night."

Sanji blanches.

"Oh! My love, I'm so sorry," he swiftly guides her away, back to the couch, and she sits gratefully. Her body bounces a bit, on the overstuffed leather seat. Her chest also bounces, but Sanji tries his hardest not to look. Well, not for too long, at least.

He's only human.

She shakes her head, wavy hair falling down her shoulders in soft sheets. She takes the tissues he hands her, and blows snot into the bundle. Her cheeks are dusted with freckles. She looks up at him, smiling for his sake. She's so...alive.

Real.

Sanji swallows.

"S'okay," she says, stuffy, "She was three and a half years old, so..." She trails off, staring at the tissues in her hands. She sort of looks like the hamster behind him, all hunched over with fretting claws.

Sanji raises his eyebrows, surprised. "Hamsters are only supposed to live for two." He regards his neighbor with a newfound reverence. Any friend of rodents is a friend in his book.

She smiles.

****

"Yeah, she was a starlet," you say, shaking a little as you laugh. "She had a nice bin cage, with lots of fresh veggies. I, um...wanted to bake a pumpkin pie for her. Since pumpkin seeds were her favorite--," you cut yourself off, face crumbling as you start to cry again. Sanji sits next to you. He strokes your shoulders, his hand rubbing soothing circles over the fabric of your soft crop top.

"What was her name?"

Your handsome neighbor softens his voice, leaning his head down to catch your salt-streaked gaze. You smile, squishing the wadded up tissues in your hands. "Snegurochka."

Sanji blinks.

You laugh, "It's Slavic. Russian for 'snow maiden.' It was snowing in April when I got her, three years ago. So, that's what I named her!"

Sanji smiles, too. His teeth sparkle in his overhead lighting. It's nice, and florescent. Like some sort of snazzy art gallery. His coffee table is frosted glass, too. His arm chair is deep blue velvet, and the couch you're sitting on is plush, butter-soft brown leather.

"Such a good name," he says, squeezing your shoulder. His arm is heavy around you, and you lean into the welcome weight and warmth. He stiffens, and you step back up to standing, immediately.

"M'sorry!" You say, stuffing the used tissues into your shorts pocket. "I shouldn't have come over here, I-I don't wanna just sob on your couch--,"

Sanji stands too, waving a hand to cut you off.

"Sit," he says, guiding your hand once again to take comfort in his presence. "Have you eaten today?"

You shake your head.

"Let's change that."

****

Sanji pulls out a large, serrated vegetable knife.

"Lucky for you," he says, giving the knife a deft twist, "Pumpkins are in season, and I just so happened to pick up a few from the farmer's market yesterday." He flourishes the knife, pointing to the squashes sitting big and orange on his counter. She smiles.

His chest squeezes, and he does his best to ignore it.

Dark-haired, pretty girls with soothing voices and sparkling eyes are his weakness, but he refuses to be caught in another spiderweb of sob story lovesickness.

"How about an autumn squash soup, hm? I have some stale bread I could toast into croutons--?" He glances up, to suddenly see her right in front of his face. She's leaning across the counter, pleading at him with hungry eyes.

"Squash soup is my favorite."

She's salivating already, silly as can be, at the mention of her favorite food. Sanji grins. Now that is something he can handle.

"Sit down," he instructs, slicing into the pumpkin's orange rind, "And let me serve you some soup."

****

Sanji works swiftly, twirling around his kitchen like some sort of ballet dancer. You watch him, stinging eyes tracking his every movement.

"Sugar!" You say suddenly, eyes popping open wide. Sanji falters for a second, standing at the sink to wash off his knife and cutting board. Everything he uses in this kitchen is top tier, chef grade shit.

"I'm out of sugar. That's why I came here? For the pie. But, um--sorry? I kinda roped you into cooking for me...," you trail off, scrunching your nose. You pick at the frayed end of your cuffed denim shorts. It's autumn, now, but you run hot and can't stand the heat. You're in shorts and sandals until the end of November, at least.

Sanji shakes his head, stirring the simmering squash in a large pot over the stove. He has a long wooden spoon and everything. He looks like some sort of model in a home décor magazine.

"Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?"

You say it brashly, brazenly, with a tilt of your head. He had opened his mouth to wave away your second apology, but your own stupid mouth had opened itself first. You have ADHD, alright?

Impulsiveness is kinda your thing.

Sanji stutters, his back turned to you. His shoulders are tense through his cotton t-shirt. You tilt your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Is he uncomfortable? "S-sorry," you say again, sitting on your hands with your foot in your mouth. You swing your legs.

Sanji shakes his head, shooting you a glance over his shoulder.

"Not, uh--in those exact words," he says, smiling sheepishly from under a crop of straw-colored hair. His eyes are like sapphires. Well, the one that you can see is, anyway. He smiles tightly, before spinning back to stir the soup. It smells delicious.

"Shame," you say, plainly.

"Is that so?" He asks, intrigue scooting beneath his words. His accent is slightly English. You sip your iced tea.

"Mhmm!" You say, swirling the ice cubes around in the glass he gave you. It's heavy, with a thick base and a golden band around the rim. "Someone shoulda said something by now," you stick your fingers in the glass to pop out an ice cube. It's crushed, your favorite, and you happily crunch down on it. The coldness stings your teeth.

Sanji is smiling in earnest now, his shoulders relaxing down in their sockets. The soft fabric of his t-shirt stretches over the muscular planes of his back. You sip another mouthful of tea.

"How tall are you?"

You're no stranger to flirtation (obviously), and Sanji seems fun to praise. His eyes go all steamy and his hands start fidgeting.

"180 centimeters," he says swiftly, sprinkling spices into the simmering pot. You snort.

"What could that possibly mean?"

Sanji laughs, a good belly laugh, and you grin.

"Sorry, love," he winks at you, "That's about 5'11 in American."

****

She's delicious.

She speaks plainly, in stop-and-start sentences. She reminds him of his friend Luffy, sort of. She's as impulsive as he is, at least. Although she hasn't broken anything in his apartment. Yet.

She's as hungry as Luffy is, though, if not more.

She devours the soup he plates and hands to her, with roasted seeds and fresh croutons as a garnish. She has no table manners, opting to slurp the soup right out of the bowl. Honestly, it's kind of refreshing.

He's spent the last few months trying his damndest to get over his best friend. She'd broken his heart, consciously or not, and he's been nursing it ever since. He'd only had one night with her, and they'd never really been dating, but… Heartbreak is heartbreak and it sure as hell still hurts. She's off somewhere, moved back home, doing who knows what with whom.

Anyway, it doesn't matter, does it?

Now, he's the head chef at one of the city's finest artisan cafes, having brought French delicacies to the menu as a former sous chef of the Baratie. His head chef and mentor Zeff had recommended him for the job. It was difficult to leave the place he'd called home, but it felt like the right time to move on. After all, hadn't she?

Sanji clears his head, trying to savor his own spoonful of soup. It's almost perfect. "Here," he says, swiftly snatching the cinnamon from next to the stove. He shakes it a little over his soup, and then reaches over to top the lady's off, too. She smiles sweetly at him, and his heart clenches. He sniffs, spinning around to put the cinnamon away. She's stirring her spoon through the soup, mixing the spice in.

"Sanji," she says, spoon still halfway in her mouth, "This is so good."

Sanji smiles, flattered.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, mon cherie," he eyes the swiftly disappearing soup, "Let me know if you need seconds."

"Yes please!" She cries, happily handing him her now-empty bowl. There's a streak of orange on her upper lip. Sanji smiles, dancing around the counter's edge to stand in front of her. She's swinging her legs off the side of his leather bar stool.

Sanji pauses, gauging her expression, before swiftly wiping away the stripe of soup. He licks it off his thumb, savoring the spiced taste.

She watches his movements like a hawk.

****

Sanji is delightful.

He's sweet, chivalrous, and an excellent cook. And he's a small pet parent. A dreamboat, really. Like something out of your thirteen-year-old self's diary. So...you're understandably on edge.

"You're not a serial killer, are you?"

You ask it as easily as you asked for his height. Your questions are still not quite normal, though, since Sanji splutters on his soup. It's perfect, by the way. Your sweet, handsome neighbor coughs into a napkin as he recovers. You suck on your spoon.

"Uh--um, not that I'm aware of?"

You grin. "S'good enough for me!" You swing around in your seat, striding confidently around the counter to stand in front of him. He's a few inches taller than you. "Sanji?"

He stares at you.

"Thanks for the soup," you smile, and lean up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He moans--a soft, surprised thing--before you pull away.

Sanji's face is blood-red, and you hope you haven't crossed a line. You scrunch your eyebrows together. "Is...that okay? Sorry, shoulda asked--,"

Sanji has your face cupped in his hands, having swiftly set down his bowl to lace slender fingers through your hair. He plays with it, softly.

"S'alright," he says, eyes half-lidded. "Still need some sugar, love?"

You smile like the sun.

And then Sanji is lowering his face to yours, and you eagerly press up to meet his lips halfway. He tastes like the squash soup you just ate.

"Hmmph!" He moans, as you slide your tongue between his lips. His hands tighten in your hair, gently pulling on the strands. Your own palms trace their way up his muscular chest and around his neck. You lift up on your tiptoes again, trying to deepen the kiss.

Sanji wraps his arms around your waist, and lifts you up to set you back down on the counter. He slides in between your legs, never breaking the kiss once. You suck on his bottom lip, gently.

"Sweetheart," he moans into your mouth, his hands scratching along your scalp. Streaming's nowhere near as fun as this. You hum, pleased, tilting your head to accept the gesture. Sanji's lips quickly find their place at your pulse point, and suck gently. He slides his tongue up and down your neck, as you gasp. A full body shiver runs over your spine. Your toes curl up as your legs instinctually wrap around him. You pull him closer.

Closer.

"Sanji--," you gasp, pulling on his hair to stop him from making you squirt right there. Your neck is sensitive, to say the least. "Is this a date?"

Sanji smiles, running his thumb along your bottom lip. His swirly eyebrow arches delicately. "Only if you want it to be."

You smile, nodding sheepishly.

He stills, half-parted lips two inches from your own. "So...did you really need sugar, or...?"

You stop, blush forming along your cheeks. Sanji laughs, long and loud, before resting his head on your collarbone. He leaves kisses there, sweetly. You snicker, scratching your fingers through his satin hair. "Sorry...," you tease, tracing the line of his t-shirt's collar.

Sanji hums, before pulling back. He tugs on the waistband of your denim shorts. His eye is hooded in lust. "Make it up to me, will you darling?"

You grin, biting your lip as you bounce up and down in your seat.

"Gladly."

****

She is incapable of sitting still.

Once Sanji has her in his bedroom, she is all restless and fidgety and handsy as all shit. She's enamored with his chest, tracing her delicate fingertips over his abs and pressing her thumbs into his stomach.

"Tickles," he says, circling his hands around her wrists. She looks up, sheepish.

"Sorry,” she says, leaning forward to kiss him again. She leaves sloppy kisses all over his chin and cheeks. Sanji shudders out a breathy laugh, letting her trail soft kisses down his throat. "Soup was just--really good, is all."

Sanji laughs, outright.

"So glad you think so," he says, sliding his hands around her waist to bring her onto his lap. She giggles, wrapping her own arms around his neck. She kisses him, again.

"Such a good kisser," she says, sliding her tongue along his bottom lip. Sanji's hard as fuck right now, and his hips buck up involuntarily.

"Sweetheart," he says, squeezing the fat of her hips where she straddles him. "What else can I do for you, hm?”

****

Soup has always been your favorite food. And food has always been the way to your heart. And your heart has always been the way to your bed. Sanji fiddles with the ends of your hair. He’s asking you for service, for what he can provide.

But he tastes so good, pumpkin still left coating his sliding tongue as he kisses you again. You hum.

“Sanji, will you let me thank you? For the soup,” you say, scritching through his hair. It’s flaxen, light gold with shimmery highlights.

He stares at you.

You take his silence for acceptance—at least until he says so—and sit up so you can start pulling your shirt off over your head. It’s a tie dye crop top—purple and blue—and you paired it with a lacy bralette. Sanji traces the edges of the silky fabric, his fingertips brushing over the swell of your breasts. He’s salivating, by now.

“Of course, milady,” he says, smiling at you, “Who am I to deny such a beautiful maiden?” He squeezes your tits in slender hands. You shiver.

“You speak like a dude from a romance novel,” you tease, letting him knead your breasts through the fabric. You shift, rolling your hips onto his hardening cock. Your denim shorts press up against your clit, the seam finding just the right spots.

“Is that a bad thing?”

You shake your head, instead opting to pull your bralette off, too.

Sanji stares at your body, marveling at your soft flesh as he plays with your tits for you. He circles his soft thumbs around your areolas, then flicks at your sensitive nipples. You hiss, drawing in a sharp breath through your teeth. He stares at you, gauging your reactions with the steady confidence of a lover.

“So fucking sweet for me,” he murmurs, before lowering his head to gently suck on one of your nipples. His fingers play with the other one, and you tilt your head back in bliss.

“Sanji—,” you hiccup, hips rolling into his instinctually. “So good—,”

“Sweetheart,” he moans again, his favorite nickname for you, “Service turns me on, darling. Please let me serve you?”

How could you possibly say no to that?

“Sure!” You chirp happily, still straddling his lap. He lifts you up, switching positions so you’re lying against the bed, head cushioned by soft pillows. You snuggle in. “I like being a sub,” you raise your eyebrows suggestively, “Safe word’s ‘scarecrow.’”

Sanji nods, repeating the safe word back to you. “Scarecrow, got it,” he murmurs against your exposed stomach. He hovers over you, supporting himself on his hands as he presses a line of kisses above the waistband of your shorts. He fingers the silver button below your belly. His eyes meet yours, hair softly falling into his face. He looks like an angel. “Anything else I should know?”

“Spanking’s hot,” you say, shifting in place as heat courses through you. Sex is your favorite thing. “But slaps anywhere else are a no go. I like slut and whore as pet names. And princess,” you start to list your kinks off on your fingers, “I like calling you daddy, if that’s okay? Also restraints, and tickling, and ASMR!”

Sanji nods at each fetish, visibly making note of them for later.

“What about you?”

Sanji sits up, still playing with the button of your shorts. He’s achingly hard in his jeans, and you want to touch. So you do.

“S-sex,” he stutters, as you touch him through his jeans. “Sucking on your skin, leaving marks,” his head tilts back as you palm his hard cock.

You’re sitting up on one elbow, sliding your hand up and down the line of his shaft. He’s hard and thick, and sort of longer than you’re sure you can handle. You bite your lip, feeling just how aroused he is. You can’t wait to see him.

“Switching sometimes, between sub and dom. Strap-ons,” he shudders, curving his spine around his center. You draw a line up his shaft with one finger. “Sucking your tits, size difference, hentai shit—,” he sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Restraints are hot as fuck.”

“On you or me?”

“Either.”

Shit.

“Let’s watch porn together sometime,” you suggest, “So we can see what turns each other on.”

Sanji growls, low in his throat. He's leaning back, abs clenching as you play with him. He stares down at you with one, glittering eye. “So fucking sexy…did you know that, sweet girl?"

You hum, “I’ve heard.”

He smirks, and slowly makes his way down to the waistband of your shorts.

“Daddy’s gonna take care of you now, okay?” His stubble tickles your stomach, and you nod. He teeths at the denim, and sparks follow in his wake. He peers up at you through his bangs, blue eyes shadowed in lust. “So be a sweet girl and lie back for me.”

Sheepish, you obey.

Sanji starts licking at the inside of your thigh. He pinches the fat of the upper part, just below the cuff of your shorts. He massages your legs, slowly working his way up and down them again. His lips are heaven.

“Sanji…,” you say, squirming your hips in place, “Stop teasing?”

“Okay, okay,” he amends, lifting up to slide your shorts down your legs. He discards them off to the side, leaving you in your striped underwear. He lies down on his stomach, between your legs. Shivers run down your spine. Sanji stares at you for one moment more, seeing the lust and adoration in your eyes. You squeak, something small and excited, and he smirks. “So needy for me, hm?”

You nod, ferociously.

“Please.”

Sanji hums, and places a single kiss to your clothed clit. He strokes a finger over the wet patch of your panties, pressing into your soaking slit.

He starts slowly, smooching around your pussy to gauge your scent, your expressions, your sounds. He slips two fingers into the side of your undies, sliding along your soaking folds, and you arch your back with a whine. “Sensitive,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “May I start, my love?”

“Mhmm!!!”

He giggles at your eagerness, and slides your underwear down and over your legs. He tosses them to the side. “Stunning,” he gasps, eyes widening as he spreads your legs. “Pretty girl, such a slut for Daddy, aren’t you? So needy,” he circles your knee, seeing your pussy flutter at his praise. He makes a mental note of how he’s pleasing you, every twitch and moan as he explores the new, strange and beautiful thing that is another’s body. He’s so glad to have you in his bed. “Spread your legs for me, sweetness.”

****

She obeys.

Sanji lies down on his stomach, spreading her pussy lips with his thumbs. She’s soaking, for him.

“Please, Sanji—,” she gasps for him, straining her hips closer to his face. She’s already flushed and ready, hands balled into fists in the sheets.

“S'alright, love," he says, breath fanning over the soft hairs on her lips. She purrs, staring at him as smug as a jungle cat. He stops, seeing the sudden darkness that flashes in her eyes. Sanji licks his lips.

He slides his tongue across her slit experimentally, the tip of his tongue swirling up and around her clit. She arches, sighing at the sensation. Sanji starts to spell his name. She croons, eyebrows raised as her breathing quickens.

"So soft," she whispers, hand going to tug at his hair, "Faster?"

Sanji serves.

He swipes his tongue, faster but not harsher, in swift circles around her swollen clit. His arms encircle her thighs, hands holding onto the creases of her hips. She has a roll of fat over her belly, which swells every time she curls forward to watch him. Her mouth is open, parted like a peach ring, as she stares down at his movements through darkening eyes.

"Sweet girl," he says against her, voice reverberating through her heat. His fingers stroke at her entrance, slick with arousal, and he pushes delicately inside. She clenches around his finger, swollen and searing against his skin. She whines, his own body answering her with a gasping thrust. His cock has been hard for a few minutes now, and he rubs his hips into the mattress.

"Suck harder," she commands, grasping at his hair. He lets her guide his head to where she wants him, which is apparently with his lips sucking hard around her clit. 

Sanji slides two fingers into her pussy, starting to thrust gently with his hand. She scrunches her eyebrows, squirming side to side. "Slower," she says, so he stills his pace to flutter them inside her, instead. She's squishy and warm, and Sanji's eyes roll back in his head. He's being just as loud as she is, sighing and moaning at every breath.

"Sa-ah-anji!"

She's squeezing around his fingers, as he feels her release and clench over and over again. He slows his movements, tracking her short rasps as he lightens the suction on her clit. 

"So good," she says, voice high-pitched and scratchy. She pushes up to sitting, sweaty and flushed, as she makes grabby hands for his face. "C'mere?"

Sanji obliges.

She smiles, taking his scruffy cheeks in between her palms. She pecks sweet, little kisses all over his face. His own breathing is ragged and heavy, and she grins at him seductively. "Your turn!"

Sanji slides onto his side, letting her straddle his legs. His cock is achingly hard through his jeans, and she finally, finally releases it as she tugs his pants down his muscular thighs.

"So pretty…," she whispers, shiny eyes taking in the sight of his weeping dick. She strokes her thumb over the head, smearing precum along the heated skin. Sanji hisses as she slowly lowers her swollen lips to his cockhead, sucking gently. She stares at him, eyes open wide and curious. So he lets her learn his body, too. She rubs her thumb along the vein on his underside, and he gasps. She grins, lifting off his cock to tongue at the tip in soft, fluttery licks.

"S'okay?" 

She swirls her hand up and down his shaft. Her wrist curves at his base, and then twists deftly as she strokes him up and down. Sanji whimpers, a sound he's embarrassed to make, but she sparkles at it. She bites her lip, turning her attention now to his dick completely.

She lowers down her head, and takes him all the way to the base.

"Holy shit–," he curls his fingers in her hair, holding on for dear life. It's taking everything in him not to start fucking her throat as hard and fast as he fucking can, but–she's delicate, divine, and was crying just forty minutes earlier. Now, however, his heart squeezes as he sees sparkly tears forming at the corners of her lashes. She's smiling, somehow, even as she wraps her lips around his shaft. He groans, heat coursing through him at every lick and suckle.

His abs clench, and he knows he can only stay still for so much longer.

"Sweetheart," he gasps, "Can I fuck your face?"

She moans, long and lewd, as she nods on his cock.

Sanji grips her head tighter, securing her in place, before he starts thrusting gently into her mouth. His head is squeezed by the back of her throat, constricting and releasing as she struggles to breathe. She blows long, shaky breaths through her nose as she takes him.

"So good, baby," he praises her, stroking her cheekbone with a shaky finger. She smiles with her eyes, crinkling up at the edges. Her pupils are blown. She hums, reverberating through his shaft, as she lets him hit it deeper. 

Sanji lets his head hit the pillow, senses clouding over with sweet pleasure. He shallowly thrusts into her face, stealing glances at her flushed cheeks and fucked out expression as he does.

She starts fondling his balls, and Sanji gasps.

His abdomen clenches, and it's not long before he's finishing down her throat.

"Shit–," he groans through a wave of shimmering white sensations, as she swallows as much of his cum as she can. Slipping down her chin, he watches rivulets of his own spunk drip onto the sheets below her face. He groans, an audible break in his voice. 

"S'good," she praises him, popping off him with a smack. She licks her lips. "Sweet, actually, Sanji. Damn," she snickers, shaking her head, "Shit's never actually tasted good for me, hah."

Sanji laughs, breathy and loud.

(She makes him laugh).

Sanji doesn't know what to do with that thought, so instead he sits up and grabs her chin in his fingers. He thumbs at her bottom lip, and she opens her mouth. He inspects her, his own mouth parted at the ecstasy. She sticks her tongue out, eyes crossing upwards in an ahegao.

"Now, where did my little slut learn that?" 

She giggles. "I like hentai, too." She says with an arch in her eyebrows. She's glowing, soft and flushed, with something striking behind her smile. She looks like something he'd see in a rain forest. Smart, with sharp claws and sharper teeth. She drags an acrylic nail down the spasming muscles of his stomach. Sanji swallows.

She traces the line of his hip bones.

She flicks her falcon's eyes back up to his sweaty face. She is naked, but seems stronger for it. Empowered. Sanji, however, feels weak as shit beneath her predator's gaze.

"Sanji," she says, something artemesian in her soft tone, "Sex with you is really sweet." She flicks her eyes up to him, as something else gut punches him in surprise. She likes him. 

Sanji swipes at his nose, already feeling the trickles of blood starting to slip out of his nostrils. She's a huntress, and he her prey.

"S-so glad you think so," he says, sliding out of bed as elegantly as he can. He grabs the tissues off his dresser and stuffs some up his nose. "Sorry," he says, nasally, "Nosebleed."

She snorts.

"Hentai shit, indeed."

Sanji shakes his head.

"So…," she pushes off the bed, naked and alluring. She crosses the distance between them, staring at him like he's something marble and statuesque. She assesses his form, stroking her fingers along his biceps. "Secrets time."

Sanji stops. "Oh?"

She nods, sheepish. "Have you…seen me before?" She tilts her head, something subtle under her words that he can't quite place. She sighs, "Like…on the internet?"

Sanji's eyes widen.

"Oh." 

Something about her is familiar, he realizes. She's been on his phone screen more than once, with a saved ASMR tab on his incognito browser. StarlaStreams. He's been listening to her streams for a few weeks now. She's soothing; helps him relax.

"Starla!" He says, surprised, "I'm surprised I didn't recognize you sooner, actually." He steps aside to dispose of the tissues stuffed up his nose. He sniffs, swiping his forearm under his nostrils.

She sways forward, hands held behind her back. She's flirting with him, sweet and silly as can be. "So...is that a like, cool thing?"

Sanji answers without a second thought.

"Yes."

Sanji stares at her, and she preens beneath his gaze. She lets him trace her features with his eyes, swinging her hips side to side.

StarlaStreams is standing in his bedroom. She's not wearing makeup, and she's shorter in person than he would have thought.

He's used to seeing her all set up for her streams: Sailor Moon style wigs and soft pink blushes across her highlighted nose, false lashes batting sparkly at the camera. But now he can see her features as clear as day, suddenly recognizing her soft voice and sweet smile.

She arches an eyebrow, and Sanji feels something akin to fear shoot through his gut (and his dick).

And then something fiery and dark flashes behind her eyes, and she's pounced on top of him, legs wrapping around his waist as she leaps into his arms. His hands go to catch her, supporting her thighs as she sticks her tongue down his throat. She cackles into his mouth.

"Sweet!"

****

[mod-kyoko]

pet hcs part 1: trigger happy havoc

type: non-despair au, general hcs

a/n: just wanted to write something with my own idea before i finish up requests!

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makoto naegi

makoto and komaru each owned a hamster as kids

their parents took them to a pet store and they were both drawn to a specific one, and fought over who would get to name it

makoto, being the older brother, was pressured to just let komaru have that one

so he got another hamster, but komaru ended up liking his more, and more sibling fights ensued

makoto never owned any pets after that, but if he did, he would want a hamster because it reminds him of his childhood

kyoko kirigiri

i've said it before, i'll say it again

kyoko owns a reptile, specifically a bearded dragon

she often allows it to roam her office while she's working

having it out helps her focus

she often likes to scratch its head and under its chin

it's perfect for her because it's chill and quiet

byakuya togami

byakuya would own a great dane 100%

they are very regal dogs, elegant, and strong

they are low maintenance when it comes to grooming

they need a lot of exercise though, but byakuya doesn't mind that

he has many people to take over his business while he takes his great dane on walks

he's very proud of his pet, so much so that he would enter it in competitive dog shows

sayaka maizono

sayaka is a rodent person

someone: "are you a dog person or a cat person?"

sayaka: "no"

sayaka had a guinea pig as a tween, and eventually got it two buddies a few years later

she loves all breeds of guinea pig

hairless, curly, short-haired, long-haired

she loves cuddling with her piggies, nuzzling their noses with her nose, and scratching their heads

kiyotaka ishimaru

an energetic person needs an energetic pet

taka has a sugar glider!

he's obsessed with the way his little glider will jump down from tall objects and fly towards him, perching on his shoulder

the sugar glider goes with him everywhere, always on his shoulder or on top of his head

he definitely cuddles with it and kisses it good night lmfao

celestia ludenberg

yeah celeste has a cat, but she would also totally have a cockatoo

they are very elegant birds, and she loves having elegant things

her bird perches on her finger or shoulder and she loves to give it kisses

she's very protective over her cockatoo, no one else is allowed to touch it

mondo owada

mondo's soft spot is his pet rabbit

he has a lionhead because they look badass

his rabbit is always roaming around the house

it's not mondo's house it's the rabbit's house

he treats the animal likes it's his whole world

the rabbit gets nothing but the yummiest treats and the biggest play area and so many places to explore

he often has the rabbit lay in his lap and sleep, while petting it

sakura ogami

what else would she have but a ferret

two ferrets

they are energetic, fun, and she doesn't mind that they are high maintenance because they are like her children

if you go to sakura's house, just know that there will be tunnels and toys everywhere

the ferrets are always out and playing around, you really gotta be careful where you step and sit

all sakura's friends are always welcome and they're constantly at her place just to play with her pets

hifumi yamada

hifumi has a very grumpy himalayan cat

it doesn't help the fact that he's always dressing the cat in cute and silly costumes

if you go over to hifumis place just know that the cat will hide and you will not be seeing it around ever

in fact, no one believes he even has a cat because no one has ever seen it with their own eyes

but he does have a cat, and it has its own tiktok page

chihiro fujisaki

chihiro has a medium sized aquarium full of all kinds of colorful fish and it is his prized posession

he spends so much time decorating their living space and cleaning their habitat

he's very knowledgeable about fish, too, it's one of his special interests

ask him one question and he'll ramble on about salinity levels in saltwater tanks

he is always posting cute pictures of his tank on social media lmao

yasuhiro hagakure

hiro has a hermit crab because they are cool but also low maintenance

he loves taking it out and watching the little dude crawl around

but it's not supposed to really be a companion, he likes having it for show

nevertheless, he takes really good care of it and is also protective of it

toko fukawa

yeah, toko has a stink bug... yeah

but she also owns other bugs

tarantulas, praying mantises, and even an ant colony

she can't stand people who overly freak out at the sight of a bug, she never understood that fear

they are so calming to look at, and they are just little beings trying to get through life as we are

her ant colony sits on her writing desk so she can watch them all scurry around when she has a block

aoi asahina

leon kuwata

aoi needs a pet that can keep up with her

a golden retriever is perfect

aoi is at the park ALL the time throwing frisbees and tennis balls

she has her dog run next to her while riding a bike

her golden retriever sleeps with her in her bed and she's always with it

leon has a hedgehog because they're cool

he definitely pricked himself a hundred times before he learned how to pet it

shows it off thinking it's gonna get him chicks but it backfires because they are more interested in the hedgehog than him

takes cringe ass selfies with it perched on his shoulder

they wear matching accessories sometimes

junko enoshima

junko is a horse girl and i will die on that hill

her steed is her absolute most prized possession and ALL of her money goes to keeping its coat shiny and mane luscious

also she looks amazing in an equestrian uniform

she rides her horse every day around her own private stable ground

no one and i mean NO ONE is allowed near her steed

enters in equestrian competitions and horse beauty pageants and always. fucking. wins

there is no amount of money she isn't willing to sink into her horse's quality of life

it's stable is all pink and bedazzled

mukuro ikusaba

mukuro obviously has a badass pet

she owns the largest domesticated python in the world

she didn't own a snake expecting it to be her best friend, though she does enjoy its company

it free roams her house sometimes

she has a large respect for the pet, her space is the python's space

she totally lets it crawl over her, wrapping itself around her arms and such and lets it chill there because it likes her body heat

[tired-fandom-ndn]

A basic wizard habitat requires three things:

a tower

books

orbs

The tower should be lockable from the inside, the books should be highly varied but with a primary focus on wizardly things, and the orbs can just be whatever orbs you can find. You can just buy some glass lawn orbs and your wizard will be happy. You know those globes you use to water plants? Some wizards like to put potions or booze in them and suckle from them like hamsters. This is totally normal behavior and should be encouraged.