#it is very whiskery

[thylacines-toybox]

A kiwi by Hansa, bought secondhand online in October 2023.

[sadraccoon061]

I can't help myself making more Pokesims apparently. Here's a Professor Sycamore.

[jukeboxindie]

a commission for @mehoymalloy of very whiskery versions of Silga and Untalla! Thank you for indulging me in my obsession with drawing Horizon characters as cats haha

[writeforfandoms]

Birfday - Din

For my birthday bash!

A friend suggested Din, fluff, and one bed. Well, here's a good mix of all of that. GN!reader, established relationship.

Word count: 668

You woke to warmth, the comfort of your riduur cuddled up behind you. For a moment you simply laid there, soaking in the rare moments when you were awake before Din. His soft breath tickled the back of your neck, one heavy arm still draped over your waist, even as he slumbered. 

You smiled, soft and small and totally indulgent. Maybe, if you were very sneaky and very lucky… 

It took a few minutes of shuffling around, gentle movements, and stifled giggles to get out from under his arm. You stuffed your pillow there instead, watching with amused adoration as he curved around the pillow, snuffling in his sleep, before falling still again. 

Success, this time. 

You snuck into the main room, starting the caf and pulling out food for the three of you. The view through the window showed the sun just over the horizon - much earlier than you normally woke, but worth it to treat your boys this morning. 

The soft sizzle of the pan and your own humming kept you company in the near-silence of the morning. You knew there was nothing in particular going on today. Din might want to make his rounds. 

Or you might tempt him away, just for today. If you got lucky. 

"Smells good in here," came the raspy greeting, even as arms wound around your middle. 

"Breakfast is almost ready," you told him, giving yourself one moment to lean back into the warmth of his embrace. "Now shoo before you burn yourself." The again hung silently in the scant space between you. 

"One time," he grumbled before pressing a whiskery kiss to the side of your neck, just to see your pulse jump. As it always did, for him. "I'll get the kid up." 

You hummed acknowledgement, focusing on plating food for the three of you. 

It wasn't long before happy squeals announced Grogu's presence, accompanied by soft murmurs from Din. You smiled. The sounds were soothing, a non-visual assurance that all was well. 

But the sight was quite nice, too. 

Din's hair was still rumpled from sleep, facial hair getting just long enough that you knew he'd trim it any day now. His soft gray sleep shirt stretched across his shoulders, the collar dipping just enough to give you a tantalizing hint of chest. 

Grogu, on the other hand, appeared wide awake and eager to eat, little hands stretching out towards his plate. The plate in your hand tugged, very gently. 

"Don't you dare, kid," you scolded gently. "Just wait." 

Grogu blew out a rude breath, waving his little hands around. 

"Patience, kid." Din tapped the table in front of the little one. 

Grogu pouted but waited until you set a plate in front of him and planted a kiss on top of his head. You set another plate at Din's place, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Breakfast was quiet and lovely. Din cleaned up, a gentle hand to your shoulder keeping you in your seat. 

You figured after that he'd start gearing up to go. So, naturally, you were preparing counter-arguments. 

What you were not prepared for was Din picking up Grogu and setting him down outside. "Go terrorize the wildlife," Din told the kid. 

Grogu made a delighted noise and immediately toddled off.

Din turned to face you, slowly, hands loose at his sides. His head tipped, just a little. 

Your heartbeat kicked up several notches. 

"Riduur," Din purred, taking one step towards you. You scrambled out of your chair, biting your lip to contain your grin. "You are trouble."

"Me? Trouble?" You stepped slowly away from the table, Din matching you step for step. "No idea what you mean." 

His eyes narrowed, just a little, before he pounced. You yelped, scrambling away from him, breathless laughter catching in your throat, even as your husband effortlessly corralled you back into the bedroom the two of you shared. 

Finally, trapped and breathless from laughing, you conceded defeat with grace. 

After all, you knew his ticklish spots. 

[inuhalfdemon]

No One Can Know...(8/?)

Word Count: 4,299 Words

Rating: Explicit (SMUT)

Chapter 8

"I'm on the very top floor, room 1334

There's a king size bed but we can do it on the floor

Turn your cellphone off, leave a sign on the door

That says 'Do not disturb'."

- Halestorm

Lucifer stepped out from the portal; the swirling golden ring closing behind with a soft pop.

Materializing into Alastor’s room within the Hazbin Hotel, Lucifer found the demon – hands clasped behind his back – nodding to his shadow. The shadow flitted to a nearby wall, silhouetting itself sharply to give Lucifer a large gaping and toothy grin before skidding off underneath the door and out of sight.

“Where is he headed off to?” Lucifer asked, walking to where Alastor stood waiting. He saw that Alastor’s typical delicate rack of little antlers was branched into several largely curved and jutting points – a pristine buck, if there ever was one. 

“To keep watch, guarding the hotel.” Alastor told him.

“I assume you’ve taken…protective measures?” Lucifer asked, glancing back at the door.

“Yes, of course. All proper warding has been done. I’ve also taken the initiative of suggesting to Charlie that a trip to the cinema may be beneficial to everyone’s frayed nerves. The hotel is essentially ours, for the evening.”

Alastor turned; going to the small dining table that he had placed and set for them just beyond the room and within his own personal bayou.

Lucifer briefly noted that Alastor was without his suit jacket and staff – wearing just his long-sleeved red shirt adorned with the black cross and dress pants instead. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his tail poked out from behind. Lucifer saw that it was in its normal small and delicate state, but that there also was a very subtle ridge of standing hairs that ran up the fluffy midline – tip to base.

Looking around; Lucifer took in Alastor’s rather….odd, aesthetic. He had anticipated Alastor’s quarters to be very much like any Overlord’s manner of living: something reflecting a visual demonstration to their status and power. Lucifer didn’t make the connection of: soft jazz playing from a radio, the various skeletons and bones of animals, the style of furniture or the general ambiance that he was appreciating, being something directly from what one might have found in early 1900s New Orleans. Not right away, anyway.

“So…what’s the plans for this evening, anyway? We doing doggy-style? Prone boning? 69? What?” Lucifer followed him in.

“Actually, I thought I might treat you to dinner and wine tonight.” Alastor told him, ignoring his lewdness.

“You, uh…what?” Lucifer asked, caught off guard. “Whoa, wait. Is that a pocket dimension?” Fully noticing the bayou now. “These take an incredible amount of power and an incredible amount of skill to manifest…how did you do it?” He poked his head past the seam between realms; assessing the depth of the dimension on both sides – it seemed infinite in both directions, seamless and well placed. 

“Why, of course, I did it by: using an incredible amount of power and an incredible amount of skill.” Alastor answered him; taking a seat at the table.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Must I reveal all of my secrets to you, your grace?” Alastor asked him. “Now, please join me.”

Lucifer came to the table. Alastor had their meal served and ready for them; a bottle of wine chilling in some ice.

“Oh, crumpets.” Lucifer blurted. “I nearly forgot.” Doing an exaggerated whirl of the hand; he produced a large bottle into his hand. “I’ve had a case of this in my possession for quite some time. I have never tried it myself; but knowing you have a taste for Cajun...” Lucifer offered it to Alastor. “I’m told it is rather rare.”

Alastor took the bottle and his eyebrows shot up. “Rare, indeed. I’d have had trouble finding this even while I was alive.”

Snapping his fingers; Alastor sent the wine and ice away, producing two whiskery glasses in its place. “This will pair much better with our meal tonight. A Sazerac rye always goes nicely with a good Jambalaya.”  

Lucifer sat down. “The very same Jambalaya that Charlie has gone on and on about?”

“Yes. My mother’s recipe, bless her soul.” Alastor opened the Sazerac, pouring them each three fingers worth into the glasses. “It does…have a bit of a kick to it.”

Lucifer took his glass; offering a small toast to Alastor before taking a sip. “Well, I should hope so.”

Alastor gestured to their plates; nodding his head – a clear indication that they should dig in. Lucifer nearly dropped his fork after the first bite; the explosion of flavor across his tongue was…indescribable.

“Well, if that look doesn’t stroke my ego.” Alastor chuckled into his glass, sipping at his Sazerac.

“It’s…it’s…” Lucifer was having trouble forming thoughts.

Alastor laughed. “I believe I’ve rendered my King speechless. There is no higher compliment to be given to a chef, truly.” He smirked, lifting his own fork to his lips.

“You may call me, ‘Lucifer’, Al. Or even ‘Luci’.” Lucifer told him. “However…I do dislike the name ‘Luc’…”

“A most unpleasant name, to be sure.” Alastor allowed him. “So, tell me…Lucifer…how are things? You seem less rested since I last saw you.” It was days ago that Alastor had departed the King’s residence. Seven weeks before the next extermination, three weeks before Charlie’s arranged and upcoming meeting with Heaven.

Lucifer shrugged, finishing a bite of the food. “I don’t sleep well. I never have but, with Lilith gone…I hardly get any sleep at all.”

“What…methods have you utilized?” Alastor asked him.

“Everything.” Lucifer sighed. “Honestly…the one thing that always helped was Lili’s songs. You know that she sung? What it did?”

“Doesn’t everyone in Hell know that?” Alastor asked him. “Even if they haven’t had the pleasure of hearing it?”

“I’d like to think so.” Lucifer admitted.

“You know, I always found our Queen’s talents very inspirational. I am sorry that we have had to go so long without such moving music.”

“Me too.” Lucifer said softly, staring at his whiskey glass.

“How is Charlie feeling about the upcoming meeting with Heaven?” Alastor asked him.

“You would know better than I.” Lucifer told him. “I don’t…I don’t really hear from her.”

“Oh?” Alastor knew that to be the case before…but he found it rather odd that Lucifer and Charlie were not currently talking now.  “Have you reached out to her?”

“I…can’t. Not properly, anyway.” Lucifer took a large swallow from his glass. “I can’t discuss anything regarding her plans involving the hotel. It makes conversations that we have seem very…one-sided. Understandably, she becomes frustrated and I’m sure she thinks that I’m being distant or that I just become bored with what she really wants to discuss with me. I’ve tried. I really have but I end up floundering for the words and it all becomes awkward and misunderstood.”

“Why is that exactly?” Alastor asked him. “My deal with you shouldn’t have given you that much grief. The stipulation that I required was that you don’t interfere with my work here. Surely you should be able to carry out a conversation with your daughter.”

“It’s not our deal that causes it.” Lucifer told him. “It’s the deal I made with Lilith.”

“Come again?”

“Lilith essentially invoked a…similar…stipulation. I’m sworn to secrecy – the exception, of course, being you – I can’t interfere with any matters that could detriment Lilith’s plans. That’s why I sent Charlie to the meeting with Adam and it’s why I cannot discuss the hotel or any of Charlie’s plans relating to it specifically. She also required that I do not…interfere…in things.”

“Damn….ok.”

“The last thing I said to Charlie…the last conversation that we had in regard to the hotel, this dream she has, the redemption of sinners…all before I agreed to stand by Lilith; it wasn’t good. I said things to her that I didn’t really mean, tried to steer her away from Heaven’s gaze. Lilith assured me that Charlie is ready for this, that this is the time for her to come into her own – become the Princess of Hell that she was always meant to be… I trust Lilith, I really do but I…I just wish that I could tell Charlie that what I said…it wasn’t true.”

“Yes, well…” Alastor swirled his glass; having very nearly cleared his plate. “You’ve shown your support to her cause now, regardless. At least, as much as you are able. I’m sure Charlie recognizes the value in that.”

“But, I should have been there for her since day one.” Lucifer tells him, narrowing his gaze on Alastor.

“Perhaps.” Alastor merely shrugged, ignoring the venom in Lucifer’s look. “But, how much would it have changed anyway? We’re here now. Charlie is fulfilling her dream; she has the hotel, she has sinners – however few – willing to give this whole redemption idea of hers a shot, she has the meeting with heaven, she has you and Lilith both fighting together for her cause – what more could possibly be done?”

Lucifer had no answer to this, not at present.

“Would it…help,” Alastor set his glass down now, looking directly at Lucifer. “If I were to…suggest to Charlie that she reach out to you? Not to discuss the hotel, the meeting with Heaven or anything of that like but…maybe, to discuss how to carry oneself in the face of intimidation, turmoil, and….upheaval? The girl lacks something in her use of confidence, particularly in establishing some level of authority. Her meeting with Adam did not lend her many favors.”

“I appreciate the suggestion but I’m hardly the one she should turn to. She gets that from me.”

“Lucifer…if I may be so bold: You are the King of Hell. You are the very embodiment of Pride. This wallowing, this…self-loathing is unbecoming to one who should invoke nothing but fear to those who dare to so much as utter your name. What’s more, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Ok…you really want to talk about Pride?” Lucifer leveled his gaze on Alastor. “Tell me, have you managed to cycle out of your rut yet?”

Alastor tilted his head back, tweaking one ear. “You know very well that I haven’t.” He gestured to his intricate crown of antlers. “What the hell does that have to do w –?“

“You never called on me. After leaving. You’re still in rut; we have an agreement in place for such things.”

“It is easily managed now.” Alastor lifted his glass to his lips.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how pleasant you’ve been tonight, how…relaxed. You see, I find that very interesting. When it was you who told me yourself that avoidance would not be the solution to your…problem.”

Alastor’s ears pulled back.

“So, your plan now is what….to just wait things out? I mean, I’d love to keep playing this little game of ‘fuck buddies’ with you forever, but -”

“Don’t call it that…” Alastor hissed, bristling.

“You are so set upon holding onto this illusion of control that you have created for yourself that you’ve made yourself become incredibly short-sighted.”

“Please….do enlighten me.” Alastor’s eyes glowed softly red.

 “Gladly.” Lucifer stood up; leaning over the table now. “You are denying your body and yourself something that is a biological need; something that you – in fact – require…just for the simple fact that…you’d rather not!?”

“I told you…sex holds no interest to me.”

“When you’re not in rut.” Lucifer emphasized. “That’s been established. I can’t say that I’ll be here in the next seven years when you decide to stop playing at abstinence.”

“I never said-“

“You didn’t have to! I already knew!” Lucifer’s voice was rising. “You knew I’m much more experienced than you and you knew that I was familiar with Cervidae demons – was it really so hard to assume that I might know that a rut happens far more frequently than what you were leading me to believe!?”

 “The point, you are trying so hard to convey to me is…?” Alastor asked him, clearly not pleased.

“You think that by denying yourself something this important, putting yourself through this much grief and discomfort; it gives you control.”

Alastor waited; offering no comments.

“But, it makes you weak.”

Alastor tilted his head; eyes glinting. “You want to say that again?” Alastor stood up from the table himself now; glaring down at Lucifer.

“Prove me wrong.” Lucifer challenged him. “Void our deal.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You’ve got fucking big ears, you heard me.” Lucifer told him, standing up and walking around the table now. “Void our deal. If you don’t need me anymore, why waste my time? You have so much control over the situation; I’m sure you’ll have no problems in fulfilling your end of things with Lilith so that she can give you whatever the fuck it is you are wanting from all of this.” 

Lucifer stopped and Alastor turned to face him. 

“I’ll even agree to your…stipulation.” Lucifer said, holding out his hand. “No interference from me…whatsoever.”

Alastor hesitated; considering the offer that was being made to him.

“You really want to know what control….true power…is, Alastor?” Lucifer asked him; looking up at him with a steady gaze. “It’s knowing your limits.”

Alastor smirked, looking skeptical.

“I’m being deadly serious about that.” Lucifer told him. “If you know your limits…you know to make the accommodations – to do the things that are required to ensure your success. Be clever. Be calculative. Do what’s required to see this rut finished and be done with it, Al, or…let it consume you.”

Lucifer was still holding out his hand; eyes on Alastor.

Alastor’s eyes were on Lucifer’s hand and then his gaze shifted to the King’s.

“Your choice.” Lucifer told him, waiting.

“I….decline.” Alastor told him; eyes shifting sideways. His ears leant back.

There was a moment between them; neither of them saying anything…then:

“You know…” Lucifer was taking a risk here, knowing that Alastor’s pride may have sustained too much damage tonight already.  “It was very clever of you…” Lucifer pressed in, bringing himself very close to Alastor now, but not quite touching him. “…to use some lovely bit of forethought in ensuring that you and I would be left all alone tonight.”

Alastor’s head tilted, ears standing straight. Lucifer couldn’t see it, but his tail had started moving; quickly swishing back and forth in a betraying wag.

 “It makes one wonder…” Lucifer pressed in even closer now and Alastor felt a light heat flooding into his face. Alastor leant back slightly, feeling the edge of the dining table pressing into his lower back.. “…if it was only dinner you were planning, why bother? Perhaps, you wanted to leave our evening together open to more…possibilities?”

Alastor swallowed.

Gotcha…thought Lucifer.

A tense moment passed. Lucifer was waiting for Alastor to offer up his response.

Then, “I won’t ask you to touch me, if that’s what you are waiting for…and I don’t do begging.” Alastor told him.

“No one ever said that you must – at least – not with me.” Lucifer told him. “There are other ways that for you to tell me exactly what you want, Alastor. For example…”

Lucifer stepped into Alastor now; their bodies making contact with each other’s. Placing a hand on Alastor’s lower abdomen, he slid it low so that just the tips of his fingers were pressed beneath the waistband to Alastor’s dress pants.

Alastor gasped, his body tensing – in a rather lovely way. His face properly reddened at the touch.

“You see, I’m a master of many languages, my friend.” Lucifer was telling him. “One of which being…” Lucifer slid his hand lower and Alastor leant himself further back at the feeling of his arousal. “…the oh-so-honest tongue of body language…”

 Lucifer found Alastor’s member; brushing it with just the tips of his fingers. The appendage was twitching…moving….lifting …

“You always have the option of telling me ‘no’...or that this is not what you want…” Lucifer continued; feeling Alastor shudder against him. “Or, you may command me. Imagine that…the actual King of Hell…fully and completely at your disposal – ready to fulfill whatever dark and twisted fantasy you could ever…envisage.”

Lucifer’s fingers wrapped around Alastor’s twitching penis; taking him fully within hand. Alastor bent back further; his pelvis tilting forward.

“You’re looking at me with such a lovely expression, Alastor…” Lucifer leaned into him; head tilting so that he was starring up at the sinner with glinting eyes.

Lucifer gripped Alastor. Using his free hand; he slid the waistband down and pulled Alastor out. His fingers kneading and stroking into the firming muscle.

Alastor’s lower jaw popped open and his breathing hitched; his face growing redder…

“Tell me to stop…” Lucifer breathed; resting his head against Alastor’s chest and looking up at him.

“Ahhhhhh….” Alastor pelvis jerked; he groaned and Lucifer began slowly pumping.

“Tell me that this is not what you want…” Lucifer hissed; smiling now.

Alastor’s ears fell back, his antlers stretched themselves high overhead. He was gripping the edge to the dining table with such force, he thought that he might actually break it.

Thrusting; he threw back his head – gasping…panting.

Lucifer’s grip tightened; feeling Alastor’s climb about to end. One final thrust and Alastor’s seed was in his hand.

Shivers of pleasure jolting through him; Alastor slumped against the table; he had left gouges in the surface of it where his claws had been. He was breathing heavily; watching Lucifer as the angel stepped away – looking at Alastor with a dark gaze - licking the cum from between his fingers.   

With a growl, Alastor pushed himself off from the table – going for Lucifer.

Lucifer tilted his head up and Alastor embraced him; his mouth pressing hard against his as cool shadows fully engulfed them.

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Alastor had moved them to the bedroom. Skillfully; he had landed them into the bed…Lucifer pressed beneath him – facing him - into the mattress. He had also done them the honors of disrobing them both.

Well, Al…who knew you could be such a smooth operator…Lucifer thought, as they kissed with uncharacteristic fervor.

Alastor slid his tongue between parted lips and Lucifer groaned at the suggestive movements it made inside his mouth. When it retreated; Lucifer bit down sharply on Alastor’s lower lip – pulling it.

Alastor pulled his face back. Eyes sharpening into a bright red and glowing predatory gaze, he snarled loudly. His body went rigid; ears perfectly straight with standing hair.

But, just as quickly – the ferality was gone.

The glowing crazed look left Alastor’s eyes and his ears dropped. Alastor shifted; going to pull himself away.

“Alastor, it’s fine.” Lucifer gripped him by the arms; keeping him there.

Alastor made to pull himself away from the King’s hold but found that he couldn’t…

 “Really, Al….it’s ok.” Lucifer told him; looking at him. “Do you need to shift form? We could go somewhere else…”

“No, I…” Alastor wasn’t looking at him. “I should be more manageable but, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be….myself.”

Lucifer let go of him then, releasing his arms. He took Alastor’s face between both hands; forcing the demon’s eyes to meet his.

“Whatever you need…I’m here.” His thumb stroked Alastor’s cheek and the sinner melted into his hands – into the touch.

Sighing; Alastor let the tension leave his body – a ripple running up his spine.

Lucifer shifted with him; his long black devil’s tail and horns coming out to play.

Alastor’s change wasn’t dramatic; his antlers were heavier; his teeth were sharper and he was both larger and lankier than what would be considered normal for him…but, he certainly was no eldritch demon this time.

Alastor’s long limbs set him over Lucifer; his frame leaning and wavering over the angel lying beneath him. His face was all teeth as he bore down on Lucifer; a gaping and twisted grin.

Lucifer laughed; sliding to sit himself up so that he might get a better look at this new deer demon form of Alastor’s.

“Well, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you big boy?” Lucifer told him appreciatively and he saw that Alastor’s tail was quickly flicking back and forth at this. “Just look at those teeth.” Lucifer stuck both thumbs into the corners of Alastor’s mouth; the demon dropped his jaw, exposing his rows of incredibly sharp fangs.

“I suppose you’ll want to use those on me…” Lucifer said softly, his devil’s tail lifting; snaking itself up and across Alastor’s chest.

Alastor’s eyes gleamed, drool seeping from between teeth.

“I might just let you too…after some fun.” Lucifer’s eyes glowed a soft yellow. “Can’t have that cute little lightweight ass of yours ruining our good time, can we?”

Alastor huffed, flicking his head and dislodging Lucifer’s thumbs from his mouth.

Lucifer leant himself back; eyes on Alastor.

“So…what are you going to do to me?”

Placing a large clawed hand across the angel’s chest, Alastor pressed down – pushing him firmly into the mattress. Lucifer smirked at Alastor’s claws – digging into his skin – not quite piercing through the flesh.

Holding him there; Alastor leant in – long tongue lolling from his mouth.

Glowing red eyes on Lucifer; he pressed his smiling face with sharpened teeth close and began to lick him – his tongue taking long and steady strokes all across his chest and abdomen – tasting the angel. In between strokes; Alastor was huffing – moving puffs of warm air across heated and wet skin – causing a very carnal and pleasant sort of sensation. Alastor’s musk drifted off of him; filling the room with his amorous odor.

Lucifer’s face reddened at this; tension building and sending him arching backward.

Fuck…

Alastor’s huffing and licking continued – his face pressing into Lucifer’s neck and nuzzling him. Prickles of pleasure ran through Lucifer; he was fully erect now and he could see that Alastor had plainly recovered himself as well.

Lucifer groaned; lifting a hand to find the base to one of Alastor’s antlers. Alastor was licking, huffing, nuzzling and sucking at the base of his neck now. Lucifer felt an incredibly building heat…his face and chest flushing in a brilliant red.

“What-what are you doing to me?” He arched further backward and Alastor’s low growl was one of approval.  

Alastor’s musk was driving him crazy. Lucifer’s heart was slamming in his chest; his eyes were so dilated that his vision was blurring – he felt like his blood was absolutely boiling and rushing all throughout his body.

“Mmphg…” Lucifer squirmed; pleasure overpowering his senses.

This….this is….

He was losing his train of thought.

Alastor was moving; his clawed hand lifting from Lucifer’s chest. He was lifting and turning Lucifer’s hips; trying to coax him to turn over.

Lucifer obliged and Alastor’s clawed hands carefully guided him into the desired position. Face down, ass up – Lucifer felt confident in knowing where this was headed. Alastor grasped Lucifer’s long, black tail – pulling it softly outward; the flesh of it sliding through his fingers, and then he lifted it upward so that it was limply raised. Lucifer – thoroughly flushed now – pressed his reddened face into the covers of the bed – winding his tail through the branches of Alastor’s antlers.

Doing something unexpected - to Lucifer - Alastor leaned in. Lucifer’s tail stiffened in surprise as Alastor’s face pressed close to his entrance, warm air puffing against him as Alastor continued his huffing breaths. Before Lucifer could fully register the implication of this; Alastor’s tongue – long and twisting - entered him. Lucifer’s back bent at a sharp angle and he garbled out some incoherent noise of surprise and pleasure at feeling Alastor’s gift of sliding and wet warmth moving through him.

Oh, this isn’t just fun we’re having…Lucifer was thinking. This…this is good.

Alastor gave him another growl of approval; the vibrations of it sending ripples of stimulation through and against Lucifer’s heat. Lucifer choked out a gasp; feeling Alastor’s wriggling tongue touching and pressing against sensitive tissue; his claws dug into the bedcovers, and he began to moan with a neediness he couldn’t have guessed that he was capable of. Alastor’s face was pressed tightly to him; growling and grunting as he continued on, performing his dirty work.

Alastor’s musk had become sharper; more concentrated and Lucifer felt incredibly but wonderfully dizzy from the effects it had on him. Pressed how he was, in this position – he could feel his own member – erect and throbbing; absolutely seeping against his own abdomen and threatening to release.

Pulling his tongue back; Alastor was ready to mount.

He shifted position. Clawed fingers dragging softly across Lucifer’s tail; he gently moved it aside. Lucifer coiled it firmly around Alastor’s thigh; bracing himself to be penetrated.  But, when Alastor slid himself in – it was done with such sweet and gentle slowness that Lucifer felt nothing, but a milk-and-honey type of pleasure consume him.   

Alastor moved slowly….purposefully; clawed hands steadying Lucifer’s hips as he bent himself forward. Taking his hands away from the angel’s waist; Alastor laid himself fully over Lucifer’s frame; his hands finding the bed so that his arms could give him a better leverage in his thrusts and support his weight to give them room.

Lucifer anticipated Alastor’s movements to become rougher….faster but, they didn’t. Instead, Alastor moved inside Lucifer with slow and even strokes; his long and curved penis entering and pressing into him in just the perfect way.

Lost in pleasure…Lucifer felt Alastor’s growls turn into purring grunts as the deer demon worked at nuzzling and nipping at Lucifer’s back and his shoulders, crooning to him his immense gratification.

He’s not just fucking me…he’s….breeding me.  Like I’m his little doe…

There was a sharp jut to Alastor’s movement and Lucifer felt him strike gold. Lucifer cried out at the flood of sensual pleasure and Alastor jutted himself into him again. Lucifer was the first to be pushed over the edge; his cum spraying onto himself and into the sheets. Feeling Lucifer growing limp beneath him; Alastor bent himself further forward; thrusting two more times before releasing his own load fully into the King.

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If anyone catches my little reference that I made here to my previous fanfic : "Dirty Dealings": You deserve the gold-est of stars!!!

Chapter 9

[crispy-ghee]

Shishi/Pahak Redesign

Decided that Shishi was Cousin's half-brother recently and so redesigning him a little bit to look more like he's half-Dakh, half-Bid'ha. Isei had an idea that the Bid'ha could have crocodilian skin in some parts, as well as those little whiskery beardy things, so I took those ideas. Also messed w/ his crest a little bit.

He is the weirdo of the family. Despite his towering size and his abilities making it so he could do very well among the yautja, he has more or less withdrawn from participating in 'normal' yautja society and instead pursues the feeling of glory and vanity that comes with some humans considering him something of a deity.

Cousin hates it when he visits. He never announces himself either, he just shows up.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Homecoming

I'm on a roll, folks. Something about Captain Price has just hit right in my brain so, without further ado, smut #2!!

tagging: @deadbranch and @glitterypirateduck (hope this one lives up to the first lol)

18+ Minors DNI - smut (P in V sex, oral both M! and F! receiving, mild hair pulling, praise kink, creampie)

Up in her bedroom, packing a bag as she so often found herself doing before her next mission, set to travel halfway around the globe, the doorbell of her townhouse chimed and Rory was stolen from her train of thought. She wasn't expecting company. John wasn't due back for at least another week. Gut instinct told her better safe than sorry and grabbing the handgun she kept in the back of her closet, she slipped it down the back of the waistband of her leggings. To most it would be deemed an overreaction, the act of a paranoid mind, but times were changing, their enemies becoming more brazen, and she was taking no chances. 

Moving from her bedroom, creeping downstairs to the door, she slowly approached it and checked the peephole. Surprised to find the whiskery face and blue eyes she knew so well warped by the fish-eye lens, she let out a small sigh of relief and swung the door open. Met by his grin and the creases it made in his brow and around his eyes, all of her stress melted away.  

“Hello, love.” Thick, muscular arms sprung around her like a steel trap, squeezing her in a bear hug against his chest, blanketing her in cigar smoke and the brine of his sweat clinging to his skin. He had just come from the base, but she didn’t much care, she'd always appreciated the musk he carried with him of a hardworking soldier in the trenches. His whiskers scratched against her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her, the taste of smoke on his breath, and scotch – the mission must have been very successful. 

Their lips met in slow, heated kisses as he dropped the heavy duffel from his shoulder at the door and lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. “Mission went well, I take it?” she mumbled against his mouth, glad to see him in one piece.

“It did.” Abrupt. She knew he had no interest in discussing his work, not when she was right there after so long. He kicked the front door shut with the tap of his boot against it, holding her tighter to him, swallowing her up in his embrace. Returning after a mission, he was always a different man. A desperate urge to work off the stress and the pain and the violence that filled his days overtook him, and he put his passion into different pursuits. Pawing at her ass with his big hands, he grabbed at her cheeks like they were a meal, squeezing at the flesh and the fat. A rumble growing deep in his chest. "I missed this arse," he mumbled into her ear as he pressed kisses to her neck and jaw. "Nothing quite like it, you know that?"

“Yeah?” She nuzzled her face against his neck, kissing him softly, trailing up to his ear, her tongue dragging against the outer shell of it. “What else did you miss about me?”

John whispered all the things he thought about doing to her while he was away into her ear, his timbre rich and deep as his bulge pressed up against her. The low growl growing in his chest letting her know he was getting desperate. His hands traveled up her hips and trailed along the small of her back when the cold metal of the butt of her gun chilled his warm fingers. His eyes widened slightly, but he was quick to make light of the situation. "Already have protection too, eh?"

“A good soldier is always prepared,” she said with a smile against his lips, parting them with her tongue. Needy for him, hungry after far too long apart. Rory cupped his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, soft sighs slipping from her each time their lips parted. 

He carried her up the steps, and even without seeing where he was going, there was no fear of falling. Her house was home and he knew it like the back of his hand. With each lift of his thick thighs, she was forced to grind up against him only increasing the ache she felt. Any minute now she’d be his.

Tossing her onto the bed beside her duffel, the piles of folded clothing bounced beside her. She pulled the gun from her jeans, and put it on the bedside table before grabbing him by the belt and dragging him on top of her. Looking up into his eyes, the steely gaze of the soldier was nowhere to be seen, instead there was only desire – his pupils blown wide as he lay on top of her. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, love.” Eyes flitting over her face, he grinned. “Just gorgeous.”

“You’re already on top of me, John. You don’t have to woo me.” Her smirk grew as she kissed him again. Rushing to undo the buttons of his coat, her hands slipped in under the sherpa lining to roam over the muscles of his back. 

“Just want to get right to the action, eh?”

Rory had no need to say anything, instead bucking her hips up to grind against him, feeling his erection pressing against her. She'd used up all her patience waiting for him. Taking it slow was not on the menu. Not now. Not when he was right there. 

Price pulled away to strip off his coat, tossing his beanie to the other side of the room. His stare roaming over her as she rolled her leggings down and kicked them off. Pulling off her top, she tossed it over the bed and lay there in front of him in only her bra and underwear. “You know if you’d told me you were coming home I might have actually had the time to put on something nice for you. Could’ve at least worn some lingerie.”

“I don’t need all that, darling,” his voice was a deep rumble as he drew closer. “Not right now. Not when you look as good as you do, Ror.” Their mouths met in a deep kiss, and he sucked and nibbled on her lower lip.

Sitting up, she popped open the button on his pants, pulling down the fly teasingly slow. Looking up at him, licking her lips, her fingers glided over the outline of his hard cock. “I can tell you missed me,” she purred, and pulled down his pants and boxers. 

His cock was already beaded with pre-cum. Throbbing and thick. She curled her fingers around the head and ran her tongue up the length of his shaft from base to tip, all while watching him with her big, hazel eyes. His legs stiffened as a shiver coursed through him and his head tipped back, a low groan slipping from him. His hands wrapped into her hair as her mouth started to bob up and down against him. Warm and wet and welcoming. 

“Fucking hell, Rory,” the words fell from him breathily, as he gripped the back of her head a little harder, knotting his fingers in her hair. His hips thrusting forward, rocking his cock deeper into her mouth, her saliva dripping around his length. “Christ,” he rasped. 

She pulled away with a wet pop, rubbing her fingers against her mouth and chin as she huffed out a laugh. “Too much for you?”

“No. Well, yes. but god, I mean that in the best possible way.” He leaned down, breathless, his face turning red and flushed, and cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her. “I’d rather not waste this moment.” His mouth opened as he gazed at her, his throat bobbing as his mind raced with all the things he’d thought of while he was a thousand miles away from her. “I need you. So fucking badly.” He licked his lips. “Right now.”

Without skipping a beat, she rolled over onto her stomach and bent over the bed, smiling at him from over her shoulder. She lifted her ass like an invitation, shaking her hips at him. Her panties were already soaked and clinging to her folds, and like a man possessed he couldn’t help himself, tearing them right off of her. His hand pressed to her back, pushing her into the mattress as he knelt down, shoving his face in between her thighs. His beard burning at her soft flesh as his tongue moved along her cunt. Fingers digging into her hip as his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked. Rory moaned, the blanket clutched in her fists as he ate her out like he’d been starved. Squeezing her eyes shut as a rough hand trailed down her spine sending sparks through her nerves.

“Fuck,” she whined as her body went rigid, her thighs trying to clamp down around him. Hot breath fanned against her folds as he chuckled softly against her but didn’t let up. Fucking her with his tongue until she was soaking wet and her thighs were drenched. Her eyes rolled back into her head as her orgasm tore through her. “John, please,” she mewled into the bedding.

He pressed kisses to the inside of her thighs, his tongue dragging up to the curve of her ass, before nibbling at the cheek. “Too much for you, love?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

“You are such a bastard.”

He laughed and rose to stand behind her, snaking a hand under her, finding her breasts and squeezing them as he toyed with her nipples through the material of her bra. “You like it though, don’t you, Rory?” His voice was thick, heavy with lust.

She began to pant as his other hand curved over her hip and slipped down her front to rest on the apex of her thighs, rubbing at her clit. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

“That’s my good girl.” Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he buried himself into her. His mouth pressed to her throat, breathing her in. Her warm and spicy perfume, the vanilla of her shampoo and body wash. Comforting and sweet. His thrusts were hard, voracious, like he needed to take all of her in that moment. Consumed by his need for her. Insatiable. 

Pinned to the bed, she curved her hips up to allow him to go deeper, to fill her completely. Her head was spinning, lost in the rhythmic timing he kept up, his pace constant – chasing his need. Crying out as it became too much, she lifted her hips up further off the bed and he only sank deeper into her until he was completely lost to his desire. 

Grunting and groaning as he fucked into her, he sucked on her neck, pressing lazy kisses along her throat. “I missed you so much, Ror. God, I missed you,” he mumbled to her. 

His chest was pressed tight to her back, his sweat dripping down his brow. He couldn't take the heat building up between them any longer. Pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the floor, the hair on his chest glistened with sweat. Caging her in again, his hands roamed over her soft, supple flesh as she writhed below him. 

“I’m…I’m going to cum again,” she whimpered as her muscles tightened, restricting. Her walls clenching around him as he stretched her, fucking his shape into her, holding him inside her. Her nails dragged along the blankets and she gasped as she swore she could see stars. Head falling to the mattress, she tried to catch her breath. His thrusts only coming quicker. 

“I’m not far behind,” he moaned. 

Grabbing his hip, holding him in against her, slowing his thrusts until he was barely rocking in and out of her. She begged, “Cum in me. Please, cum in me.” 

“‘Course, love.” 

As if she even needed to ask. He was all too happy to please her. To remain inside her. John’s pace quickened. Bare skin slapped loudly, and the wet sounds of her cunt as his cock slid in and out of her filled the room. “Fuck!” His biceps flexed, his ass clenched, and he thrust himself into her balls deep as his hot cum coated her inside. Price froze, his forehead resting against her shoulder as rumbling grunts fell from his lips. Hot breath fanning over her skin as her sweat began to cool and he scattered soft kisses along her shoulders and neck. His heart thumped against her, his pulse traveling through her skin as he held her tight against him. “I love you,” he whispered against her. Sucking on the lobe of her ear, he continued, “you know that, right?”

“I know,” she spoke softly, her grip finally loosening on the blanket below her. “I love you too.”

[drivinmeinsane]

So I can't stop thinking about when I bought my minx coat Ken and these where the frequently bought together items.

I'm left imagining a Ken left out on a dog tie only being thrown very expensive Pecans as sustenance. It's haunting me and I think someone should write it as a way to exorcise this demon from my mind (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

I now require all requests to be as delightedly weird as this one. Thank you for sending this in and making me get it done. I had a blast writing this. <3

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: He’s got no money. He’s got no car. He’s got no house. He’s got artisanal pecans.

※ Rating: G for generally upsetting all audiences

※ Word count: 853

The screen door creaks obnoxiously as you shove it open and step down onto your back porch. You barely have the time to let it shut behind you before a blond man comes barreling towards you on all fours. Ken all but tackles you in his excitement.

“Easy, Ken, easy,” you admonish.

He settles at your feet, chastised, faux mink coat spilling around him. His glittery blue collar is in sharp contrast to the gray fur. His tag jingles against the clip at the end of his tether. It’s a necessary precaution to keep him from wandering too far. Despite all his protests otherwise, you know he would be liable to set out on a three hour walk to some unknown location and take another three hours to return only with some misguided ideals in his head.

You run a gentle hand through his hair. He leans up into your touch, clearly enjoying the sensation of your nails against his scalp. He would gladly be petted all day if possible.

“I brought you something,” you say with a smile.

You give the bag of expensive pecans that you’re holding in your hand a shake, drawing the blond’s attention to it. After careful research, making sure to do a deep dive on each company, you were sure you had found the best pecans to give your hungry boy as a treat. He was so fond of dried fruit and glazed nuts that you would be shocked if he didn’t like the Sahale Snacks® pecans in the ‘Valdosta’ variety.

Ken puts his hands on your legs, forgetting himself in his delight. He’s almost panting in his eagerness for the treat in your grasp. You can’t allow bad behavior so you step back, dislodging his hold. “Off, Ken. You know better.”

He immediately pulls his hands away. He rests them against the outdoor rug, digging his fingers into short fibers in the effort to contain himself. A wide smile spreads across his face when you praise him for obeying. He loves nothing more than to make you happy. He can’t help the wiggle his body does in excitement as you open the bag and stick your hand in to grab a small handful of the mix. The crinkling noise has his rapt attention. The glaze is sticky on your fingers.

You withdraw your hand and offer him his good boy treat. He props himself on his knees and makes eye contact, he waits patiently for your permission. You give him an encouraging nod. He presses his mouth into your cupped hand and eats the pecans. His lips are soft against your palm and there’s a whiskery hint of his stubble. You feel the wet brush of his tongue as he seeks out every crumb.

He pulls back, a thoughtful look in his usually vacant, blue eyes. “Is it me or do these pecans just get dreamier and dreamier?” he asks, his tone a little congested with emotion.

“That’s because they’re Sahale Snacks® pecans. They’re a nicer brand than you’ve been getting.”

He looks stunned that you upgraded him from the Great Value™ Dried Cranberries & Candied Pecans to this new brand. From a salad topper to an actual glazed nut mix? It’s like you had just given him the world, like you respected him in a way that was beyond ordinary®.

You offer him another small handful and he all but lunges for them. The kneeling man finds a cranberry amongst the nuts and lets out a pleased groan. He vacuums up every morsel. You giggle a little at the way his eager snuffling against your skin tickles. He looks at the bag in your other hand and his eyes inexplicably start to well up with tears. Before you can reach out to give him a soothing pet, he bursts into hysterical sobs.

"Don't look at me!" He's crying. He's actually crying over the pecans.

"That good, huh?" You ask gently.

He nods, sniffling pathetically as he swallows. “They’re sublime.”

You take a seat on the patio and set the bag aside. You give your leg a coaxing pat and suddenly, Ken’s on your lap like an overzealous dog. You take it in stride.

“You’re a good boy, Ken.”

He whines at the praise. You follow up your approval with a scritch under his jaw. He squirms delightedly, almost getting tangled in his tether. He rolls over for a belly scratch and you oblige him. You almost think his foot is going to start kicking, he’s that into it. You let him lay across your legs for a while, letting him enjoy the aftertaste of the glazed mix and your affectionate petting. All things must come to and end though, and before long you’re encouraging the man off of you. He scrambles to his hands and knees and gives you a betrayed look that’s not eased by a smoothed over his head. His coat is slipping down, revealing a bare shoulder. You grasp the material and straighten it before getting ready to go back in the house.

“I’ll see you later. Be good. I know you pecan.”

[torturedblue]

Ya know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the expedited aging factor from mutation and wondering how they might use it more in Mutant Mayhem/Tales of the TMNT…

Idk if many people caught it because it actually took me so many watches before I started thinking about the aging timelines of the turtles and the other mutants despite being mutated at the same time and age(ish), but it catches my attention every time I watch the movie

I started wondering why Superfly and his siblings were all already adults while the turtles are still teenagers. Plus, Splinter regales that he was in his early 20’s when he was a pre-mutated rat. And yet when we see him mutated 15 later older he seems to already be more in his 60’s or 70’s with his white hairs and massive balding and less teeth, not like someone who’s actually only in their mid to late 40’s.

And it finally hit me. “Because I was older, I became older rat man. You guys was babies, so you stayed baby turtle creatures. If you think about that, it couldn’t make more sense!”

For the longest time this line kind of struck me as strange because it seemed Splinter was simply explaining that he stayed older than them in his mutation, and that they stayed babies of course. Which like, that’s obvious. Why have a line about it? It finally hit me that Splinter said he became an older rat, not in relation to the boys, but to his age pre-mutation. At first when he mutated he still looked pretty young, and in the Eye Know montage we see him develop his huge curly fro, then become the bald, whiskery white-haired rat who needs glasses by the time the turtles are done training. The mutation aged him up at a faster rate somehow and the line clarifies that, but that it had no effect on the turtles.

Which means it also affected the other mutants that same way, because they’re strangely closer to their own age group more in the 30’s or 40’s maybe.

Not to mention, there are varying levels of strength too. I mean Superfly is the toughest mutant around and dude was on that level since he was a baby. Rocksteady couldn��t even take him on and it was literally a rhino against a super buff fly lol. Maybe there’s something to be said about the fact that he’s the oldest too/the first one mutated. And strangely, when the blue “de-mutantizing” goes into his bloodstream he’s turned back into a regular fly looking more like how he did as his baby self 🤔

Maybe the way everyone was exposed to the ooze had varying effects on each of them. Superfly and his siblings were experimented on and created much more intentionally, seen floating in their canisters of ooze in the beginning scene. The turtles were exposed slightly more indirectly, and then Splinter even further removed with how little ooze he was exposed to. It does seem that between all the mutants there’s varying in age; Superfly as a baby was very astute and calculated, while the turtles were still hardly aware of much going on around them when the vial of ooze had splattered all over them. But it’s also harder to tell the exact ages of babies.

This whole aging element is something completely new introduced in this version of turtles, and honestly you have to question what led the writers/creators to make such an interesting change. I’m so excited and curious to see them explore this factor in the future and why it works the way it did with Splinter, the older mutants, and not the turtles. I think they could do some really interesting stuff with that change.

[no-where-new-hero]

Kilmeny Chapters 2 + 3

Larry West sounds like a Nice Bloke. Sad we’ll probably get no more of him. It’s ridiculous that Eric can have friends like Larry and David and yet be such a swiss cheese of a person: spongy and full of personality holes.

The circumstances of Eric Marshall’s family echoes a lot of Barney Snaith’s background: dead beloved mother whom the son resembles, jolly and whiskery dad whose desperate for his son to marry, Eric and Barney are only children. The notable difference here is that Barney has a soul and so far Eric doesn’t seem to (see above).

Incredible that Trust Fund Eric hasn’t needed to work a day in his life in 24 years 👀 though I shouldn’t be surprised.

John Reid is a markedly intelligent young lad.

LMM’s tone as she describes the scene of Eric walking home almost feels like she’s describing a place she doesn’t know, which is is very strange to me. I haven’t read the works of Thomas Hardy, but this is what the idea of Hardy sounds like to me. The pastoral feel is like a landscape painting, trying to evoke a mood without capturing it.

Rebecca Reid is hilarious. First really Maudlian character we’ve gotten so far.

THE DESCRIPTION OF NEIL. I know everyone has been copying down the whole paragraph but it really does come out and hit you across the face. Yes, Eric, you’re very heterosexual, of course you are. Someone needs to write a 2023 version of this novel where Eric and Neil end up together. Or just some fanfiction.

Eric calls himself a “student of physiognomy” as though he can read a stranger’s life story for them, but all the descriptions are unusually stilted for LMM, imo. She usually manages to infuse something more of personality into her descriptions, or perhaps it’s just the distinct lack of dialogue through this whole book. No wonder the part with Mrs Reid was so refreshing.

[self-shipping-doll13]

3. Garden - 🕊️♟️🗡️

Spooky Selfshiptober Prompts

After the battle, I slept and ate but little, plagued in grief. Ser Duncan’s passing haunted me; I dreamt of his whiskery face eaten by maggots and rot, the stillness of his once lively eyes. Gurgling, he’d force me into the Blackwater under a fiery emerald sky.

Lady Margaery’s arrival in King’s Landing heralded a new dawn for the capital. The days filled with her amusements: riding, hawking, weaving. Margaery’s invitations shook me from my mournful gloom, so with each leisurely boat trip I recovered, watching Peaches soar overhead, untroubled and free.

The Eyrie, being situated atop a mountain peak, lacked in kennels and stables, and so I was a subpar rider compared to Margaery and her handmaidens. But today we broke off from the other ladies, trotting side-by-side in princess Myrcella’s gardens. The morning air was sweet with the fragrance of fresh autumn flowers; asters, marigolds, dahlias, petunias and roses bloomed in every colour and shade.

“You simply must tell,” Lady Margaery was insisting.

I rode a docile bay mare chosen for her gentleness, whilst hers shone healthily in radiant white-gold. Lannister Gold. A royal gift from her betrothed.

I looked away. “There’s nothing to say, my lady.”

“Ana, you give it all away with your wistful sighs - those giddy little grins of yours. You were so pale when I met you, but you’ve coloured rosy since!”

Truly? “Well, It might be due to your rosy influence.”

Margaery laughed sweetly. “No, I don’t think so.”

I fell silent. Bizarrely, my first thoughts were of laughing grey-green eyes; the taste of fresh mint, sharp as hidden daggers. Lord Baelish is my friend.

“But how do you know?” I challenged her, flustered.

“A woman’s intuition, of course,” she sang. Rubbish.

I hesitated. It would be shameful of me to be cowed by a younger girl, but this one was marrying a king.

“So, is it our Loras? You can trust me, don’t fret!”

“Not Ser Loras.” Who’d never love a woman anyway. “That’s impossible. A Kingsguard can hold no titles or lands, and take no wives.” And she knows this.

“How austere.” Margaery didn’t sound too offended. “Or… did my older brother charm you instead?”

Renly’s ghost. “Garlan already has a wife,” I pointed out, feeling weary now. “And it’s not him, either.”

“Yes, dear Leonette Fossaway,” she tutted, as if to scold herself. “Pardon me, I’ll say no more of it.”

She kept her word for a time. We passed underneath an orchard, vibrant, gilded leaves stirring free and floating down from their twisted white branches.

Margaery’s brown eyes shone in the dappled light. “But I do have another older brother, you know.”

Oh, here we go. “His name is Willas. Not so comely as Loras, perhaps, but kind, and gentle. You’d be a good match. Just think, we’d become sisters!”

Tired, I smiled. Ignoring the fact that Highgarden is a hundred leagues from King’s Landing; and you’ll soon be queen. Margaery was a sly schemer on her own, but I knew it was Olenna Tyrell’s will she was acting upon; a prickly old harridan they called the Queen of Thorns - for her sharp wit. The Tyrells are very ambitious. If they unite east and south, Their golden rosegardens will grow tall and beautiful.

I gave a light spur and broke into a canter, forcing Margaery to hurry up to keep pace. It was not a direct refusal, but it was enough to hint at one.

“You’re too shy, Ana.“ Margaery laughed again. “It is only us blushing maidens. Who is there to fear?

A Spider, perfumed and powdered. “Gossip.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dr Peter Andover x Reader || Drabble

Plot: In this issue of 'making Peter take care of his mental health', you decide to enlist a rabbit for some animal therapy. 🐇🐇🐇

Warnings: This is just very fluffy!! Pun totally intended 😄 ^^

"Hey Dr!" You call cheerfully, letting yourself right on into his office and completely ignoring his dead-eyes as he looks up deadpanned from his paperwork and you click the door shut again behind you. Waltzing steadily right up to the desk, you carefully lug a pet carrier with you and heave it gently onto it. "How're you today?"

"Fine... " His voice is full of exhaustion, heavy with melancholy, before his eyes flicker towards the carrier and theirs lift in his tone when he speaks next; though he does not look any better, yet. "What's that?"

Going ahead and unlatching the compartment door, you reach in and give whatever is inside a few sweet pets. "A bunny. Her name's Ghost."

Dr Andover's eyes follow you as you lift Ghost out of the carrier door and into your arms, giving the little rabbit more pets. She's quite fluffy, a beatiful pure white colour like his hair, and quite calm. Sweet and happy in your arms. "And uh, why do you have Ghost with you??"

"She's for you." You tell him bluntly, gesturing at him with your free arm to push his chair back from the desk. "Go on- Put your pen down."

"What- " Dropping the pen, Peter is sits back so confused, mind still thick with terrible thoughts and a mountain of paperwork he has to complete. And- and now there's a rabbit and he-- oh god is it Easter already?? No, surely not-

"Ghost is living with me while her momma, my sister, is outta town- and she is very lovely. Though she's been eating my wicker laundry basket." Making dissappointed tut tut tut noises, you gradually round the desk until Peter's craning his neck back to look skeptical at you. "I just thought she would like to meet you."

"You what- "

Now standing right by the doctor, his hands conveniently set on the arms of his desk chair leaving room on his lap (Now is the monent to strike, you're thinking. Before he understands and kicks you out. Well, tries to), you tilt your head at him. "You don't have any allergies, do you?"

"Uh, no."

You give a peculiar look. "Scared?"

Vaguely, through the bafflement and the dark clouds in his eyes, Dr Fearless looks insulted at that. "Of a rabbit?"

"Didn't think so." Okay great. Ever so carefully you lean down and release the warm little bunny in Dr Andover's lap even as his mouth falls open to protest. "Careful... "

As you straighten up and set your hand on the back of Peter's chair, you watch the bunny rabbit step around in his lap for a few moments and smell at him with her little twitchy whiskery nose with a bemused look on your face- because almost as soon as Ghosts weight settled in his lap, Peter's whole body relaxed and he offered his fingers to Ghost for a curious sniff. "Oh- Hello, there... you're cute, I'll admit... "

A little grin quirks at the corner of your mouth as Peter almost immediately bonds with the little rabbit. A grin slip across his tired, haggard face as Ghost pats up the mans chest, reaching for his face, and yours widens.

For a few minutes you stand there, just making sure that Peter is fully emursed in the 'therapy', stroking Ghosts back with his whole hand and totally focused on the feel, before you step away and quietly just start to tidy up the office a little.

"... very slick, Y/N."

"-Hm?" You look up from the plate of mugs you've gathered and faking confusion. Whatever do you mean, sir?? I'm a simple person just bringing a rabbit into work for show and tell.

He's looking up the tiniest smirk is playing at the corner of his mouth for a moment, looking like he's going to call you out, Ghost still snuggled in his lap- until he just gently shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. "I don't know. Dont worry." He does know- but he looks back down to Ghost with lovely soft eyes and you sigh; continuing to collect dirty dishes strength about the little well-decorated room.

Peter sits with Ghost for a good half an hour before snapping back to his work-mind, and making you leave. He did ask you to bring Ghost back again tomorrow, though, 'if it happens to cross your mind'.

[proton-wobbler]

Round 2, Poll 2

Bonin Petrel vs Great Bustard

sources under cut

Bonin Petrel

"Because they made my life VERY difficult for seven months and also they're incredibly adorable. They're found only on the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands and the Bonin and Volcano Islands off Japan. They nest in burrows, but UNLIKE most other cavity-nesting birds, they just hang out in their sandy holes for MONTHS before actually breeding, making it exceedingly difficult to walk through their colonies for most of a year. If you collapse a burrow you have to dig the bird out, usually while the ungrateful little feather pillow is actively biting you. They make the silliest grumbly groan-y noises. Their Hawaiian name, Nunulu, means 'reverberation' because of the way they fill the sky every evening. They also scuttle around on the ground at night like they're vaguely ashamed to have legs."

Please please please look at their baby pics oh my god they're the fluffiest thing imaginable, please!! (should be tagged under bonin petrel on my blog)

Great Bustard

"they hold the record for heaviest flying bird, and also their name is just SO good. and the males have whiskers"

One of the most sexual dimorphic of all bird species, with males on average weighing about 2.5x more than females.

"In this species, the male has a flamboyant display beginning with the strutting male puffing up his throat to the size of a football. He then tilts forwards and pulls his head in so that the long whiskery chin feathers point upwards and the head is no longer visible. He next cocks his tail flat along his back, exposing the normally hidden bright white plumage then he lowers his wings, with the primary flight feathers folded but with the white secondaries fanning out."

Images: Bonin Petrel (@gettingacquaintedwiththesky); Great Bustard (Marco Valentini)

[chiiroptereh]

A couple bats to wrap up the year. There was gonna be more but, just my luck, my tablet's pen is malfunctioning real bad and I'm on the other side of the globe in New Zealand right now. Oh, well; expect more when that's taken care of!

Nerdy stuff under the cut. Happy holidays, everybody!

In terms of chiropteran diversity they may not be the most dramatic examples, but these species are in separate classifications entirely. The left is an eastern red bat (Lasiurus borealis, though I did take some liberties with the colors) in the Vespertillionidae family and the right being some indiscriminate funnel-eared bat (specifically a Natalus sp.) from Natalidae. It is worth noting that both families are in the same superfamily, though, but pff, that's not even a real word.

It's no secret that I love my lasiurine bats (though I really broke the mould this time with a L. borealis instead of L. cinereus, woah gotta slow down there) so she was my first on the sheet. I'm already pretty adept in terms of lasiurine anatomy so she was more of a shading test which I'm rather happy with! They're so whiskery 🥺

At first the second bust was supposed to be of a generic Myotis species, but I thought that might be a bit boring (not that I don't love them too of course but my sketchbooks are full of them) so I went with a different pointy-faced little fella. Or, well, I think my thought process was more like "what's another species that when its mouth is open just looks like :V" but same deal. Funnel-eared bats are a very small family and you can tell they aren't very far-removed from vesper bats, but it's their subtler differences that interested me. They have these really funny moustaches, b-shaped skulls and almost woollen fur. They're also a more traditionally "ugly" species and that especially made me want to showcase how lovely they are.

I do wonder if the eyes are maybe a little uncanny, though. I intended for anthros of species without visible scleras to remain partially faithful to that and have enlarged irises/pupils but I dunno, looks kind of cartoony here, haha. Oh well, still plenty of room to experiment!

I'm very happy with these! The difference in fur texture especially was something I didn't think I'd be able to pull off, but I think I nailed it (without references, too! Booyah!). I hope to bring you guys some more underappreciated species as well as showcases of diversity soon; there are so, so many bats out there to love and they're all so different. Much love, hope you enjoy!

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Lady and the Tramp. “You make me brave.” Hurricane.

Group: D

-

Lacey and the Tramp

Woof! Grr-uff! Ruff! Ruff! Woof!

Gold rouses slowly. The obnoxious baying of the dog sounds like it could be coming from right outside their bedroom window. He groans, groping for the clock on the bedside table. He brings it an inch away from his face, the electric green numbers burning into his retinas. Half past two. Lovely. He has three hours before his wife forces him to enjoy yet another sunrise at gunpoint. He squints into the darkness, finding Belle’s silhouette on the other side of the bed.

No, not Belle. His bleary vision is yanked into sharp focus.

Lacey is face first in her pillow, breathing deep and even, her legs entwined with his beneath the bed linens. She is as unbothered by the incessant barking as she is by him wrenching back the sliver of blanket that is rightfully his. He only shuts his eyes for a moment, but hours must slip past. When he opens them again, the night sky has sweetened to the muted blue of dawn and the mattress beside him is vacant. Belle – Lacey, damn it – is a tiny furnace, and the entire bed feels cold without her in it.

“You must dream a lot,” he’d told her once, as he warmed his hands against her bare back. They lay in a drowsy tangle on the settee in the Dark Castle’s library.

She’d given him a bemused look.

“You’ve never heard that? I suppose it was just something my aunts told me,” he said, and she’d giggled as his talons tickled up her spine. “Dreaming keeps you warm at night.”

Belle had grinned. “Certain types of dreams, at least.”

This memory bleeds into a dream of his own; a bittersweet dream of blue linen dresses, and silver slippers, and a hurricane of slobber dripping, dripping, drip– wait, what?

Gold’s eyes snap open. He is looking directly into the wiry grey muzzle of a scruffy, slavering mutt. Lacey’s head pokes up into his line of sight.

“Look what I found in the backyard. I think he tunneled under the fence.”

The dog hops off the bed, leaving a trail of muddy paw prints over the paisley bedspread. Gold jolts upright, swiping at his damp face. His mind has informed his body that it is awake and annoyed, and very little else.

“Lacey, the mud,” he moans, agonized.

“Oh, whatever. That will wash out,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Why would you bring that thing in here? You don’t know where it’s been!”

“I do know where he’s been. He’s been wandering the streets, freezing and starving.”

Gold swings his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing when the dog’s wet, whiskery snout bumps against his knee. Flecks of dirt fly from its tail with every wag. He rubs at one eye with the heel of his hand. His lids feel like someone has poured treacle on them. And then, like the tuning of a radio dial, the background noise of Lacey’s voice becomes discernible.

“– does look pretty scrawny. Nothing a little fattening up won’t cure. I’ll phone the animal clinic and schedule an appointment, just to be safe.” She strokes beneath the mutt’s chin with two fingers. “What should we name him?”

“Name him?” Gold sneers. “We’re not keeping it.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’m allergic,” he says, without missing a beat.

She looks less than convinced. “That’s very convenient. You’ve never mentioned that before.”

“It never came up.”

“What about the first time I cooked you dinner? I asked if you had any allergies and all you said was that shellfish gives you hives.”

…is he being bloody cross-examined?

“I hadn’t any cause to expect roasted labrador on the menu.”

Lacey folds her arms over her chest. “You’re such a rotten liar.”

“I am not.”

“Are so. You haven’t had so much as a sniffle since I brought him in.”

“That’s because he’s kept his distance.”

“Get a little closer, then,” she says, casually, but her eyes flash with challenge.

“I’m not going to touch it. Do you want to see me get sick?”

“I want you to prove it to me.”

Gold entertains the idea of faking a sneezing fit, but figures that’s a shred of dignity he isn’t willing to part with. Yet.

“I’m not allergic,” he admits, after a long moment.

“Thought so. There’s no real reason we can’t keep him.”

Belle grins – no, not Belle, not Belle. But it is Belle’s smile; tart with the confidence of someone who believes every debate is hers to take. Not Belle, not Belle, not Be–

He vaults off the bed to shoo the mutt away from the expensive pair of leather oxfords he’s begun to nose at. He gives Lacey a weary glare.

“It’ll scratch up my furniture.”

She looks even less impressed by this change of tactic. “And? Your furniture is hideous.”

“It’s our furniture,” he quickly backpedals.

“You just said ‘my’.”

“I’ve had half of this longer than your grandparents have been alive!”

“And it looks it,” she says, pointing an accusatory finger at a chair upholstered with purple and teal palmettes. “That must predate the fall of the Ottoman Empire.”

How can he explain to her that she picked out that very armchair at a bazaar in Agrabah?

Gold throws up his hands. “Fine! We’ll get rid of the dog and the chair!”

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous. For Christ's sake, Lacey, put some pants on. I can’t argue with someone while they’re pants-less.”

In all fairness, he thinks the pajama top she’s currently swimming in might be longer than some of her favorite dresses.

She snorts a laugh. “Find yourself in that position a lot, do you?”

“Since you moved in? Yes.”

“Stop picking fights first thing in the morning, then.”

She fetches his dressing gown from the wardrobe and shimmies it on. The mutt nips and dances around her feet like an overeager boxer, engaged in a fierce showdown with her fuzzy pink house slippers.

“I mean it, dearie. I’m putting my foot down.”

“About whether or not I wear pants to bed?”

“About the dog.”

She kneels down and sinks her hands into the mutt’s coarse, pewter coat. He immediately burrows under her dressing gown, like a small child hiding behind his mother’s skirt.

Gold pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you want a dog, I will get you a dog. But you’re not keeping this one. This thing is loud, and filthy, and doesn’t know how to behave. It can’t stay here.”

She simpers up at him, nuzzling her face against the mutt’s ruff. “I’m not well-behaved and you let me stay.”

His lips twitch in a way that most would mistake as the precipice of a scowl. But he knows Lacey can see the truth in the soft pull of his laughter lines. He’s trying not to smile.

“Yes, but you’re housebroken.”

Lacey’s smug expression gives way to a wheedling pout, sensing weakness. “Let him stay for one week. Like a trial run. And if he’s more trouble than he’s worth, he’ll be David Nolan’s problem. Just one week. Please, Gold.”

And, with those two little words, he’s in a different time and world. Belle stands before him, a litter of squirming puppies bundled to her breast, her cloak dripping puddles onto the flagstone of the great hall. Please, Rumple. Can’t they stay just one night? Just until this wretched storm passes…

He heaves a sigh. “You’re intolerable.”

“Is that a yes?”

“A tentative one.”

Lacey launches up and catches him by the collar of his pajama shirt, drawing him into a kiss. By the time she releases him, any remaining irritation has melted into a sweet, dazed smile.

“Tell you what, give me an hour to raid the pet supply store and then I’ll spend the rest of the morning thanking you properly.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll drive you.”

“Are you being gentlemanly, or do you still not trust me with the Cadillac?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

Lacey swats playfully at his chest. She huffs when she notices how his eyes keep returning to the muddy splotches on the blanket.

“It’s a bedspread, Gold. Stiff upper lip. You can put on a brave face.”

“I have no choice but to be brave. You would run roughshod over a weaker man.”

Lacey rolls her eyes, but a fond smile softens her features. She returns to the wardrobe, in search of a skirt that will give every man in PetSmart an aneurysm.

The mutt gives a high, keening whine and butts his mud-caked head against Gold’s leg again. He manages an indulgent smile, scratching gently behind one floppy ear. The mutt cocks his head to the side, his tongue lolling in a broad, goofy grin.

“Belle will love you when she comes back,” Gold murmurs.

He swallows down a lump in his throat when the darkness within him retorts, “If she comes back."

-

[ohmygodshesinsane]

BORROWING THE BABY

for @jilymicrofics / april prompt 16: father / words: 480

“Madness,” James declares, looking up from the babe in his arms and grinning from ear to ear. Lily smiles back at him, and warmth blossoms where her eyes fall. The little girl nestled along his forearm – Callie, her parents have called her – wriggles slightly, mouth opening as if in question. She’s beautiful. He can’t imagine how Edgar must feel. To have a kid – to look down and realise that this tiny person is part of you and the person you love, that they depend on you, that they need you – it’s dizzying.

“Enjoying playing father?” Lily asks, stepping closer to stroke the rosy swaddling. Callie turns her head towards her. James shakes his head in wonder.

“It’s mental, isn’t it?” he says. “We can just make other humans like that. Just – all of a sudden – bam! New person!” Lily raises her eyebrows.

“Not sure if nine months of pregnancy is ‘all of a sudden’, but alright,” she replies.

“You know what I mean.” In a moment of daring, he bounces the baby just a touch, and is instantly terrified he’ll drop it. He’s not met many babies. He was the youngest of his cousins far and away, and it’s not as if his mates are having babies yet. Merlin, they’re only eighteen. Callie makes a small sound and he freezes, fearing a cry, but it only seems to be a gurgle in the end.

“They are strange little things,” Lily agrees, peering over. He’s never seen Lily with a baby either, and he swallows hard. It’s – well, kind of like Divination, maybe. Ten years in the future, will Callie be their own daughter? It’s ridiculous to think about, really, but it enters his head nevertheless. Lily grins down at Callie. “Are you very odd? Are you really?”

“Are you meant to call the baby odd?” James asks, laughing. Lily shoots him a playful glare.

“Nothing wrong with a bit of oddness,” she says. “Doesn’t stop her being perfect, does it?”

 “Are you plotting to kidnap my child?” Edgar Bones appears in the doorway, stroking his bushy auburn beard, and immediately a toddler hurtles out of the hall and attaches itself to his leg. Edgar doesn’t even blink. James rethinks the ten-years-in-the-future vision. Divination was always a load of rubbish anyways.

“Only until she cries,” Lily says, stepping out of the road. Carrying her like a bomb, James hands Callie back to her father, who smiles instinctively and presses a whiskery kiss to her forehead. The toddler – his son, unfortunately also called James, which has been a great source of humour for Sirius – begins making unintelligible whines and pulls at his robes.

“Thanks for holding her,” Edgar grins. “Hope she wasn’t too much trouble. One day you’ll learn how nice it is to go to the loo without a kid attached.”

James and Lily exchange a look and laugh. One day.