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yaut-jaknowit · 4 months

Note

So. Uihoy x Male Yautja (bottom) reader…

(Okay maybe it’s like a bit Mr. Preg… AAHH..)

Just the reader and him not both getting mates bc it’s that time of the year, but they both hate each other so they try to make fun of one another (one of them actually secretly likes the other and you can choose who), even get into a small fight which later turns into them getting too touchy bc of the heat. Shit gets crazy, rough sex, Like absolutely DOG pounding, breeding, size difference. I’m begging.

Hate Until You're Knotted

Pairing: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x M!Yautja!Reader

Word Count: 3259

Summary: You loathe Uihoy. He's top of the chain. He can get any female he wants. You, a lowly new blooded, have to scavenge and fight for just the taste or smell of a female. What does Uihoy do with this honor? Wastes it. He comes to you, out of his way, to find you.

Author Note: Don’t worry, I also want to get railed by Uihoy too. This is before Vic and Uie met since they were in a relationship before meeting reader. Gonna be honest, I unusually don't write Yautja x Yautja stuff but fuck, I loved writing this.

Masterlist

Ao3

Heavy, thick pheromones ran rampant through the village. Clouding everyone’s judgement, turning hunt brothers against each other. All in the name of breeding, continuing the bloodline. Only the strongest survive in a world designed to maul and slaughter the weak.

Like many of your sex, you were unsuccessful of gaining the favor of a female. A young, less scared male compared to those that have bested you in spars to near death. Anything to prove their worth for a chance to breed. Here you were, nursing your wounds, away from the dense population. There were a few others, scattered about like you, licking their wounds. You had chosen a high tree to pull yourself to the near top. From here, you could keep an eye on the crowd in the main square of the village.

Neon green blood dripped from wounds gained in battle against fierce opponents. As much as you hated to admit it, they were better, deserved whoever choose them after defeating you. Yes, there’s always next year for the season but only Cetanu could only tell if you would make it. Life was life. Death was death. You don’t know if you’ll be there to greet the next season.

Through it all, you caught a whiff of a scent that caused your blood to boil. Uihoy. The older Yautja was… arrogant in his own ways. Rude in others. Downright irritating if you must say. The male wasn’t one to mess with often. He did stick out like a sore thumb. His sexuality something that wasn’t popular among the Yautja kind. It did not produce offspring.

It is not frowned upon but discouraged. Yautjas were strong, mighty, and hunters. If males or females copulated with their own sex, the birth rate would decrease. Death was already high, especially for those that are young, learning.

Not that you had anything against mating with the same sex. No. But Uihoy was an icon for the village and he wasted his talents, his seed on something that wouldn’t produce anything. You scowled. How does a male like him not take pride in breeding with the females who are willing? You have to fight for your right while many females request him by name.

The tree shook from added weight. Your claws dug into the bark from the slight disturbance. Your head whipped down to find the face you wanted to cave in so badly closing in. Your jaw dropped behind closed mandibles at the sight. What the pauk is he doing? He knows I’m up here. This was purposeful.

Uihoy stopped to perch on a branch a foot above you, on the other side of the thick tree. A look of passiveness barely readable on his face. Not cocky. He knew his limits, where he stood on the chain of power within the village. Intelligent but respectful. He was about a hundred years from being deemed an elder. A title you believed he wouldn’t take. Not with the way he moves with ease.

Blazing eyes flicked between the cuts that marred your skin. You saw the way his chest rise with a deep breath. “Don’t speak,” you snapped at him and began to close up a cut along your thigh. The deepest, longest of any others. It required to be burned closed. You held your tongue when pain stung as the laser worked.

The purple Yautja snorted airily. “And why should I listen to you?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you over a mandible while exposing his neck. Your eyes twitched at the sight before narrowing on form. The laser was forgotten about and drove off course. You snarled and turned off the damned thing. Your jaw and lower mandibles jerked at the unneeded pain. Yet, in the moment, you steel your facial expressions the best possible. Uihoy didn’t need to see you weak, weaker than he saw you as younger male.

A scoffed then light scratching from nails digging into bark filled your ears. Before you had a chance to take notice was happening, Uihoy hopped over onto your branch and knelt next to you. Uihoy snatched the laser from your hands. “Youngling, you must pay attention or else you risk injuring yourself more,” he scolded and began to work on the rest of the wound.

If you didn’t want the laser to stray from its path, you willed yourself not to jerk away from him. His touch was prominently warm on your thigh. The hand not holding the welder was resting right above the wound, close to the apex of your legs.

Instantly, you blamed the scents that filled the air for the feeling growing in your stomach, for the way your cock roused in its sheath. It was the pheromones that clouded your judgment. Your jaw was locked, throat closed to stop any sounds from escaping.

Then, his hand shifted higher. You had enough.

You shoved the bigger Yautja away from you then your feet were underneath you. A glare settled on Uihoy, ready pounce if it came to it.

Uihoy nearly slipped off of the branch he was perched on but easily corrected the unbalance. He stood a fair distance away from you with a large grin on his face, tongue flickering out to smell the air. C’jit. His head lowered just enough he stared from underneath his brows. C’jit.

A drop of freezing water dripped down the length of your spine, then Uihoy sprung. The older Yautja could move. Fast. Faster than you were expecting. His body slammed into yours. Claws dug into your shoulders as his weight throw you backwards. Off the edge of branch and heading towards the ground closing in quickly.

To save yourself from pain of a mild fall, you twisted your body and latched onto the nearest branch. Your shoulder jarred, nearly pulling out of the socket at the weight of not only you but Uihoy gripping onto you as well. You release a snarl and kicked out a knee at Uihoy. The male grunted yet took the hit. His talons dug into the flesh of your shoulders, deeper and drawing rivets of blood. You growled and attempted to throw him off. Your one handed grip was weakening.

Your other hand latched onto thick bark as you held on. The purple Yautja snickered and lifted himself up enough to hold onto the same branch. This was your opportunity to kick him, using his body as a spring board and land on another branch further down. The leaves rattled at your landing. You lowered yourself into a ready position as Uihoy lifted himself and crouched as well.

Cocky but not, Uihoy held an aura of confidence around him. His body was lax enough to let his guard down. He did have the high ground and left you at a disadvantage. You didn’t let him take any opportunities to attack though.

The trunk of the tree was used as a foothold to launched yourself high up, above Uihoy. His eyes watched your actions, body moving into a position to take anything you served.

The first punch of the day was thrown, right at Uihoy’s beautiful face; ready to send him flying off of the tree. But the male ducked and counterstruck with a fist straight to your stomach. It almost sent you careening off the edge once more. Your claws dug in to steady yourself once more.

He eyed you up and down, scanning for points of weaknesses. The same thing you returned for the shy moment given to the two of you before the giants clashed again. He came at you this time with claws. The skimmed acrossed your chest, drawing trickles of blood down your sweaty skin. You couldn’t help the keen before returning the same fire at him.

Unlike the purple Yautja, you weren’t as lucky to draw blood. Uihoy was pushing hard, fast, throwing things you hadn’t even trained about at you. At points, it was dizzying. Now, you were just trying not to fall off or perish to him. He had every right to do so. It wasn’t against the code.

Your foot takes a step back but the way the branch dips means this was the end. Anymore and you could meet the ground harshly. When Uihoy takes a swing at your face, you lower yourself down to a crouch. The fist flies milliseconds later over your head. You spring and pushed with all of your force backwards.

Midair, you arch your back and force all of your weight over yourself. Then, your feet touch down on a branch on a different tree. It wavers at the sudden, new weight added to it but held strong enough for you to back up away from the oncoming purple Yautja.

From one branch to other trees, the two of you dance for what felt like hours. Possibly could’ve been. You only come to release the overwhelming scent from the mating grounds is faint when Uihoy pins you to the trunk of a tree. A grunt surpasses your throat, eyes clued onto his burning ones. Filled with fire. A fire you didn’t know what sourced from.

A firm hand had found its way to your throat, encasing it and keeping you to the trunk. Instantly, your body went lax. Uihoy could snap your neck before you had a chance to even raise a hand.

It was a stern, mighty gasp that held you. Yet, you didn’t fear it. Anger filled your veins at the fact this pauk-de was taunting, teasing you like prey. You had little chance to win against. It was idiotic to challenge him in the first place. It won’t cost you your life. Not while that fire blazed in his orange eyes.

The male leaned in and let his breath fan over your features, eyes blinking slowly. Your scales prickled. His tongue flickered out and tasted upon your skin. His hand tightened. The other palmed along your hip, nails creating divots in the flesh there. “There has been something about that has intrigued me since I first laid eyes upon you,” Uihoy chitters lowly next to your ear. You shivered, throat bobbing from a heavy swallow.

That’s when you smelt it. Heavy, thick in the air yet sweet to draw you in. N’dui’se. You felt the blood in your body screeching to a halt and immediately rushing towards your core. Unsure, uncontrolled, your own musk entered the air. It swirled, combed with Uihoy’s as the Yautja grunt and pressed harder on your hip.

All of your muscles strained into action to pin the male down. Uihoy locked his own down and kept you there. The claws attacked to the hand around a vital part of your being dug into flesh. He released a chest rumbling bellow of a warning. He had you. You could only watch as the male leaned back enough to find your eyes.

The other limb skimmed down just a couple of inches then grabbed a fistful of cloth. Your waistband was promptly ripped off in one go and absentmindedly tossed to the side. Before you could even squeak something pathetic, warm flesh palmed at the wetting slit close to the apex of your thighs. Your head was thrown back, exposing your neck to the male before you. An action that could cost you your life if it was anyone else. Uihoy attacked.

Sharp, lethal teeth latched onto the flesh of your throat. Just enough pressure to warn you who had the cards in hand. Uihoy purred pleased and let his upper hand fall away rest on your hip. The other kept working away, causing more slick to build up.

His touch was driving you wild. He knew it. He was doing it on purpose. Your mandibles gritted together at the bubbling rage at him. Like a volcano with molten rock rising to the surface, ready to blow when the time was right. And you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of coaxing your cock out.

Gathering all of your energy, you shoved at Uihoy with everything you had. For once, you believed to caught the male off guard as he stumbled back, adding a fair amount of distance.

How wrong you were.

He was back on you in a split-second. Hands. Claws. Teeth. All seared across your scales until you were forced onto your front on the branch. Uihoy’s heavy weight draped over your back like shadows swallowing you whole. It was enough to keep you underneath him. A roaring bellow sounded from the Yautja as he made his claim vocal. “Ze-rei.” Fire. “You have fire that I want to consume.”

Despite Uihoy pinning you to the branch, you still wiggled and struggled. It wasn’t enough to throw the male off though.

All movements stopped at the feel of something blazing and wet resting against the tight ring of muscles behind your sack. Your eyes jerked wide open, head yanked up at the feeling. The head of your cock speared through your slit but didn’t move an inch more.

The body on top of you sat up. Hands grabbed at globes of your cheeks and spread them as far as possible. You squirmed this time uncomfortably at the fact he was putting you on display for him. Your claws dug into the bark underneath. “This is my new favorite sight,” Uihoy mumbled lowly to himself, a wide grin marking his face.

Then, the tip speared into you. Pain rocketed inside of you, eyes rolling back into their sockets at the feeling. Your mandibles flared open in a silent cry. But… you pushed back on Uihoy. More of his shaft disappeared inside of you, even if it was only an inch. Uihoy took the signal and thrusted his hips flush with your thighs.

Uihoy’s weight nearly collapsed on top of you as he struggled to stay upright. Something you never thought to see from the older Yautja. He tensed his muscles, talons prickling the skin along your cheeks and lower back. “I lied… this, this is my new favorite sight,” he growled before drawing his hips back.

The drag of each ridge and bump on the sides of his thick cock had you seeing stars already. All the way until just the tip was snug inside. Without warning, he forced his length back into you. The strength behind the thrust had you scrapping forward.

A low groan vibrated along Uihoy’s spine. “You’re so tight,” he stated like it was a fact. It was to be honest. You’ve never ventured outside to learn more about yourself. But after just the tiny taste, the littlest of drop from this, you’ll never be satisfied. “You’re going keep squeezing me out.” Uihoy bent at the waist. “Relax.” A hand placed next to your head while the other kept an even pressure on your shoulder blade. “I don’t know if you can even take my knot.”

Bark groaned as claws raked across the layer. You fantasized the thought of knotting another but never being knotted yourself. That ignited a hunger you never knew existed inside of you.

Fingers and claws ghosted down the length of your spine then diverted where your hip meets your thigh. Uihoy started a beginning pace to warm you up, to loosen up the muscles locked. Heat flared at the base of your spine as his touch palmed at the space below your slit. Your cock still barely peaking out. You weren’t going to give in easily. He had to take what he wanted.

The limb next to your head prevented you from slipping away from him, trapped under his thick body. His movements increased with speed but more importantly: harshness. Like any other male in the season, he was losing himself. His control slipping right of his fingers. There wasn’t a single thing he could do to stop it.

Thick finger grasped at what peaked out from between your legs. You gasped and rutted into the hand before a dark snarl had you stopping. The digits moved down where two rested apart from each other. They were in the space between your sack and slit, on either side of where your straining cock resided still inside of you. Uncomfortably. Very uncomfortably.

A single roll of his fingertips had you seeing stars. The rest of your length shot out like a plasma shot that it hurt at out fast it unsheathed. You choked out a harsh gasp and jerked back into the male controlling you. His hips went flush with yours while your muscles locked tight around his shaft. Uihoy roared. A hand flying to your hip while his claws dug into your flesh.

“Pauk!” he snarled into the tense air.

Something shifted in the air. You didn’t know what but could feel something change.

Uihoy reared his hips back just until the tip just sat inside. Without remorse, he bullied it back into you. This new pace was harsh, rough, uncaring. He was dominating you; taking what he wants and not caring about anything else. The only thing keeping you from sliding off the branch was the limb next to your head and his claws piercing your skin.

Your own talons dug into the bark, clawing away at the trees barrier for purchase. His thrusts are a driving force to reckon with. The ridges along his cock adding to the friction that winds you up. Pleasure growing at a rate you couldn’t fight, couldn’t stop if you wanted it.

His thick waist started to stutter, pace growing wary. The claws tearing into your flesh, drawing blood were pulled out. The pain in their wake was brushed off.

Between your trembling legs, your cock was painfully hard, weeping from the tip. As desperately as you wanted to reach underneath and touch yourself, Uihoy beat you to the punch.

A firm grip wrapped around your shaft. The pressure sent your eyes rolling into the back of your head, hips faltering on either to drive back or forward. Drool hung from your jaw. You were an utter mess of pre-cum, drool, and blood.

The grasp slipped down to your growing knot and squeezed. A vice grip. Stars exploded in your vision. You shattered like glass. Your cocked twitching wildly at each new pump of sperm staining the tree. His hand never relenting the pressure even as the overstimulation began to hurt.

He switched his other arm to wrap firmly around your torso and kept you flush to him. Snarls, growls, bellows poured from the male’s throat before he keened a high pitch. His hips slapped to yours. A pleasurable pain sprouted to life as you felt his knot inflate inside of you. The feeling completely foreign to you. You grunted and squirmed.

Uihoy snarled at you in warning. In reaction, you growled back at him.

Sharp teeth punctured the muscle that corded your shoulder. You choked on a gasped and went ridged underneath him. He had made his point and untangled his fangs from you. The Yautja leaned up, all he could do while tied to you.

“Look at that. You were able to take my knot,” he snarked down at you. You huffed. The energy once in your body was depleted for the moment. Yet, you could already feel your core filling the same need as before.

Pleasure shot through you like a plasma shot when his hand tugged at your sensitive cock. You bucked back at Uihoy to stop but the grip tightened. C’jit. And you were at his mercy.

#predator #yautja #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #smut #predator smut #yautja smut #alien smut #very smutty #gay smut

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khytal · 1 year

Photo

light pollution

(script version + notes at the bottom:)

(Clay and Apollo are sitting on a grassy hill on a clear night)

Clay: It’s just not the real thing. Apollo (glancing at him): What’s not the real thing? Clay (pointing at the sky): I’ve seen it before, once. My dad and I went on a road trip a long time ago, and I got to see the real night sky. (He lowers his gaze) I thought it was unforgettable.

(Apollo waits for him to continue) Clay: It’s so weird--I can’t remember what it looked like anymore. Whenever I see the stars here, all I know is that it wasn’t like this. (Apollo turns his attention back up at the stars)

Apollo: No pictures? Clay: No pictures. Plenty of them online, taken by other people, but it’s just not the same y’know? Apollo (plucking a nearby dandelion): Mhm. (Clay falls back on the hill with a soft thump, and Apollo looks at him again) Clay: It’s terrifying.

Clay: We don’t really get to choose which memories will stick. If we could, I’d never forget how brilliant the sky was. I’d always see it with perfect clarity in my mind. Apollo (observing the dandelion): Memories are like this dandelion. What are you really thinking about? Clay (pauses): ...Will you remember me?

Apollo: What? That’s a stupid ques- Clay: I’m afraid, Apollo. My greatest fear is being forgotten. Just like my memory of the unfiltered cosmos, when I die, how long will I linger in the hearts of others, if at all? (Apollo scatters all but one of the dandelion seeds with a puff of air as he thinks) Clay: How long until you forget my face, the sound of my voice, the way I lived?

Apollo: Why are you assuming you’ll die before me? Clay: I’m a freaking astronaut in training, duh. Apollo (sighing): Fair enough. Apollo: I won’t forget you, Clay. Clay: Thanks, Apollo. Apollo: My memory of you will be as clear as the mud you were named after. Clay (sarcastic): Thanks, Apollo. Apollo (lightly): You know I’m only kidding.

Apollo: I don’t think you have to worry so much. We’ve got plenty of pictures and videos together, and at your insistence, no less. (He pauses, realization hitting) ....Oh. Clay (quietly): Yeah. Apollo: Hey, we’re still young. We have time. Clay: Mm.

Apollo: ...Why don’t we go on a road trip after we graduate? Clay: See the real night sky again? ...Sounds like fun.

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

-in this comic the night sky is an analogy for memory (also represented by the color white), and light pollution is compared to the loss of it over time

-it’s not strongly implied but Apollo has seen the night sky as it should be, from when he was growing up, so he knows what Clay’s talking about

-the last seed on the dandelion represents Apollo’s memory of this flashback: it’s spotty, and he only clearly remembers the text in white (the rest he knows but not word for word)

-there is absolutely nothing in canon to support this exchange. Clay doesn’t talk about his mom at all here but I think that at some point after her death he comes to realize he can’t remember things about her, and it terrifies him. he’s not concerned with leaving any sort of legacy; he just doesn’t want to be forgotten the way his memories of his mother disappeared, so he starts taking tons of pictures/videos

-I thought it would be interesting to attempt to portray a quieter Clay--a more vulnerable side that he shows to very few people--so the memory doesn’t end with Clay instantly cheering up at Apollo’s suggestion (and whether or not he smiles when he closes his eyes is up to interpretation)

#apollo justice #clay terran #ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #khyt.art #head in my hands #hhhouuuhhhghgj okay #i don't really have anything to say it's all in the notes o(-<

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

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Handmaid!reader and Aemond having a picnic with Vhagar in the background and playing with their children.

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: dad!aemond makes my ovaries hurt so fucking much.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The morning of their planned family picnic dawned bright and sunny, with only a few puffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Such a perfect summer day, and his twin boys were beyond excited, nothing more than a pair of pups bouncing and wagging and yapping at their sire’s feet. Large, twinkling violet eyes and small pouts they gave him, and he could not say no to them.

So Aemond called for a royal cook to pack them a lunch before telling his sweet girl to dress comfortable, in one of the pretty and thin dresses he had tailored for outside events.

At midday, they settle outside King’s Landing, along the Blackwater Rush, tucked within a flowered grove with cool green grass and shade. The currents are wicked and treacherous, they warn their children. Do not venture too close, lest you be drowned in the waters.

But the boys are too taken with Vhagar, who slumbers behind them, to care the slightest about the river.

His handmaid sits beside him, upon the thick fleeced blanket, nursing their new daughter at her breast. Her back is to their sons, but Aemond has a feeling she’s aware of their every move around his dragon. Mother’s instincts. But gods, she’s so pretty in the sunlight, he thinks, with her arms filled with his own, and he’s stricken with lovesickness once again.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” Aemond asks.

She lifts her head to look at him. “Hm?” Her voice is soft, airy and calm. “What is sweet?”

He gestures around them, to their woven picnic basket and the great rushing river, and their children and the beauties of the land. Scattered about the blanket is half a suckling pig and buttered turnips and a piping nutty bread loaf, as well as a pigeon pie, at the request of their twins. “Everything in this very moment.” He lifts his chalice to his lips, taking a quick sip of his mead.

“It is peaceful, quiet, and just our family- the way it should be. We ought to do this more. There is no need to worry about bloodshed and wagging tongues and wandering eyes. It’s just us.”

We’re husband and wife, he wants to add, but instead remains silent.

The elm, the alder, and the black cottonwood see us as nothing more, and nothing less.

She smiles. “Yes, my prince,” she agrees, before glancing back down, to stroke their daughter’s browbone with her thumb, and coo at the little noises. Alysanne, they named her, after her own grandmother and the Good Queen Alysanne. She had been born during the early springtime, while a thunderstorm raged outside, and her father wept tears of joy inside. She has her mother’s features, to his delight.

“Ah, well, it seems you were quite hungry, my little one,” she tells the babe, giggling.

“She’s a dragon, my love. Perhaps she wishes to grow as big and strong as Vhagar.”

“Maybe.”

Aemond snags two pieces of the bread and hands her one, before plopping the other in his mouth. It’s still warm on his tongue, and he can taste the sweet walnuts and hazelnuts, and the pumpkin and oat seeds.

It’s then that one of their boys- the youngest of the two, Aenar, creeps behind his father, before flinging his arms around his neck. “Hello, father,” he whispers, nuzzling his plump face against Aemond’s cheek. Aemion slides next to his mother, kissing her on the cheek. Both boys are red-cheeked and bubbling with breathless laughter, clutching their tiny wooden stick swords in their hands.

Their mother clicks her tongue. “Are you thirsty?” she asks, reaching for the water jug. “And look at you! All sweaty and soiled, what shall we ever do with the both of you?” Aemond takes the little Alysanne from her arms as she tends to the boys, washing the sweat and dirt from them with a cool, damp cloth. But she’s laughing too, and it soon makes him laugh as well.

Aemond leans in, sniffing Aenar. “You smell more dragon than human now. Should your mother and I be worried you’ll sprout wings tonight?”

“Vhagar allowed for us to climb her legs!” Aenar exclaims, wiping his fingers on his tunic, then chewing on a piece of meat he stole from his father’s plate. Aemion nods from where he’s seated in his mother’s lap, nestled against her chest.

“We felt like you, father! Big and strong and ready to claim a dragon of our own!”

Aemond smiles, and his handmaid giggles, and he reaches out to hold her hand in his. As their sons keep recounting their previous enjoyment with Vhagar, their fingers twine together as husband and wife.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #dad!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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user-rui · 8 months

Text

Dominant!Seme!Male!Reader x Submissive!Uke!Male!Insert - Part 2

(U/n) = Uke name

(Y/n) = Your name

Here's the second part to this story.

A simple, smutty short story. Will contain BDSM. I did the opposite earlier in the book, but I think it's time to do it the other way around. The scenario I'm imagining is like the uke is a 'pet', and the seme is a master, just so that you can better understand the story. They're still in a romantic relationship, but they enjoy sex this way.

-Narrator's Pov-

"Inside you? But there's already two toys inside you, I won't fit," You stated as you began to strip, letting your own monster of a cock free from the confinements of your pants. "You want me to put it in with everything else right?" You said, your voice sounding very sarcastic.

"N-no~! I-I'll break if.. If you dooo~!" He cried, looking back to see your erect member. He squealed and looked back at the bed, both excited and scared. "Maybe if you push the tail out, I can put mine in. I'll give you three minutes, just using your ass, see if you can push the tail out. And if you don't..." You trailed, brushing your tip against the entrance, making the other whimper in fear at what you would do. (U/n) began to push the toy out, making distressed and pleasured noises as he squeezed his ass, trying to get the toy out.

"You have a minute."

The smaller male cried out and tried harder, more tears forming in the corners of his eyes as managed to get it out just in time. "Well done," You chuckled, getting onto the bed and behind the other, rubbing your member a little and applying some lube. "(Y-y/n)... V-vibrator..." (U/n) panted, whining a little as he felt the smaller toy still deep inside. "W-wait..! Vibrator!"

"Why wait? I'm sure you can handle a vibrator along with my cock," You seductively said as you trailed a finger over his back, making him shiver at the touch. Without further warning, you shoved your member inside of the other, until you were balls deep.

You let out a pleasured sigh as the vibrator came into contact with your sensitive organ, and you grabbed the remote to turn the toy onto the highest setting, making (U/n) arch his back and let out loud and lewd moan. You had began to pound from the near beginning of inserting your member into the other's wet core, pounding mercilessly as he cried and groaned, making music to your ears.

It fueled you to go faster, harder, until the smaller male lost his voice. "I told you, Ngh.. You can handle it~" You said, panting heavily from the amount of force being used. You held onto his waist, slightly digging your nails into the other's soft skin as you pulled him towards you with every thrust, harshly pushing the toy against (U/n)'s prostate.

"AHHHHH~!!" He screeched, his voice breaking at several points as you felt him tighten and shudder violently. "Dry orgasm, hm~?" You groan, not stopping your movements, even though the smaller male was practically a corpse underneath you. (U/n) was a moaning mess, and a mess in general.

His (uke hair colour) locks were messily scattered, and even a bit wet from all the tears and saliva that was overflowing out of him. He shook whenever you pushed into him, and he didn't have the energy to even grip the sheets anymore.

"P-pwease... N-n-need... C-cum..." He mumbled, his eyes were lidded and his tongue was sticking out. He mumbled some more, weakly shaking his head in protest as you felt your orgasm draw near. You were grunting as you sped up, closing your eyes in pure bliss, feeling your orgasm come.

You let a satisfied moan escape your mouth as you let your semen flow into the smaller male, making his eyes widen at the sudden feeling of warm liquid invading his ass.

You reached down to remove the metal ring, which was covered in pre cum, and almost immediately, you could feel (U/n) member twitching violently as his seed spilled all over the blankets. The smaller male arched his back and let out a lewd moan as he rode out his orgasm.

"That was amazing," You huffed out, catching your breath from the intensity of the release. "Don't you agree?" You looked at the other male with a puzzled expression when you didn't get a response.

Even though he was still twitching and jerking at times, (U/n) was beyond exhausted and was definitely not going to wake up any time soon. You chuckled and turned off the vibrator, removing it from the other's ass.

You took off the cuffs and got up to go to the washroom to get something to quickly wash the other off. After changing the bed sheets for the back up one's you keep in the closet, you slipped into bed, holding the other close to you. "Good night, (U/n). I love you," You mumbled, feeling the tiredness of the previous activity kick in. Best sex ever... You thought as a tired smile appeared on your face before you drifted off to sleep, feeling your lover's warmth next to you.

#cross posted on ao3 #original story #reader insert #seme male reader #bxb #yaoi bl #yaoi smut #x reader #top male reader #smut #oneshot #original content #bxb smut #yaoi #bdsmplay

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ashraintarot · 7 months

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Pick a Photo Tarot Reading - What does October hold for me?

Photo 1

The main themes that will be highlighted in October for you are passion, desire, sensuality and will-power. The first thing coming up has to do with how you view and connect to cycles in life. There are things trying to die away, to let you move past them and embrace a new, better future, but it feels like you’re grasping onto these things for dear life. This could be a romantic interest, a friend, a not so good habit, a job, anything that isn’t serving you anymore. It feels very ‘lost in the sauce’. If there’s not a toxic attachment there’s just a sense of holding onto life as it is too tightly. You’re so lost in whats going on and the emotions you’re feeling that you can’t see the way out. But it’s there. You might be often seeking answers in readings like this which I realize is ironic to tell you mid reading, but you’re meant to look within to find the answers you’re seeking. Spirit is really telling you you’re guaranteed to success eventually, but you have to trust yourself and take a damn risk! If you’re sick of where you are, make a change. I know it’s easier said than done, but you have to take a step, even if it’s a small one. For many this is a reassessing your dedication to your craft. I see you getting back to the drawing board this month, putting in the hours of practice you need to improve. It’s important to remember our taste is always better than our talent in the present moment. That’s because you’re always evolving, learning and improving, so keep that in mind when you might be hating what you’ve created. It’s just proof you’re getting better, but it doesn’t mean what you made isn’t good too! Give it love, be thankful for it for what it’s taught you. There might be some times this month you need to stick up for yourself or your fellow man. If it’s safe, be sure to stand up for what’s right. Use your voice, be a champion for those less fortunate than you are.

Photo 2

Things might feel like they aren’t working out fast enough. You’ve planted a lot of seed and intentions recently and during October you might start to feel a little impatient. This is your reminder that things are falling into place behind the scenes. Let yourself breathe and relax for now. Focus on being present and enjoying yourself this month. I feel like you might be at risk of taking on more than you can handle, so really be honest with yourself when it comes to saying yes to things you don’t have the capacity or maybe even simply don’t want to do. It’s okay to say no! You’re also being reminded that you don’t have to go through this time alone. It’s okay to ask for help, to share the load. You’re not weak for not being able to handle something, humans need community, we were made for it. In that vein, there’s an emphasis on community this month as well. Whether it’s hanging out with a group, with family, or even just one person, surround yourself with those who make you feel loved, heard and understood. I see some fun times just in the living room watching movies with a friend. Don’t lock yourself away. I think some of you are going through quite a big spiritual upgrade and it’s easy to go into that hermit mode. If you need to recharge, by all means do so, but make sure you come back up for air and connect with loved ones. Your guides are also sccrreeeaming at me to tell y’all to meditate.

Photo 3

October is all about self love and compassion for the self, especially regarding how you view yourself and the things you do/create. If you’re someone that’s always talking down to yourself as a reflex, this is for you. It’s important for you to remember that you still have so much learning and growing to do left. I get the vibe of ya’ll being worried about being “cringe” or awkward and saying the wrong thing. October is all about stepping into who you are and your power. There’s a feeling of scattered-ness and frantic energy here. It would behoove you to work on getting organized, trying out new ways to keep yourself accountable for self care routines and just routines in general that help you to feel better about yourself, physically and mentally. It feels like you’ve been trying to manifest and do spiritual work and there’s a sense of something being stuck. I really think it has to do with this self image. I really recommend taking time everyday to work with affirmations to solidify a better perspective of yourself. Play around and see what works for you, maybe writing them in a journal, or listening to a meditation on self love, maybe if you write your own you can record yourself reading them and listen first thing in the morning and last thing before bed. Put time for self love and reprogramming that image into your routine we were talking about before. You’re someone who has big dreams, some of which you haven’t even fully realized yet, but this is a reminder you’re building a solid foundation. You’re still becoming who you’re meant to be to make these dreams work out. Let yourself be a student of life. Let yourself make mistakes without beating yourself up for it.

#tarot #tarot community #witch #tarot messages #divination #witchcraft #metaphysical #pick a card reading #pick a photo #pick a pile #tarot reading #tarot reader #daily tarot #o=

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cultofdixon · 1 year

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It Takes a Village

Daryl Dixon [HINTS] / Rick Grimes [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • Everyone upon meeting you has seen you as “the little sister” even if you’re only blood related to the Rick Grimes. No one hates you, you do your part and even go beyond. So when this new change in your life started to grow…everyone was going to pitch in • ANGST/SFW/NSFW • TW: Pregnancy & Birth / One-Night Stand / Anxiety Attacks / Illness / PTSD / Canon Violence Mentioned • Re-Writing Canon [literally ignoring 90% of the Savior arc deaths]

Requested by: Anon

The walk of shame feels even worse during the apocalypse Y/N thought as she tried to be quiet when walking through the courtyard of the Kingdom.

“Maybe yea shouldn’t have drank so much tonight”

The familiar voice caused Y/N to freeze in her tracks before turning toward the sound finding Carol in her new spot at the kingdom, holding herself a glass of whiskey that Abraham gifted her as she was comfortable in her spot.

“I barely drank tonight…I’m just. Leaving the scene before the guy gets the wrong idea…”

“Not a long term gal? Isn’t your brother thinking of marrying Michonne?”

“Oh god. Rick…Don’t bring this up to Rick” Y/N begged Carol as she approaches the woman who scooted to the side on her bench. Letting the younger Grimes sibling sit beside her.

“I won’t. But if this guy does try anythin’ yea don’t like…you let me know.”

“It was just a one-time thing. I think he got that idea loud and clear” Y/N leans back into the bench looking up at the starry night. “But I will…I’ll let you know”

“You go back tomorrow?” Carol asks watching Y/N nod. She was only visiting the Kingdom to deliver some seeds for them to rebuild their gardens and to bring medicine back to Alexandria. “You know I could use company here”

“What do you mean? Your boyfriend is company”

“Yeah yeah. But I’m taking someone I could go hunting with. Or sneak off with just for a breather.” Carol sighs. “I’m not a relationship person either, but I’m bending”

“Ezekiel is a lucky guy, and everyone knows he’ll treat you right” Y/N shot her a smile while tightening the laces on her boots. “Part of me wants that one day…but I don’t know if I even want that”

“That’s normal, hun” Carol pats her thigh when she leaned back in a reassuring way. “Wanna stay with us tonight or stick in the theater like you usually do?”

“Can I stay with you?”

“Can I stay with you—-Bitch, I wouldn’t have asked” Carol laughs rising to her feet and holding her hand out for Y/N who instantly took it, letting her lead the way.

A few weeks went by and Y/N suddenly stopped going on runs, visiting her family scattered in other communities, and the worse of all…being too tired to spend time with her niece and nephew…

“Yea think it’s what Glenn had back at the prison?” Daryl frowns watching Rick shrug for the most part. “We have the medicine now unlike when we were stuck in the prison”

“But she ain’t coughing, or coughing up anything really. She’s throwing up and is extremely tired, that’s about it” Michonne chimes in helping Judith down after she finished her breakfast at the kitchen island. “If Siddiq was back home then he could check—-“

“Which I brought back the second Carl radio’d Hilltop” Glenn interrupts the group by entering the Grimes’ residence with the Alexandria doc that Carl saved during the “down period” of the Savior War.

Both Rick and Michonne have Carl a confused look as he came downstairs after giving Y/N another glass of water. He noticed Siddiq’s return and knew that’s what they were staring at him about.

“I lost my mom, I’m not about to lose my aunt too” And that triggered all kinds of thoughts to everyone in the room.

“Lead the way, Carl” Siddiq states in an instant not waiting another moment as the Grimes kid lead the way to where Y/N was staying in their home. They live in one of the town houses on the other side of Alexandria, but the second she got sick, Rick didn’t want her too far from him.

“Could be worse than the prison”

“Or a savior poisoned her”

“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted those fucks. Just cuz they killed one of their own that night, doesn’t make it alright to just jail the son of a bitch and let fear course through everybody”

“We get your stance on that. But let’s not to side tracked.” Glenn interrupts once again. “I know we moved a lot of the equipment from the Sanctuary into each of the communities because of what they have taken. But with that knowledge we could look more into it. We don’t have to work blindly”

“I agree with Glenn. Ain’t taking any chances” Rick states only for Carl to sprint down the steps and out the house, on a mission for Siddiq. But the action caused the archer to chase after the damn kid.

Sometimes the Grimes can be dramatic

As Carl rummages through the infirmary with the mental list fresh in his mind, Daryl storms in and grabbed his shoulder so that he could look at him.

“What did Siddiq find?”

“She’s dehydrated? That’s about it” even if he is almost 18, he will never learn how to lie. Especially to Daryl.

“I’ll yell at yea if you don’t tell—-“

“Daryl what even is your relationship with my aunt?!” He snaps back. “Whatever. Siddiq thinks she’s pregnant and since I told yea that. You gotta tell me—-“

“I ain’t sleeping with your aunt” Daryl snaps back and at least the two had their possible answer. But the pressing question in both of their minds…who the fuck is the mystery father if she is? “What does Siddiq need”

“I can’t find the makeshift IV bag. I’ve got a few tests but they all read different things…” Carl shows the boxes to Daryl as he took two away from him tossing them back since they weren’t pregnancy tests but the rest were. Then he reached into the cabinet to get the IV line and the bag along with it.

The two came back and when Carl headed back upstairs, Daryl grabbed his crossbow and headed back out with an even more confused Rick following behind.

“What are yea doing?”

“Going to Carol”

“You can’t—-“

“I ain’t sayin’ shit to her. I gotta ask her something” Daryl didn’t wait for him to say anything more as he went to get on his bike and head out right away.

The second he reached the Kingdom he went looking for Carol to ask about the party they held a few weeks ago. It was one of those parties that Deanna used to hold for new people since the Kingdom took in new folk from the Sanctuary that wanted to get away from that place. He knew Y/N was at it but couldn’t be there himself because he was asked to watch the Sanctuary, which felt more like a punishment.

“Daryl! What are you doing here?!” Ezekiel cheers in his usual excitement but given the archer’s serious expression that he always bears, he knew to tone it down instantly. “You looking for someone?”

“Carol have yea—-“

“She’s in the gardens. Or at least that’s the last I saw her. She could also be with Henry who started teaching some of the younger kids how to fight in what he calls “Morgan’s way” it’s really sweet—-“

“Thanks”

Ezekiel watched him leave and was left even more confused on why he was there. At least Daryl didn’t have to go searching for their kid and found Carol in the first place he told him.

“This is a surprise. How are you pookie?”

“Did yea see who Y/N went to the party with a few weeks back?”

“Where the fuck is this coming from?” Carol set the sharpening block beside her along with her knife to give her best friend her whole attention. “I didn’t even go to the party”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like those kind of things. You know this”

“You were supposed to watch her. We agreed—-“

“Daryl. Everyone agreed on that. For everyone. Not just Y/N. What’s gotten into you?” Carol frowns gesturing for Daryl to sit but instead he started pacing to try and calm himself down.

“I need to know who she left the goddamn party with. Who took her away—“

“No one took her. She wanted it just as much as the guy did. I don’t know who the guy is but she did tell me about the much needed stress relief”

“Yeah well that son of a fucking bitch didn’t wear protection and I need to bash his goddamn teeth in”

The words sunk in almost immediately as Carol rises from where she sat and quickly took Daryl’s arm heading back toward his bike.

“You’re taking me to her, now”

What Daryl didn’t know was the conversation between her and Y/N. And how much more personal it got to be

________

“You look like there’s more on your mind” Carol frowns for a moment as the two were walking to her place in the Kingdom.

“What if the unthinkable happens?”

“I’m sorry?”

Y/N didn’t know how to put the words together as she stops walking only for Carol to grab her shoulders.

“What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything. But what if it happens? I don’t fucking know the guy, and honestly it was just stress relief. I could do perfectly fine without him in my life but the fuck am I supposed to do…if I’m pregnant…”

“Y/N. Didn’t he wear protection?”

“He swore he did! But when does anybody believe a man when they say that?”

“I mean. Ezekiel is—-“

“The most perfect man. But this isn’t about him! You and I both saw what happened when a baby came into this world…I lost my sister in law who was my best friend before my family grew in the new world. But I’m de-railing…what if—-“

“No” Carol shushed her immediately. “If shit happens and you do end up pregnant, we’ll do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen. And you don’t need a partner to raise a baby. You have a family. A village or whatever the cheesy saying is. But it’s true. You have a village and you’ll never be alone. And I know for sure that everyone who loves you, would reassure you every day if they have to”

________

Well. It was positive and Daryl wasn’t the only one angry at the guy about it.

“You motherfucker—-“

“Daryl. Stop it” Y/N shoves the archer back as the man cowered a bit behind her. “This isn’t going to erase what happened”

“Yeah man. Besides it was just uh. A one time deal. She’s the one keeping the damn thing” He shrugs.

“Oh so yea blaming her?” Daryl snaps almost pushing Y/N over as she stumbles which made him quick to change his attention. He caught her and before anymore could be exchanged between those two, Rick cut in shoving Daryl away along with Y/N.

“Listen. She doesn’t need yea. Won’t ever need yea” Rick directs the guy away from his family. “But if I ever hear rumors…that are offensive toward my sister?” He suddenly grabs the man’s collar forcing him to look directly in his eyes. “There’s plenty of us that’ll put yea six feet under”

As Rick stepped away and Daryl gave one last glare before following his brother, Y/N gave the man a what the fuck just happened sort of look before quickly following the two out of the kingdom.

The pregnancy was smooth. Felt like it went by so fast because Y/N was taken care of. Granted there were moments where she snapped at her brother for getting too close after returning from a run involving taking out a few walkers. Same went for Daryl but his was more, he had to shower the second he came back to Alexandria after doing who knows what. Carol visited her every other week and that time gave her some space to come to the decision of marrying Ezekiel which she knew would make Y/N cry the second she told her. The start and finish of the bridge happened around her second trimester and during that time it gave her the excuse to step out of Alexandria to spend time with an overly excited Maggie who would stay with her the entire time they were at the makeshift camp for the communities. Giving her some tips about newborns given she wakes up the most compared to Glenn when it comes to Hershel Jr. Which unintentionally brought the anxiety back of being a single mother and the fear of doing this all alone.

But she was never alone. After getting everything settled in the Sanctuary and Carol taking over for sometime, Daryl moved into the basement living of her place. Carl also found himself spending the night at his aunts during the nights he’d find Y/N taking midnight walks. At least when he’s at Alexandria and not visiting Enid in Hilltop. Other times Rosita and Sasha would spend time with Y/N gossiping about Rosita’s relationship with Siddiq and how Abraham keeps testing Sasha’s patience with their watchtower shifts.

When the date got closer that was when everyone in Alexandria hovered whenever they saw her. Especially the rest of the Grimes family. The only hero was Michonne. She would shoo Rick out whenever his questions toward how Y/N’s feeling got a bit too extreme. He was just worried given what happened to Lori and what else could happen without the help of a fully stocked hospital.

All was fine, when Shepherd Grimes came into this crazy world perfectly fine.

Causing his own kind of chaos.

As the little light comes through to the basement apartment, Daryl didn’t wake to it at first given it was his day off. But Dog wasn’t the one either…the soft tug on his blanket alerted him and the sniffing of his Mal came after. He sat up in his bed seeing the two year old boy smiling up at him.

“Shep. It’s early”

“I’m thirsty Uncle Daryl…” Shepherd rubs his eyes as Dog investigated his action by sniffing, making the little one tiredly giggle.

Daryl sighs tossing the blanket off of him before moving to the edge of the bed to get up. Next picking up Shepherd like it was nothing and making his way to his small kitchen.

“Mama sleepin’?”

“Yeah”

“Why didn’t yea get yer mom?”

“She sleepin’ and Jude says you don’t sleep” The stupid goofy smile the kid had when saying that, Daryl couldn’t get mad at that assumption as he had a few sippy cups down in his kitchen since this isn’t the first time Shepherd came down there. He went on a run with Glenn and Rick to get a lot of baby/kid items from abandoned neighborhoods and stores for not only Shepherd, Hershel, Judith, and Gracie but also the newest addition RJ. Rick Jr. Grimes, son of Rick and Michonne.

“Mama is scary when yea wake her too early anyway” Daryl finishes getting the cap on and handing the cup filled with water to the little one in his arm. “But she’ll scream like a banshee if yea ain’t upstairs”

“What’s a…ba…ban…bunsha”

“Close enough, just a screamin’ creature” Daryl made his way upstairs with the mini Y/N Grimes as he gripped onto his sweater to keep him steady enough to take a sip from his cup. “Yea tired?” He asks the child watching him shake his head which lead to him being set down on the couch in the main house before sitting beside him. “I’ll stick with yea until Y/N wakes up”

Daryl couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest when the small child scooted over to sit beside him and lay against him while drinking his water.

When it got about an hour or two later making it still an early morning but enough for Y/N to wake. She came down from her bedroom still in her pajamas finding both Daryl and Shepherd asleep on the couch. Y/N quietly went to grab her Polaroid camera from her pack and took a quick picture of the two. The flash woke Daryl slightly but he didn’t fully stir until Y/N carefully picked up the sleeping child.

“Go back to sleep” Y/N mouths to the archer before smiling and carrying Shepherd upstairs.

As the day continued on, Rick found himself with his baby strapped to his chest and carrying Shepherd by the back of his overalls. Like luggage if you will. He agreed to watch his nephew while Y/N went to visit Maggie for Hershel hand-me-downs and to go hunting with Carol.

“Uncle Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“Will mama be home before bedtime?”

“Yeah, she reassured me that she would” Rick smiles to the child setting him down on the steps of his place only to be greeted by Michonne.

“Hey buddy” Michonne smiles kneeling down to Shepherd’s level seeing that smile of Y/N reflect in her son’s. “Carl is about to leave to take Enid on a trip and made sandwiches. And I know he made an extra one just for you” she smiles poking his stomach to get a giggle out of him. “How about you go see him?”

The small child ran inside leaving the adults for a moment as Rick couldn’t help but watch his nephew and think about his sister.

“She was just as energetic. Hopefully he doesn’t get her attitude but, he’s perfect”

“She made a perfect child just like we did” Michonne smiles rubbing the small back of the baby that Rick held bounded to him.

•

“How’s Shepherd? I can’t wait to see him when Ezekiel, Henry, and I come over next week” Carol smiles walking beside her best friend.

“I think he prefers waking Daryl up over me. Found them on the couch again” Y/N knelt at their spot watching a rabbit approach one of the snares, making their conversation turn down its volume. “If he had nightmares he’d come to me…but he gets Daryl every other time”

“Your son knows you’re scary to wake up already” Carol couldn’t help the laugh but thankfully the trap caught its catch. “But that boy loves his uncles. Uncle Daryl especially.”

“Very true” Y/N says softly as she got up heading toward the trap to take out the rabbit only to turn around to a mischievous look on Carol’s face. “What?”

“I know he’s 2 and can’t remember where he put his shoes but has he ever asked about his biological father? Big words to him but you get my point”

“No, one of his books has a set of parents in it and he believes he was created with magic inside of me. I’ll take that over a one night stand any day” Y/N uses her foot to open the trap again and quickly retracted to avoid triggering it. “But I can see where this is going…He knows Rick and I are siblings…but uh”

Carol stepped closing with a go on look on her face watching Y/N’s complexion get redder. “Yeah?”

“He probably sees Daryl as a father figure…just doesn’t call him dad. And we…yeah. We. No…”

“Y/N. I know the first few months of having a baby there were emotions flying. But he’s two now and those hormone influenced feelings have simmered a little…but…”

“I don’t want to ruin what’s perfect” Y/N instantly knew what to say and Carol has always been right about Y/N’s feelings toward Daryl, that it makes it complicated in her mind not to tell Daryl given she knows how he feels.

But for the sake of the child, Carol wasn’t going to make things complicated and let Y/N do things her way.

Even if every fiber of her wanted to say something to Daryl about how she felt. But sitting on the picnic bench in the secluded corner of Alexandria watching Daryl play with her son and niece as careful as he could be. Those moments were enough.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #rick grimes fanfiction

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maracujatangerine · 4 months

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The Gift Exchange, part 1

CW: institutionalised slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation

“Miss Lydia, Miss Lydia, what do you think about this?.”

Coriander jogged into the kitchen, brandishing a roll of wrapping paper patterned with abstract swirls in silver and dark green. The silver accents glittered in the pale winter morning sunlight falling in through the windows.

“It is really pretty!” Miss Lydia smiled, brown eyes warm. “Good choice, Cory!”

The blonde pet ducked his head, but smiled back from underneath his bangs. He wore a soft, green sweater with leather patches on the elbows that matched his chestnut trousers.

Lydia was dressed in a dark grey, knitted dress with red leggings. She leaned over the table to move the pot with the red and white amaryllis out of the way.

“Should we wrap everything into one present, or should we wrap each gift separately, do you think?”

“T-this pet thinks we should w-wrap one gift for Colton and one for Linden, b-but that all their gifts can be wrapped together.”

“That’s a good idea, let’s do that.”

Coriander spread out several seed packages on the table and studied them thoughtfully. Closest to Lydia was a packet with a picture of lush, green sugar snap peas labelled: ‘Mangetout, pea seeds 'Norli' ORGANIC’. Then, there were two packets both marked ‘Thunbergia alata, Black-eyed Susan’, the first one called ‘African Sunset’ in shades of red and apricot, the second one ‘Alba Oculata’ in brilliant white. The final was a handwritten envelope simply marked in Cory’s neat handwriting: ‘Chili, mix’.

“Are you happy with those seeds?”

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. C-Colton will be able to grow them on the balcony, and i-it will be fun that we both can try to grow the same seeds. P-perhaps we can compare notes.”

Cory gathered the seed packets and tied them together with a neat red bow. Meanwhile, Lydia grabbed a hardback book. The blue dust jacket had brightly coloured leaves scattered all over the cover. The title stood out in bright white: When we were birds, by Ayanna Lloyd Banwo.

Opening the book, she wrote on the inside of the cover. ‘To Linden. Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.’ Signing it, she handed it over to Coriander to add his name too.

“‘It is a bit of a risky gift,” she admitted to Cory, “since I haven’t read the book yet, but it seems so good. I got a copy for myself too, and I hope I will get the chance to read it over the holidays.”

They added two bags of homemade butterscotch candy in green paper cups, and two reused milk cartoons filled with gingerbread cookies, the result of last night’s baking spree.

Lydia and Cory put their joint efforts into wrapping the gifts into two neat packages. The dark, red ribbon a nice contrast to the green and silver wrapping paper.

“Let’s go for a walk and send it off this afternoon.” Coriander nodded.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia.”

Linden wiggled the pen between his thumb and index finger, deep in thought. Leaning back in his kitchen chair, he looked over at Colton, who was working diligently at the end of the table. With wholly unbroken concentration, he was pulling strips of sellotape from the dispenser and sticking them in a neat row along the table’s wooden edge. When Linden had done the altogether far more fiddly task of wrapping a gift up, Col could pluck a pre-cut piece of tape and stick it in place. It was, as Linden had said about fifty times, excellent teamwork.

“Hey, Col, have you ever seen this before?” Linden asked, lifting his hand for Col to see. With the pen held right in its middle, Linden wiggled it gently, until it looked as if the pen was bending at the edges.

Col’s eyebrows twitched, and for a beautiful second Linden thought he was going to burst out laughing. Instead, his mouth curved upwards into a tiny smile. “Yes, Sir. I have.”

“Ah, not too impressive then. Haha, no matter.”

“Do you need any tape for the envelope, Sir?” Col asked, eyeing the Christmas card laid out in front of Linden.

“In a second… I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Ah, okay, Sir.”

Col took another breath, as if to speak, then stopped himself. Linden prided himself on reading Col well enough by now to know that it was because he wanted to ask a question. Probably what are you trying to figure out?

“I’ve written my part of Lydia and Cory’s card, but I’m not sure how to do yours. I’m not going to make you try and hold a pen. I was thinking - do you want to just dictate it? It doesn’t have to be much, just a little festive greeting sort of thing. I can be your text-to-speech robot.”

Linden was always cheery around Christmas time. Something about winter setting in, dark and long and rainy, and then being cut through by glittering lights, gifts and music. Today, he felt like he was on a veritable warpath to make Col smile.

“That sounds good, Sir… I can do that.”

“Great!” Linden said, overjoyed that Colton hadn’t taken issue with the idea of ‘dictating’ something to his owner, hadn’t overthought any possible rule-breaking that could come with speaking and forcing his Master to write it all down. “And instead of you signing the card the normal way, I thought you could do a fingerprint?”

“That’s a good idea, Sir, thank you for c-”

“Wait, no!” Linden said, making Col flinch. “Sorry, I’m sorry love. I just realised. We’ll both do our fingerprints. That’ll be nice. Then we’re the same.”

There it was again, the coveted half-smile. Col’s cheeks glowed. “Thank you, Sir, that’s really kind. I think- I, uh…”

“Go on,” Linden said warmly. “I want to hear what you think.”

“I think Lydia and Cory will like that, Sir.”

“I agree. Now, here’s what I’ve written.”

Linden pushed the card over. He’d written a short message making light of the strange way they first crossed paths, saying how glad he now was to know the both of them, wishing them a peaceful and happy holiday. He waited patiently as Colton gave his message some thought, then wrote it down exactly as dictated on the left hand side of the card.

Linden found some stamp ink in the back of a drawer, and the two of them rolled their index fingers in it until they could leave two bold prints, one below each message.

Once the card was sealed, it was time for the gifts. Lydia’s gift was a specially-made book embosser, which had EX LIBRIS - LYDIA WINTERTHORPE printed onto it. The embosser itself was a satisfying, weighty thing, and Linden hoped she’d get great pleasure out of stamping all of her most beloved books.

Cory’s gift was also a bespoke item: a brass door sign with his name, Coriander, printed on it. It had ornate rounded corners which gave the thing a rustic, rather stately look, and although Linden had never seen Lydia’s house he guessed it would fit right in. He had run the gift idea past Col first - would a pet such as Cory be okay with claiming the bedroom as his in this way? Col had given it a fair share of thought, ultimately telling Linden, in a way that sounded more like a sinful confession, that Cory would like it very much.

The two men performed their well-honed wrapping ritual, with Col sticking down the final piece of tape with a flourish.

This is a collaboration between @whumpzone and @maracujatangerine.

We would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas!

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#lydia and linden #lydia and coriander #linden and colton #whump fic #pet whump #pet whumpee #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box boy whump #writers on tumblr #original writing #christmas whump #chirstmas

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 6 months

Text

Curtis And Honey Autumn This Or That 🍂

Week Four: Apple Picking or Carving Pumpkins

Summary- Short Drabble. Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. You have the picnic table all set up for a fun little competition between you and Curtis.

Warnings- mentions of IT.

This is an 18+ Only Blog

A/N- Thank you everyone for reading, commenting, and sharing! I loved this one, it was such a cute moment for them and I hope you all enjoy it as well. Please remember to vote on Friday for next week's choice. Happy Reading!

Curtis and Honey's This or That Masterlist

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

You had the perfect afternoon. The chill was in the air but it wasn’t freezing cold, the sun was bright in a blue sky that lit up the whole backyard for this moment, and you had Curtis, assessing his pumpkin with a smirk of excitement that showed he was up for the challenge. “Oh Honey, you know that carving pumpkins is my specialty.” His brow arched, head tilting as if asking you if you were ready.

You narrowed your eyes, smirking right back at him as you picked up your weapon of choice, a large orange pumpkin scooper ready to tackle that pumpkins innards. “Then you shouldn’t be worried about little old me kicking your ass at pumpkin carving. You win, you get bragging rights to being the Halloween Pumpkin King and choice of scary movie tonight.”

He grabbed for his own pumpkin scooper, ready to start cleaning his own massive pumpkin out. “I do like it when you call me King, Pretty Girl. Alright if you win you get the obvious Pumpkin Queen and any fall themed movie you want.”

“Hocus Pocus.” You automatically said, as if he hadn’t already watched that with you just last week when you were scrolling disney plus on the bedroom television.

“You and Binx are obsessed.” He teased as he rolled up his sleeves and flipped his baseball cap around to get serious about what was about to happen.

“We did name him Binx for a reason Curtis.” Your tone raised slightly, aiming it towards the kitchen window nearby the picnic table, the window open to have your echo dot sitting in it. “Alexa, play Honey’s Badass Halloween playlist.” You listened and when the beginning of Ghostbusters started playing, you and Curtis sprung into action and started scooping out innards as fast as possible.

“We keeping these seeds?” Curtis asked as he twisted his pumpkin around to scrape the sides, while you ditched your scooping spoon to start using both hands, pulling out the orange strands of pumpkin guts, the slippery seeds scattering across the picnic table that was now a carving station.

“Later I will roast them for us. Right now Everett you just focus on carving.”

You glanced up to catch sight of him mimicking looking at you, your eyes meeting his playful blue eyes lighting up at you, a quick second passing between the two of you before both dropped to focus on the pumpkins again. “I already got mine planned out Y/L/N.” He grabbed at a sharpie, making sure to turn away from you to sketch out his outline.

“Yeah, yeah, you think you got this already don't you. Fooled you, I have been practicing.” You retorted, grabbing at the other sharpie and starting your own sketch. Curtis paused, his knife half into the first cut, his assured grin turning into a questioning scowl.

“Time out, you already were practicing without me knowing? Isn't that breaking some kind of rule?!”

“Hell no, we never stated what the conditions of the challenge were. Snooze, you lose Curtis.” Confidently you stabbed into your pumpkin, rushedly carving out the first piece like you were in a race against time. Curtis went back to carving, muttering to himself.

“Snooze you lose Curtis, just wait till next year Honey. Imma cover our porch in them just to practice.” You giggled hearing him, chucking the first cut out towards him which he ducked all while still carving his own, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth and his brows furrowed while he put all his concentration into what he was doing. As soon as he popped out the first chunk, he reached over and slipped the obstructive piece into your pumpkin, making you lose precious seconds carving having to get it out. You cried out a protesting sound that he was hindering your progress which was playing dirty.

“Now Pretty Girl, we never said we couldn’t mess with each other’s progress, remember?” He teased while grabbing another tool to start scrapping against the pumpkin flesh, purposely not cutting the next part out.

“How bad do you want those roasted seeds?” You sliced into another piece of your pumpkin.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you’re not holding future snacks out on us are you?” Another part down for Curtis as he went for his knife again, turning once more to make sure his pumpkin stayed out of your sight. “Cause that’s just mean.”

“I’m tempted too.” You hurriedly sliced out the last piece and set your knife down, throwing up your hands in triumph. “Done!”

Within seconds Curtis did the same, throwing his hands up, palms showing he had no tools, and stepped away from his. “Okay you had ten seconds, but you’re gonna love mine this year so worth it.”

“Mmmhm, sure, we will see. Mine is pretty badass.” You grasped your pumpkin. “Okay, close your eyes and I will put them side by side.” You waited while he made a show of his eyes closed, tilting his head up towards the sky to keep from looking. You twisted your massive pumpkin around to set it near his. Putting a hand over your eyes to keep from peeking and worked your way around the table towards his side. Once you pressed in against his muscled chest under a soft sweatshirt, you turned facing the pumpkins. His arms went around you and you soaked in the feeling of his embrace for a few seconds. “Okay, look!” You both dropped your gazes to admire them side by side.

Curtis’s pumpkin had an outline of a cat in front of a moon and above it had Binx’s Witch House carved in it. Your pumpkin had taken some planning, but a rendition of the original Tim Curry Pennywise graced the front, making Curtis cringe and hold you tighter. “Okay yours is officially the scarier Honey.” He shivered, making you fist pump your victory. “You purposely chose Pennywise, didn’t you?”

“Sure did, I wanted a classic.” You said while he stepped closer, inspecting yours closer. “But yours…” You traced Binx’s name in it, making you sigh happily at the addition to your lives. “I love it, you win.”

“Fuck that, look at yours.” Curtis hefted your massive gourd up into his arms, already marching for the front of the house. “This is the obvious winner. Getting a prime spot on the porch.”

“What! No.” You hurried after him, not daring to carry his artwork in case you dropped it. “I want Binx’s Witch House on the steps by the mums!”

You two finally ended up compromising that you both had the best pumpkins after a debate, deeming you both the winners. At least for this year.

#curtis and honey autumn this or that #curtis and honey #curtis x honey #life is short so make it sweet #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett and you #curtis everett x you #curtis everett and plus!sized reader #curtis everett x plus!sized reader #chris evans characters #curtis everett au #curtis everett fanfiction #amber writes #sweater writes

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confetti-cat · 2 months

Text

Twelve, Thirteen, and One

Words: 6k

Rating: G

Themes: Friendship, Self-Giving Love

(Written for the Four Loves Fairytale Retelling Challenge over at the @inklings-challenge! A Cinderella retelling feat. curious critters and a lot of friendship.)

When the clock chimes midnight on that third evening, thirteen creatures look to the girl who showed them all kindness.

—

It’s hours after dark, again, and the human girl still sleeps in the ashes.

The mice notice this—though it happens so often that they’ve ceased to pay attention to her. She smells like everything else in the hearth: ashy and overworked, tinged with the faint smell of herbs from the kitchen.

When she moves or shifts in her sleep (uncomfortable sleep—even they can sense the exhaustion in her posture as she sits slumped against the wall, more willing to seep up warmth from the stone than lie cold elsewhere this time of year), they simply scurry around her and continue combing for crumbs and seeds. They’d found a feast of lentils scattered about once, and many other times, the girl had beckoned them softly to her hand, where she’d held a little chunk of brown bread.

Tonight, she has nothing. They don’t mind—though three of them still come to sniff her limp hand where it lies drooped against the side of her tattered dress.

A fourth one places a little clawed hand on the side of her finger, leaning over it to investigate her palm for any sign of food.

When she stirs, it’s to the sensation of a furry brown mouse sitting in her palm.

It can feel the flickering of her muscles as she wakes—feeling slowly returning to her body. To her credit, she cracks her eyes open and merely observes it.

They’re all but tame by now. The Harsh-Mistress and the Shrieking-Girl and the Angry-Girl are to be avoided like the plague never was, but this girl—the Cinder-Girl, they think of her—is gentle and kind.

Even as she shifts a bit and they hear the dull crack of her joints, they’re too busy to mind. Some finding a few buried peas (there were always some peas or lentils still hidden here, if they looked carefully), some giving themselves an impromptu bath to wash off the dust. The one sitting on her hand is doing the latter, fur fluffed up as it scratches one ear and then scrubs tirelessly over its face with both paws.

One looks up from where it’s discovered a stray pea to check her expression.

A warm little smile has crept up her face, weary and dirty and sore as she seems to be. She stays very still in her awkward half-curl against stone, watching the mouse in her hand groom itself. The tender look about her far overwhelms—melts, even—the traces of tension in her tired limbs.

Very slowly, so much so that they really aren’t bothered by it, she raises her spare hand and begins lightly smearing the soot away from her eyes with the back of her wrist.

The mouse in her palm gives her an odd look for the movement, but has discovered her skin is warmer than the cold stone floor or the ash around the dying fire. It pads around in a circle once, then nudges its nose against her calloused skin, settling down for a moment.

The Cinder-Girl has closed her eyes again, and drops her other hand into her lap, slumping further against the wall. Her smile has grown even warmer, if sadder.

They decide she’s quite safe. Very friendly.

—

The old rat makes his rounds at the usual times of night, shuffling through a passage that leads from the ground all the way up to the attic.

When both gold sticks on the clocks’ moonlike faces point upward, there’s a faint chime from the tower-clock downstairs. He used to worry that the sound would rouse the humans. Now, he ignores it and goes about his business.

There’s a great treasury of old straw in the attic. It’s inside a large sack—and while this one doesn’t have corn or wheat like the ones near the kitchen sometimes do, he knows how to chew it open all the same.

The girl sleeps on this sack of straw, though she doesn’t seem to mind what he takes from it. There’s enough more of it to fill a hundred rat’s nests, so he supposes she doesn’t feel the difference.

Tonight, though—perhaps he’s a bit too loud in his chewing and tearing. The girl sits up slowly in bed, and he stiffens, teeth still sunk into a bit of the fabric.

“Oh.” says the girl. She smiles—and though the expression should seem threatening, all pulled mouth-corners and teeth, he feels the gentleness in her posture and wonders at novel thoughts of differing body languages. “Hello again. Do you need more straw?”

He isn’t sure what the sounds mean, but they remind him of the soft whuffles and squeaks of his siblings when they were small. Inquisitive, unafraid. Not direct or confrontational.

She’s seemed safe enough so far—almost like the woman in white and silver-gold he’s seen here sometimes, marveling at his own confidence in her safeness—so he does what signals not-afraid the best to his kind. He glances her over, twitches his whiskers briefly, and goes back to what he was doing.

Some of the straw is too big and rough, some too small and fine. He scratches a bundle out into a pile so he can shuffle through it. It’s true he doesn’t need much, but the chill of winter hasn’t left the world yet.

The girl laughs. The sound is soft and small. It reminds him again of young, friendly, peaceable.

“Take as much as you need,” she whispers. Her movements are unassuming when she reaches for something on the old wooden crate she uses as a bedside table. With something in hand, she leans against the wall her bed is a tunnel’s-width from, and offers him what she holds. “Would you like this?”

He peers at it in the dark, whiskers twitching. His eyesight isn’t the best, so he finds himself drawing closer to sniff at what she has.

It’s a feather. White and curled a bit, like the goose-down he’d once pulled out the corner of a spare pillow long ago. Soft and long, fluffy and warm.

He touches his nose to it—then, with a glance upward at her softly-smiling face, takes it in his teeth.

It makes him look like he has a mustache, and is a bit too big to fit through his hole easily. The girl giggles behind him as he leaves.

—

There’s a human out in the gardens again. Which is strange—this is a place for lizards, maybe birds and certainly bugs. Not for people, in his opinion. She’s not dressed in venomous bright colors like the other humans often are, but neither does she stay to the manicured garden path the way they do.

She doesn’t smell like unnatural rotten roses, either. A welcome change from having to dart for cover at not just the motions, but the stenches that accompany the others that appear from time to time.

This human is behind the border-shubs, beating an ornate rug that hangs over the fence with a home-tied broom. Huge clouds of dust shake from it with each hit, settling in a thin film on the leaves and grass around her.

She stops for a moment to press her palm to her forehead, then turns over her shoulder and coughs into her arm.

When she begins again, it’s with a sharp WHOP.

He jumps a bit, but only on instinct. However—

A few feet from where he settles back atop the sunning-rock, there’s a scuffle and a sharp splash. Then thrashing—waster swashing about with little churns and splishes.

It’s not the way of lizards to think of doing anything when one falls into the water. There were several basins for fish and to catch water off the roof for the garden—they simply had to not fall into them, not drown. There was little recourse for if they did. What could another lizard do, really? Fall in after them? Best to let them try to climb out if they could.

The girl hears the splashing. She stares at the water pot for a moment.

Then, she places her broom carefully on the ground and comes closer.

Closer. His heart speeds up. He skitters to the safety of a plant with low-hanging leaves—

—and then watches as she walks past his hiding place, peers into the basin, and reaches in.

Her hand comes up dripping wet, a very startled lizard still as a statue clinging to her fingers.

“Are you the same one I always find here?” she asks with a chiding little smile. “Or do all of you enjoy swimming?”

When she places her hand on the soft spring grass, the lizard darts off of it and into the underbrush. It doesn’t go as far as it could, though—something about this girl makes both of them want to stand still and wait for what she’ll do next.

The girl just watches it go. She lets out a strange sound—a weary laugh, perhaps—and turns back to her peculiar chore.

—

A song trails through the old house—under the floorboards—through the walls—into the garden, beneath the undergrowth—and lures them out of hiding.

It isn’t an audible song, not like that of the birds in the summer trees or the ashen-girl murmuring beautiful sounds to herself in the lonely hours. This one was silent. Yet, it reached deep down into their souls and said come out, please—the one who helped you needs your help.

It didn’t require any thought, no more than eat or sleep or run did.

In chains of silver and grey, all the mice who hear it converge, twenty-four tiny feet pattering along the wood in the walls. The rat joins them, but they are not afraid.

When they emerge from a hole out into the open air, the soft slip-slap of more feet surround them. Six lizards scurry from the bushes, some gleaming wet as if they’d just escaped the water trough or run through the birdbath themselves.

As a strange little hoard, they approach the kind girl. Beside her is a tall woman wearing white and silver and gold.

The girl—holding a large, round pumpkin—looks surprised to see them here. The woman is smiling.

“Set the pumpkin on the drive,” the woman says, a soft gleam in her eye. “The rest of you, line up, please.”

Bemused, but with a heartbeat fast enough for them to notice, the girl gingerly places the pumpkin on the stone of the drive. It’s natural for them, somehow, to follow—the mice line in pairs in front of it, the rat hops on top of it, and the lizards all stand beside.

“What are they doing?” asks the girl—and there’s curiosity and gingerness in her tone, like she doesn’t believe such a sight is wrong, but is worried it might be.

The older woman laughs kindly, and a feeling like blinking hard comes over the world.

It’s then—then, in that flash of darkness that turns to dazzling light, that something about them changes.

“Oh!” exclaims the girl, and they open their eyes. “Oh! They’re—“

They’re different.

The mice aren’t mice at all—and suddenly they wonder if they ever were, or if it was an odd dream.

They’re horses, steel grey and sleek-haired with with silky brown manes and tails. Their harnesses are ornate and stylish, their hooves polished and dark.

Instead of a rat, there’s a stout man in fine livery, with whiskers dark and smart as ever. He wears a fine cap with a familiar white feather, and the gleam in his eye is surprised.

“Well,” he says, examining his hands and the cuffs of his sleeves, “I suppose I won’t be wanting for adventure now.”

Instead of six lizards, six footmen stand at attention, their ivory jackets shining in the late afternoon sun.

The girl herself is different, though she’s still human—her hair is done up beautifully in the latest fashion, and instead of tattered grey she wears a shimmering dress of lovely pale green, inlaid with a design that only on close inspection is flowers.

“They are under your charge, now,” says the woman in white, stepping back and folding her hands together. “It is your responsibility to return before the clock strikes midnight—when that happens, the magic will be undone. Understood?”

“Yes,” says the girl breathlessly. She stares at them as if she’s been given the most priceless gift in all the world. “Oh, thank you.”

—

The castle is decorated brilliantly. Flowery garlands hang from every parapet, beautiful vines sprawling against walls and over archways as they climb. Dozens of picturesque lanterns hang from the walls, ready to be lit once the sky grows dark.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the castle,” the girl says, standing one step out of the carriage and looking so awed she seems happy not to go any further. “Father and I used to drive by it sometimes. But it never looked so lovely as this.”

“Shall we accompany you in, milady?” asks one of the footmen. They’re all nearly identical, though this one has freckles where he once had dark flecks in his scales.

She hesitates for only a moment, looking up at the pinnacles of the castle towers. Then, she shakes her head, and turns to look at them all with a smile like the sun.

“I think I’ll go in myself,” she says. “I’m not sure what is custom. But thank you—thank you so very much.”

And so they watch her go—stepping carefully in her radiant dress that looked lovelier than any queen’s.

Though she was not royal, it seemed there was no doubt in anyone’s minds that she was. The guards posted at the door opened it for her without question.

With a last smile over her shoulder, she stepped inside.

—

He's straightening the horses' trappings for the fifth time when the doors to the castle open, and out hurries a figure. It takes him a moment to recognize her, garbed in rich fabrics and cloaked in shadows, but it's the girl, rushing out to the gilded carriage. A footman steps forward and offers her a hand, which she accepts gratefully as she steps up into the seat.

“Enjoyable evening, milady?” asks the coachman. His whiskers are raised above the corners of his mouth, and his twinkling eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Yes, quite, thank you!” she breathes in a single huff. She smooths her dress the best she can before looking at him with some urgency. “The clock just struck quarter till—will you be able to get us home?”

The gentle woman in white had said they only would remain in such states until midnight. How long was it until the middle of night? What was a quarter? Surely darkness would last for far more hours than it had already—it couldn’t be close. Yet it seemed as though it must be; the princesslike girl in the carriage sounded worried it would catch them at any moment.

“I will do all I can,” he promises, and with a sharp rap of the reins, they’re off at a swift pace.

They arrive with minutes to spare. He knows this because after she helps him down from the carriage (...wait. That should have been the other way around! He makes mental note for next time: it should be him helping her down. If he can manage it. She’s fast), she takes one of those minutes to show him how his new pocketwatch works.

He’s fascinated already. There’s a part of him that wonders if he’ll remember how to tell time when he’s a rat again—or will this, all of this, be forgotten?

The woman in white is there beside the drive, and she’s already smiling. A knowing gleam lights her eye.

“Well, how was the ball?” she asks, as Cinder-Girl turns to face her with the most elated expression. “I hear the prince is looking for fair maidens. Did he speak with you?”

The girl rushes to grasp the woman’s hands in hers, clasping them gratefully and beaming up at her.

“It was lovely! I’ve never seen anything so lovely,” she all but gushes, her smile brighter and broader than they’d ever seen it. “The castle is beautiful; it feels so alive and warm. And yes, I met the Prince—although hush, he certainly isn’t looking for me—he’s so kind. I very much enjoyed speaking with him. He asked me to dance, too; I had as wonderful a time as he seemed to. Thank you! Thank you dearly.”

The woman laughs gently. It isn’t a laugh one would describe as warm, but neither is it cold in the sense some laughs can be—it's soft and beautiful, almost crystalline.

“That’s wonderful. Now, up to bed! You’ve made it before midnight, but your sisters will be returning soon.”

“Yes! Of course,” she replies eagerly—turning to smile gratefully at coachman and stroke the nearest horses on their noses and shoulders, then curtsy to the footmen. “Thank you all, very much. I could not ask for a more lovely company.”

It’s a strange moment when all of their new hearts swell with warmth and affection for this girl—and then the world darkens and lightens so quickly they feel as though they’ve fallen asleep and woken up.

They’re them again—six mice, six lizards, a rat, and a pumpkin. And a tattered gray dress.

“Please, would you let me go again tomorrow? The ball will last three days. I had such a wonderful time.”

“Come,” the woman said simply, “and place the pumpkin beneath the bushes.”

The woman in white led the way back to the house, followed by an air-footed girl and a train of tiny critters. There was another silent song in the air, and they thought perhaps the girl could hear it too: one that said yes—but get to bed!

—

The second evening, when the door of the house thuds shut and the hoofsteps of the family’s carriage fade out of hearing, the rat peeks out of a hole in the kitchen corner to see the Cinder-Girl leap to her feet.

She leans close to the window and watched for more minutes than he quite understands—or maybe he does; it was good to be sure all cats had left before coming out into the open—and then runs with a spring in her step to the back door near the kitchen.

Ever so faintly, like music, the woman’s laughter echoes faintly from outside. Drawn to it like he had been drawn to the silent song, the rat scurries back through the labyrinth of the walls.

When he hurries out onto the lawn, the mice and lizards are already there, looking up at the two humans expectantly. This time, the Cinder-Girl looks at them and smiles broadly.

“Hello, all. So—how do you do it?” she asks the woman. Her eyes shine with eager curiosity. “I had no idea you could do such a thing. How does it work?”

The woman fixes her with a look of fond mock-sternness. “If I were to explain to you the details of how, I’d have to tell you why and whom, and you’d be here long enough to miss the royal ball.” She waves her hands she speaks. “And then you’d be very much in trouble for knowing far more than you ought.”

The rat misses the girl’s response, because the world blinks again—and now all of them once again are different. Limbs are long and slender, paws are hooves with silver shoes or feet in polished boots.

The mouse-horses mouth at their bits as they glance back at the carriage and the assortment of humans now standing by it. The footmen are dressed in deep navy this time, and the girl wears a dress as blue as the summer sky, adorned with brilliant silver stars.

“Remember—“ says the woman, watching fondly as the Cinder-Girl steps into the carriage in a whorl of beautiful silk. “Return before midnight, before the magic disappears.”

“Yes, Godmother,” she calls, voice even more joyful than the previous night. “Thank you!”

—

The castle is just as glorious as before—and the crowd within it has grown. Noblemen and women, royals and servants, and the prince himself all mill about in the grand ballroom.

He’s unsure of the etiquette, but it seems best for her not to enter alone. Once he escorts her in, the coachman bows and watches for a moment—the crowd is hushed again, taken by her beauty and how important they think her to be—and then returns to the carriage outside.

He isn’t required in the ballroom for much of the night—but he tends to the horses and checks his pocketwatch studiously, everything in him wishing to be the best coachman that ever once was a rat.

Perhaps that wouldn’t be hard. He’d raise the bar, then. The best coachman that ever drove for a princess.

Because that was what she was—or, that was what he heard dozens of hushed whispers about once she’d entered the ball. Every noble and royal and servant saw her and deemed her a grand princess nobody knew from a land far away. The prince himself stared at her in a marveling way that indicated he thought no differently.

It was a thing more wondrous than he had practice thinking. If a mouse could become a horse or a rat could become a coachman, couldn’t a kitchen-girl become a princess?

The answer was yes, it seemed—perhaps in more ways than one.

She had rushed out with surprising grace just before midnight. They took off quickly, and she kept looking back toward the castle door, as if worried—but she was smiling.

“Did you know the Prince is very nice?” she asks once they’re safely home, and she’s stepped down (drat) without help again. The woman in white stands on her same place beside the drive, and when Cinder-Girl sees her, she waves with dainty grace that clearly holds a vibrant energy and sheer thankfulness behind it. “I’ve never known what it felt like to be understood. He thinks like I do.”

“How is that?” asks the woman, quirking an amused brow. “And if I might ask, how do you know?”

“Because he mentions things first.” The girl tries to smother some of the wideness of her smile, but can’t quite do so. “And I've shared his thoughts for a long time. That he loves his father, and thinks oranges and citrons are nice for festivities especially, and that he’s always wanted to go out someday and do something new.”

—

The third evening, the clouds were dense and a few droplets of rain splattered the carriage as they arrived.

“Looks like rain, milady,” said the coachman as she disembarked to stand on water-spotted stone. “If it doesn’t blow by, we’ll come for ye at the steps, if it pleases you.”

“Certainly—thank you,” she replies, all gleaming eyes and barely-smothered smiles. How her excitement to come can increase is beyond them—but she seems more so with each night that passes.

She has hardly turned to head for the door when a smattering of rain drizzles heavily on them all. She flinches slightly, already running her palms over the skirt of her dress to rub out the spots of water.

Her golden dress glisters even in the cloudy light, and doesn’t seem to show the spots much. Still, it’s hardy an ideal thing.

“One of you hold the parasol—quick about it, now—and escort her inside,” the coachman says quickly. The nearest footman jumps into action, hop-reaching into the carriage and falling back down with the umbrella in hand, unfolding it as he lands. “Wait about in case she needs anything.”

The parasol is small and not meant for this sort of weather, but it's enough for the moment. The pair of them dash for the door, the horses chomping and stamping behind them until they’re driven beneath the bows of a huge tree.

The footman knows his duty the way a lizard knows to run from danger. He achieves it the same way—by slipping off to become invisible, melting into the many people who stood against the golden walls.

From there, he watches.

It’s so strange to see the way the prince and their princess gravitate to each other. The prince’s attention seems impossible to drag away from her, though not for many’s lack of trying.

Likewise—more so than he would have thought, though perhaps he’s a bit slow in noticing—her focus is wholly on the prince for long minutes at a time.

Her attention is always divided a bit whenever she admires the interior of the castle, the many people and glamorous dresses in the crowd, the vibrant tables of food. It’s all very new to her, and he’s not certain it doesn’t show. But the Prince seems enamored by her delight in everything—if he thinks it odd, he certainly doesn’t let on.

They talk and laugh and sample fine foods and talk to other guests together, then they turn their heads toward where the musicians are starting up and smile softly when they meet each other’s eyes. The Prince offers a hand, which is accepted and clasped gleefully.

Then, they dance.

Their motions are so smooth and light-footed that many of the crowd forgo dancing, because admiring them is more enjoyable. They’re in-sync, back and forth like slow ripples on a pond. They sometimes look around them—but not often, especially compared to how long they gaze at each other with poorly-veiled, elated smiles.

The night whirls on in flares of gold tulle and maroon velvet, ivory, carnelian, and emerald silks, the crowd a nonstop blur of color.

(Color. New to him, that. Improved vision was wonderful.)

The clock strikes eleven, but there’s still time, and he’s fairly certain he won’t be able to convince the girl to leave anytime before midnight draws near.

He was a lizard until very recently. He’s not the best at judging time, yet. Midnight does draw near, but he’s not sure he understands how near.

The clock doesn’t quite say up-up. So he still has time. When the rain drums ceaselessly outside, he darts out and runs in a well-practiced way to find their carriage.

—

Another of the footmen comes in quickly, having been sent in a rush by the coachman, who had tried to keep his pocketwatch dry just a bit too long. He’s soaking wet from the downpour when he steps close enough to get her attention.

She sees him, notices this, and—with a glimmer of recognition and amusement in her eyes—laughs softly into her hand.

ONE—TWO— the clock starts. His heart speeds up terribly, and his skin feels cold. He suddenly craves a sunny rock.

“Um,” he begins awkwardly. Lizards didn’t have much in the way of a vocal language. He bows quickly, and water drips off his face and hat and onto the floor. “The chimes, milady.”

THREE—FOUR—

Perhaps she thought it was only eleven. Her face pales. “Oh.”

FIVE—SIX—

Like a deer, she leaps from the prince’s side and only manages a stumbling, backward stride as she curtsies in an attempt at a polite goodbye.

“Thank you, I must go—“ she says, and then she’s racing alongside the footman as fast as they both can go. The crowd parts for them just enough, amidst loud murmurs of surprise.

SEVEN—EIGHT—

“Wait!” calls the prince, but they don’t. Which hopefully isn’t grounds for arrest, the footman idly thinks.

They burst through the door and out into the open air.

NINE—TEN—

It has been storming. The rain is crashing down in torrents—the walkways and steps are flooded with a firm rush of water.

She steps in a crevice she couldn’t see, the water washes over her feet, and she stumbles, slipping right out of one shoe. There’s noise at the door behind them, so she doesn’t stop or even hesitate. She runs at a hobble and all but dives through the open carriage door. The awaiting footman quickly closes it, and they’re all grasping quickly to their riding-places at the corners of the vehicle.

ELEVEN—

A flash of lightning coats the horses in white, despite the dark water that’s soaked into their coats, and with a crack of the rains and thunder they take off at a swift run.

There’s shouting behind them—the prince—as people run out and call to the departing princess.

TWELVE.

Mist swallows them up, so thick they can’t hear or see the castle, but the horses know the way.

The castle’s clock tower must have been ever-so-slightly fast. (Does magic tell truer time?) Their escape works for a few thundering strides down the invisible, cloud-drenched road—until true midnight strikes a few moments later.

—

She walks home in the rain and fog, following a white pinprick of light she can guess the source of—all the while carrying a hollow pumpkin full of lizards, with an apron pocket full of mice and a rat perched on her shoulder.

It’s quite the walk.

—

The prince makes a declaration so grand that the mice do not understand it. The rat—a bit different now—tells them most things are that way to mice, but he’s glad to explain.

The prince wants to find the girl who wore the golden slipper left on the steps, he relates. He doesn’t want to ask any other to marry him, he loved her company so.

The mice think that’s a bit silly. Concerning, even. What if he does find her? There won’t be anyone to secretly leave seeds in the ashes or sneak them bread crusts when no humans are looking.

The rat thinks they’re being silly and that they’ve become too dependent on handouts. Back in his day, rodents worked for their food. Chewing open a bag of seed was an honest day’s work for its wages.

Besides, he confides, as he looks again out the peep-hole they’ve discovered in the floor trim of the parlor. You’re being self-interested, if you ask me. Don’t you want our princess to find a good mate, and live somewhere spacious and comfortable, free of human-cats, where she’d finally have plenty to eat?

It’s hard to make a mouse look appropriately chastised, but that question comes close. They shuffle back a bit to let him look out at the strange proceedings in the parlor again.

There are many humans there. The Harsh-Mistress stands tall and rigid at the back of one of the parlor chairs, exchanging curt words with a strange man in fine clothes with a funny hat. Shrieking-Girl and Angry-Girl stand close, scoffing and laughing, looking appalled.

Cinder-Girl sits on the chair that’s been pulled to the middle of the room. She extends her foot toward a strange golden object on a large cushion.

The shoe, the rat notes so the mice can follow. They can’t quite see it from here—poor eyesight and all.

Of course, the girl’s foot fits perfectly well into her own shoe. They all saw that coming.

Evidently, the humans did not. There’s absolute uproar.

“There is no possible way she’s the princess you’re looking for!” declares Harsh-Mistress, her voice full of rage. “She’s a kitchen maid. Nothing royal about her.”

“How dare you!” Angry-Girl rages. “Why does it fit you? Why not us?”

“You sneak!” shrieks none other than Shrieking-Girl. “Mother, she snuck to the ball! She must have used magic, somehow! Princes won’t marry sneaks, will they?”

“I think they might,” says a calm voice from the doorway, and the uproar stops immediately.

The Prince steps in. He stares at Cinder-Girl.

She stares back. Her face is still smudged with soot, and her dress is her old one, gray and tattered. The golden slipper gleams on her foot, having fit as only something molded or magic could.

A blush colors her face beneath the ash and she leaps up to do courtesy. “Your Highness.”

The Prince glances at the messenger-man with the slipper-pillow and the funny hat. The man nods seriously.

The Prince blinks at this, as if he wasn’t really asking anything with his look—it’s already clear he recognizes her—and meets Cinder-Girl’s gaze with a smile. It’s the same half-nervous, half-attemptingly-charming smile as he kept giving her at the ball.

He bows to her and offers a hand. (The rat has to push three mice out of the way to maintain his view.)

“It’s my honor,” he assures her. “Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to the castle? I’d had a question in mind, but it seems there are—“ he glances at Harsh-Mistress, who looks like a very upset rat in a mousetrap. “—situations we might discuss remedying. You’d be a most welcome guest in my father’s house, if you’d be amenable to it?”

It’s all so much more strange and unusual than anything the creatures of the house are used to seeing. They almost don’t hear it, at first—that silent song.

It grows stronger, though, and they turn their heads toward it with an odd hope in their hearts.

—

The ride to the castle is almost as strange as that prior walk back. The reasons for this are such:

One—their princess is riding in their golden carriage alongside the prince, and their chatter and awkward laughter fills the surrounding spring air. They have a good feeling about the prince, now, if they didn’t already. He can certainly take things in stride, and he is no respecter of persons. He seems just as elated to be by her side as he was at the ball, even with the added surprise of where she'd come from.

Two—they have been transformed again, and the woman in white has asked them a single question: Would you choose to stay this way?

The coachman said yes without a second thought. He’d always wanted life to be more fulfilling, he confided—and this seemed a certain path to achieving that.

The footmen might not have said yes, but there was something to be said for recently-acquired cognition. It seemed—strange, to be human, but the thought of turning back into lizards had the odd feeling of being a poor choice. Baffled by this new instinct, they said yes.

The horses, of course, said things like whuff and nyiiiehuhum, grumph. The woman seemed to understand, though. She touched one horse on the nose and told it it would be the castle’s happiest mouse once the carriage reached its destination. The others, it seemed, enjoyed their new stature.

And three—they are heading toward a castle, where they have all been offered a fine place to live. The Prince explains that he doesn’t wish for such a kind girl to live in such conditions anymore. There’s no talk of anyone marrying—just discussions of rooms and favorite foods and of course, you’ll have the finest chicken pie anytime you’d like and I can’t have others make it for me! Lend me the kitchens and I’ll make some for you; I have a very dear recipe. Perhaps you can help. (Followed in short order by a ...Certainly, but I’d—um, I’d embarrass myself trying to cook. You would teach me? and a gentle laugh that brightened the souls of all who could hear it.)

“If you’d be amenable to it,” she replies—and in clear, if surprised, agreement, the Prince truly, warmly laughs.

“Milady,” the coachman calls down to them. “Your Highness. We’re here.”

The castle stands shining amber-gold in the light of the setting sun. It will be the fourth night they’ve come here—the thirteen of them and the one of her—but midnight, they realize, will not break the spell ever again.

One by one, they disembark from the carriage. If it will stay as it is or turn back into a pumpkin, they hadn't thought to ask. There’s so much warmth swelling in their hearts that they don’t think it matters.

The girl, their princess, smiles—a dear, true smile, tentative in the face of a brand new world, but bright with hope—and suddenly, they’re all smiling too.

She steps forward, and they follow. The prince falls into step with her and offers an arm, and their glances at each other are brimming with light as she accepts.

With her arm in the arm of the prince, a small crowd of footmen and the coachman trailing behind, and a single grey mouse on her shoulder, the once-Cinder-Girl walks once again toward the palace door.

#Well this wasn't my first Cinderella retelling idea that I was excited about BUT -#since that one was turning into a tangle of Too Much Going On (though it's currently at 5k and maybe 70% done; I still plan to finish it)#I tried this one instead!#pros: I think I actually wrote myself out of writer's block? Which is AWESOME #And I feel like I'm starting to notice what needs fixed and mended about my writing; which is very helpful!#cons: due to having the additional pro of a very socially growth-filled few weeks IRL; I did not do much about that fact #please excuse the general lack of editing thus far #I have also learned that I may want to be at least a Level 5 Fairy Tale Reteller #before I tackle stories with hundreds of years of popular retellings and versions?#Although this one came much more easily than my first idea; it still felt more difficult to write than my Nix Nought Nothing story.#So another pro - I learned that I enjoy writing about lesser-known tales the most! Next time I might try a fun obscure one.#All in all this was a ton of fun!! Thanks for running the challenge! Apologies for being nearly late - I had a wonderful time!#I hope you all enjoy! <3 #inklingschallenge #four loves fairy tale retelling challenge #love: philia #love: agape #Cinderella #story: complete #basil writes #salt and light

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ur-boyfiend · 2 months

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faerie circle

-> sequel to will o' the wisp -> fae!felix x m!reader

another one that's been rotting in the drafts..... i'm so sorry lmao wc; 1.8k

your flashlight beam disappears, though this time it's because you've turned it off, not because something is broken. the familiar lights appear, lighting a path through the underbrush. you know the way well enough, but you enjoy watching the lights as they dance around you.

you're not a faerie, but most of the creatures in the forest treat you like one, knowing you're in felix's favor. once, when walking to your apartment with a friend, a crow landed on your shoulder, and when you reached up to pet it, it dropped a sparkling necklace into your hand. it stayed on your shoulder the rest of the walk, which took some explaining when your friend inevitably asked.

you reach the clearing, always bathed in pale moonlight, even when the rest of the forest is dark. you sit down on a fallen log, pulling out a small bag of cereal and another of seeds and nuts. before long, the clearing is alive with small birds and animals.

after some time, a doe and her fawn nose their way into the clearing, and you snap a still-green stick from a small tree and peel the bark off to offer the two. the fawn takes the bark quickly, and you're able to softly pat its nose. the doe is less trusting, but eventually takes the offered treat.

you hear the sound of bells on the wind and look up as felix comes into the space. you smile, glad to see him again.

he takes a seat on the log next to you, and the small creatures that had been surrounding you direct their attention briefly to him, but quickly go back to nosing at you when they realize he doesn't have any food for them.

he looks offended by the rejection and you giggle, finding his reaction cuter than it reasonably should be.

"they like food more than you," you inform him. felix just rolls his eyes, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

"i like you more than food if that helps?"

this time felix laughs, and rests his head on top of yours, "i'll take it."

a breeze blows through the clearing and you shiver, leaning further into the boy next to you. he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you even closer. it's getting to be winter, and you know that visiting is going to become harder and harder.

you hum quietly, continuing to feed the animals clustered around your feet. the animals come and go, some staying after they've eaten in order to get affection from the two of you, others quickly leaving once they're done.

you notice there's a squirrel being bullied away from the scattered treats, and you lean forward carefully, directly offering it a piece of cereal. the small animal takes the treat, before climbing up your arm and sitting on your shoulder to eat it. felix grins at the interaction, always enjoying watching you with the animals.

eventually you scatter the last of the treats, keeping a couple pieces of cereal and a peanut for the squirrel still perched on your shoulder.

the crowd of animals disperses when they realize there's no more food to be had, but the squirrel on your shoulder stays. felix gently nudges you and you look up at him, tilting your head slightly to the side.

"it's past midnight, you should head back."

you pout slightly, this is always your least favorite part of the meetings you have, but then felix taps the tip of your nose and you can't help but smile.

he stands up and offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet when you take it. the squirrel that's been on your shoulder makes no attempt to move, and when you try to pick it up, it clings firmly to your sweatshirt. after a couple tries you give up, not wanting to injure the small animal.

you look at felix, tapping the tip of his nose the same way he'd tapped yours, and head out of the clearing. before you make it back into the woods, however, you feel him grab your arm.

turning to look at him, you're about to ask if everything's okay. before you can get the words out, you feel his lips on yours, feather light.

you're both frozen for a second, before you put a hand on the back of his neck and pull him in, smashing your lips together. you can almost taste the desperation in the kiss, but any rational thought melts away when you feel his hands tangle into your hair.

you think briefly that this might be a bad idea, but in the past your bad ideas have had good outcomes, and if this is the exception then so be it.

you break the kiss to catch your breath, reveling in the moment of pure euphoria. neither one of you makes any attempt to move away from the other, your ragged breathing the only sound filling the still night air.

"i should go..." you mumble, not moving.

"...yeah." but felix doesn't move either.

you're both scared of ending the moment you've wrapped yourselves in, not sure how you're supposed to leave after this. not sure how things might change when you come back.

without really thinking you ask, "come over?"

felix laughs slightly, making you realize you're dead serious. he seems to realize that too when you finally move, taking his hand and tugging him towards the edge of the clearing.

"i don't know if that's a good idea," he responds, and you can see sadness in his eyes.

"bad ideas are what got me here babe, what's one more?"

you'd used the petname so casually you barely noticed it, but you can see a light blush dust his cheeks.

in order to keep yourself from blushing more than you already are, you turn and pull at his hand again. this time, he follows without protest. just as you're about to leave the clearing, you feel a small weight drop onto your head. you pause, and felix laughs.

"i guess that squirrel really wants to stay with you."

as if on cue, the small animal moves from the top of your head back onto your shoulder, nudging your cheek with its nose. you smile softly, already forming a soft spot for the creature.

the will o' wisps reappear as you make your way out of the clearing and through the woods, heading in the direction of your apartment. you reach the path that cuts through the trees without much trouble, since your first visit you've gotten much better at navigating the tangled underbrush.

the lights disappear as you cross the tree line, and you smile softly. the rest of the walk to your apartment is relatively quiet, you and felix chatting softly about whatever came to mind.

your apartment block comes into sight, the units set up more like a motel than the hotel-like layouts most apartments have. you're glad that you don't have to smuggle a squirrel through hallways or into an elevator, and glad that you won't have to explain anything about having a visitor.

before you go to unlock your door, you pause at the mailbox. there's a small envelope clothespinned to it, your name scrawled on the front in familiar handwriting. you snort, already having an idea of what's inside.

you stick the envelope in your back pocket, pulling out the key to your apartment and slotting it into the lock, opening the door as soon as you hear the confirmatory click of the door unlocking.

"c'mon in," you pull felix into your apartment, your cat emerging from whatever pocket dimension cats hang out in when she hears the door open.

as you turn to close and lock the door, felix crouches down, holding out a hand for your cat to inspect.

your cat's loud, rumbling purr soon fills the space and you laugh quietly, of course she loves felix. the squirrel on your shoulder soon catches her attention, the two of them sniffing at the other. you're not sure what to do if they don't get along, but luckily enough they seem to have no issues with eachother.

you turn to look at felix again, "want anything to eat?"

he tilts his head at you, and you gesture for him to follow you into the kitchen area.

"i've got uhhhhhhh," rummaging through your cupboards you pull out a box of shortbread.

"shortbread?" you hold up the brightly colored box. the squirrel and your cat join you in the kitchen, both looking for food. you roll your eyes and hand the box of cookies to felix.

he sits on the counter, watching as you pick up your cat's food dish and fill it with a can of wet food. the squirrel is sitting next to felix, trying to grab at the shortbreads. he gives one to the small animal and smiles at it munching happily. your cat is standing at your feet yelling, and you sigh and set her food dish on the rubber placemat in the corner of the kitchen, also refilling her water dish.

once your cat is eating happily, you sit next to felix on the counter and grab for some of the shortbreads. he laughs and puts a piece in his mouth, holding it out towards you. you roll your eyes and lean forward, kissing him, and taking the cookie when he opens his mouth slightly.

he blinks a couple times, then glares at you. you just smile back, happily munching on your prize. it doesn't take long before he's smiling too, and laughs quietly.

"you asked for it!"

he rolls his eyes but doesn't argue, instead leaning his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes. you reach up to mess with his hair, reminded of dandelion fluff.

you can feel your eyelids getting heavy and you yawn, prompting felix to look at you.

"'m tired, c'mon," you hop off the counter and grab his hand, dragging him in the direction of your room. your cat follows suit, the squirrel not far behind. you gesture to your bed, covered in plushys and unmade. you're too tired to feel embarrassed. grabbing an oversized t-shirt and comfy pants you turn back to felix, now sitting on the bed, and hand them to him.

grabbing your own pjs, you duck into your bathroom to change and brush your teeth. when you return to your room felix has changed also, and is sitting on your bed again. you drop your laundry into a basket in the corner, flopping facedown onto your bed next to felix. a moment later you feel him playing with your hair.

shuffling around, you manage to lie down properly, patting the space next to you, pulling up the blankets when felix lies down. he quickly goes back to playing with your hair and you hum in contentment, starting to doze off almost immediately.

the sound of bells in the wind is the last thing you hear before slipping into a dream.

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escapismmaxing · 3 months

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skywing redesign + headcanons

birds of the sky,,.,

physical traits

small little fellas, in order to be the fastest fliers they are the smallest of the pyrrhian tribes! but still bigger than the pantalan bugs

most of my headcanons really just focus around making them more flight focused

i know it’s canon that they have huge wings, but i make their wings fucking huuuuuuuge like their wings are discounted when scaling their size in relation to other pyrrhian dragons but if it wasn’t, they would be “bigger” comparatively

also their wing membrane stretches partway down their tail in order to really catch the air

their shoulders have locking mechanisms like albatrosses perhaps

also,,, for aesthetic purposes,, i think they have those little butterfly tail things like swallowtails or luna moths

they have short tails so less drag is created

their horns are very long and branching, but they bend back and tend to follow the curve of the spine/neck so that they don’t stick out and create excess drag when skywings are flying

this one exists in theory more than in drawings,,, but they would have those faceplates that owls/hawks/birds of prey have that angle air into their ears in order to hear better when they're flying

they have relatively small/thinnish bodies, with honeycomb structured bones (i really just redesigned them around flight tbh)

they don’t really have “spines” but they have plated scales that can be ruffed up around their neck

colors have a huge range, basically any color the sky can be a skywing can be, but i think maybe their eggs only hatch during the daytime? so they don’t overlap with nightwings in color a lot

i think reds and oranges are perhaps still the most common? but blues, purples, yellows, and even pinks aren’t unheard of

i also think their scales can match the cloud formations during their hatching

culture and societyyyy/ family structure

skywings have family units! not really nuclear families how we’d think though because i really hate limiting fictional dragons to a western understanding of family structure

however i do think fewer partners are involved, like 2-3, raising their hatchlings under one roof

still a strong community, but with dragonets returning to one house for the night

i think there’s certainly a “town” daycare somewhat that young dragonets will go to and be communally watched over

however skywings are comparatively more fractured than other tribes due to their home in the mountains, so it’s somewhat small pockets of dragons all looking after one another scattered through the mountains

as for school,, i think skywings have a stricter, more academic schooling model closer to what icewing schools are like? learning a variety of subjects in an academic setting rather than learning the family trade from the family

there are still skywings who have a family trade such as farming (herbs, root vegetables) and artisan trades like metalwork and glasswork. but these artisans often take in apprentices rather than raising their kids to be their apprentices

farming is pretty common because skywings don’t eat a lot of meat! in line with the whole,, bird,,, fast flying,, etc, they have to digest lightweight things that are still high in protein, so they eat a lot of seeds and leafy greens

they don’t eat a lot of “heavy” meat like cows, pigs, etc, and they tend to avoid eating birds at all. some skywings do eat fish and rabbits though

skywings also have a pretty strong hierarchy within the castle that degrades pretty fast outside of the castle

although this begins to fade as queen ruby takes over

there wasn’t the circle system exactly, but it was very clear who scarlet favored, and the favorings of the queen directly correlated to jobs and housing given within the castle walls

this falls apart outside of the castle, where towns are generally kind

skywings have a lot of festivals/celebrations surrounding flying, racing etc

adrenaline seeking skywings will have crazy dangerous flight races through precarious pillars of rocks

on the topic of sports, falconry is super popular and falcons and other raptors are considered holy by basically all skywings

on certain days, festivals will be held where skywings decorate their wings with beads, thin fabrics, jewelry, feathers, ribbons, etc, and flaunt their wings, perform some tricks, etc

flutes, pipes, and wind chimes are very common for music! generally just any using wind to make noise instruments is common, like an ocarina!

another example of me making music more present in the world,,, many skywings can learn simple ish wind charms that give them semi control over the wind, while this is helpful during flight, skywings also use wind charms to essentially play the mountains as a huge instrument!

of COURSE skywings speak with hoots and chirps and tweets and basically any bird noises. like any and all bird noises. which meeeeannsssss skywings can also be really good mimics! not as good as rainwings but still very good at mimicking animals and other tribes

fashion and jewelry

alpacas are very common in the mountains, so spun wool fabrics are very common! shawls and coats and capes are very common

skywings have very diverse jewelry since the mountains give them access to a lot of metals and gems, but a lot of this jewelry is for royals and nobles, and commoners tend to wear simple metal bands and piercings

a lot of trade happens so thin, silky, gauzy materials are used for drapes and shawls

basically, a lot of fashion (especially closer to royalty and nobles) would be very inconvenient to fly in

and fashion for commoners is a lot more focused on wooly shawls and scarves to help skywings stay warm since they’re silly little guys living in the peaks of mountains

religious-y superstitions

so. much. bird. idolization

there is somewhat of a bird hierarchy but at the same time all birds are good birds

a very common religious “pilgrimage” for skywings is traveling around the continent and going birding. making and keeping birding journals.

multiple jobs revolve around the upkeep of birds, especially in the palace, there’s multiple different sectors that house exotic birds and are dedicated to the care of those birds

falconry is very common, as is all bird keeping

they’re not really considered pets as much as they are companions

when a dragons companion bird dies, it gets a skywings funeral since skywing and bird souls are considered to be one in the same

if you see a bird and the bird sees you it means fate has turned her wide eyes unto you. if the bird doesn’t see you it means fate passes over you (for now, it always comes back around)

scrying with feathers

like skywings will have bundles of feathers and then scry by asking questions and throwing the bundle of feathers onto the ground

the answer depends on the orientation of the feathers

since skywings burn bodies, but bones don’t burn, they keep the skeletons usually in very fancy clay urns

this wasn’t happening during the war with ruby, so there’s currently a huuuuuge project within the kingdom of recovering the skeletons and trying to match the bones to put them in an urn

it’s very slow moving work but dragons also think it’s essential

there’s kind of a paris esque catacombs being created under the castle where all the urns are ending up, but dragons are trying to make it look a lot more lively

gems embedded into the walls, skylights when they can, etc

skywings do the same thing with bird bones! especially the bones of companion birds

the birds bones will be kept in their own urn until the dragon dies, at which point an urn big enough for the bones to be mixed will be produced

also,, in line with wanting to make magic more prevalent in all the tribes outside of animus,, skywings being bonded with birds will extend the bird’s lifespan

the bird wouldn’t get the dragon’s lifespan, but a blue jay would live to be ~20ish rather than 7 years

also (random but related to birds) some icewings were freaked the fuck out by skywings because icewings consider birds to be BAD LUCK. icewings who live not in the castle, but a little bit north of the more populated border, do sky burials with their dead because the ground is too hard for graves. so these icewings consider carrion birds to be kind, but also omens of impending death, so when they roll up to the skywing kingdom and some fuckass has a black culture absolutely chilling there’s a lot of 👁👁

i think skywings can be super cool and interesting but i do kind of struggle to spice up their designs,, bc i dont like drawing feathers. maybe one day ill learn! idk. but i think theyre funky fresh

#wof #wof art #wof redesign #wings of fire #wof skywing

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cutegirlmayra · 6 months

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Aye, Aye, Capt'n!!!!

Note: All the obstacles listed are basically what's in the above mentioned Anon requests XD I just didn't want to have to describe everything when they did it so well! <3

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUT DOWN, LOCKED UP TIGHT WITH A ZIPLOCK BAGGIE, DO NOT PUT MORE REQUESTS FOR WRITING INTO THE PRISON WHICH IS THE INBOX, Thank you~

However, do I like a 'Hi, I love this and that <3' every now and then. Peace and love, My Cuties~

Prompt:

War had ruined most hearts against the sunny light of hope… it was a dark time, hardly counts to call it the ‘worst’ since most refuse to acknowledge that time should even consider it. To most, it was a mistake.

Many looked to the basking Sonic with quiet anger, seeing him up on a ruined pillar that had fallen on some poor sap’s rooftop. They saw this as an open rebellion of sorts, as though their ‘hero’ was ‘too good’ to help with reconstruction efforts.

This soured their hearts, as they had all mourned his supposed passing… now they envied the time they thought him better than this.

Amy, sensing the hostility, requested a plot of land to not be cleared yet. With the trash, she constructed obstacles, feats of daring intique, and even thrills in hopes of getting Sonic and the rest of the remaining survivors a entertainment spectacle to lose themselves in.

Maybe… sparking love once more for their daring, dashing hero again.

However… Sonic was a fickle sort of heart. Always darting around, Amy couldn’t find the time to actually stick his feet to the ground long enough to engage him in these ‘sports’ of sorts.

Not giving up, though exhausted, she asked for more time from Knuckles and Tails happily took her spot to cover for her.

She was determined to make Sonic care… there was no doubt in her mind that he did, but no one saw the actions a hero did when alone… and no one was watching.

‘How do I make them understand him?’ She thought to herself, getting a bungie chord secured and ready, locking it in place. “How…” She arched her eyes, in worry. “How do I show them who he truly is?”

At night, dead in its darkness, Sonic traveled hundreds of miles… searching the ground with due diligence, he would race back with seeds of every different kind of plant life he could find–down to the smallest grain of mustard seed.

He would run and scatter from his hands the seeds into the wake of his wind, and thereby, he was healing the earth… digging out channels of land to make small canals for water to be brought to the new seedlings, and he did this all without a single eye upon him… except, when Amy tracked his location one night, that is.

She took out her tracker and followed in his footsteps, covering her mouth when her eyes were alight with green… and all sorts of beautiful colors from the freshly watered plants springing up again.

It was so far from the city… of course no one would interfere with it.

But Amy clenched her heart, she knew the people would still think Sonic a decadent, his credence simply being that he never helped the living civilians and rebellion people whom he led… caring more for ridiculous plants than their own wellbeing.

But Amy knew in her heart that this was important work, too… No matter how many homes are rebuilt, if the earth was damaged, so would their futures be…

“I have to make them see.” She hit the large, steel spike into the ground adamantly, sweat forming on her forehead as she wiped it off, ‘He’s so kind.’ she teared up, gritting her teeth, ‘How dare they say he doesn’t care! If they saw the beauty of that place… of the wide and green miles upon miles he’s worked so hard to restore… they’d see he is on their side… just… in a different way!’

She hammered and hammered… growing more upset, ‘Sonic..’ Her heart cried out and she fell to her knees, “How do I make them understand..?”, ‘How do I get them to see your heart… without actually showing them your private passion project?’

She wiped her eyes with her arm… before hearing a familiar spinning sound, like a pinball spin-up.

“H-huh?” She turned to see Sonic blazing through her track, “Oh!” She was elated to see him… but then…

“Wait!” She rose straight up, “No, no, no!!!” She raced forward, wanting to stop him! ‘If he completes the obstacle course and thrill rides… No one will see it and laugh with us at his accomplishment!’, “Sonic!!!”

She raced after him with her hands outstretched along the track, like a true test of courage and strength, as Sonic was literally destroying the track as it wasn’t done yet while completing it.

He was having a ball!

Amy quickly had to run to get on the track, unable to save it, she just tried to keep up and dodge the crumbling setup built from the ruins of the area. “Soooniicc!!!” She tried to balance along a beam as he swung from rail to rail, smirking the whole way as he was enjoying the strange setup, not looking back, always moving forward…

‘Why isn’t he looking back?’ She saw the railing swing had snapped on one side, and jumped to the bars to climb up the rope and move along that way.

Sonic only halted at the bungie chord, putting a finger to his chin.

“This is meant to be for all to see! To do it with me! As a game!” Amy cried out, but Sonic tied the rope around him… She had to hurry before he-!”

“Waaaiiittt!!!” Amy grabbed his waist, as Sonic smiled and took hold of her, jumping. “AHHHH!!!!”

Sonic held her the rest of the way through, leaping over large rubber balls, spin-dashing through punching bags, and narrowly avoiding the water traps too.

Scaling a climbing slope, he threw Amy up top and then made it the rest of the way no problem.

He hit a button and laughed, “I did it!” He put his hands straight out, “Yes!” as the whole of the entire area crumbled to pieces, and smashed over other parts of the track to completely fail and fall, slashing big portions of the setup to rumble once more…

He put his hands on his hips, “Huh, wonder why Eggman randomly put this track out in the middle of no where, huh, Amy?” He looked down at her, “... Amy?”

She was on all fours, shaking…

“... Amy, are you okay-?” He went to reach for her hand, bending down but she turned her head away, silently looking as though growling at him in her head.

Her eyes were covered in shadows… “Why don’t you listen?”

His outstretched hand paused.

“This isn’t a game… Well, it was- but it was meant to be adored by millions of suffering fans who needed to see you do it!” She gripped the steel upon rusty steel flooring of the top of the tower. “You just… you don’t stop and think, you just… you just do it!” She cried, “Sonic The Hedgehog… Do you care about anyone’s hard work besides your own!?” She looked up at him and it cut air off between the two of them.

He stepped back, his arms out to the side of himself now.

Amy’s eyes were blurred by her emotions, her tears like blobs of weighted mass, she couldn’t wipe them from her eyes as more just kept coming… like a floodgate had been opened.

“I don’t get it… I’m the one that doesn’t understand you.” She lowered her head, “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have said all of that…” She cried into her hands, “I worked so hard… so people could see a different side of you… But… this is all they see.” She gestured to the ruined obstacle course and thrilling feats she had been working on. “I… I don’t want to give up on you… or the people… or myself.” She lowered her hands to her lap, now sitting on her knees.

“Sonic…” She looked up at him, his face still distorted by her tears. “Why do you do your works in the dark?”

Realizing in that sentence what she was finally talking about, his shoulders relaxed and he took a deep breath.

“I’m not offended, Amy…” He put a hand behind his head, scratching it a bit to loose some of the awkward tension that had arisen. To him, this had come out of left field, literally no where, and he was expected to catch a baseball he didn’t even know was pitched. “Just taken aback, is all.”

“...” Amy said nothing, her head lowering down, as though distraught that that was his first reply.

He looked worried, and smiled gently as he looked over the track. “... I’ve seen you working on this, Amy.” He admitted, as her head came back up, and she got herself straightly up right away onto her feet.

“Then why did you destroy it!? Why’d you say it was Eggman’s doing!?” She shook her fists, “Why did you-…” Her voice broke a bit, “I always thought I had to entertain you, Sonic… that I couldn’t keep up, so I might as well keep you around by making a good effort on my end… but even then… I’m tried, Sonic.” She closed her eyes, as Sonic twitched and put his fingers to his heart, looking down as though feeling literal pain there.

“That sank pretty low.” He admitted, his tone sounding more heartbroken then ever. He couldn’t hide that.

“You’ve done… nothing for others to witness.” She rubbed her eyes, “I can’t keep trying to make them see the real you, Sonic… or even love you, anymore.”

He smiled and turned to her, “I never asked to be ‘entertained’, Amy… No friend should have to feel like they’re catering to one or the other.”

Amy’s head shot up at that.

“If you’re tired, it’s because you’ve been trying to grab at something that just isn’t there. No one can control another’s emotions… you aren’t responsible for how I act, or how other people feel, Amy…”

Amy got wobbly, so Sonic held out a hand, catching her. “... It’s the moments people hold personal… that make them heroes, Amy.” He lowered his head, “I never asked to be a hero… I just became one… because I couldn’t hide myself anymore.” He smiled, “Good deeds or not, I live by my own creed… I don’t need cheers or approval from others… I do what I want to do, and it just so happens that saving the world, protecting my friends and others,... those are things I enjoy doing.” He helped her back to her feet, her hands gripping his arms as though never wanting to be let go of them.

“But… why can’t you… be celebrated openly, Sonic?” She shook her head, “I don’t want to hear people speaking ill of you…”

“You’re burnt out, Amy… worrying about how other people view me.” He rubbed the top of her head, affectionately. “Eggman made this mess… but you made another, putting your time into something that wasn’t your problem to deal with in the first place.” He lightly pulled her head to his chest, dropping his own head to hers. “Amy… Whether people like what I do or not, I would hope in my heart… that you’d at least choose to accept it, accept me… and for what I am, I accept all of you… even the parts that worry about me.” He smirked and moved her out of his embrace. “Life’s no fun if you’re always waiting for someone to witness you doing it.” He gave her a wink and a thumbs up, “You miss too many opportunities that way.”

She couldn’t help but feel there was some truth in that, “... The best things…” She sniffled, rubbing the back of her nose against her gloved hand, looking at it as though disgusted, but having no alternative. “Are what’s unseen…”

Sonic nodded, “My merit isn’t credited by those that can view it… it’s what I know I did, Amy. So have faith that people will warm up to us all again, you’ll see.” He grinned, leaning towards her, “Keep a smile on that pretty face of yours, and quit playing in the trash, alright?” He rubbed her cheeks, getting some dust off of them.

She giggled, “Sonic… you’re the best and the worst at this!” She pushed him and he stumbled, wobbling off the edge of the tower as Amy placed her hands on her cheeks and swayed repeatedly back and forth, “Ohh~ You sweet talker, you~”

She blinked her eyes… “Sonic?”

She looked over to see he was gripping the edge of the tower.

Looking over, she saw him with chibi tears spraying out of his eyes, “HELLLP MEEE!!!” He cried out, “AMMYY!!!”

She immediately gasped and reached down, “Oh, OHH!! Sonnniccc!!! I’m so sorry!”

“Wah-hah-ha, why’d you make it so tall!?” He wiggled his feet out as she hoisted him up, looking down and getting freaked out.

When she got him up, he laid across her and starting laughing.

She blinked her eyes again but he just rolled off of her, “That sure was fun! I’m glad I got to be here with you… Amy.” He smiled and put a hand on his stomach, “What should we do next, huh?”

She smiled, “First… you’re gonna do all my work I left behind.” She narrowed her eyes, “You’re gonna take responsibility for your actions… and you’re going to at least clear up the misunderstandings.”

He looked as though she didn’t get what he was saying, but sighed, “Fine. If it makes you happy… Amy.” He closed his eyes and put his hands behind his back, “But first…” He tilted his nose up, “Can you smell that?”

She tried to, “Smoke? Oil?” She guessed, but he kept shaking his head lightly.

“Nah… keep trying.” He smiled gently, “Emmm~”

She tried again… reaching her nose out further, “Ah..! Your flowers!” She looked to the area far off, seeing his passionate project coming to life now that the thick smog parted to show the whole area… and people picking flowers, playing in the clean water, and enjoying life out there.

“Ah… They already knew.” Her eyes twitched at the beautiful sight, “From way up here…”

“... You saw a problem that you thought was there.” Sonic opened his eyes lightly, “No one hated me, Amy…” He looked to her, “... You were projecting your own thoughts and feelings onto others… You thought you were the only one… but really,” He took on a serious tone.

“I think you felt I wasn’t giving you enough time, Amy… for all you do for me, I think you felt jipped.”

She broke down and sobbed profusely, as Sonic slowly got up and put an arm around her again, letting her cry…

She was the one thinking those horrible things… this whole time…

“Eggman really made a mess of things.” He gently rested his head over Amy’s shoulder, “Didn’t he, Amy?”

With an absolute heart full of grace and sorrow, thankful for Sonic’s understanding, she held her hand to his back and pulled him closer, “Yes…” She admitted, feeling the weight finally set in. “I tried to be so strong when he took you away from us… I never once believed you were gone…”

“... That must have been a heavy burden… keeping everyone’s faith and hope alive… in me, and in the war efforts,... Amy.” Sonic closed his eyes, letting her let it out.

“I just… I wanted to see you.” She smushed her eyes into his shoulder. “I wanted you to want to see me…”

“...” This time, Sonic remained silent.

“... I love you, Sonic.” She mumbled through her tears.

“... I know.” Sonic took his other hand and adjusted his legs to be able to sit and hold her with both his arms now around her. “I missed you too, Amy…”

They both then said, as though one healing thought spoken aloud from their souls…

“I missed you so much.”

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