#the red bellied bandit

[passionateabteverything]

Good Omens Wild West Headcanons

Based on my cosplays of both Crowley's fem and masc forms

Crowley and Aziraphale head over to America for a couple years on a little "vacation" just to see how the "new world" has been doing since all those years

Crowley quickly becomes a bandit because spreading terror and mischief is exactly his brand of demonism, although he has a peculiar way of doing so

He has a gun but it's only there for decorative purposes, though he has accidentally fired another while staying in America

Crowley's main form of terrorism (apart from the occasional robberies) is untying horses from their reins so that their owners have to run after them (he takes much delight in this absolutely devious crime)

(He also does this cuz he hates the fkn animals)

His bandit name is The Red-Bellied Bandit (a reference to his snake form) and he becomes sort of famous—he's been banned from a few towns, more on that later

One night, while Crowley is doing his Evil Deeds, one of the horses he unleashes bolts onto a renowned criminal that was robbing the town's bank and harming the citizens, ultimately incapacitating the criminal in his escape

The townspeople who saw it happen believed it was Crowley's attempt at stopping the criminal and as a token of gratitude, they elect him sheriff

Crowley agrees cuz government officials are the most corrupt therefore it makes sense that he, a demon, would take on such a role

But in reality, he just wants to keep the townspeople safe cuz he got attached to them

At some point, the town's saloon needs a new owner and Crowley decides to try his hand at business owning (bcuz there is nth more evil than customer service, especially in such a sinful establishment like a saloon where booze, lust, greed, and wrath are involved)

Thus, fem-presenting Crowley manages the saloon she names Eden (totally not as a form of therapy where she can exert her authority over a secluded environment and banish those she deems unworthy, not at all–)

Crowley is then sheriff by day and saloon owner by night

The townspeople believe the sheriff has a twin sister who owns the saloon but they've never actually seen the two siblings at the same place at the same time...

Crowley's saloon is a hit what with great showgirl performances, good music and alcohol

Meanwhile, Aziraphale has been doing his Good Angel Stuff, helping people around, hanging out with vagrant authors like Walt Whitman and Herman Melville

He enjoys visiting Crowley's saloon and soon gets permission to perform there as well

Aziraphale puts on a showgirl magic act while fem-presenting

Any hecklers (or admirers) are forthwith removed from the premises never to be seen again, much to the angel's ignorance

The townspeople see how often masc-presenting Aziraphale visits Crowley's saloon and assume the sheriff's sister is having an affair with the bizarre englishman because have you seen the way they look at one another? And they sometimes share bottles of wine on the upper floor alone—how scandalous!

But the englishman's affection is very clearly directed toward the sheriff as well—but that's impossible for it would be sacrilegious otherwise...

Now remember how Crowley accidentally fired a gun during his banditing? What happened was he accidentally pulled the trigger of a bandit's gun he had confiscated (because his own gun doesn't have any bullets of course)

the bullet ricocheted through the entire town, causing signs to fall, horses to run off, the water cistern spilling, a fire starting, etc.

Because of the utter chaos, Crowley was banned from the town, and neighboring towns as well

This is the one act that made The Red-Bellied Bandit a name worth remembering

Crowley sometimes chills in the desert in his snake form to feel like a true predator in the wild

(He doesn't do it often cuz he gets scared of getting pecked on by a roadrunner)

He loves rattlesnakes and thinks it's so cool they get an instrument attached to them

Crowley is most excited when the railway gets installed in America because it means he doesn't have to struggle with horseback riding anymore

He also spends some time with inventors such as Graham Bell and Thomas Edison (he shares some of his inventor-expertise with them)

Thats all I have for now, please add on any headcanons you have!

[sky-kiss]

Dying female tav with Raphael

“Ah, what’s this?” The devil folds his hands at the small of his back, walking a slow circle around his prey. The little creature is curled in on herself, both hands pressed over her belly. Blood trickles over her fingers. And oh, she’s so deliciously pale. “No lion, no mouse, but a sacrificial lamb.” 

She tries to laugh. There’s fluid collecting in her lungs, and it the sound is unpleasantly wet. “Good to see you too, devil. Going to ask me to bleat?”  

Raphael surveys the scene. So many dead. It’s an admirable showing, certainly, but the lives of bandits had less than no value. An aspiring hero, on the other hand? Room to negotiate. The cambion screws up his nose, kneeling in front of her. “I’d considered it. Though, I advise conserving what little energy you have left, pet.” 

“Noted.” Tav winces. “Is it too much to hope you’ll help me?” 

“Mm, it springs eternal.” The cambion taps his chin in consideration. “Unfortunately, I have a reputation to maintain. What would it look like? Raphael, playing favorites?” 

Something is charming in watching frustration play across her face. The devil can see her hold on life slipping away, her soul blackening around the edges. It's tied to her flesh so tenuously, the threads snapping one by one. Tav coughs. A worry trail of blood trickles from the right corner of her mouth. “I’m your favorite?” 

“But of course, lamb! And I do so want to help you,” he leans forward, lifting her hand from the wound. The flesh around her belly has begun to blacken, angry red lines licking outwards and stretching up towards her heart. Poison. An effective, if boring, solution to one’s adventurer problems. “We have only to discuss terms. I promise they shall be ever in your favor.” 

“What do you want?” 

“Oh, don’t be like that. No fun at all!” He rocks back on his heels. “The joy is in the process. The give and take…” 

“I’m bleeding out, devil.” 

“Simplified, then. For your benefit, pet.” Raphael smiles, shifting to kneel beside her. Close enough to hear her stuttering little breaths, feel the sickly feverish heat from the poison roiling through her veins. “I will play savior once more; in return, you will answer my call when and if the need should arise. A mutual exchange between friends.” 

Tav hisses, chewing her lower lip. So pale. Fading so fast, so mortal. “Give the devil a favor? Carte blanche?” 

“You are free to make your decision. But your time.” He touched her side. “Grows short.” 

She purses her lips, tipping her head back. And while he is fond of the little creature, in his way, he will not deny the innate pleasure in watching the dawning realization cross her face. There is a sweetness in that final moment: the trap swings shut. The only viable option is Raphael. 

“Save me then.” 

“Oh, my dear. I thought you’d never ask.” 

[coffee-at-daybreak]

what we want | teldryn sero x reader

Ever since you helped clear Raven Rock mine recently, the town was seeing a boom in business. Miners were flocking to get their share of work in. As a result, the Retching Netch would become quite hectic every night, seeing as all the exhausted workers just wanted a nice meal and drink and a comfy place to stay. You were lucky to have come into the inn when you did, before the rush, so you managed to snag a table tucked away in the corner. You stare at the half-finished loaf of bread you’d been picking at, lost deep in thought despite the ruckus around you.

You’re jolted out of it when you feel a boot tap against your own under the table. “Still awake, serjo?” Teldryn asks.

You look up at him, met with his slightly concerned but amused red eyes. “Huh?”

“You haven’t even had a drink yet and you look out of it.” He tilts his head. “Everything alright?”

How dare he ask you that, with that damned helmet off, staring at you with those damned alluring eyes, on that damned captivating face of his. You’ve seen it before, but the effect it has on you is just as intense as the first time - your skin gets warm, your mouth goes dry, and your belly feels like it’s housing a frenzied moth with all its fluttering.

But you maintain your composure, thank the gods. You nod at him. “Y-yes, I’m just … thinking.”

“About what?”

You gulp, nervousness wringing your already unstable belly into a knot. “Well…"

Teldryn chuckles. “Uh oh.”

There’s a long pause as he patiently waits for you to gather your words. The sound of voices and laughter echo off the walls of the inn. You toss around options in your head for a moment, but you finally go with the blunt, flat approach.

“What are we?” You ask.

He simply stares at you for a second. “..What?” He finally shoots back, in a tone that makes you feel like you just asked something silly.

But it’s not something silly to you. There’s a lot about him and your relationship that you do know. You know that you started out as a simple patron and hireling pair. You were acquaintances, people who talked only to discuss plans and money and whatnot. Then you were friends - you talked about your backgrounds, about your adventures, about your interests and dreams. You went from simply using his company, to actually cherishing it.

And you don’t know when, or how, but you strayed onto the messy path of more than friends. His lingering touches when he helped adjust your armor. The soft tone you started to adopt when you said his name. The way you two embraced after a brutal, exhausting battle at a bandit fort. Sharing a bed at an inn or holding hands to stay together in a crowded city. In the heat of the moment, these things all came naturally to you, and you honestly had never given it much thought before.

But it hit you this morning, when you two had been locked in a practice sparring session, and one particular moment had you mere inches apart, and all you wanted to do was pin him down and kiss the life out of him. But he’d leaned back, declaring you’d had enough practice and it was time to get moving. And you’d finally felt the strangling weight of that dreaded thought.

You didn’t know what you were - just a patron and their hireling, or something more.

“W-well, it’s just…” You rub at your neck nervously. Your pulse sounds like thunder in your ears. “I don’t want to assume anything, but sometimes it feels like… maybe we…”

You can’t even get the words out. There’s a strange, suffocating fear gripping at your chest. You can’t help but worry that this will turn out to be a grand misunderstanding, and you’ll be made to look like a fool. Knowing that could end in Teldryn leaving your side is all the more terrifying.

He is silent for a second, which only increases your fear. Then he’s cracking a smile, one side of his mouth lifting. “You are adorable, Dovahkiin.”

Heat grows under your cheeks. You watch him as he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. His boot taps yours again, playfully.

“What do you want us to be?” He asks.

You blink at him. “Wha- you can’t ask me that!”

“Why not?” He laughs.

“You could be setting me up here,” you mumble. The warmth on your skin is spreading everywhere, and you worry you’ll start sweating any minute now.

“Now, now, I may have my dark side, but I’m not evil.” Teldryn’s smile turns into a grin. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“You are the worst. I regret saying anything.”

“Come on, tell me.” His eyes narrow, staring at you with paralyzing intensity. “What do you want us to be, serjo?”

You fight the urge to pick up your abandoned piece of bread and throw it at him. Instead, you take a deep breath in. You shift your foot under the table, extending it so that your leg leans into his a little. He holds your gaze, but you notice the way his eyes relax from their narrowed glare.

“I want us to be more,” you say, trying to keep your voice as firm and as steady as you can keep it. “I want you to be more than just a mercenary, and I want to be more than just your boss. I want us to be together because we want to be, not because we have to be.”

There’s another tense silence, in which he continues to simply stare at you. Panic overtakes you and you wave your hands in front of you a little. “Unless of course, you don’t want the same. Then I shall pay you a handsome amount of septims and we can pretend I never-”

“Sh.” He interrupts sharply, which works because you stop and look back at him. Your entire body is in overdrive. Your heart feels like it might leap out of your throat.

Teldryn’s smile softens. He unfolds one of his arms and pats at his lap. “Come here.”

You give him a split second “are you insane” look but he urges you again. You swallow the last of your nerves and stand, knees feeling a little weak as you step over to him. You take a very unsure, very careful seat on his leg. One of his arms immediately wraps around your waist to pull you closer. His other arm dives to pick up your legs and drape them across his lap, so you are situated comfortably against him.

It’s not fear that’s fueling your crazed heart rate anymore, but a thrill of elation. Especially your eyes lock with his, and you realize you’ve never seen them this close up before, their intense red color more hypnotizing than ever. In the cozy lantern lights of the inn, you could sit and study his details forever, from the angles of his face to the tiniest scar notched into his skin.

“Firstly, I don’t do this with any of my patrons,” he says , his voice so much closer and warmer, now that you hear it better amongst the noise of the inn.

“I’d hope not. Because if so, you might be in the wrong field of employment,” you quip, and his body quivers beneath your own with his laughter. You snake an arm around his neck, resting it over his shoulders. You can’t help but smile, a cheesy but genuine smile. Relief starts to sweep through you, eradicating the last of your worries.

“Second, consider this my resignation as your hireling,” Teldryn continues.

You arch an eyebrow in question. “What is your new title, then?” You dare to ask.

His hand moves off your leg and reaches out to take your own hand into it. You’d never felt his hand without his gloves on before. His skin is calloused but warm, and like him, it feels so strong, so protective.

He lifts your joined hands to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “Yours. All yours,” he murmurs against your skin.

Were he not holding you so firmly right now, you might have actually swooned. That flutter in your abdomen floats up to your chest, where your heart feels like it’s blooming in joy. You don’t even care if there happens to be anyone looking at you two. It’s hard to care about anything else right now when he’s holding you like this, and looking at you with a tenderness reserved for only you.

“I do like the sound of that,” you admit. “I’ll approve it, so long as we make it fair and you consider me yours as well.”

He grins up at you, his arm giving you a playful squeeze around your abdomen. “Deal.” Then he lowers his arm at your back, which drops you just enough for him to lean in and join your lips together, as if to seal your new agreement.

[voraciousvore]

The Giant and the Princess (1/10)

Length: 10 parts, ~25k words total

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Author's Note: This story can be read on its own with no context. However, if you are familiar with my other works, this is the tale of Ajax (Chester's father from The Giant) and his past that is hinted at in The Half-Blood Giant when he gives horrible advice to his grandson. The story takes place in a time where the giants and humans lived together in the same world, before the war between them, and Ajax was still a young man, not the crusty old bastard he is in the other stories. 

Word Count for Part 1: 2858

Content Warning: Multiple instances of soft, fatal, unwilling g/t vore, both humans and animals (not too explicit)

------ Part 1 ------

Ajax was hungry, and he smelled blood—not just any blood, but fresh human blood, in a sufficient quantity to be fatal. He was out hunting in the woods, and his interest was piqued, so he followed the scent. The trees in this forest were spaced out widely and gigantic in scale, but not quite as tall as his staggering height of 280 feet, so if he wanted to be subtle he’d have to crouch. He didn’t believe this precaution was necessary, however, if his quarry was already dead. 

His keen senses picked up the sound of hooves galloping towards him, bringing with it that distinctive blood scent. He spied the horse through the cover of the leaves on the trees, heading for his feet. The poor creature was spooked, sprinting blindly and frothing at the mouth. Its coat and tack were stained red from its rider, who was sprawled out at an unnatural angle over the saddle. He appeared to be a royal soldier, with flashy armor and insignias decorating his clothes, but he was clearly deceased. 

Ajax crouched down and snatched up the horse in his hand. The horse bucked and whinnied, but couldn’t escape as the giant stuffed it into his maw, equipment and rider and all. He swallowed the beast of burden whole, sighing with pleasure as he felt the creature thrashing all the way down his throat into his belly. He smelled more prey nearby, so he prowled forward, prepared for more. 

He observed clear signs of a scuffle as he continued on his way: broken tree limbs, chaotic hoof prints in the mud, splashes of crimson, random articles strewn on the ground during a struggle. He came across the corpses of men and horses, slain with arrows and swords and splattered with mud and scarlet. Though Ajax overwhelmingly preferred live prey, since he enjoyed the sensation of his meals squirming in his gut, he wouldn’t refuse fresh meat. He dined on the limp bodies as he passed them, not bothering to strip them of their accoutrements. His stomach was strong enough to tear through such trifles. 

He slowed his pace and ducked below the tree line as he heard shouts up ahead. His mouth watered and his heart rate quickened in anticipation of the hunt. He could distinguish at least six unique human scents, each with a horse. He could scarcely believe his good fortune; he would feast richly today. He crept forward with minimal disruption to the surrounding vegetation, balancing himself on his fingertips and the balls of his feet. 

Soon enough, the unlucky group of humans came into view. Ajax could tell what was going on right away. Four of the men, all on horseback, were a ragtag group of bandits that were harassing the other two travelers. One lone man, a knight, was fighting a losing battle against them. He was heavily wounded and exhausted as he savagely fought off their blows. The last human was a woman, a petite female, whom the knight was struggling to protect. Her horse was inches from death, bleeding profusely from a wide gash in its neck, and in no condition to carry her to safety. She was lavishly dressed and clearly a high-ranking individual. 

The giant saw his opportunity to strike and charged in. With a single sweep of his hand he captured two of the bandits, along with their horses, and shoved them in his mouth. The other two, startled by the intrusion, charged off in different directions. The knight stood his ground to protect the lady, who cowered on her dying horse, but he was obviously terrified. Ajax leapt forward, shaking the earth as he slammed his hand down to block one of the horsemen from escaping. The horse reared up with a frantic neigh and raced in the opposite direction. Ajax corralled the other bandit in a similar fashion, then grabbed them both and gobbled them up with delight. 

While the giant was eating the other men, the knight hastened to transfer the lady to his own horse, so they could run away. However, the horse was spooked by the colossal giant stomping around and slaughtering the others. The knight, under normal circumstances, could maintain control of his horse, but in his weakness his hands slid off the reins. The horse bucked off both humans and fled into the forest. 

The knight was fading fast from his wounds as he fell to the ground. The woman refused to abandon him and tried to drag him away, but a full-grown man with heavy plate armor was too much for her to handle. She knew she couldn’t outrun a giant with such an impossible burden. She collapsed next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Their time had come; they were going to die. 

Ajax swallowed his final victim and massaged his twitching belly with a burp. After eating so many writhing men and horses, he was stuffed. His gut was bloated almost to the point of discomfort as it protruded over his belt. He looked down to his feet, at his remaining prey, debating whether he could cram two more people and a dying horse into his limited gut space. He kneeled down to examine them closer. He was surprised the woman didn’t run, despite her lack of injuries. She was crying over the other human, who was barely moving by now. The giant reached down and plucked her up by the back of her dress between his fingers. The tiny lady squealed with fright. 

“No!” she blubbered. “Don’t eat us! You have no right! Don’t hurt him…” She sobbed, looking at Ajax with pleading, watery eyes that contradicted her sharp protests. 

Normally, when humans begged for their lives, Ajax would just ignore their supplications and eat them anyways. He didn’t hate humans, or have anything against them, but he saw them as food more than as people. He knew some of his fellow giants were crueler, and enjoyed tormenting and toying with more intelligent prey that could plead for mercy, but that wasn’t in his nature. All he wanted was a full belly, and right now his hunger was already sated. Eating another morsel would only cause discomfort from an overly stretched stomach. 

He debated what to do with her. He could take her with him, and save her as a snack for later, but he was sure the other giants back home would want to eat her instead. He wouldn’t be able to hide a human with such an enticing aroma, and he didn’t want to get into a fight over food. At the same time, though, it seemed like such a waste to just leave her here. The knight would die from his wounds, and she didn’t appear to have the survival instincts to make it on her own, without being picked off by a wild beast. 

Ajax sighed as he looked at her. Humans were difficult to catch, and it would truly be a shame for such a delicacy to be lost to a dumb animal. Besides, as he gazed down at her squirming helplessly in his fingers, he couldn’t help but notice her finery, and her beauty. Even among humans, she was no ordinary specimen. She was disheveled due to the scuffle, but he could make out fair features with almond eyes and flowing flaxen hair. Despite his apathy, he felt the smallest drop of sympathy creep through. It must be a difficult life, to be so pathetic and helpless, with no way to protect oneself from hardship. 

Maybe he was just in a generous mood because his day had been fruitful, and his stomach was nice and full, but he decided to help her. Why not? He carefully tucked his fingers under the knight and scooped him into his hand, trying his best not to antagonize his injuries. The man’s forehead was drenched in sweat, and he winced with a soft groan, but he was too delirious from blood loss to protest. 

“Don’t you dare touch him! Let him go!” the woman shouted, attacking his fingers with all her strength. Ajax smirked. He had to appreciate her spunk in the face of such unattainable odds. 

“Relax, human. I’m not going to harm him,” he assured her. “Nor you.” 

She stopped her wriggling, obviously stunned by this new development. “R-really?” she stammered incredulously. 

“Nah. I’m not hungry anymore,” he explained. She looked up at him with wide eyes, hardly daring to believe her good fortune. “Where should I take you? Obviously he’s in no condition to walk…”  

She blinked, still in shock, then pointed in the general direction. Ajax knew there was a walled human city nearby, complete with a castle and a moat. The humans cast protective spells around their cities so giants couldn’t stomp over and destroy them. Not that Ajax would want to anyway: He was content to pick off the occasional straggler that wandered too deep into the giant woods. His stomach gurgled noisily as he digested his meal, causing the human woman in his hand to shudder. 

She stayed silent, but he could feel her trembling with fear. And no wonder: She had just watched him heartlessly devour a whole buffet of men. Ajax felt strange, carrying humans in such a gentle manner. He was used to eating them and breaking them in his hands, not… whatever this was. Somehow, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, the experience was nice. He liked not having the tiny beings screaming and cowering in terror at his very existence. 

He tried not to jostle his hands too much while walking, but the terrain was rough and uneven in patches. A small jolt caused the woman to topple forward in his palm and grip his pinky out of reflex. Her weight was inconsequential in his gargantuan hand, her touch light as a feather. An odd emotion surfaced in his heart, one of mild warmth. He stopped to allow her to regain her balance before continuing. She shivered as she sat in the center of his palm. 

Finally, after he strolled along for a few minutes, the city appeared on the horizon. Even from this distance, Ajax could tell how puny the castle was compared to his great height: The tallest tower probably wouldn’t even reach his waist. The knight had lost consciousness, but Ajax figured he would survive as long as he received medical care in a timely manner. 

“Th-thank you…” the lady’s miniature voice squeaked from his hand. “Thank you so much…” Ajax glanced down at her. She sat in his palm with her back facing him, but by the shakiness of her voice, the giant suspected she was crying again. 

“No problem. I guess,” Ajax grunted in return. For some reason, he felt an urge to pat her on the head with the tip of his finger, but he refrained. She was scared enough as it was; he didn’t want to send her into a panic. It was a miracle she was as docile as she was—most likely out of desperation, not trust. 

She turned her head and stole a peek up at his fearsome, yet noble, mien. His dark brown hair was long and untamed, with a thick beard and eyes of a similar shade to match. His features were sharp and defined, with a big nose and a wide mouth with thin lips. She’d never seen a giant firsthand, since she spent most of her time ensconced in the castle walls. Watching him eat all those men was terrifying, yet she was relieved to be spared, and grateful he had rescued her from the bandits whom she had no doubts were trying to kidnap her. He saved her, when it would’ve been very easy to scarf her down like nothing more than a scrap of meat. She was surprised by the compassion he displayed, helping her and her last surviving guard rather than leaving them both to die. She always just assumed that giants were nothing more than revolting man-eating monsters, based on the stories she’d heard. Perhaps not. 

Ajax’s approach was far from subtle as he clomped towards the city with his prodigious bulk. The castle guards saw his massive figure from afar and rushed out in case they needed to defend the city. Their valor was commendable, yet they stayed within the confines of the magical barrier where the giant would be unable to tread. The only visual sign of the barrier was an occasional flicker in the air, like a ripple in a clear pond. 

The giant stopped outside the barrier, looking down with hesitation at the tiny armed men. He couldn’t reach them, but the barrier didn’t stop the soldiers from lobbing projectiles outward at him. Unless they used heavy artillery, the flimsy arrows and spears of individual men typically weren’t enough to be dangerous, but they could still hurt and draw blood. He slowly bent his knees and lowered himself to the grass. The diminutive guards stiffened, prepared for trouble. Ajax gently touched his hand to the ground so the little lady in his hand could dismount. He set the injured knight down on a soft patch of grass next to her. 

The soldiers gasped as she gracefully climbed down from his colossal fingers. “Princess Iris!” several voices called out. The soldiers, virtually in unison, dropped to their knees in respectful bows. Ajax raised an eyebrow. He could tell by her dress and entourage she was somebody of high status, but he didn’t expect her to be royalty. 

“Get up, you dullards!” the princess shouted, exasperated. “Help him! He’s dying!” She gestured to the knight, whose body was just outside the barrier. The soldiers froze up; none of them dared forsake the protective magic and expose themselves to a grisly death. The princess, more concerned about the man’s life than her dignity, huffed as she struggled to drag the body herself with her slim little arms. Ajax helped by nudging him along with his finger, until he was stung by the barrier and had to pull away. 

As soon as the knight crossed the barrier, the guards rushed to follow the princess’s orders and aid him. A few guards left to alert the king and fetch a horse for the princess so she wouldn’t have to walk like a peasant. Princess Iris regained her regal comportment and watched them scramble to obey. Once she confirmed everything was in order, she turned and looked up at the giant, without a shred of nervousness or fear.  

Her mouth didn’t move, but her expressive eyes spoke volumes. She had a vivacious fire that surprised Ajax, even enchanted him. Despite how rough and ragged her dress and hair were after her struggle, her stately aura shined through. It wasn’t just her expensive clothes that distinguished her from the commoners; it was her imperial demeanor and character that resonated with authority. She was no ordinary human woman; Ajax was transfixed.  

Her spell gripped him even after she left on a horse adorned with the finest livery. He stayed in place, observing her until she disappeared into the walls of the small city, oblivious to the anxious stares of the soldiers at his feet. Ajax raised himself to a standing position and dusted off his knees. He retreated back into the woods, glancing over his shoulder until the city vanished from view. 

He returned the same way that he came, deep in thought. He passed by the dead horse with the slashed throat and the smears of blood in the grass and on the bark of the trees. A familiar scent caught his attention. He turned on his heel, sampling the air through his nose to pinpoint the source. He squatted on his haunches, peering through the leaves. Laying hidden in a disheveled patch of shrubbery was a bright glint that was saturated with the princess’s natural fragrance. Ajax collected the microscopic object carefully between his fingertips and held it close to his face, squinting.  

It was a miniscule crown, fitted for her tiny little head. The crown was encrusted with expensive jewels and plated with shining gold. Ajax rolled it between his fingers, fascinated. He stared at the gleaming object for a while before stashing it in his pocket and continuing on his way. The sun was setting, so he decided to return home for the night and prepare for bed. 

Later that night, when he laid down to rest, he couldn’t sleep. He fetched the crown to admire it again, playing with it in his fingers. He couldn’t get the tiny woman out of his mind. He recalled the distinct feeling of her small form resting in his palm, and the striking way she looked at him before she left to enter the city. He felt a little sad when he realized he’d probably never see her again. They inhabited vastly different worlds, after all. With a melancholic sigh, he placed the tiny crown on his chest and intertwined his hands over his belly. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless slumber. 

Part 2

Writing Masterpost

[yourfavehatesautismspeaks]

Bandit Heeler from Bluey hates Autism Speaks!

[Image Description: Two images set to the background of a flag with three stripes; the upper and lower stripes are both light red, the middle stripe is a darker red. The first picture has Bandit, a drawing of an anthropomorphic blue heeler dog with blue fur, in dark blue, light blue, navy blue, and yellow patterns. It is implied he has greying hair as he has yellow streaks in the navy blue patches over his eyes, on his back, and tail. His belly area is also yellow. The second image has the Autism Speaks logo crossed out with a ‘no’ sign. End Description.]

[sins-of-the-sea]

Section of a Ming period scroll painting depicting Guan Yu's attendant handling his legendary steed Red Hare. He is wearing a green Guo Du as well as a white Han Yao with black border.

Guo Du is a long sarong-like garment worn around the belly, while Han Yao is a fabric or leather corset worn around the lower back. Both were commonly used by soldiers and generals alike to prevent rubbing of scabbard, quiver and bow holster against armour, although it was not unusual for unarmoured soldiers to wear them (shown above).

Source.

//Putting this here as a reference, as I always wondered what was that corset-like waistguard I see on soldiers and sometimes bandits and other kung fu outfits in some wuxia films. I always thought they were neat and if they had a function besides guarding the waist.

So what would be the deep purple garment worn by a yellow sash in this above picture is likely the guo du?? Did I draw it incorrectly? Though I've seen it described as the 'waist cushion' in English too, as seen below:

Though I think the Han Yao is the 'waist cushion' here?

Istg Chinese clothing history is an entire 4-year university course ;_; I wouldn't mind being given corrections and suggestions from the Chinese side of Tumblr.

[xavierknightsbridge]

Hercules Does His Belly’s Duty

Hercules let out a mighty belch as he pressed his big, naked belly into the bandit. Said massive, distended belly with its gaping black hole of a belly button was currently digesting the bandit’s friend, and providing Hercules’ triumphant tummy with indescribable sensations of pleasure as it fed on the bandit, who still squirmed beneath the skin of his taut drum of a vore-belly.

Hercules’ red curls were stuck to his head, damp with sweat, his whole body heaving with exertion as he’d filled his belly to its rightful fullness with the bandit’s delicious body, now swelling out his belly to a small planet, naked and sweating and spherical. Something - or rather, someone, shifted within that distended sack of bare, heroic gut - and Hercules let out a mighty belly-quaking belch. The bandit who was not yet inside his stomach’s eyes widened. Evidently he could smell his friend (now Hercules’ new belly, wriggling deliciously inside him - he liked a morsel that put up a fight) on the hero’s breath

Hercules began to thrust his hips, wobbling his great man-eating belly and rubbing it up and down against the sweating, naked, frightened bandit.  He took his time, letting the handsome bandit feel every squirm, struggle and moan emanating from within his swollen spherical gut as he feasted on his friend, eating him alive and filling his belly out so enormously with his living meat. 

Hercules pulled his belly taut, so that the face of the bandit was visible beneath the stretched skin of his drum of belly, mouth open as though pleading, just below his abyssal belly button. And then Hercules let out a huge belly shaking belch, expelling all the air from his belly and turning his living meal into just a lump of meat stuffing his heroic stomach.

The other bandit began to plead and whimper as Hercule’s gut began to gurgle and blort, and the bandit could feel his friend being digested behind the sweating fleshy stomach pressed into him. Hercules allowed his next meal to be flavored sufficiently with fear, and once his food had began to suitably digest, grabbed him and stuffed him, legs kicking into his mouth. With a few hungry swallows he sent the bandit down to join his digesting friend within the cavern of his ever-gluttonous belly. 

Hercules watched in delight as his stomach grew to twice its size and began to squirm anew. The bandit should have known better than to plead, having watched what happened to his predecessor, but plead he did, his faint cries emerging from behind Hercules’ stretched bellybutton. Hercules lay back, his great boulder of smooth, man-filled, belly screaming, gurgling and squirming away and thought that this was the life of  a hero - when duty and pleasure were combined. As his mighty mountain of a bare vore belly swelled and squirmed in his lap, Hercules did wonder how he was going to fit his breastplate back on - but that was a problem for later. For now, all he had to do was lie back and digest these bandits into pudge - additions to his heroic belly for good. The life of a hero was good, he thought, as he drifted into a food coma while his food screamed inside him.

[fatdogboys]

Fat Geppy thoughts...Imagine him being assigned to a more crowded, but still dangerous area-He patrols the streets, makes sure the citizens get home safely, solves disputes and fights off bandits. At the end of the day he goes back to the silvermane guard outpost, stuffs himself full after eating nothing for almost an entire day, and passes out-Sure it was a big meal, but he spent all that energy on his job!

Then-Even as he remains stoic and polite, the local citizens cant help but admire him. They talk to him and genuinely worry about his wellbeing, if he's not cold or hungry!An old lady knits him a scarf(even though Gepard is used to the cold,it still feels nice),and make sure he gets properly fed. A freshly baked cake here, a pastry there, a whole roast or a bowl of rice...Gepard is far too polite to refuse anyone, and the citizens have no idea how much he ate, so they just keep putting more and more food in his hands as he goes from alley to alley, door to door...

He still eats his meals after he comes back, routine too ingrained into his mind even as he has to undo his belt and rub at his straining belly, going to sleep stifflimg burps and slipping into a food coma-Which, seems to improve his sleeping schedulez actually. And the people are all far too kind to ignore, or to turn down their gifts. So as much as his stomach seems to hurt now, Gepard decides to endure it, for everyone's sake(And maybe because he secretely likes it but shh)

Eventually, his stomach capacity grows, and his appetite does, too. Instead of going to sleep painfully full, he handles it quite well-Instead of undoing his belt, he ends up buying a new one when the old one feels too tight even on an empty stomach. He stares at himself in the mirror, grasping at his soft stomach and impressive butt with a beet red face. And the more time passes, the more the people in the area adore him.

Gepard clutches at his stomach, round and taut from the food, but still drooping and soft and jutting out. His armor had to be resized two times by now, and it doesn't seem like he's stopping anytime soon. He walks the streets, knowing that even though he runs significantly slower now, he can take on whole hordes of bandits with his bulkiness. He is fat and nurtured and cared for, the appreciation of each citizen showing on his widened hips and heavy step.

The wider the wall, the more people it can protect. And Gepard was going to get wide.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 20 - The American Red Cross Association

You're a blood donor!

Rated M for language, violence, and now vampire shenanigans.

On AO3.

There’s no donation chair, obviously. No medical gurney. Your choices are dirt, or your bedroll placed on the dirt. At least the bedroll is close to the fire (and the others, should your atrophied sense of self-preservation decide to wake up).

Astarion tags after you. Waits as you sit and reach for your pack. Shifts almost awkwardly, and keeps glancing from your hands, along your arms, to stare at your neck before, you assume, catching himself and starting that process over. Now that he’s illuminated—and you’re not so groggy—you spot the changes in his body movement. How still he is, except for a barely discernible shiver now and then. He swallows a couple of times, and at first you think it’s nerves, until you catch a flicker of pink tongue between his lips and realize he’s trying to hide how badly he’s salivating.

That’s…you have to turn away from that. Your body has a very weird and off-putting reaction, all flushed terror and all.

“Here we are,” you say. You found the bandits’ food store after the party slaughtered all of them. Most of it went to the camp rations, but each of you got an iced bun. Gale already ate his with no ill effects, but you saved yours to go with breakfast. Your waterskin is maybe half full—you frown at that—and set it next to your bedroll.

“Something wrong?” Astarion says.

“I get all demon thirsty when I donate blood,” you say and uncork the thing to down several gulps. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and look up. Find the man absolutely bewildered.

“It’s for medical purposes,” you say. “People volunteer their blood, and it gets cleaned up and stored in hospitals and stuff. That way, if someone needs a transfusion—did that translate right? If someone loses too much blood, they can give them some of the donated stuff so they don’t, you know, die.”

“Oh. That sounds…altruistic.” You’d never known someone could make that word sound like a negative. “And you’re one of those…volunteers? Why? What do you get out of it?”

You’ve got your stuff staged and within arm’s reach. Satisfied, you turn back to him.

“Cause I got plenty and my body makes more. They also give you cookies afterward. So how do we do this? I got a good vein in my left arm, in the elbow that they always really like?”

He looks at your offered arm. Resettles himself and motions for you to lie down. Which you do. He takes a knee next to you and you try hard not to think about how vulnerable you are. Some vampire elf man kneeling over you, flat on your damn back.

One of the charcoaled logs collapses into the bed of embers. A soft flash washes over the two of you. In that light, his eyelids lower and he goes all smug and smarmy.

“I think the classic method might be best,” he says.

And that takes you longer than it should. Because you’re used to the cold swab of alcohol in the crook of your elbow. The tight band wrapped around your bicep. Looking away as the tech slides in the needle.

He’s a vampire. They, classically, bite necks. Which yeah, not fun to think about. But it’s the mouth part that trips your pulse and makes it stumble over itself. Somehow, you did not consider that part. To make you bleed, he will bite you. With his teeth. In his fucking mouth. Which means his mouth is going to be at your fucking neck.

“Oh,” you say and want to kick your own ass at how small that comes out. Especially when that fucking goblin grin ticks up on one side of his lips. His lips that will be on your neck. You clear your throat. “I mean, if that’s the best way. Uh. Go for it.”

He dips his head in a bow and his left hand comes to rest just above your right shoulder. Which means he’s reaching across you (flat on your damn back, belly exposed). He leans across you and he is all up in your personal space and you are suddenly, viscerally aware of that. People don’t get close to you (except for Uncle Randy and Sasha and her boyfriend). You don’t get close to people. You’re the one that stands back and waves when Debbie or Jeff leave the office for retirement or transfer, when they all hug each other goodbye. You haven’t held so much as a squirming baby in over a decade.

And his face is going to touch you. His fucking hand comes up, under your chin to tilt your head to your left, looking away from the fire, leaving your neck bare and so horribly exposed to teeth but also his goddamn lips.

You didn’t think this part through, is what you didn’t do. Look at you, getting necked before you’ve ever been kissed. That has to be some kind of achievement, right?

“Easy, darling,” Astarion murmurs and he’s so goddamn close to you you can actually feel his voice.

Your heartbeat ratchets up. Blood pressure probably on the verge of splitting an artery somewhere. You flex your fingers (and toes) and nod.

“Sorry,” you say.

“It’s alright. Are you this nervous when you donate your blood to others?”

Again with that sneer. He’s got you turned away; all you see above his chest is the poof of his hair out of the corner of your eye, “They don’t take it out with their mouth.”

He leans in. You expect to feel a wash of heat, but there is none. Undead. He’s ambient room temperature. But there’s still a presence there. Something solid moving over you, a strange charge in the air you’ve never felt before.

He hums and that soft exhale tickles your ear because he’s right there. “So it’s my mouth that has you shivering, is it?”

For fuck’s—

“Just fucking bite me,” you say.

You’re pretty sure he smiles. Smug bastard.

Then he lunges. It reminds you of a snake strike. Utter calm to piercing pain and you gasp despite yourself. You’ve known pain, before. Gut cramps, menstrual cramps, switch welts. None of them are teeth in your flesh.

It shocks you. Your body seizes up as a sharp, freezing pain stabs the side of your neck. Almost as quick, it fades to throbbing, and then into a gentle numbness.

Analgesic spit, you think. Neat.

The bite itself distracts you for a long minute. You try not to think of fangs in your flesh. Hard teeth digging through skin and muscle and vein. Then Astarion shifts and through the numb, something moves against your skin. Something…wet? Strong, but not hard—

His tongue. The man is licking your goddamn neck.

Just as that registers, Astarion outright groans against you. Your cheeks light themselves on fire. The sound shivers against your skin and his voice vibrates up your throat. The hand not holding him up slips behind your head—fingers gliding along your scalp and lifting goosebumps in a sweep from crown to toes—to cradle the back of your skull and hold you to him.

You bite back the squeak. Hold as still as you can.

His lips are cool and soft. Slurping echoes loud in your ear, mixed with small noises he makes and his cool breath ruffles the short hairs on the nape of your neck.

You squeeze your eyes shut. It’s a blood donation. Just a procedure. You’ve done this many times before. Except this one has a grown man humming and…sweet jesus, he’s moaning. Not audible, exactly. You feel more than hear it.

So far, he’s been lapping at you. His own throat bobs as he swallows (holy fuck he’s close enough for you to notice that and you don’t even have any space because he’s taking it all and his chest brushes yours where the fuck are his legs). But then his voice changes pitch. Then he sucks.

That hurts. Sharp, burning pain lights up the side of your face. You can’t stop your own whimper, or the way you grab a handful—with just your fingertips because more means touching him more—of his shirt.

But that only seems to egg him on. He sucks again. His weight drops onto you holy fucking shit, and the hand supporting him wraps around your shoulders in some fucked up hug. All of it to pull you close. Every alarm left in your brain goes off all at once. Your deep, deep primate brain has memories to recognize a predator securing its prey.

“Astarion,” you say.

He doesn’t answer.

“Astarion, that’s enough.”

Still no answer.

Your head’s going foggy. You never noticed any ill effects during any previous donation—all that comes when people sit up or stand or try to walk over to the cookies table. But you are, and you’re lying down. You know that is a very, very bad sign.

Your arm is heavy when you lift it. You push through—limb shaking—to tap his shoulder. Probably harder than you mean to. But it’s enough to jolt him. His lips break their seal and hot liquid dribbles down the back of your shoulder.

“Mmm?” he says. Then he takes a sharp breath. “Oh. Of course.”

He lifts up immediately. The action only partially soothes you. The majority of your emotional system is still screaming at your vulnerability, at how shaky and light-headed you are, at how goddamn close he still is to you.

You do your best to show none of this as he rolls back and to his feet. It’s a smooth motion, lighter than you’ve seen from him. He’s grinning, a trickle of your blood running down the side of his chin. He touches it with his fingertips, brings them up to suck them clean.

“That…that was amazing,” he says. Dude’s panting like he was the one who got drained half to death.

You don’t dare sit up. You roll to your side to grab your provisions, uncork the waterskin, and slam down as much as you can before your lungs start to protest. You wish it was juice. Your stomach trembles, all queasy.

Astarion’s entire posture is different. He holds himself taller, frame wider somehow. His eyes are even brighter. “My mind feels clear. I feel strong. I feel…”

The next part seems to baffle him. You rip off a piece of the iced bun and slip that into your mouth. You chew slow and careful to make sure your stomach will take it. You’re ripping off another piece before you even swallow.

“I feel happy,” Astarion says. And maybe it’s your imagination, but the last word there sounds tinged in what you might almost call wonder. Even his grin has changed—showing off those fangs you honestly should have noticed sooner.

“You get enough?” you say. He’d better say yes, because you don’t got no more to give for a while. Half the roll is gone, and your stomach seems content to hold it. The thirst taps your shoulder and then screams into your ear. You down more water.

“Quite enough, darling. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He dips into a fancy bow. “You’ve been invigorating, but I need something more filling.”

“Gonna find you a nice, big deer?”

“Indeed. You know, you’re taking this all rather better than I expected.”

The last thing you saw with a vampire in it was that show where they were all sad and hilarious roommates. You’re operating on an entirely different cultural level with zero context towards how him or vampires should exist in this world. Hell, there’s a lot of people of all genders on Earth who’d be down on their knees for him right now.

You don’t tell him that, obviously. You’re not giving him any more ammunition against your ignorance on this matter.

“Just hope it helps you for tomorrow,” you say.

His grin pulls itself back down into the one you’re more familiar with. The one you’re pretty sure now is his version of the “sexy bad man vampire” he’s so keen to wear.

“Well,” he says. “I will aim to please, should we encounter anyone in need of a killing. Sleep well, darling.”

He saunters off towards the trees. A ghost in white disappearing into the dark. On the very edge of your vision, damn near swallowed by the gloom, he pauses. Looks back. His voice is soft and low. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

Then he’s gone. Off to hunt something he can actually drain like a capri-sun.

You roll back over and your neck twinges. Fuck. Forgot about cleanup—no phlebotomist with a teeny square of gauze and a stretchy wrap bandage. You don’t have any sterile bandages at all. Damnit. You really fucked this up.

You pull out one of the bloodstained shirts from your pack. One of the less stained ones. Manage to rip off an unbloodied sleeve and press that to the wound. You’re drinking a healing potion first thing. And then keeping an eye on that shit. First sign of infection, and you’re talking to Shadowheart (got hurt during one of the fights; didn’t notice until later and didn’t want to bother you, so sorry, very silly of me).

You tentatively feel the puncture wounds through the cloth. They’re larger than you expected. And very quickly, you feel wet heat soaking through.

Fucker is still bleeding like a stuck pig. You refold the gross, makeshift bandage, press down harder.

Anticoagulant spit, probably. Makes sense; mosquitoes and leeches have that.

You take a swig of water and pop another piece of iced bun into your mouth. It’d be easier to put pressure on that wound if you were lying down. But then your head is swimming and you’re really very tired. Your bedroll is comfortable. Rolling onto your side (so the wound is elevated; you aren’t a total moron!) and you sigh and it all feels so nice, so gentle, you should probably swallow that food in your mouth, should….

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[cosmica-galaxy]

Can you do a one shot FSR when I get to Nevada? please

For those wondering, FSR stands for "Future Soldier Reader" and it merely means that Soldier!Reader is from the far future instead of the WW2 era. An image of FSR can be seen here. Audios: Radio Corruption FSR Digital Sounds --

“Watch the base Deimos. We need you here right now, Deimos. You can’t come with us, Deimos. It’s your turn to guard the base Deimos.” Deimos mockingly mimics the others from a previous conversation as he lets out an angry huff.

“Fuck me, this shit is so boring. I hate being the one on guard duty.” Deimos grumbles, idly sitting outside the temporary base that the SQ crew called home.

Taking another long inhale of his cigarette, he lets out a long puff of smoke as his tired visual cross scans the blank horizon once again, looking for anything to be entertained by.

Anything! A lone bandit to shoot, a zed to kill, or even just some fighting to watch!

But Deimos could only sigh in despair as everything remained the same for the 100th time as his hands subconsciously fiddled with a handgun. Rolling it around in his hands and polishing it to near perfection as a way to curb his everlasting boredom.

It was just like many other nights.

He would sit at the base on guard duty while the others would be out and about running errands and doing specific partner missions together. While the one that got ‘guard duty’ stayed behind and watched their things and territory.

It was necessary, as bandits would take anything that wasn’t too heavy to carry or able to be lifted up off the ground. So someone always had to stay behind to keep their possessions and rations safe. Deimos just hated it when it was his turn to guard.

Despite the boredom, he still had his equipment and weapons to help him pass the time and a radio that he would keep at his side to let him know whenever the others were on their way back. He was even idly listening to some of his favorite tunes that could be heard being quietly repeated over the radio station.

So far…the night was silent and uneventful.

Until.

The sound of his radio breaking up and crackling made Deimos look up in a hopeful manner

. Were the others coming back already?? That was pretty quick if they were, since they have only been gone about an hour! He picks the receiver up, halfway expecting Doc’s or Sanford’s voice to come ringing in through the speaker any moment.

But…no voices came through. Only static.

He waits for a few more moments before his visual cross creases up in confusion. A few moments passed again and Deimos quickly grew annoyed and slapped the device a bit to see if it was merely picking up on static or if it was just malfunctioning. The static continued and Deimos stubbornly tried to troubleshoot the issue. Then, the static could be heard shifting around, as if the radio was browsing through multiple channels and Deimos was getting a bit creeped out as he could hear various words and voices being muffled and broken in pieces as the radio continued to make its unnatural sounds.

After that before even Deimos could even attempt to ‘fix’ the device, the dials on the radio started moving around on their own and the little red needle that was displayed began to randomly slide around in the channel display feed, enticing more eerie sounds to come from the radio. Deimos could only watch the radio go haywire in befuddlement as then the lights that illuminated the base suddenly blink, making the lone mercenary jump. He nervously looks around before the lights of the base flicker again and they finally black out. Since it was nighttime and the building was pretty much in the middle of nowhere for safety, the darkness that suddenly finds itself surrounding Deimos on all sides was nearly pitch black. Deimos feels an uncomfortable amount of fear swelling up in his belly as he hurries to gather up his equipment and pulls out a flashlight from his bag to help him see. Looking around, he could see the base primarily in the darkness and the radio was still letting out its auditory nonsense as he scans his surroundings. Then, he hears something coming from above. A sound similar to thunder cracks over the sky and his flesh almost instinctively gives him goosebumps as the sound reverberated throughout his being. Looking up, he sees the night sky above himself and something goes flying directly overhead…correction, something goes FALLING directly overhead. A mysterious falling object(?) was quickly losing altitude and spinning out as it continued its rapid descent towards the ground. There was a sudden charge of static in the air as Deimos watched the large sparking figure that radiated an eerie green light fall past the warehouse and disappear over some hills nearby. A large resounding BOOM came not moments later before a large cloud of gray dust and black smoke bellowed up from the location of the crash site.

Deimos took a moment to blink dumbly and process what he witnessed before he gathered up his gear to go investigate. He grabs his bag of equipment, his guns, extra ammo, and hurries down from the balcony area. Leaving his radio behind, as it was still displaying unnatural sounds.

He runs through the desert towards where the large trail of smoke was coming from. Both curious and on the alert as he quickly sprints over.

After a few minutes of running, Deimos slows his pace as he comes up on the last hill and once at the top, he curiously peeks over it.

From what he could see, there was a MASSIVE crash trail that dug into the hillside and led towards a large mound of dirt. There was also lots of smoke that covered the area. Thick and black as he could hear sounds of…clicking? Beeping? It sounded so…strange.

Deimos watched for a moment, his gun clenched tightly in his hands as the smoke slowly lightened up and revealed a large object (?) laying in the crash zone. It seemed to be…unnaturally still and Deimos slowly gained the courage to approach.

He didn't get too close, but he was over the hill and was leaning as close as he could without getting into close range to the object.

“What the fuck…??” Deimos couldn’t help but breathe out as he took in the appearance of what laid before him.

It was easily larger than a mag, made of metal, and it looked like a plane-hybrid-like thing with large metallic wings hanging off its back. There were some flickering green lights on it and the smoldering smoke seemed to be coming from the limbs and the large scraped places on the outer metal shell.

Deimos, once more, gains the courage to approach.

It…It looked like it didn’t survive the crash…but that didn’t really mean anything. It was made of metal…maybe it could’ve been simply stunned for all he knew.

Slowly…so agonizingly slowly, Deimos draws closer to the figure. Then, he pokes it with the barrel of his gun, flinching and expecting it to move. But it doesn’t. It merely lays there, nonreactive.

The next attempt, he prods it with a quick poke of his finger. Recoiling again, yet finding the same results. The large being merely lays there in a heap.

Deimos takes a moment to let out a sigh of relief before he takes in the being much more closely.

It was like nothing he’s ever seen before. Tall, long, metallic, winged, and glowing with a soft eerie green light. It felt so…unnatural. Where did it come from? How did it get here?? Deimos finds himself touching and examining the fallen being much closer. Surprisingly, he finds a space on the being’s back that’s popped open, revealing some electrical components and certain alien-like circuitry. Curiosity gets the better of him and he leans over the large being to investigate the open port.

Inside, he finds the wires going to what looked like a spine that…just…looked different?

It was completely made of metal, showing a similar green glow to certain attributes on the being’s body, and was covered with little electrical wirings that had been knocked loose. Presumably from the rough crash landing.

Deimos, rather impulsively, begins to poke his fingers inside of the open panel and uses his dexterous hands to slip the wires back into place. Popping them in one at a time, unaware of the systems that were being reinstated on the ‘fallen’ being.

Click after click, he pops another wire into place and repairs the shaken spine-like device. Once all the wires were back inside and in their proper positions, Deimos lets out a relieved huff, but then jumps as he FEELS the being underneath suddenly begin to move.

He falls off from the sudden moment and large digitized clicking and groaning could be heard as the large alien creature suddenly comes back online, making Deimos crawl backwards as the creature begins to get up.

He watches in fear and awe as the large digital wings are lifted off the ground and it starts to stand up, easily towering over the short grunt as the being steps up to their full height. The screen that covered the being’s “face” lighting up fully in green as it comes alive.

Large digital sounds emanate from its being as Deimos begins to pant in response to being in the presence of such a formidable creature. Holding his gun close to his chest as he scrambles backwards on the ground.

Finally, it notices him.

The screen flickers as they turn towards his position, their tall and intimidating frame easily towering over him as he anticipates an attack.

Yet, it pauses and stares at him and tilts their head. As if it was curious at what he was as well. Well, at least that's what Deimos HOPED it was thinking. He stays trembling on the ground, despite his instincts telling him to get up and get ready for a fight. Still shocked that it was even ALIVE to begin with.

Then something akin to static crosses his headphones, making him wince as the buzzing hissing quickly subsides and is replaced by digital sounds.

He blinks in uncertainty as he feels it…staring at him.

Then, he jolts in place as the visor shoots out a blue light that scans him. He’s frozen in place as the light hovers over him and once it does two cycles, it goes away with a content beep.

The being then stops tilting its head and something along the line of absolute digital garble comes out of its mouth.

“⊑⟒⌰⌰⍜.”

Deimos just sits there for a moment, stunned.

Did…did that thing just SPEAK to him? It didn’t even matter if he understood it or not, it SPOKE. It was unlike anything that Deimos had ever heard, digital and unnatural and mangled with static and clicks.

He simply sits there as it almost seemed to wait for a reply.

“What the fuck…?” Deimos couldn’t help but shakily exhale from his mouth.

The being merely tilts its head in response, almost as if it couldn’t understand him either.

What the HELL did he just get involved with?? -- *FSR translation: “Hello.”

[the-fatty-frontier]

Back in the Frontier Wars, mercs of all kinds were hired for all kinds of jobs. Some had the flashy work of battling on the frontlines, taking part in massive battles between the corporate powers. Others were hired by the IGSR to act as a gift column, protecting their agents and sabotaging the corporate alliances. Some though did the poorly paid work of colony protection, chasing off criminal syndicates and bandits like the gunslingers of Old Earth. For Nadia, that’s what much of her young years as a mercenary was on Caldera: find the bad guys, punch the bad guys, and make sure they didn’t go bothering any towns or villages. For the most part, it was a really dull job with not much happening. Though sometimes, it switched to be the more bizarre.

A couple years into the Frontier Wars, Nadia got a job to hunt down some water thieves. She didn’t care that much about the reasoning for it, but the pay was decent and it could lead to some action. Slipping into the den the thieves had set up, she quietly snuck through the dark halls, careful not to bring any attention to herself. All she had to do was find the water tanks and report back to her employers, then she’d get a nice, tidy bounty. It was all going to plan as she snuck into the deepest part of the facility, when a masked figure quickly appeared in front of her, blowing a powder into her face and knocking her out.

When she woke up, she realized that things were going south fast. She wasn’t in the stairwell she remembered before she lost consciousness. Instead, she was in a massive storage bay, her arms and legs held apart by cuffs, keeping her from trying to escape. Worst of all, she got a good look at just who she was messing with. This wasn’t a group of water thieves, not at all. In front of her, covered in deep crimson and red armor, stood agents of the Astro Vipers, a gang of mercenaries hired to sabotage whole colonies for profit. And in front of her stood their leader.

“You got pretty far merc, I’m impressed,” a female, heavily synthesized voice spoke to her from behind the leader’s mask. “Unfortunately for you though, I have no intention of getting caught. And if you’re here, it’s just a matter of time before law enforcement arrives. So I say you help us dispose of our marked cargo.” Nadia opened her mouth, ready to hurl insults at her captor, only for a hose to be shoved into it. “You must be thirsty, let’s help with that.”

One of the gangers walked behind Nadia, just out of view. Soon, she heard a loud, pneumatic hiss, followed by her cheeks swelling up with a sudden intake of water. Caught off guard, Nadia began to instinctively gulp down mouthfuls of the stuff quickly, trying again to get lose. Though as she struggled against the cuffs, she suddenly felt her body get heavier, looking down in horror as her belly began to quickly swell up! Each large mouthful pushed it out more and more, stretching her company uniform against it as she started to blush, realizing just what the hose was attached to.

Minutes passed as Nadia was inflated, feeling her belly go from poking out a bit, to round, to gravid and quickly getting as big as a yoga ball. Worst of all was that Nadia could feel the water shifting, looking for other areas to fill up as her already ample rear quickly joined in, stretching her pants to their limits as her hips pressed outwards, along with her things becoming conical and bloated. “This is taking too long, speed it up!” The leader suddenly spoke up, and Nadia’s reluctant gulping down of water was replaced with a rapid flow.

Rips and tears echoed through the store room, her uniform giving up against her belly as it pushed closer to the ground. Her chest soon joined in, ruining her uniform more as they swelled out to the size of melons, as if desperately trying to keep up. Even her arms joined in, losing all muscle as she felt them fill up too.

Half an hour rolled by, and Nadia continued to expand the whole time. Her uniform was quickly defeated by her figure, scraps of it falling to the floor as the rest hang on to her swollen frame. It got to the point that they didn’t even keep her shackled any longer, releasing her only to watch Nadia fall on top of her moaning as she jiggled and wobbled in place. “Well, this is certainly fun, but I plan on spending tonight in a nice Arcadian hotel. Take care merc~” The Astro Viper leader said with a mocking laugh, turning to leave as her goons set the tank to empty at its fastest pace, leaving Nadia swelling like a water balloon on a firehose in the underground storage facility.

By the time rescue had come, Nadia was massive. Every part of her expanding figure swollen to comical proportions to the shock of Nadia’s fellow mercs. Rather than finding the nimble, tough gun for hire, they found a belly the size of a truck in front of them, mounted by a chest just slightly smaller. The rest of the Nadia’s body was similarly massive, her rear pressing into the water tank behind her, easily rivaling it in size and surprisingly keeping her bottom heavy figure, if greatly exaggerated. Nadia herself moaned softly, so filled with water that her cheeks were puffed up as well, feeling her body slosh at the slightest touch and unable to speak from all of it. Who knows how they’ll get her out of the facility, but at least they know where all the water is now.

[redrydersrequiem]

The red assassin

part 2

Part 1

I sit on the sandy beach waiting for my fish to finish cooking the sounds of the fire crackling mix’s with the gentle sloshing of the waves, my mind drifting off to thoughts of a certain one eyed prince. The plains of his face, sharp cheekbones, broad shoulders are beautiful lo..

Loud snoring breaks my day dream. Aurelius the lazy dragon he is shifts in his sleep, purring almost in his sleep. Content with his full belly of fish and wild boar, currently making a very good wind shield as hes curled behind me.

It's been almost five days since my visit to the Targaryens. I truly expected something by now either in the form of a messenger or an army, I will say I was hoping for the first but was prepared for the later.

“I'm sure you were”. Aurelius speaks, an eye now cracked up gageing my reaction.

“Your being real cheeky lately”

“And you've been day dreaming since that night don't tell me the mighty red assassin has finally found someone who catches her eye.” I simply flick sand at him, to which he just laughs

“So what if i have, you must at admit i picked an interesting one. Really that whole family is interesting”

“But they are also dangerous little ones,I don't want anything to happen to you.”

I know but allying ourselves with them for now could open a lot of doors for us, especially for you. Relius I want you to be able to have better things: actual meals, armor, somewhere safe for you to nest if you wish, you know the works.

“Scarlet.”

“No Aurelius I want better for us i'm tired of always being on the move

“No SCARLET!!”. Aurelius says with force his head now lifted to the sky. I now hear the roar in the distance. Aurelius swiftly stands haunches raised a low growl falling from his clenched jaw as we wait for the source of the sound to come into eye line

Vhagars giant form breaks through the clouds, the blond silver of her rider's hair reflecting in the sun behind them as they ascend toward the abandoned beach.

Aemonds pov

After the meeting with the girl, I've thought of nothing else. Grandfather's network of informants tried all they could to learn more about the crimson haired assassin, all coming up with nothing but tails of her triumphs. My favorite being the one of her taking out a group of bandits that was terrorizing a small farm town, kidnapping a girl to do gods know what to do if lady scarlet hadn’t intervened. Every story and praise for her filled my thoughts as brightly as her rose colored hair. She was a beautiful enigma, a puzzle waiting to be solved. Once the decisions had been made I plotted the course and took off as soon as possible wanting to bring the girl back to king's landing no matter what.

Scarlets pov

The second prince and his dragon landed on the far side of the beach the ground thudding as Vhagars giant form comes into contact with sand, creating a cloud around her and her rider. I see Aurelius step forward ready for anything but i motion him to stay back as i start making my way to the half way point between the prince and I.

Meeting him I can’t help but take him in. His beautiful hair and fine leather coat swaying in the sea breeze behind him. Looking as regal as he could instead of like he just road a days time to get here.

“What an honor it is for the prince himself to come calling on me i expected a simple messenger from your sister.”

‘A mere messenger could not be trusted to negotiate these very important terms”

“And you believe you can my prince”

“Why of course my lady.”

“Confident aren't you”

Aemond simply smirks his head tilting and pale blue/lavender eye filling with merriment and mischief.

“I won't deny it my lady im proud of my heritage, of my accomplishments

“I would be careful my prince A proud person could end up falling

“True but i hopeful this won't be the case for i'm here to offer you a deal

“A deal then you all have agreed to the terms i left behind.”

“Yes however we have conditions of our own.”

“And what would those conditions entail my prince?”

“It’s quite simple my lady. We wish to tie you to our family to ensure you and your dragon stay on our side.”

“And how do you all think you’ll accomplish this.?

“Well you are lucky indeed since you have several options to chose from.

“Oh?”

“Yes”

Aemond begins stalking around me as he speaks, his voice sounding like its everywhere, gaze burning into ease gages my reaction to his words.

“Originally the counsel simply wanted to kill you, but the king my sister, uncle and I all disagreed. Instead. We thought you would make an excellent addition to our court”

“Oh i left that much of an impression?”

“You did indeed”

“And how is it they wish to add a no name assassin to the royal court?”

“Well you would either be adopted by a trusted member of the court and given a title,”

“And if I didn’t want to be used as a pawn in some up incoming family’s chess game to get closer to the royal family then what

“I wasn’t finished my lady, as I was saying you can come be adopted and not only be a noble with your own dragon that has never been seen outside of my bloodline. You would also have access to. All the amenities for your dragon, and you would also become the fiancé of a royal.”

“Now. That info turned my head abruptly turning to face aemond as he was still circling around me. He has a calculated smirk on his face before shifting and bowing before me.on knee raised before taking out his sword and laying it at my feet.

“Call me selfish if you wish but I am the one who proposed this stipulation, after all the tales I've heard of your exploits, of helping the people. Of Westeros, no if i'm truthful it's been ever since thee night you ambushed the diner, you're all i've thought about.”

I'm frozen staring at the blonde. His eyes holding me captive in my place. My heart is ringing in my ear.

“Having you by my side i would consider a gift from the new gods and the old

“But you barely know me. In fact you should wish harm to me for threatening your brother”

‘What you did is nothing that Aegon didnt have coming to him for his actions i assure you i myself have threatened him multiple times.”

What if I don't wish to be your betrothed”

“Then you would simply be adopted by. My sister Rhaenyra an join our house that way until i can change your mind, either way i win.”

I look over aemonds shoulder straight at Aurelius, his voice filling my mind quickly. “Don’t not base any decisions on me, little one. We dragons are adaptable. I will follow you anywhere.”

It feels like time stops the waves still crashing around us before i taking a deep breath and look back at the prince before me.

“Ok my prince ill will come to court with you however i wish to be courted before jumping head first into a marriage.

The one eyed prince smiles his violet blue eye sparkling as he rises to his feet offering his hand out to me. I place mine in his as brings it up to his mouth. His lips planting a lingering kiss.

“That can be more than arranged my lady, please return to. Kings landing in three days time and we will welcome you and your dragon like royalty.”

“Very well but I want some guarantees first.”

“Hmm”

“You swear on your family my dragon will be cared for.”

“Yes

“Well we wills for i don't want Aurelius with the rest of he dragons in the dragon pit. I would never forgive myself if something happened to him because I choose to trust the wrong people.

“I understand my lady, they’re are cliffs with ample caves the dragons like to burrow in when not in the dragon pit, we will get one cleaned out and your dragon will be able to freely come an go as long as you can guarantee he will not attack the castle the people of kings landing”

“The only reason he would do anything would be if i where in danger. You all mean to take good care of me though dont you

“Especially so.”

“Fine then I swear as long as you uphold your end i will mine”

“Good well then my lady i bid you a good bye, there’s much to be done to prepare for your arrival”

Aemon flashes me a grin before. Bowing his head at me one last time and making the truck back towards vhagars slumbering form. A pep in his step as I watch in disbelief of what all just happened, but I guess I have three days to figure it all out.

[comfortablecomfort]

Gold's Sensitivity

(I wanted to make a saloonatics tickle fic for a while now, so here we go..)

Ler: Sheriff Thompson

Lee: Edward Gold

"So, how's Matthew doin?" Thompson asked Edward

"Oh, he's doing great. Although, he did send me a bunch of pictures of himself as a thank you." Edward replied

"Typical." Thompson snarked

It's been a while since Edward arrived in Spitbucket, he and Thompson teamed up and beat up all the bandits, ever since they saved Prince Matthew, he decided the only way to thank them was to... send them pictures of his 'handsome' face... narcissistic much?

"Hey, Sheriff?" Edward felt unsure to ask Thompson this.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we'll ever see the bandits again?" Edward tapped his fingers a little nervously

"Hopefully not, don't wanna see their ugly asses again." Thompson took a swig from his flask while responding

Gold would practically kill for another adventure, not kill, but he really would like some more action.

"Actually, just in case they do come back, maybe we should train ya a little more." Thompson replied

"Training? But I already know how to shoot. You said, "everybody needs a little something." Edward didn't know how to feel about Thompson telling him to train more.

"Alright, just messing with ya, you're ready." Thompson nudged Edward's side, but the brit flinched at the sudden feeling.

"What was that?" Thompson asked, a little curious about Edward's sudden squeak.

"N-Nohothing. You just... surprised me that's all." Edward huffed out.

"You Ticklish, Gold?" Thompson was even more tempted to figure this out.

"Well... yes..." Edward shrugged nervously, waiting for Thompson's response

"Gee, no one'll take you seriously if you're a gigglin mess." Thompson poked Edward in the belly.

"S-Sheheheriff!" Edward giggled. He knew Thompson would poke his tickle spot.

Thompson smirked and spidered his fingers around the Detective's belly.

"SHEHEHERIFF NOHOHOHO!" Edward squealed

Thompson wasn't into tickling, but he wanted to see how far he could go. Then he moved up to Edward's underarms."

"C-COHOME OHOHON STAHAHAP IT! Edward pleaded, kicking his legs slightly

"Not Yet." Thompson chuckled

"PLEAHEHEHEASE!" *snort*

"Pfft, was that a snort? Who knew the one who helped me save this town would be this sensitive?" Thompson teased

Edward was turning red at the sudden saying

"*snort* HEHEHEY NOHO T-TEASING!" Edward whined

Thompson rolled his eye and kneaded Edward's sides, the poor guy constantly squirming by the second.

"NOHOHOT *snort* THERE THOHOHOMPSON!"

Thompson was loving this! From the teasing and the tickling, Detective Gold can get defeated by some small sensations

"I GEHEHET IHIT! *snort* PLEHEAHEHASE SHEHEHERIFF! *snort* LEHEHET ME BREAHEHEATHE!" Edward was just begging at this point.

Thompson finally laid off, a little concerned for his friend tho.

"You okay?" Thompson asked

"I-I'm great." Edward panted

"Actually there's one more thing I wanted to know." Edward said with a hint of malice.

"Ask away." Poor Oblivious Thompson

"How ticklish are you Thompson?" Edward grinned at his now nervous friend.

Let's say the hero of spitbucket laughed pretty loudly that day.

(This sucked, bye now.)

[tftctwofficial]

The comic version of a drabble from a long while ago of a scene in the TFTCTW Western AU! The original scene in question is below the read more! There's differences between the comic and the writing, and that's due in part to the length of time between the two - sometimes details are forgotten and new ones are added!

Bigby was aware of the persistent throbbing in his side before he regained full consciousness. It’s steady pulse wove it’s way into his dreams, creating the illusion that something sharp was sliding it’s way in and out and in and out over and over again into his belly and back. When he woke up it was with a gasp, a hiss through his teeth, and a pained groan. He tried to move, to shuffle away from the sensation, but it only made it worse, so he stilled. Then, as he struggled to swallow the thick saliva that had built up in his mouth with a dry throat, he slowly remembered what had happened - he was shot. But that was the only thing he really and truly did remember. The fight before, then the blinding pain… then fading in and out… then the sting of something being poured over the wound, his arms and legs pinned and leather shoved between his teeth, the burning pierce of a needle… then nothing. He swallowed again, the motion easier this time, and when his eyes opened it was to a smoky orange glow. He squinted up at the rocky, craggy roof above him, shadows dancing in strange shapes, before he realized he was in a cave. Bigby knew he couldn’t really move his body, so he let his head roll to the side, squinting further as he looked directly into the heart of the campfire several feet away from him. He looked away, the flames burned into his vision for a moment, and his eyes managed to rest on Fox. The outlaw seemed to have not noticed the sheriff’s awakening, if the way he continued to stare blankly into the fire was any indication. He might not have heard Bigby over the crackling of the fire or perhaps - as he was just now registering - the crescendoing rain echoing throughout the cavern, drowning out most other noises. Bigby would’ve called out to him, gotten his attention, but his pain and sleep-addled brain still hadn’t gotten to that point of function yet. It also didn’t help that he was too busy being confused by Fox’s state of undress. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Bigby had seen shirtless men before. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, especially in the hotter months, but he hadn’t seen Fox shirtless before - or, well, shirtless and fully unbandaged. His torso was paler than his arms and face but still as lightly dusted with auburn hair that glowed like copper in the firelight. Strong arms crossed over his chest, hands gripping his shoulders, and even from this distance Bigby could tell he was shivering despite the fire burning brightly in front of him. He could also see scars, new and old, crisscrossing over his skin - the telltale markings of a man who lived on the edge every day of his life, dancing with death constantly. The branding on his neck stood out the most, shimmering wetly in the light of the fire like it was still fresh. A fresh bout of tremors shook the outlaws frame, and Bigby took note of the white-knuckle grip he had on his shoulders and the clouded, tired look in his eyes and he wondered just how long he’d been out and when the man had gotten some sleep. And again, why he didn’t have his shirt. Bigby tried to speak but all that came out was a croak, one that Fox still didn’t hear. So he swallowed and shifted onto his elbows - biting his lip on a pained yelp - and felt something fall off him. He glanced down to see the bandit’s red button up puddle into his lap. It’d been used to cover him like a blanket, it seemed. Something about that made something in his chest twist, but he ignored it in favor of trying to speak again. “You mean to tell me you don’t have any other shirts?” His rasp broke whatever spell was over the man, because his head snapped up immediately - eyes wide and mouth agape in surprise before it broke into a grin. “You’re up!” He exclaimed, voice echoing off the rocks as he scrambled to his feet and making Bigby wince. “Thought I wouldn’t be?” He inquired as the outlaw circled the fire to kneel beside him, keeping his eyes on his face and not his chest which was a lot broader than he remembered it being.

[There is more to this drabble, but its unnecessary. Enjoy the sneak peek you get!]

[dsumpsbluey]

Unofficial Bluey Timeline: Part I

This post will be covering the beginning of season 1 of Bluey, starting from Magic Xylophone to Shadowlands. As a reminder, as we are at the beginning of the show, we start at Period 1, where Bluey and Bingo are 6 and 4 respectively. Period 1 won't take until season 2 to end, so there's not much to worry about.

The Magic Xylophone - Episode 1

Bluey and Bingo make use of a supernatural xylophone to control their dad. It's here where they learn to take turns.

Debuts & Details:

Aside from debuting the main Heeler family, Chloe's mum and her newborn baby appear for a scene (before Chloe which is odd).

Chilli describes Bandit picking his nose when they first met.

We get a first look at the Selfie portrait in the kids' bedroom. It stays the same throughout the series, but this episode uses the first iteration of the image, which lasts until about season 2.

In terms of the timeline, this automatically gets the first position, being that this is the first episode. There's nothing else to it, pretty much.

Favorite Part: When Bingo freezes Bluey to discuss her feelings is a great moment

Hospital - Episode 2

Bluey and Bingo operate on their dad using their doctor knowledge.

Debuts & Details:

No character debuts, but we do see that cat plush in later episodes; We also see 'Polly Puppy' appear, and has prickles that need to be removed

We get a first look at the kitchen fridge, which is one of the frequent locations we'll look for throughout the timeline. However, the view in this episode is blocked by Bandit

We learn that cats can sneak inside a dog's belly button while asleep.

Bandit uses the alias 'Telemachus', making it the first play name used in the series; meanwhile Bluey and Bingo are referred to as 'Doctor' and 'Nurse' respectively.

Nothing much to say about this episode, as there's little detail about its placement in the timeline. Therefore, it gets placed after Magic Xylophone.

Favorite Part: That part where Bluey says "STING!" That's gotta be my favorite part. You'll never guess which instance I'm referring to. ever.

Keepy Uppy - Episode 3

Bluey and Bingo engage in a game of "Keepy Uppy", where they prevent the premature death of a poor, red balloon.

Debuts and Details:

We see the debut of Lucky and Pat (aka Lucky's Dad, he's done his hammy)

We get a clear look at the fridge, which contains three papers held by a blue, red, and yellow magnet, as well as letter magnets of 'B' and 'C'

Again, another episode that's pretty timeless and fun with it's idea. A certified Bluey classic, if you will.

Favorite Part: "She saying Good Morniiiing!"

Daddy Robot - Episode 4

Bluey and Bingo employ a so-called "Daddy Robot" to tidy their room. It goes exactly as expected.

Debuts & Details:

Debut of 'Daddy Robot' as well as 'Mummy Robot', who suspiciously look just like Bandit and Chilli 🤔

This marks the first instance of a 'fluffy' by Bandit

Bandit is seen eating a bowl of leftover fried rice, possibly from the 'Takeaway' place.

Just noticed the fridge handles are flipped in this episode compared to the previous episode. I believe this is the only instance of this, making it an error, though I think it's so the audience could see Bandit eating. Don't quote me on that tho.

Pretty goofy episode, I enjoy the character of 'Daddy Robot'. Such a shame we never see him ever again. Depending on the interpretation, this could take place either before or after 'Takeaway'.

Favorite Part: The first smoochy kiss

Shadowlands - Episode 5

Bluey, Coco, and Snickers learn to play by the rules of Shadowlands, or risk being eaten by crocodiles.

Debuts & Details:

Coco, Snickers, and their respective mums make their debut

First episode to take place outside of the house

Chilli will eat your cupcakes

Very highly important episode, as it establishes the importance the rules have within an imaginary game. Quite literally the backbone of the show.

Favorite Part: The problem solving during Shadowlands is neat to witness.

With that, thus completes part 1 of the Unofficial Bluey Timeline. This is generally how every post will be structured. Leave any comments about any episode discussed, or about the structure of these posts. Being as I'm new to blogging, any feedback would be helpful.

[annaberunoyume]

Bandit Heeler meets Somnus (A new Naga OC of mine)

(I wrote this because I felt bad for Bandit and his being always mistreated by Bluey and Bingo. It's not funny after awhile. Here is some tlc for him!)

Bandit sighed as he sneaked outside his bedroom from the spacious balcony close to the ground. Thankfully, no Bluey nor Bingo to bother him, tonight. Thank goodness. He went to the bench in their large backyard and took in the warm australian air of the night. As he gazed up at fruitbats on the hunt, for the first time in a long time, he felt...sad. Tired.

Oh, sure, he loved his wife Chili and his two daughters more than anything in the world...But...Biscuit...Why was he always their punching bag? Why was Bluey always so...merciless when she played and draggued Bingo in, as well? It wasn't fair. He was forty, for crying out loud. And he did not deserve to be this bruised by two pups...But what hurt him the most was that Chili, for all the structure she gave to their days...Never stepped up to help him or stop the girls from treating him like a cheap pinata. Always laughed at his misfortune and rough play...It was hard, no, sad for him to admit...But...Bandit had enough. He wished he could...Just go away for awhile. Just him...And his brothers and mates. To play touch football, like the old days...Bandit lied down on the bench dejectly.

But...Someone had seen it all unfold...A naga with dark pink, purple and dark purple stripes, hidden in the tree under Bandit. She had short pink hair, giving a bit of a semi-masculine air. She lowered herself slowly, having made up her mind...He was sad...tired...And thus, she could help.

Bandit thought he sniffed something foreign, he raised his head a tad...Nothing, he sighed and returned to his lonely pouting...But then...

“Hellooo...”

Bandit gasped but instantly, a tail silenced him, “Terribly sssorry about frightening you. But...I could not help but noticcce your gloominesss...I wasss wondering if I could keep you company.”

The anthro blue dog looked at the newcomer, bewildered. She was a strange sight. She was not a dog. But she looked a little like him in her mannerisms. Her short pink hair and pale skin made her interesting to watch. He finally spoke.

“Well, mate...I...I could use a break from daddyhood. Just a tad. Those girls of mine can play real rough...Too rough.”, he looked down, then sat more upright.

''I've seen that.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Listen, here. I know this is strange, since we just met, but...My name is Somnus...And I would like to make you feel a bit better.”

“Well, Somnus, My name's Bandit. Nice to meet ya, but I don't know how you could help, miss. Parenthood is something, ain't it?”

“Ccccertainly. But...I have a little tip to help sadnesss melt away...Never fails”, she slowly settled besides him, tail touching Bandit's hand.

“Really?”, he smirked, “Aaand...Why should I care?”, he teased, feeling already a bit better.

“Because...It will be sssooo easy you won't have to do a ssssingle thing...”

“Aaand...What does it do, then?”

Somnus chuckled and scooted closer to the anthro dog, “...Thissss...”

Before Bandit's eyes, Somnus red pupils dissapeared into the white of her peepers...And a ripple of a dark, intense pink bloomed from their centers...Then a purple one...and a dark purple ripple. Like a carroussel of colourful rings...

Bandit's raised eyebrow melted away almost instantly...It was...incredible...Eye-catching...Amazing...He had to look closer...

“...Whoah...”

Somnus smiled warmly, “Yess...Whoah...”, she then watched happily as the grown dog once-dark eyes shrinked into pinpricks and unravelled with brand new pink and purple rings of their own. His jaw soon hung ajar and his arms loosely fell to his sides...A small, serene smile began to grace his features.

Somnus slowly lied down, astride the bench, chin prompted up under her arms...Bandit just followed her eyes and lied astride, flat on his belly as well...His tail began to wag, as he pants, happy at these new relaxed, happy feelings...

Somnus was pleased, but gently covered his mouth with her tail, “Sssh...Don't want to wake Bluey or Chili...Don't we?”, she made him nod his head no by nodding herself. She then gently wrapped her tail around his golden-furred snout. Bandit hummed at that pleasant caress.

“Now, then, Bandit, I have observed you for a time, now...And I believe your time hasss come...Time to join my group of petssss...You are unhappy in here...Aren't you?”

Bandit frowned a tiny bit, “Nnnnoooo?” he said, muffled, but then, his eyes trembled in a sadness, “Yeeessss...Hurt...All the time...Chili...doesn't care...that Bluey...Huuuurt meeee...” he started to whimper pitifully... Somnus looked genuinely concerned.

“Aw, my poor friend...”, she stroked his head slowly and nuzzled him, “I know how that feelsss...And I have a sssolution for you...A wondrous place where you can resssst...Sssafe and sssouuuund...And never be disssrespected again...”, she breathed out...

“....Where?”, asked Bandit in sad disbelief, giving an adorable pout.

“With me, of coursssse...But firrrst...You must trussst me...I can seee how worn-out you are...And I want to make it better for you...”, Somnus was now snout to nose with Bandit, “Baaandit...Feel my hands upon your earsss...Can you feel the care in my handsss? They care about you...They want to nurture you...To love you...And to kiss you...”, she gave the middle of his snout a gentle kiss, “So that you may never...Ever feel thissss pain you are feeling, tonight...”, Somnus kept on massaging his ears and sides with utmost care. Bandit could not help but groan sleepily and melt like putty, tail lazily wagging...The world and its sounds had long since faded from his awareness. And there was only the pure delight of her touch and magical words.

Somnus then cupped his nape and gingerly kissed the dog's downy forehead...A slow kiss that left a tiny sound in the end. She then told him to sit up, which he did with no hesitation. His eyes were beginning to close. She then wrapped her long tail around him, making him shiver deliciously. The coils were smooth and at first, cool, but then, they took on his body heat...Divine. Bandit sighed and almost broke eye-contact with Somnus, eyes upwards and half-closed in bliss.

Somnus gently pulled his chin downwards. Eye to eye, she whispered, stroking his right side like earlier:

“Now...Ssssleeep...little pup of miiine...Melt in my downy armssss...Foreveeeer...Ssssh...”

Bandit quietly yawned like a child, syncopathed, almost...Then, he whined serenely, sighing...And he was out like a light. Somnus craddled his head, making a protective hold of her arms around it and tilted her nose into his neck. She inhaled his comforting smell and soft fur...Then kissed it fondly. He was a perfect pet for her collection...

Craddling him in her arms and thick, slick, smooth coils, like a mother carried a tired child, they were both out of the backyard and into the unknown, where only Somnus knew to go...A last kiss on his neck for good measure and a dog tail curling around her and a humm of utter comfort.

THE END