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ctitan98official · 2 months

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Alcina is a giant (But motherly) Vampire bat - Drabble: Y/N sees the girls in their human forms

So, this will be a drabble that picks up from here! I couldn’t figure out a way to fit Ruby into this drabble because the timeline for this au is all over the place, but I hope you like it. I’ve been getting a lot of requests for more bat mommy Alcina 😅 Let’s get into it!

Since you’ve transformed into a baby bat, it’s honestly been a dream come true for Alcina. She loves taking care of you.

The two of you spend most of the day cuddling, but she also plays with you and makes sure your mind is occupied. She tells you stories and sings to you as she feeds you. Today is no different.

You are currently wrapped in her wings as she rocks you gently. “Alright, draga. Time for mama to feed you,” She says with a smile and licks your face.

You chitter up at her and she softly rubs your face with a wing, cooing at how cute you are.

She carefully guides your little mouth closer and helps you latch on.

You suckle for a while before you notice that the weather outside is turning harsh. A thick blizzard is raging and it is very cold.

As warm as your mama’s hold is, you can’t help but shiver. Your little teeth chatter from the freezing temperatures.

Alcina looks down at you in concern. “Are you cold, baby?” She asks.

You nod your head and bury your face in her soft fur.

Alcina hasn’t seen a winter in the village get this bad in a long time. While normally this wouldn’t be a problem, with you the size of a tiny newborn and just as delicate, she is acutely aware of the danger this storm poses to you. She decides that she needs to bring you back to the castle to get you out of the elements. Once she gets there, she will signal for the girls to come as well. It would make her feel better for her entire family to be together at such a turbulent time.

“Alright, draga. Mama’s going to take you to the castle. It’s too snowy out here,” She tells you and begins to grab your blanket.

Your eyes grow wide. You haven’t been to the castle since you got hurt by that bear. You whimper anxiously. You don’t want to leave the cave. It’s your home.

Alcina chuckles sadly at your reaction and begins wrapping you in the blanket. “It’s okay, my love. Mama will take good care of you. I’ll even have your sisters come over. Would you like that?” She asks.

Your eyes brighten at this. You happily nod.

Alcina smiles at you before picking you up and flying off.

The gusts of freezing wind chill you to the bone, but thankfully, it doesn’t take long until Alcina has made it to castle Dimitrescu.

Alcina brings you inside and sets you down for a moment before she changes forms.

You mouth hangs open in awe as you look at her human form. Is it possible she’s gotten even more beautiful since the last time you saw her?

“Hello, draga,” Alcina smiles at your adorably shocked face. “Can mama hold you?” She asks and crouches down to be closer to your height.

You chitter and bounce excitedly at her question. “Up, mama!” You say.

Alcina chuckles and scoops you up.

You still fit perfectly in her arms, even in this form.

Alcina brings you to the main living room and sits you on a nearby couch before starting a fire in the fireplace. She knows the girls will be able to see the smoke billowing out of the chimney from their respective roosts and come to investigate. They should be here soon.

Alcina comes back and sits next to you. She grins and pats her lap, prompting you to climb on.

You happily snuggle into her, enjoying the heat from her and the fire.

“Are you still hungry, baby? You didn’t get to finish earlier,” She asks and rubs the soft fur of your face.

You eagerly nod your head, feeling your tummy growl.

Alcina lowers the neckline of her dress and frees her breast before offering it to you.

You latch on and begin to drink.

Alcina sighs in relief as she feeds her baby. This is her favorite way to bond with you. She rubs your back and hums to you as you eat.

The two of you enjoy some quality time together in the calm ambience of the castle while you nurse.

But, it doesn’t take long until you pick up the sound of flapping wings. It must be your sisters!

Alcina pulls her dress back up and looks at you. “Do you hear the girls, draga?” She asks with a smile.

You chitter enthusiastically at her question and squirm around, wanting to see them.

However as you peek over Alcina’s shoulder to get a better look… The sight that greets you has you hiding bashfully in your wings.

There are… Three beautiful women in front of you. Who are they?

“Y/N! Mother!” The redhead gushes, coming over to you both. She leans down and kisses your head in greeting.

It’s… Dani. This is Dani! You are overjoyed to see her like this. You chitter up at her and wave a tiny wing. “Hi, Dani!” You squeal.

You look over at the two other women in the room. So… The blonde and the brunette… Must be Bela and Cass!

“Hello, little one,” Bela says in her calm and gentle voice. She runs her fingers through your fur and gives you a breathtaking smile.

You lean into the softness of her hand. “Hi, Bela,” You say with your big, precious eyes.

“Hi, stranger,” Cass says with a grin and scratches behind your little ear.

Your eyes roll back at her touch and you involuntarily kick your little leg in pleasure. That’s definitely a point in favor of your family’s human forms. Perfectly manicured nails, just right to satisfy an itch.

Cass looks at your blissed-out face and chuckles. “Only in it for the scratches, huh?” She jokes.

You giggle. “No, Cassie!” You say.

This makes all of your sisters laugh.

Alcina beams as she watches her babies interact. “I’m so glad that you’re here, dragas,” Alcina says and opens her arms to the girls.

They rush closer and hug Alcina, grateful for the chance to see you and her.

Dani looks at you and holds out her hands to take you. “Can I hold you, Y/N?” She asks.

You nod and Alcina places you in her arms.

Dani cuddles you and buries her face in your fur. “It’s kind of like having a puppy!” She says and kisses your nose. “Y/N’s so small and fluffy! Want to play fetch, little one?” She asks.

You furrow your brows and let out a growl at this. "No doggy,” You say and glare at her in annoyance.

Dani would never admit it, but seeing you get so pissed kind of freaks her out. She quickly dumps you into Bela’s arms and all but flings herself onto Alcina’s lap.

Alcina giggles and holds Dani close. It seems that some of her ability to intimidate is rubbing off on you.

She smirks and is so proud of all that you’ve learned from her.

Masterlist

#re8 #re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x y/n #age regression #nonsexual age regression #re8 shitpost #breastfeeding #lactation #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #batcina au

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anxiousgaypanicking · 2 months

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Hunger Hurts

Synopsis: Janus is an old-fashioned vampire, living secluded in an archaic mansion past the outskirts of town. On one particular night, four intruders decide to snoop around his house, leaving Janus delighted at the opportunity of a few free meals. However, he decides he has plenty of time to play with the group before killing them to satisfy his own gluttony, and so decides to keep them around as his temporary pets… nothing more, nothing less. Part One

Janus perks up in bed as he hears his front door be pushed open.

Normally, this would be an instance where one might call the police, or something of the sort, but Janus doesn't feel the need to. And the reason he doesn't is because the distance between Janus’s lavish bedroom - in which he was resting in - and the front door was rather large. He lived in an old mansion, after all, so there were long hallways between this door and that one, the bathroom and the kitchen, et cetera.

The only reason Janus could hear multiple sets of footsteps slowly creep into his house was because of his acute hearing, which he luckily had to counteract his colour-blindness. It didn’t make traversing his house difficult, but it messed with his depth perception considerably.

And the only reason he has excellent hearing was because he was bitten by a vampire nearly three centuries ago, and turned that very night.

Janus slides off his comfortable mattress, and slips out of his room, stalking the halls of his house without a care. The electricity had long been cut from this place, and so he resorted to lighting candles to see at night (as in the morning, golden sunlight seeped in from the giant windows anyway, which Janus could carefully manipulate with curtains to give him the light he needed to traverse without tripping) but blows out the many he has burning through his halls as he passes, shrouding more and more of the interior in darkness.

In the distance, he can clearly hear “it’s not as dilapidated as I expected. Just… archaic.”

A scoff follows, and a second voice speaks “well, if the exterior wasn’t falling apart, why did you think the interior would be? That’s not typically how architecture works. It’s not like the living room is exposed to sleet and snow.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

Janus smiles, almost able to hear the way arms cross over chests just from the tone of the first’s voice.

“Everything’s… eerily upkept,” a third speaks.

“Don’t worry,” a fourth - four intruders? - soothes. “I’ll protect you.”

The first voice huffs. “From what? Spiders? There’s nothing here. It’s just a creepy ass house; nothing more, and nothing less. It’s not like it’s haunted or anything. At worst, there’s probably just squatters, and that’s why it’s not completely in ruin.”

“That’s logical.”

“Oh gosh, I didn’t even think about the amount of spiders probably roaming around! Maybe… maybe we should just go home!”

Following the chittering voices, Janus silently slinks onto his balcony overlooking the front door - which was left wide open, blowing the chilly night air into Janus’s otherwise warm house - but stays a few paces away from the rails in order to keep himself obscured in shadow. One of the four stands before the winding staircase leading to Janus’s position, but doesn’t climb it yet.

From his vantage point, Janus takes a moment to assess the group.

They were varying in style - quite an unlikely quadruple, in Janus’s opinion - but that made them more interesting. The tallest of the four was who Janus could immediately equate the bravest voice to, as with his muscular frame and protective arm wrapped around one of the others, it was clear to see he was rather protective. The one he was holding was leaning into his touch, eyes wildly looking around behind his round frames, as though scanning the area for spiders. His face was tucked into the larger one’s chest, which was about as high as it reached. Alright, so he’s paired two of them to two voices with ease.

The other two provided much more of a challenge. Both of them look like they could retort something sassy, and neither of them looked pleased with where they were, but as one curiously crouched down to poke at Janus’s stairs (something that only irked Janus to a minimal degree), the other was more careless with his touches, more huffy and puffy as he jabs his fingers into a beautiful lamp Janus had acquired in the 1950’s.

“Not a speck of dust,” the more inquisitive one says, which allows Janus to place him the second voice from earlier. The one who’d talked about “architecture.”

That left the final one as the feistier one, who immediately quips “cool, so the spiders can do housework. Good to know.”

With a wave of his hand, Janus wills the front door shut, making the smallest of the group yelp as he whipped around to face it, though everyone admittedly jumps at the noise. Silence settles among them, before the curious one adjusts his rectangle glasses, and clears his throat.

“It’s a windy night,” he states, though Janus smirks as he hears him attempting to settle the quake in his voice. Rather interestingly, he sounds less as though he’s applying logic to quell himself, and more like he’s trying to soothe the others. “Just a disparity in air pressure.”

The man he had originally been arguing with - bickering with? Bantering with? - moves towards him, and holds onto his arm, shoulders tense. They’re more affectionate than Janus would expect them to be.

It makes him curious about their relationship. Initially, he’d assumed them to be a group of friends, but they seem more affectionate than that. Call him old-fashioned, but typically you don’t cling that closely to someone you’re merely acquaintances with.

“What if this house really is haunted?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Patton,” the logical one says. “You’re perfectly safe. We all are.”

“Quite the contrary, Patton,” Janus finally speaks, enjoying the way “Patton’s” name feels on his tongue as he says it. He watches with delight as all four faces whip up towards the balcony, searching for the source of Janus’s voice with varying degrees of fear on their faces. “You’ve essentially wandered into a lion’s den, and unfortunately, the four of you look like fresh meat.”

“This house is abandoned!” the brave one speaks, urging Patton behind him and into the remaining arm of the analytical man. “It’s illegal for you to be here!”

“This house is mine,” Janus corrects him. He takes a threatening step closer to the balcony’s ledge, allowing the group to see his silhouette. He knows he’s not particularly threatening - he’s about as tall as the sassy one, who’s the in-between height-wise of the group - but he quite literally has the upper hand here. “And you’re trespassing.”

“Logan,” Patton whispers, voice quiet and shaking. Logan - who was the man Patton was currently cowering against - shushes him softly.

He takes a step back, guiding Patton and the other with him, while the brave one stays near the stairs.

“We’ll leave, then,” Logan says, keeping his voice passive and steady. He turns to the man closest to Janus and goes “Come on, Roman. Let’s go,” before tilting his head back up towards Janus and adding “we’re very sorry for breaking and entering.”

Janus cocks his head to the side, watching the snarky man turn from Logan’s arms and to the front door, and he can’t help grinning wide when his pale hands grasp the doorknob tightly, and struggle to turn it at all. Grunting with increasing desperation, he tugs on, before eventually stumbling backwards as his hands slip off the knob with a particularly rough pull. He falls flat on his ass, with Patton rushing to his side.

“Virgil!” Patton softly exclaims, crouching down to tend to Virgil, who Janus can see is trembling in the darkness.

“It’s not opening,” Virgil grits, voice low and shaking. Roman finally turns to look at him.

“What do you mean it’s not opening?”

Virgil’s fists hit against his thighs. “I mean it’s fucking stuck!”

“‘Stuck’ is one way to describe it, I suppose,” Janus pipes up, moving even closer to the railing and leaning over it, resting his chin on his hand as he watches the four gasp as they see him, no doubt startled by the shimmering yellow scales lining half of his face. “I personally would use the word ‘locked,’ but the four of you wouldn’t really have a way of knowing that, would you?”

Janus smiles, wide and playfully, allowing the group to see his sharp fangs. Roman backs up to stand in front of the other three.

With his arm outstretched to protect them, he shouts “what are you!?” while Janus watches Logan subtly reach into his back pocket and pull out a dimly lit cellular device. Janus hums as he sees it, before waving his hand again. As Logan flips his phone over, preparing to call the police, he finds it off. And when he tries to power it on, nothing happens.

Mouth agape, Logan looks between his cell and Janus.

“Don’t bother trying to call anyone,” Janus states, with a shrug. He watches Logan fumble with his phone, before it falls from his hands and onto the ground. He doesn’t bother to pick it up, and so stands staring at it as Janus continues. “None of your phones will work. I’ve always hated the technological age, you know. You’ll come to find my house is quite unplugged.”

“How are you doing this!?” Roman asks again, increasingly worried as he feels Logan very slowly grab the back of his shirt, trying to keep himself grounded. “What are you!?”

Laughing softly, Janus recedes back into the shadows, murmuring “why don’t you come up here and find out?”

Just as he expects, Roman breaks away from the group to head up the stairs, much to the dismay of the other three. Logan reaches for him, but doesn’t follow, while both Patton and Virgil yell his name to try and stop him, both panicked. Virgil tries to get up and chase, but is stopped by Logan who holds him back, clearly not wanting two of them to impulsively get themselves hurt. Virgil struggles rather valiantly. Janus can’t help lingering his gaze on him for a few seconds, before focusing back on Roman.

Roman’s footsteps are heavy as he ascends up to the balcony, though Janus is already walking backwards into a dark corridor, out of sight of the other three. Foolishly, Roman follows him further, which is exactly what Janus was hoping for.

As Janus is chased into a separate hallway, a large set of double doors separating that from the main area slams shut, effectively trapping Roman with him, and leaving the other three stuck oblivious on the other side.

Janus continues quickly moving back as Roman runs toward him, angry and, perhaps, feeling the need to defend his friends (partners? Lovers? Janus still wasn’t sure what to make of them).

He stops in front of a large window, which, with a quick flick of his wrist, has the curtains pulled back, allowing bright moonlight to stream in and cast over Janus, illuminating his rather nonthreatening form, but providing Roman with enough of a look for him to slow somewhat. And that slight falter, where his eyes travel Janus’s body, sizing him up and soaking in his appearance, gives Janus that mental slip he needs to sink his teeth into Roman’s mind.

As Roman steps before the window, about an arm’s-length from Janus, Janus raises his hand into the air, thumb and middle finger pressed together. And as Roman stares at Janus’s digits - his face falling as he wonders what ability Janus will use next, and even doubting whether or not he’ll survive - Janus snaps.

A loud thud echoes throughout the mansion’s walls, startling Logan enough to make him drop Virgil, who immediately scrambles up the stairs and over to the doors keeping Roman from them. He shoves his shoulder against it, attempting to use his rather unimpressive body weight to get the doors open, but they don’t budge in the slightest. In fact, Janus merely grins as he hears Virgil pounding on the wood, shouting through it to “give him back!” and that he’ll “call the cops!”

“He’s worried about you,” Janus muses, as he bends over so that he’s face to face with Roman, who’s chin Janus keeps tilted upwards, forcing eye contact. His own eyes - which are normally bright yellow with slit pupils, reflecting those of a serpent's - spin with colours so intoxicatingly vivid they’d be deemed poisonous. As Roman stares, drool begins to dribble out of the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure they all are, actually. You’re very brave… stupidly so. How much must they mean to you for you to thrust yourself carelessly into danger on their behalf?”

Roman lets out a soft groan, as though he’s actually trying to answer Janus’s question, but he’s unable to form any proper words.

“They’re more than friends, are they not?”

This time, Roman’s eye twitches, but Janus doesn’t get much else from him. For someone so physically strong, Roman’s mind was pathetically weak. All brawn, no brain. All bravery, no brevity.

“If I told you to hurt them, you would.”

Though Roman doesn’t react physically, Janus can almost feel the air shift. He knows that the part of Roman’s brain that can process Janus’s words doesn’t care for them at all. Discomfort and fear surrounds Roman like a tainted aura.

Janus smiles sweetly. “You can’t resist, after all. Quite literally can’t. I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than them. And I’m quite hungry.”

Janus takes a step closer to Roman, breaking off their eye contact. Though Roman’s head is dizzy, he’s not being actively held captive in a trance any longer, and so lets out a choked “pl-pl-please.”

He sounds scared. Worried. Desperate.

Fingers combing through Roman’s hair, Janus pulls Roman’s head against his stomach, allowing Roman to hear the dramatic noises his gut makes as it craves a meal. Typically, Janus goes out at night, finds some loser in a bar, and feasts on them. If he does it often enough, he doesn’t even have to kill the person in order to be satisfied! But he hasn’t eaten in a while… he hasn’t really had the energy to go out and make small talk in order to con some pervert into letting him bite. Yet, now he has four meals, trapped inside his house.

“I could eat the angry one. The one right outside the door.”

Virgil pushes into the door again, emphasizing Janus’s words with his harsh punching. A sweet, metallic smell wafts through the air, and Janus sucks in a deep breath when it hits him, licking his lips afterwards. Roman seems ignorant to it, as though he can’t smell it.

“He doesn’t look like he has much in him, though. Rather thin. If I tried to get a full meal out of him, he’d be empty on the floor afterwards, and I’d still be hungry. Perhaps I’d have to eat the smart one as well. He looks healthy enough to be satisfying, at least. But I like to overindulge, so he’d be disposed of after, too.”

“Stop,” Roman begs him, sucking in a shuddering breath. He tries to move, or stand up, but his body feels heavy. After Janus snapped his fingers, Roman felt like gravity was actively pushing down on him, keeping him on his knees.

“Or what about the emotional one. He seems sweet,” Janus continues, petting through Roman’s hair rather affectionately, even though he can see Roman’s body trembling as he tries to fight Janus’s control. “If you gave me just him, I’d be full enough to discard the rest of you.”

Janus takes a large step back, watching Roman struggle to lift his head and watch him.

“I’ll let you pick, since your feelings were strong enough to chase me,” Janus begins, as though mocking Roman for willingly defending the others. “One of them is staying with me. You’ll choose which one.”

“Give him back!” Virgil shouts from the other side of the door. Beyond it, Janus can hear both Logan and Patton attempting to hold Virgil back.

“You’re bleeding,” Patton cries, though Janus assumes his tears are for Roman, and not for Virgil’s supposed injuries.

“None- none of them,” Roman responds, eyes welling up with tears.

Tsking, Janus shakes his head. “That wasn’t an option, love. What were their names… Virgil, Logan, and Patton? One of them, Roman. You’re dumb, but not this dumb. Which one is staying with me?”

“None of them!”

Humming, Janus taps his chin. “Really? Even if it means you and two others get to leave, you won’t give up one? That’s rather selfish of you.”

Truthfully, it was quite the opposite. Stupid, yes, but Janus never really expected Roman to give any of them up, not with how he’s been fighting to protect them. However, it was never Janus’s intention to let any of them go.

“Fine.”

Janus crouches down before Roman, who, despite the fog consuming his mind, tries to lunge forward. He’s unable.

Once more, Janus seizes Roman’s chin, and forces eye contact. “If you won’t leave one of them here, I know a different way to keep you all together. And alive. At least for now.”

As spirals once again spread through his irises, he watches Roman’s jaw go slack, his chest slump, and his entire body give up and only be supported by Janus, who’s speaking softly to him. His hushed words bounce against his extravagant walls, and wrap around Roman’s brain, being the only clear instructions Roman can focus on. Janus’s voice is the only thing he can listen to, his own thoughts drowned out by Janus’s commands. And Janus keeps talking, until he’s sure that the voice in Roman’s head isn’t speaking at all.

***

The double doors are thrown open so violently, Virgil, Logan, and Patton are all knocked back and onto their backsides.

“Roman!” Patton exclaims, but cowers immediately when Roman rather roughly bends down to scoop Virgil up, throwing him over his shoulder. Virgil thrashes as he’s held, demanding “put me down!” as Janus circles around Roman’s back, before standing rather smugly at his side.

“Virgil- Virgil hates being held like that,” Logan stammers, staring at Roman, who’s staring blankly at the floor where Virgil was previously laying. “Roman wouldn’t hold him like that.”

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t,” Janus responds, giving Logan a faux pout, before turning to Virgil. He has to lean back a bit to make eye contact with him, and can’t help grinning when he sees Virgil’s pissed face, smeared with wet tears and fresh snot. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are glistening with frustration and fear.

When Virgil sees him staring, he quickly yells “fuck you!” which has Janus rolling his eyes.

“You know where to take him, Roman,” Janus says, ignoring Virgil’s angry hitting and kicking. Roman doesn’t react to it either. “I’ll meet you there.”

With a snap of his fingers, Roman turns on his heel and walks off, leaving Patton gasping.

As he covers his mouth with his hands, Patton shakily asks “what did you do to him?” staring horrified at Roman’s shrinking frame as he disappears down the long corridor.

“Nothing I can’t reverse,” Janus dismissively replies, waving his hand. “But I’m only willing to do so if you’re obedient. Both of you.” Janus turns to Logan, whose hands are balled into fists by his thighs despite his relatively expressionless face. If Janus wasn’t more perceptive, he’d assume Logan cares naught about the situation. But his chest was turned ever so slightly towards Patton. His knuckles were white. He was seething beneath the surface, but was doing a rather impressive job of keeping that anger hidden.

“Now stand up.”

Patton scrambles to his feet, while Logan is a lot slower pushing himself up. He fixes his glasses as he stands, glaring at Janus with his dark blue eyes from behind the frames.

Janus then holds his hand outstretched, causing Patton and Logan to glance at each other.

“I’m absolutely famished,” Janus explains, fangs shining as he speaks. “It took so much energy to subdue Roman. And I need to replenish it.”

Briskly, Logan states “you’re not drinking our blood.”

Janus frowns at his resistance.

He clears his throat. “Let me rephrase that. I’m starving, and if one of you doesn't submit willingly, I’ll just take your blood forcefully.” Janus’s eyes narrow, but he smirks as he adds “and I have a reputation for getting carried away. Though, I suppose only having to manage three of you will be a lot less difficult than having to keep track of four.”

Patton’s face pales. “You’ll kill one of us?” he whispers.

“I might. Perhaps Virgil. The smell of his blood is permeating the air, after all. He’s basically taunting me with it.”

Patton turns to look at Logan with wide, wet eyes. He’s visibly afraid, and yet sympathetic. So, he offers his arm out, only for Logan to quickly grab it and pull Patton behind him.

“No,” Logan firmly says, directed at Patton, though he’s staring at Janus as he says it. “He’s not touching you.”

“Hm. You’re almost as heroic as Roman was. You did see how that turned out for him, didn’t you?”

Logan stands up straighter, not bothering to acknowledge Janus’s mocking words. Instead, he holds his own arm out, with Patton holding onto him from behind.

“Whatever you need to do, do it. And then take us to Roman and Virgil.”

Janus hums. “You’re not in much of a place to be making demands.”

“Starve, then.”

“No, no,” Janus quickly replies, laughing softly at this one's… forwardness. He was just as spritely as Virgil! He was just better at keeping that attitude repressed. How… fun. “I’ll take you to them. After I’ve eaten, of course.”

Janus’s fingers firmly wrap around Logan’s arm, before tugging him closer. Logan is rigid - clearly uncomfortable - but Janus pays no mind as he slides Logan’s long-sleeve shirt up his arm, exposing his forearm.

“I thought vampires traditionally drank from the neck,” Logan comments, and as Janus’s eyes flicker toward him, he can see curiosity swimming within him. Even if he was mad, he was still eager to watch. “Provided you are a vampire, of course.”

“Who’s to say?”

Logan frowns at the ambiguous response, seemingly hoping for a solid answer. Though, Janus is rather pleased to see Logan’s pale cheeks glow pink when Janus places a kiss on his knuckles.

“What’s he doing?” Patton whispers into Logan’s ear, but seems embarrassed when Janus looks at him instead, realizing his question must have been overheard. Neither Janus or Logan answer Patton.

Then, Logan’s arm is being flipped over, exposing his underarm and thick, healthy veins.

“You drink a lot of water,” Janus comments.

“I do.”

“And you exercise.”

“On again, off again.”

Janus chuckles, pressing his thumb down on a vein right below Logan’s palm. “Not as often as Roman, I presume?”

Logan doesn’t answer him, and frankly he doesn’t need to. Instead, he stiffens as Janus guides Logan’s wrist to his mouth, tongue sliding over Logan’s flesh and making him shiver. Where Janus’s saliva makes contact with Logan’s skin seems to buzz, as though it’s more abnormal than normal spit. And yet, Logan’s still not prepared for when Janus bites, sinking his sharp fangs into Logan’s wrist and making Logan yelp in pain.

Patton quickly wraps himself around Logan’s free arm, grabbing his hand and holding it as Logan squeezes his fingers, clearly in pain. He sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth as Janus pulls away, before wrapping his lips around the two holes he just made, sucking the blood out of him. Logan can feel himself losing a lot in just a little bit of time, both from his veins having been impaled and Janus actively working to drink it out of him.

He starts to get dizzy on his feet.

“Wait,” Patton speaks, voice soft. However, as Logan’s eyes narrow, then slowly blink, and then snap open again, Patton’s louder. “Wait! He’s- you’re-”

Janus pulls away, pushing his thumb over the holes to prevent blood from being wasted.

“He’s fine.”

“You’ll kill him!”

Janus licks his lips. “Not yet, I won’t.”

He reattaches his lips to Logan’s wrist, moving closer until he has an arm looped around Logan’s waist, pushing Patton to the side as he single handedly keeps Logan upright, savoring each mouthful of blood that he gets.

Logan’s blood tastes healthy. It’s thick, filling, and tastes so distinct to Janus. It’s not as trashy as the blood he’d drink from an intoxicated loser. It’s a lot nicer. A lot nicer.

It almost reminds Janus of after he first turned, and the first blood he’d after tasted. He’d been healthy, fit, charming. He’d been delicious.

Logan lets out a shaky moan, and finally Janus pulls away, gliding his forked tongue over the wound and giving Logan that same burning, static feeling. Though, when Janus stands back up, Logan sees the fang marks have been completely scabbed over.

Breathily, Logan tries to ask how Janus did that, but he crumples before he can, falling right into Janus’s arms.

“Is he-”

“He’s fine,” Janus assures Patton, quickly and confidently. His voice is calm and passive, and he even offers Patton one of his warmest smiles. It’d be rather nice if he wasn’t holding a limp body in his arms. “He’ll just be exhausted for a bit.”

Janus glances at Logan, watching as his bleary eyes look around drowsily, before falling shut as he tries to take long, deep breaths. Janus smiles, and rather easily lifts Logan into his arms, which has Logan letting out a groan of displeasure, but keeping his eyes shut, too tired to protest.

“Follow me,” Janus then instructs Patton, turning and heading down the hall Roman had traversed, making good on his word to bring them to the others. He hears Patton’s footsteps rush to catch up with him, before Patton’s walking at his side, near Logan’s head, looking towards him repeatedly with concern in his eyes. But he doesn’t say anything, almost as though he trusts Janus’s word. Hm.

Janus cracks a smile; smug, and temporarily satiated.

#sanders sides #sanders sides smut #not safe for sanders #sanders sides fic #vampire janus #dlamp #dlamp smut #dlamp fic #initial dubcon #dubcon #eventual consent #hunger hurts #hunger hurts fic #tw dubcon #tw noncon #cw dubcon #cw noncon

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saltybean03 · 10 months

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The Veil is a shapeshifter alien that can assume the form of any creature by contorting its body. The skin is pale and ever so slightly moist, and just underneath are purple veins. It's a 13' apex predator with crazy regenerative abilities that make it impossible to kill, and it's not very companionable.. 😞

1. Foot. You won't hear it coming. They move incredibly fast and silently

2. Shin

3. Knee. Shatterproof

4. Thigh

5. A neural plug. It makes a chittering noise..

6. Stomach. Very stretchy, resilient, and can grow five times it's size. It eats large game, and that includes people

7. Fingers. On the side is a close-up of the inside of the hand, where the skin is covered in sharp papillae. Imagine that grabbing your face

8. Bridge of the hand

9. Wrist

10. Forearm

11. Elbow

12. Ankle

13. Upper arm

14. This is their nose. Veil have an acute sense of smell, 100x stronger than a dog's. It can find you even when you've left the country

15. Veil are carnivores and have large mouths full of teeth. There's a pair of arm-like appendages with hooked ends that extend out from the sides of their throat very quickly to snatch prey

16. They have six eyes that can all look in different directions. Each one has two pupils, one for focusing on things up close and the other for far away. They're superior in the dark

This creature need only touch you to turn into you, but can also assume shapes from photos. Stabbing you with it's tail gives it access to your emotions and memories. If it were to turn into a deceased relative, it could learn from a connection how to act like them and even recall past events that they experienced

Do not ask me where his other leg is. Trying to figure out the proportions was impossible 😭

#my art #lineart #artists on tumblr #speculative zoology #speculative biology #creature art

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 years

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Hi! I was wondering how would our big moth react to a plant that has the same affects of catnip on him? I remember when I gave my cat catnip they rolled Round in it and purred super loudly. it low key was super cute- but like I can see big moth boy after he’s eaten the plant like cat nip to be a little sad that its gone so he demands cuddles becuse thats way better then cat nip :) anyways sorry if this didnt make sense. Thank you for reading tho♥️

OK I HAVE TWO CATS AS WELL AND THEY GO WILD FOR CATNIP-

ohohohohohoo just imagine you come across an odd-looking plant (mayhaps in the Chasm.....? >:) and bring it home after confirming it's not outwardly poisonous or anything. you're planning on asking Zhongli about it seeing that he knows a lot about.... well, everything, when Childe darts over to welcome you home from your trip. he's bumping his cheek against yours, chittering and mrrping, when something in your bag grabs his attention and he starts (carefully) digging through it. you let him do his thing because you're curious to see what he's looking for, when he pulls out the plant you brought home and his eye widens SO MUCH. he munches it up real quick (much to your chagrin) and starts purring like a MOTOR and rubbing his face all over yours. he even flops down onto the ground and pulls you down with him!!

yeah needless to say whatever that plant was, it's the equivalent to catnip for Childe. or at least Foul Legacy Childe

afterwards he DEFINITELY pouts, especially while you're fixing up your clothes and hair- they got all rumpled when he was rolling around on the ground with you!! but Childe also scoots over to you, putting his head on your lap and letting out a soft, apologetic whine as a "sorry for eating your plant :(" and while you sigh and roll your eyes, you can't help but give him some scritches around the horns

at least you know it's not acutely poisonous now. you'll ask Zhongli about it later

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #childe #tartaglia #genshin tartagalia #chit chat #anon #hohohooo believe me my cats LOVE catnip #and it's so cute because they roll over and rub their faces on the little toys #childe does the same!!!! and he looks up at you and chirps so cutely #internally you're like 'that was my PLANT' but also 'oh my god you're adorable i love you'#you know the type of thoughts!!!!#short scenario #other's stuff #and don't worry anon this made total sense <33

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zestymimblo · 10 months

Note

Hi Milo! Happy STS! Have you ever thought about the cover of your wip or maybe some illustrations of your favourite scenes? Could you describe them?

Hello!!! Happy STS and thanks for the ask!!!!

I've had some vague ideas for the cover, but I'm still really early-on in the writing process, that I haven't decided on anything yet.

Most of my favourite scenes are fairly... graphic and spoilery.

But!

There are some locations that could make some lovely illustrations. I'll list three of my favourites below the cut.

Sierra Boyd Memorial Park

Located in the Old District, it was probably the last large green space left in the city. The Old District itself was an anomaly. Historic buildings and old architecture lined the thin brick streets. Signs and plaques were posted on the lawns of every second building. Lawns! This district was the only place where the City Counsel couldn’t touch. It was the only place to breathe. All thanks to Sierra Boyd. [...] The park lazily sprawls out. Over slight hills, curving around to hug the back end of the district. It has large trees, blooming fauna, and a plethora of paths that twist through it all. Small animals chitter at those passing by, and benches dot the various trails so visitors can take in the scenery. This is Caesar’s favourite place. He would visit every day if he could. The trees rustled a greeting, and the plant life seemed to brighten as he walked by. He could feel in the core of his being that this is where he belonged.

Verne Cobb University - Main Foyer

A short and irritated walk later led Newt to the main foyer of Verne Cobb University. A sprawling circular lobby with a large marble fountain at its centre. Pink and purple tiles created a mosaic of flowers blooming that could only be seen by the balconies above. The domed glass ceiling filtered light down the wide staircases that flanked the back wall. It had plants growing out of it, with pink and purple flowers blossoming like those in the mosaic, with the vines reaching several floors up. Cast-iron benches dotted along the perimeter. This was as good of a place as any, being alone in public would have to do.

Verne Cobb University - Library

The library was situated in the middle of the university’s campus. It was a squat brick building with an unassuming outside, but the interior was crammed with shelves. The main metal staircase wound down in a spiral in the centre of the building, leading to other layers of the library below. The further someone went down, the darker and dustier the atmosphere became. Newt was on the third level of five. The overhead fluorescent lights had a habit of flickering, and they dimmed slightly whenever someone used electricity somewhere else in the building. The air felt dry, and breathing made them acutely aware of the bacteria that was probably collecting in their lungs.

Obviously there are more locations and picturesque things that happen, however I picked unassuming things from the first part of my wip.

Thanks again for the ask!!

#writeblr #ask #wip #my writing #I love describing locations #there are some scenes that could be cool illustrations I guess??#but I find locations to be more compelling visuals

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artists-plight · 2 years

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As a new season dawned in the god’s realm, new opportunities await, ready to be taken by the reins. However, a get-together for survivors and killers from every walk of life by the seaside is definitely a freshly strange experience.

Carmina nervously strolls out onto the beach, soft, warm sand enveloping her sandals and ocean breeze blowing by her pastel dress. She hides her darting eyes with her comedically, yet beautifully, large sunhat. A smaller yet much more imposing figure walks up beside her, less wary yet more judging of the two’s situation. Swim trunks and t-shirt are adorned for the sunny dunes and crystal waters. Within the magenta scarf that billows around him, the muffled chittering of hamsters can be acutely heard. Ah, that must be the animal tamer!

Before Carmina can wave hello to the overlord, a cloak of darkness looms over them. Divinity makes a startling appearance, no less different than it was even in the shade’s humidity. The two wing-like appendages on its back creak like rusted door hinges as it threatens to pull the two into a deadly embrace, but it stops itself, disgusted at the thought. “Well now, you two have your fun. I can finally take a vacation for once in this damned establishment without ridicule for my inattentiveness. I shall leave you beautiful sculpted rejects here to fend for yourselves while my brethren run this show. Don’t go decaying on me now. I expect good results when this little party is over, I demand a feast!” And with that, Divinity’s physical form drifted away into the depths of the shade, swallowing up the natural shadows with its own dark, fading presence.

Carmina and Gundham pass each other annoyed expressions at the shared dislike for their Entity, but swiftly move on to enjoy the bright new day ahead of them. It’s about time this socially awkward duo make some new acquaintances and have some fun in the sun! Nothing ventured, nothing gained!

#dbdbeachevent2022 #carmina mora #gundham tanaka #dbd ask blog #tanaka-eternal #plight of the artist

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cloudbattrolls · 2 years

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Little Wonders

Thrixe Varzim || Present Night

Thrixe looked at the beads and hair ties, examining the shades of fuchsia on display. He’d already picked a few blue beads to go with his tie of that color; not too many, he couldn’t spend excessively, but it was nice to be able to experiment with how he looked for once.

Without anyone asking questions.

Ullane would have them. She’d disapprove. She wouldn’t forbid him, he was sure of that - but she’d make it clear he would be crossing a line if he acted on his feelings.

The violet put his fingers on the soft, filmy scrunchies. If only there were ones with sea foam accents…then again, that would betray him even further.

It was a nice little store, one for highbloods and midbloods, and lower key than many shops of its ilk he’d gone into before. So…harsh, so modern and upscale that he immediately felt sure everyone could see he didn’t belong, didn’t even know how to shop there. Nor did he have any servants like many of the trolls present.

Servants. He couldn’t imagine ever having servants. How did people function if they couldn’t take care of their own space by themselves? He was used to their presence at all the functions he’d been to - had frequently been placed among them, to their discomfort - but actually having trolls at his beck and call? It was unfathomable.

Linnae had mentioned his caretaker had had them...Thrixe recalled the Flora servants from his own childhood. He’d heard them more than seen them; like anyone who wasn’t his proctors, they’d been instructed to not speak to him. Their gossip and laughter had been a fairly consistent hum of background noise, the smell of the food they cooked...he’d done his best to shut it out, to numb his curiosity.

For a time he’d tried to think himself better than them, but his proctors had made it clear how woefully wrong he was.

He realized he’d been standing there for an oddly long time when the young cashier gave a polite cough, and he spun around, fins rippling in embarrassment.

“S’allright, orchid.” they said in a friendly drawl, a casually dressed olive in a floppy hat. “Just come pay, yeah? You’re awfully skittish for a water breather.”

He walked over, beads and ties in hand, and put down a few bills, dropping the change they slid him in the small clay tip jar. It had wavy blue designs painted on it, simple and a bit wobbly. Probably a wriggler’s work.

They noticed him looking and tapped the edge with a claw, the sound pleasant.

“My ash sells ‘em, if you’re interested.“

He shook his head.

“Can’t blame me for tryin’.” They said with a shrug, going back to their phone.

He left the store, blinking slightly in the moonlight.

What would Linnae like?

He’d already sent Mikiel a fine cookbook of re-creations of historical dishes. The fuchsia liked simpler things, trading cards and plushes, animals and magic...though their knowledge of nature was impressive. He hadn’t known how careful you had to be with its balance before.

Thrixe walked along the street, keeping an eye out for any shops that inspired him. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Why was this so hard?

He stopped. Of course, he was overthinking.

He whistled, a short signal, and Archimedes flew down to greet him, landing on the pavement.

“Let’s make him something.” He whispered to the gryphon, who chittered and groomed his wings quickly before looking up at the seadweller expectantly.

He walked for a while to the woods that bordered the town, and searched for stones that were large and flat enough for his purposes. Archimedes caught prey and sharpened his claws on trees, and sometimes Thrixe borrowed his body to search with for what he needed, or keep an eye out for predators.

The gryphon’s vision and hearing were excellent, even if his sense of smell wasn’t as acute as a troll’s. In a short time, and only needing to avoid one juvenile cholerbear that seemed more interested in trying to eat a beehive anyway, he’d found what he needed.

Thrixe went back to the small motel he was staying at - much to the bafflement of the staff, one of whom had flat out said that the highest troll who’d ever been there before was teal - and sat on the floor of his room, supplies laid out in front of him.

Dirt. Water. Moss. Flowers. Everything here he could sense except the rock - well, only the microbes on it.

He breathed in and out, focusing, feeling the pigments of the flowers, the moss’s tiny spirals of leaves. He plucked a few petals off and carefully placed them on the rock, along with some greenery, a little water and a thin layer of soil.

The seadweller shut his eyes, and when he opened them, they glowed violet-white.

The moss and petals grew around each other into a design, with a soft noise of shifting foliage, creating an image of a coiled dragon with pink-petal eyes and other pink accents. It wasn’t perfect - he realized with some embarrassment it was a bit wobbly, like the waves on the jar - but it was still recognizable as his friend’s other form, grown directly from the rock.

It had taken a few seconds and a flicker of power. He could easily get better, he mused as he shook the rock gently over the wastebasket to get the excess soil off.

Maybe he shouldn’t give Linnae anything less than a perfect work. Would Mikiel be disappointed in him if he did?

No, he wanted the mage to see it. Even if it was imperfect, it was his first piece of this kind. He wanted...he hoped it would make him happy. Or at least, that he wouldn’t think it was weird.

Who was he kidding, the whole process he’d used to make it was weird, he could grow plants with his mind, no psiionics involved. It was so satisfying.

Linnae didn’t seem to mind his strangeness. Not yet, anyway. Maybe once he’d learned more of the world he’d realize the kind of company fuchsias usually kept, and none of it involved disgraced, half-horrorterror violets.

Thrixe almost wanted to paint the fuchsia, yet he was sure that despite all his skill he couldn’t quite capture the way their beautiful fins shone with multiple colors, or how his dragon form’s fur glimmered beneath the pink and green moonlight.

Or how he looked when he was focusing, trying to learn, or when he had just bought something new...

He shook his head, gently wrapping the rock in tissue paper.

Hopefully, Linnae would like the present.

Archimedes dozed on the edge of the bed, but he cracked a green feline eye to look at Thrixe with what the violet could swear was amusement.

He looked away, fins flared and face flushed slightly violet.

“Shut up.” he mumbled, perfectly aware how pathetic his tone was.

The gryphon chirped mock-innocently before settling back down.

Thrixe sighed. He had to try, didn’t he? He had to make some kind of effort, corral his thoughts more efficiently. He was a lost cause with Mikiel, but that didn’t mean it had to happen again.

He knew what boundaries he had to keep for everyone’s sake.

He’d hold to them, no matter what.

#cloud writes #thrixe varzim

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acuteblock · 2 years

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Tango saying he'll shake out Scar for not having paid Pearl for organising his chest monster just makes me think of Tango doing this to him

And it's just so funny

It fits too because of Tango's hood lmao

#tangotek #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #acute chitters #-yes reposting it because I needed to make the words UNIFORM-#mcyt

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acutestar · 1 year

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Wait, hang on, looking at the Meta-Knights and like...they're all orb

Maybe besides Sword and Blade, but they're all possibly orb shaped just like Meta

Like I know Mace Knight is like actually supposed to be taller in the art, but like sprite-wise???? He's just as tall as everyone else??? Who are all as tall as Meta and could definitely be like orb shaped

This changes a few things in our headcanon

#the meta knights #acute chitters

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cryptidm0ths · 1 year

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things that cause me genuine pain

#i want to try and get top100 for ariadne or atleast a lot and dont have the money to pull on either of the birthday or the pretty 5scout #TTnTT #already thinking about which way to get the dia necessary without spending to much #looking at tumblr user voiceofswords post and taking notes #eh current strategy spread the worst takes about meru and hope that no one likes them so less people are trying to get many points great #strategy no way this could go badly/j/j #eeeeeeeeeeee #moth chitters #the acutal current stratergy is try to fc dance in the apocalypse bc red cards + 2bogie time ibara + furry jun + 3 nagisa stardard should #be the highest points i think #counting that i probably wont pull for a while so un less theres a tour live that i tryhard a little wont get any new 5*s

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roadkill-frankenstein · 2 years

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Pokemon Victorious Sword and Triumphant Shield

Chapter 6 - The Intruder

Full Story Here!

Harley's birthday was well-spent. There wasn't enough people in the cafe to actually battle (and the owner himself said he was too strong for it to be a fair challenge) but they'd enjoyed a day out with their friends.

Owen ended up having to leave earlier than expected, and Lydia got called home by her mum shortly after. But Harley didn't mind, because they had spent time with their friends.

That night, after a lovely dinner with Ace and their Mum, Harley lay in bed. They stared at the poster on their wall, arms wrapped around Pippa as she snored loudly. They could feel Scrappy, the Nickit they had caught, making himself comfortable near the foot of their bed.

They wanted to sleep, but their mind kept drifting back to what had happened earlier. What was that Pokemon they saw? Harley sighed deeply, burying their face into their pillow. It was probably nothing.

Probably nothing.

Harley kept repeating that to themselves, eventually drifting off into an uneasy slumber.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Harley's watch hung from a branch above their head, the hands inching forward slowly. The grass beneath them crunched and cracked with each step they took.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The stone-skinned Pokemon stretched out it's leathery wings, letting out a shriek that echoed off the sky. The world around Harley shattered like glass, and they could see the reflection of another man in its pieces. A man with violet eyes and a golden crown, laughing with no voice.

Harley fell into a void of white, falling… falling…

Tick.

Tick..

Tick…

Harley gasped as they snapped awake, drenched in cold sweat. Scrappy stirred gently as they moved, lifting his head and approaching them with a soft, worried chitter.

"I'm okay, bud, just a bad dream.." Harley spoke, despite knowing Scrappy couldn't hear them. They gently reached out, giving him a soft pat on the head. The Nickit yipped softly, carefully stepping over Pippa to sit down in Harley's lap. He stared deeply into his trainer's eyes, before gently tapping their thigh with his paw. "Heh… are you trying to comfort me?"

Harley tapped his finger on Scrappy's back, three times.

"There, see? I'm okay." Scrappy seemed reassured by this… maybe communication would be easier than they initially thought. All it took was their body language. Harley laid back down, staring at the clock on their nightstand. It was 3 in the morning - might as well try and catch up on sleep.

Harley laid back down, lifting their blanket as Scrappy shimmied closer to them. The Nickit scurried underneath, curling up against them with a soft huff.

They slowly drifted back to sleep, comforted by the presence of their two Pokemon.

Tap tap tap.

Harley became acutely aware of the sun beaming through the crack in their curtains, rolling over with a lazy sigh. What time was it? And what was that sound?

Tap tap tap.

There came that annoying tap again, but it wasn't at their door. Harley sat up with a groan, rubbing the sleepiness from their eyes. Pippa yawned widely as they slid out of bed, walking over to their window and opening their curtains.

"CRAWWW!" A Corviknight shrieked as they looked out the window. It was perched upon their windowsill, talons digging quite roughly into the wood. Harley yelped, staggering backwards and tripping over their new Wooloo pillow, which had evidently fallen off their bed.

Tap tap tap. The Corviknight impatiently tapped its beak upon the window, a satchel slung across its neck. Well, it certainly wasn't the first time Harley had gotten mail by Pokemon, but it was the first time the mailman had been so…

Large.

Rubbing at their aching back, Harley opened the window with their right hand. The Corviknight dug its beak into the bag it carried, carefully extracting a neatly-sealed letter and dropping it onto the floor, giving Harley one last glare before taking off.

Closing their window (and taking a moment to still their rapidly beating heart), Harley hastily slipped on their prosthetic before picking the envelope up off the ground. It hadn't been properly sealed, which meant it was probably sent just this morning.

Turning up the flap and extracting the sheet of paper within, Harley skimmed briefly over the letter. It was handwriting he recognized as Professor Sonia's, far too neat to be Hop's.

Good morning, Harley,

Happy (late) birthday! Drop by the lab when you get the chance, I need to add the Pokédex to your rotom phone. Bring your Pokemon, too, so I can show you how to use it properly.

~ Professor Sonia

PS, apologies for the method of delivery. Hop insisted it would be faster than waiting for Ace to remind you.

Harley chuckled to themselves, glancing over at the two Pokemon on their bed.

"You guys ready to head out for the day?" They nodded briefly towards the door, digging a fresh pair of clothes out of their wardrobe. Scrappy hopped down, chasing his tail in happy circles, while Pippa tumbled off with a noisy thud. She didn't seem all too bothered, though, oblivious to the world around her.

Harley got dressed, fixing their hair in the mirror before grabbing their backpack and opening it. Pippa took her usual spot inside, and Scrappy bounced back and forth gleefully at Harley's feet.

Tot was in her usual spot downstairs, curled up in the basket that she'd had since she was a Yamper. She didn't seem to mind that she was too big for it now, her legs awkwardly sticking out and her tail lazily wagging behind her. She looked much better than she had the day before, her front leg neatly bandaged as an extra precaution.

"Morning, Tot. I'm going down to the lab, okay?" Harley spoke softly, giving her a pat on the head. Tot yawned, stretching out her lanky legs before standing up. Instead of following, however, she turned around in circles, fluffing up the cushion in her basket before plopping back down again. "Good girl."

Writing a quick note to their mum and leaving it on the table in the living room, Harley headed out the door. The gate to the Slumbering Weald was shut now, properly fixed with an extra latch. Presumably to avoid any more boltund-related chaos.

Harley felt like something was tugging at his brain, a gentle urge to open the gate and go back into the woods. They dismissed it as mere curiosity, turning the other way and strolling down the path towards the lab.

Pippa still looked quite sleepy, yawning widely as she settled more comfortably into Harley's bag. Scrappy was wide awake, though, running a few meters ahead of Harley before stopping and waiting for them to catch up, then repeating the process. It was rather adorable.

There was someone moving about in the lab, back and forth. Harley knocked lightly upon the door, figuring it was one of the professors.

But there came no reply, the sound of footsteps pausing for just a moment before rapidly fading, as though whoever was inside had suddenly run.

"Um, professor?" Harley said, gently turning the doorknob and peering through the crack in the door. The figure they saw moving around inside wasn't anyone (or anything) they'd ever seen before, hurriedly grabbing things off the desks.

Harley didn't know what to do, briefly chewing on his lip as they pondered opening the door to confront whatever was sneaking about in the lab - but they didn't want to potentially get hurt by someone with ill intentions.

They didn't have time to think about it any further, because the figure turned sharply towards them. It had burning yellow eyes, and hissed fiercely at them. Harley slammed the door, but didn't have a chance to get away or shout for someone.

The mystery intruder burst through the door at full speed, knocking Harley over. They saw a glimpse of green and red, felt a bristly tail sweep over their legs, but they didn't have time to get their bearings. Whatever it was - a Pokemon, they assumed - bolted off, bounding into the fields and disappearing into the grass.

Scrappy had hidden against the wall of the lab, and Pippa had tumbled out of Harley's bag when they fell - but they were both unharmed, thankfully. Harley checked them both over thoroughly, making sure the Pokemon hadn't touched them, and they were more shaken up than anything.

"Harley?" A voice called from down the path, and they turned. It was Professor Sonia and Professor Hop, both frowning. "What're you doing?"

"There was- well, I knocked on the door but you guys weren't in there, and I looked inside and there was this-" Harley panicked, but Pippa gently nudged their arm, urging them to slow down. "I was coming by because Sonia sent that letter, and nobody answered when I knocked… but I heard someone inside, so I opened the door to check and there was a Pokemon inside, going through your stuff."

Hop gently sidestepped around Harley, before entering the lab and taking a look around. He looked quite upset, a mix of anger and worry crossing over his usually calm face. Sonia helped Harley to their feet, brushing dust off their back.

"Did you see what Pokemon it was?" She asked curiously.

"No, but it was- it was big and green, and it hissed at me." Harley knew that wasn't helpful, though. Sonia only affirmed his worries, rubbing her chin.

"Sonia! The power spot detector's gone!" Hop shouted, frantically upturning boxes. "So's the tracker for Zacian and Zamazenta!"

"What?!"

#nintendo #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon victorious sword and triumphant shield #fanfic

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goldenholi · 3 months

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Update.

when i visit my partner I forget things 🙈 this post is a little late but ehehehehehhehe

Chapter 12: Bad Weather

WE RETURN TO THE FOREST.

Mallory knew when his mother was near. Call it instinct or a sixth sense, something shifted and he knew he wasn’t alone. Sometimes it was comforting. A majority of the time it was infuriating.

“I have a partner,” Skipper said. “For the record. I think we should bite the bullet, call up your mother and-”

“You aren’t special because someone misses you.”

“Do you think your ma would take me back?” Skipper asked. “She could do that, yeah?”

“I could,” Mahog said, high up in the canopy. “But you’ll have more leverage against Atlas if you return as a group.”

“What are you on now, mother?”

“He summoned me,” Mahog said. Mallory looked up, hunting for his mother. Her cloak was usually a give-away. The frayed green could fool beasts and buy time, but careful observation revealed colors that didn’t align or leaf shapes that were all wrong. Mahog shifted and her figure sprang from the darkness, swinging to the forest floor in one smooth motion.

“Why would he do that?” Mallory asked.

“According to him,” she said, leaning against a tree. “His dear fiancé has been stolen by a hag.”

“How would he know that?” Skipper asked.

“It’s awfully close to the truth,” Mahog said. “He’s framing it like she’s been plucked from his home altogether. I suspect someone in town is snooping on Atlas’ behalf.”

“Killian,” Mallory muttered. Mahog shrugged.

“Could be.”

“What comes next?” Huxley asked. Mahog’s expression flattened. The canopy rustled. Leaves chittered against one another. Branches groaned. A bird cawed in the distance, hectic.

“You have options,” Mahog said. “Atlas didn’t mention any of you. If you returned he would likely bend over backwards to make sure the truth was contained.”

“In a good way?” Skipper asked.

“You’d have leverage.”

“A pity they aren’t going back to Raaian.”

Iridescent lichen blossomed upon a tree. It frothed forward then congealed into a vaguely humanoid creature. A leg stepped out into the thicket, frayed, then it stepped out of the lichen entirely, waxy and rotund. The excess sloughed off like a second skin, and all that remained was a sharp and pearlescent figure. Hair like strands of gems. Butterflies upon her face.

“Celastrina-”

“Silence.”

Mahog quieted, eyes darting to Mallory’s in warning. He’d never seen his mother step down to anyone.

Skipper cocked her weapon, crossbow pointed at the fae.

“Naivara nearly died courtesy of these fools,,” Celastrina said. “They won’t be leveraging anyone. I’m disappointed, Mahog. I expected better of you. I suppose it’s that maternal instinct at play. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Are you going to harm them?” Mahog asked. “No,” Celastrina said. “They will be my guests.”

“Will you return them home?”

“You will return them home. I’ll summon you when the time is right.”

“And if we don’t go?” Mallory asked. “If we wan’t nothing to do with you?” Celastrina touched her palms together in a mocking clap, and Mallory felt his veins flood with warmth. He fell against the mossy earth, as darkness consumed his vision.

“They won’t be harmed, Mahog. You know my style.”

WE RETURN TO BREAKFAST.

The pancakes were cold and soggy. Naivara ate them all the same, acutely aware of the fact that she was alone and unsupervised in a home that wasn’t hers. It was a beautiful home. The sort of place that Naivara had dreamed of as a child. The kitchen teemed with pots, pans, and jars. The living room was spacious, with plush couches teeming with pillows and shelves brimming with books. There was a wall painted with images: butterflies, flowers, vines, a sun, a moon, a wolf, a cat. Some sections were wholly abstract, shapes and colors livening up a massive canvas. Hanging from the ceiling were dozens of necklaces that glimmered in the morning light.

Naivara dumped her plate in the magic bin. Instead of popping into existence on the counter, clean as a whistle, it shattered against the counter, ceramic scattering along the floor. A heat burst from the back of her neck, crawling up toward her eyes. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck and she was shoe-less, the pieces were everywhere, she broke a damn plate-

She didn’t dare move: the last thing she wanted was to slice up her bare feet. Instead she stretched for a chair and dragged it close as possible, then climbed into it on her knees, trembling. There was a broom propped up on the either side of the kitchen. If she dragged another chair forward and stretched, she could start collecting the remnants of the plate-

“Are you alright?”

Naivara jolted, heart in her throat. At the base of the stairwell was the older woman who had tended to her the night before. Dark skin, dark hair streaked with grey. Lines etching the curves of her face. The stairs rattled behind her as another woman appeared: stout, with strawberry blonde curls.

“What happened?”

“I uh...plate fell,” Naivara said. “Plate fell.”

“Is that all?” Strawberry blonde asked, her voice light. She plucked the broom and began sweeping, the pieces of ceramic tinkling against tile. Naivara felt very small, propped up on her little island as someone swept her mess away.

“I’m sorry,” Naivara blurted.

“It’s just a plate,” Strawberry said. “It’s fine.”

“Where did Lillimae go?” The other woman asked.

“Upstairs,” Naivara said. Strawberry peered at the stove and frowned. An aimless shame settled in her bones. They didn’t get pancakes. Most certainly because Lillimae had gotten upset with her. They could have had a delicious treat and she had ruined that opportunity for them. Naivara sat down, heat building behind her eyes. She dropped her heels to the floor and cursed, an arc of pain coursing through her foot.

“Aw fuck,” Eudora cursed. “Irene, get the tweezers.”

“It’s fine.” I deserved it.

“Did you step on a shard?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it lodged in there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can I see? Oh my. Eudora, sweep this section. Don’t let your heel touch the floor, come on, follow me. Okay sit down, I got you…” Naivara sank into the couch. She stared at the ceiling. “This might hurt a bit…” A sting. A faint trickle. Naivara grit her teeth.

“There we go. I’ll bandage you up.”

And she did. Quickly, quietly, kindly. Naivara stared at nothing in particular.

“So,” Irene said, securing the bandage. “How are you?”

Usually this was her queue to say something along the lines of ‘fine’ or ‘alright’ or ‘okay,’ but there was something in Irene’s tone that made Naivara feel that she deserved honesty. Except Naivara’s truth wasn’t much better than a lie.

“I don’t know,” she said. It was the best she could offer and it still fell short.

“That’s fair,” Irene said. “I wouldn’t know what I was feeling if I were in your shoes.”

“I’d be pissed,” Eudora said, touching a rune carved against a slab of stone. A pan clattered against a stove.

“Everyone is different,” Irene said.

“Everyone is different,” Eudora muttered mockingly. Naivara picked a place to look and waited.

“You’re going to be here for a while,” Irene said. “Not too long, but...I believe Lily mentioned you like reading?”

Naivara nodded.

“Why don’t we get you a book?” She pushed up off her feet and flitted over to a shelf teeming with books. “What do you like?”

“I dunno,” Naivara said. Irene paused. She tugged out a book the color of a wilting rose.

“I think you might like this one,” Irene said. “Here.”

Naivara took it, examining the cover. It was old and worn, cracked in some sections. The pages were yellowed with age and some edges were warped. The title read “The Pearl.” That wasn’t much to work with but Naivara couldn’t stand the thought of being rude, so she opened it up and began reading.

The tale was about a girl named Myra who discovered a magic pearl. She didn’t know how special it was, but when word spread about her having found it, everyone began to treat her differently. Suddenly she mattered. Suddenly everyone was on her good side. Naivara hadn’t read a proper book for ages. There was a resistance to picking up the words on the page, even moments where she couldn’t quite ‘read’ a word. Ennui. What the fuck was ennui? She assumed it meant something like sadness. She couldn’t ask such a question, she’d probably get a blank look. Or worse. The Brickson’s never did like when she asked questions they couldn’t answer.

At some point, a plate of sliced fruit was set within arms reach. Instinctively, Naivara snacked on them, careful to avoid staining the book. A plate of shredded meat tossed spices appeared, with a fork, and Naivara didn’t think twice about eating. Despite the initial resistance, soon she was on a roll. Then she was squinting at the words.

“You should stop,” Irene said. “Straining your eyes will only hurt you.”

Naivara put the book down, blinking dumbly at the windows. They were a pale lilac.

“Did I miss the whole day?” Naivara asked.

“You did,” Irene said.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Naivara said. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Eudora called. “Sorry about what?”

“I...uh...wasted a day?”

“You didn’t waste it,” Irene said. “You were reading.”

“But I...I could have done stuff.”

“What stuff?” Eudora asked. “You fucked up your foot, sweetheart.”

“You’re allowed to rest,” Irene said. “Don’t fret. You’re our guest and we’ll treat you as such.”

The evening grew darker. A bone deep confusion settled upon Naivara. She tried to remember the last time she had wasted a day and came up short. So much of her life had revolved around proving she was keeping busy, doing things, earning her keep. She wasn’t meant to be a guest. She was meant to take notes and run errands and tidy up where others lived, and if she wasn’t doing any of that she was supposed to be working. Brewing pacci or disbursing payments on Atlas’ behalf. Or sleeping.

“Thank you,” Naivara said.

“Can I ask something?” Eudora asked. Irene shot her a warning look.

“Sure,” Naivara said.

“What did you say to Lillimae this morning?” Eudora asked.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ah,” Eudora said. “That explains it. I was wondering why she was so mopey.”

“Eudora.”

“Irene, come on.”

“Don’t do it.”

“You hurt her feelings,” Eudora said.

Naivara froze. She felt like a bug caught in the wind, untethered, lost, at the mercy of a gust that could come from anywhere.

“I didn’t mean to,” Naivara said.

“Which is a nice sentiment,” Eudora said. “But she’s hurting.”

“She told me to keep to myself,” Naivara said. “I’m respecting that.”

“Eudora,” Irene said. “Why don’t you go upstairs and bring some snacks up to Lillimae?”

“Aye aye,” Eudora sighed. She collected a bowl teeming with small, round, purple stubs and went upstairs.

“I’m sorry she put you on the spot like that,” Irene said. “Eudora is very direct. Are you alright dear? You look out of sorts.”

“I upset Lillimae, broke a plate and cut my foot,” Naivara said.

For a moment, Irene was silent. Her gaze passed over Naivara like she was surveying a cloud.

“You’re rather negative,” Irene said. “Aren’t you?”

Negative. Naivara only knew the term because of what little math her father had taught her. Negative. Like taking things away. Removal. Down. Less.

“You seem to be very hard on yourself,” Irene said.

“So?”

“So I think you deserve some kindness.”

Naivara stared at her blankly. Irene’s knee hopped up and down.

“I get the sense you’re private,” Irene said. “I have to confess something. You won’t like it but it has to be said.”

“What?”

“I know a lot about you,” Irene said. “A whole lot more than you think.”

“How so?”

“Lillimae talked about you,” Irene said. “A lot.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She never thought she’d see you again,” Irene said. “Last she heard you were going to hunker down with a man and become a housewife.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Your mother was a bard and your father worked the trails. She died, you went to live with the Bricksons, you earned your keep doing chores, you were highly dutiful and very quiet, your favorite color is blue and you don’t like catching butterflies because you can’t stand the thought of killing them. Your favorite constellation is the twin doves. You like singing and can hold a tune but don’t do it anymore because the Brickson’s wanted you to sing for strangers and you cried so hard you got sick.”

Naivara buried her head in her hands.

“Lilliemae had a lot to say,” Irene said. “She cared about you. Not to imply she stopped caring or anything. She does care. In her own way.”

“Why?” Naivara asked. “Why does she care?”

“Your friendship meant a lot to her.”

“She should hate me.”

“Again with the negativity,” Irene said, her tone solemn.

Naivara clutched at her hair, feeling very small.

“I just want to go home.”

“And you will,” Irene said. “But you have to rest. You have to heal.”

“I’m so confused,” Naivara said. “I feel like I’m dreaming but bad, but not bad enough to be a nightmare.”

“I’ve been there.”

“I thought Lillimae died.”

Irene’s gaze never wavered.

“I can’t tell you Lillimae’s story,” she said. “If you want to know what happened there, you’ll have to ask her.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Yet,” Irene said. “Give it time.”

Naivara spent her night in the living room, watching necklaces glimmer in the moonlight like tiny stars against the sky. She tried to imagine herself, brave, knocking on Lillimae’s door. In theory it was easy, but then all the little things started making the concept ugly. What if she made her foot worse going upstairs? What if she knocked on the wrong door? What if Lillimae slammed the door in her face? Would she even be able to walk back downstairs? Ugly little hypotheticals distorted an arguably simple series of steps. Simple. Right. As if she even knew what to say.

Sorry.

For what?

For being rude. For not knowing what to say. For being a coward.

Naivara ran through thirty-two possible scenarios before a crack of thunder startled her out of the maze of thoughts. Rain hit the canopy, growing louder as clouds rolled across the horizon. Fat droplets beat against the windows, trapping droplets of light against the glass.

“-fuck fuck fuck fuck-”

Naivara remained still, curled against the couch. Lillimae stumbled around the way cats did when their paws wouldn’t stick to a floor, a bucket in tow.

“Hey I need you to move,” Lillimae said. “Please move, please.”

Naivara scooted to the very edge of the couch. Lillimae sat in the middle, placing a bucket on her lap.

“What are you doing?” Naivara asked.

Plink. A droplet hit the bucket.

“We have a leak,” Lillimae said.

Plink.

Naivara could pretend all she liked that time had eroded their knowledge of each other, but the truth was this: Naivara knew Lillimae. As much as she wished she could blot out the past, it clung to her like a fine powder. Lillimae was a fine grit under her nails and the film over her teeth and glass in her heel.

So when Lillimae said “We have a leak” what she really meant was: “I was told to fix the leak and I did not do that.”

Naivara chose not to bring it up. Instead she curled up into her side of the couch, listening to the quiet plink plink plink of rain collecting.

“I’m sorry,” Naivara said. Lillimae said nothing. After a long enough while, she said it again: “I said I’m sorry.”

“I heard you the first time,” Lillimae said. “I’m trying to think before I speak.”

Naivara was puzzled by the thought that someone could say a sentence without rehearsing it in their mind, then contemplating every possible interpretation. Something told her that expressing this thought would only irritate Lillimae further.

“Thank you for saying sorry,” she said. Naivara waited for more. All she got was tinkle and thud of drops collecting in a bucket. It was soothing as it was unnerving. Water against metal, a constant rhythm. A heartbeat forged between the most different of materials.

“Lillimae?”

“Yes?”

“I missed you.”

Plink plink plink.

“It’s hard to be here,” Lillimae said. “For the record. It’s really hard. Half the time I can’t make sense of what I want to do or say, because there’s a part of me stuck in Raaian and a part of me putting down roots here, and I don’t know which part of me should take the lead.. Then I look at you and it all goes topsy turvy.”

“I don’t know what to say most of the time too.”

“Really?” Lillimae asked dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Plink plink plink.

“That was the wrong thing to say,” Lillimae said. “Sorry.”

Plink plink plink.

“Everything I say is wrong,” Naivara said. “Nobody likes a word that comes out of my mouth. I don’t know what to say most of the time and it’s not because I’m stupid or trying to be mean, it’s because I panic.”

Plink plink plink.

They sat together for a while. Whatever heat that had been trapped between them dissipated. Naivara colder but not in an unpleasant way. In a refreshing way. Like shucking off layers in the heat.

“I’m glad I know that now,” Lillimae said.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The storm passed quickly. The plinking came to a halt, and Lillimae dumped rainwater against the lawn before the others rose from their sleep. Naivara watched, lost in thought. Lillimae was taller, and stronger, and generally more...everything. Confusion nibbled at Naivara’s mind, an incessant sense of wrongness shadowing her sense of self. Lillimae had changed so much. Why hadn’t she?

#long post

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