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maniculum · 7 months

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Medieval Scorpions Effortpost

So yesterday I reblogged this post featuring an 11th-century depiction of the Apocalypse Locusts from Revelations, noting the following incongruity as another medieval scorpion issue:

The artist, as you can see, has interpreted "tails like scorpions" as meaning "glue cheerful-looking snakes to their butts".

Anyway, it occurred to me that the medieval scorpion thing might not be as widely known as I think it is, and that Tumblr would probably enjoy knowing about it if it isn't known already. So, finding myself unable to focus on the research I'm supposed to be doing, I decided to write about this instead. I'll just go ahead and put a cut here.

As we can see in the image above, at least one artist out there thought a "scorpion" was a type of snake. Which makes it difficult to draw "tails like scorpions", because a snake's tail is not that distinctive or menacing (maybe rattlesnakes, but they don't have those outside the Americas). So they interpreted "tails like scorpions" as "the tail looks like a whole snake complete with head".

Let me tell you. This is not a problem unique to this illustration.

See, people throughout medieval Europe were aware of scorpions. As just alluded to, they are mentioned in the Bible, and if the people producing manuscripts in medieval Europe knew one thing, it was Stuff In Bible. They're also in the Zodiac, which medieval Europe had inherited through classical sources. However, let's take a look at this map:

That's Wikipedia's map of the native range of the Scorpiones order, i.e., all scorpion species. You may notice something -- the range just stops at a certain northern latitude. Pretty much all of northern Europe is scorpion-free. If you lived in the north half of Europe, odds were good you had never seen a scorpion in your life. But if you were literate or educated at all, or you knew they were a thing, because you'd almost certainly run across them being mentioned in texts from farther south. And those texts wouldn't bother to explain what a scorpion was, of course -- everyone knows scorpions, right? When was the last time you stopped to explain What Is Spiders?

So medieval writers and artists in northern Europe were kind of stuck. There was all this scorpion imagery and metaphor in the texts they liked to work from, but they didn't really know what a scorpion was. Writers could kind of work around it (there's a lot of "oh, it's a venomous creature, moving on"), but sometimes they felt the need to break it down better. For this, of course, they'd have to refer to a bestiary -- but due to Bestiary Telephone and the persistent need of bestiary authors to turn animals into allegories, one of the only visual details you got on scorpions was that they... had a beautiful face, which they used to distract people in order to sting them.

And look. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but I would say that a scorpion's face has significant aesthetic appeal only for a fairly small segment of the population. I'm sure you could get an entomologist to rhapsodize about it a bit, but your average person on the street will not be entranced by the face of a scorpion. So this did not help the medieval Europeans in figuring out how to depict scorpions. There was also some semantic confusion -- see, in some languages (such as Old and Middle English), "worm" could be a general term for very small animals of any kind. But it also could mean "serpent".* So there were some, like our artist at the top of the post, who were pretty sure a scorpion was a snake. This was probably helped along by the fact that "venomous" was one of the only things everyone knew about them, and hey, snakes are venomous. Also, Pliny the Elder had floated the idea that there were scorpions in Africa that could fly, and at least one author (13th-century monk Bartholomaeus Anglicus) therefore suggested that they had feathers. I don't see that last one coming up much, I just share it because it's funny to me.

*English eventually resolved this by borrowing the Latin vermin for very small animals, using the specialized spelling wyrm for big impressive mythical-type serpents, and sticking with the more specific snake for normal serpents.

Some authors, like the anonymous author of the Ancrene Wisse, therefore suggested that a scorpion was a snake with a woman's face and a stinging tail. (Everyone seemed to be on the same page with regards to the fact that the sting was in the tail, which is in fact probably the most recognizable aspect of scorpions, so good job there.) However, while authors could avoid this problem, visual artists could not. And if you were illustrating a bestiary or a calendar, including a scorpion was not optional. So they had to take a shot at what this thing looked like.

And so, after this way-too-long explanation, the thing you're probably here for: inaccurate medieval drawings of scorpions. (There are of course accurate medieval drawings of scorpions, from artists who lived in the southern part of Europe and/or visited places where scorpions lived; I'm just not showing you those.) And if you find yourself wondering, "how sure are you that that's meant to be a scorpion?" -- all of these are either from bestiaries or from calendars that include zodiac illustrations.

11th-century England, MS Arundel 60. (Be honest, without the rest of this post, if I had asked you to guess what animal this was supposed to be, would you have ever guessed “scorpion”?)

12th-century Germany, "Psalter of Henry the Lion". (Looks a bit undercooked. Kind of fetal.)

12th-century France, Peter Lombard's Sententiae. (Very colorful, itsy bitsy claws, what is happening with that tail?)

12th-century England, "The Shaftesbury Psalter". (So a scorpion is some sort of wyvern with a face like a duck, correct?)

13th-century France, Thomas de Cantimpré's Liber de natura rerum. (I’d give them credit for the silhouette not being that far off, but there’s a certain bestiary style where all the animals kind of look like that. Also note how few of these have claws.)

13th-century England, "The Bodley Bestiary". (Mischievous flying squirrel impales local man’s hand, local man fails to notice.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (A scorpion is definitely either a mouse or a fish. Either way it has six legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Wait, no, it’s a baby theropod, and it has two legs. (Yes, this is the same manuscript, that’s not an error, this artist did four scorpions and no two are the same.))

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Actually it’s a lizard with tiny ears and it has four legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Now that we’re at the big fancy illustration, I think I’ve got it — it’s like that last one, but two legs, longer ears, and a less goofy face. Also I’ve decided it’s not pink anymore, I think that was the main problem.)

13th-century England, MS Kk.4.25. (A scorpion is a flat crocodile with a bear’s head.)

13th-century England, "The Huth Psalter". (Wyvern but baby! Does not seem to be enjoying biting its own tail.)

13th-century England, MS Royal 1 D X. (This triangular-headed gentlecreature gets the award for “closest guess at correct limb configuration”. If two of those were claws, I might actually believe this artist had seen a scorpion before, or at least a picture of one.)

13th-century England, "The Westminster Psalter". (A scorpion is the offspring of a wyvern and a fawn.)

13th-century England, "The Rutland Psalter". (Too many legs! Pull back! Pull back!)

13th or 14th-century France, Bestiaire d'amour rimé. (This is very similar to the fawn-wyvern, but putting it in an actual Scene makes it even more obvious that you’re just guessing.)

14th-century Netherlands, Jacob van Maerlant's Der Naturen Bloeme. (More top-down six-legged guys that look too furry to be arthropods.)

14th-century Germany, MS Additional 22413. (That is clearly a turtle.)

14th-century France, Matfres Eymengau de Beziers's Breviari d'amor. (Who came up with that head shape and what was their deal?)

15th-century England, "Bestiary of Ann Walsh". (Screw it, a scorpion is a big lizard that glares at you for trying to make me draw things I don’t know about.)

I've spent way too much time on this now. End of post, thank you to anyone who got all the way down here.

#medieval #medieval creatures #medieval art #scorpions #medieval scorpions #manuscript #medieval manuscripts #illuminated manuscript

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ponderingmoonlight · 6 months

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Haruta seeking revenge on Nanami's heavy pregnant wife

Pairing: husband!Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: When Haruta hears about Nanami's wife, he is more than delighted to search and kill her. He didn't think about (y/n)'s very own abilities and her furious husband though.

Warnings: injury, language, pregnancy, really angry hot Nanami, not 100% proofread as I have to get going now and won't be able to publish this today otherwise

Tags: @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @dazaisdick @sanicsmut @arehzhera @mynahx3 @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @wifenanami @arehzhera @mysuperrainbow @nanami-s-sunshine @nervoussongcherryblossom

You.

His heart almost beats out of his chest just thinking about the things these creatures are able to do. You live here, at Shibuya. When Nanami received the call about what is going on here, he instructed you to stay home with all doors closed. After all, you are heavy pregnant with his child. Despite being a great jujutsu sorcerer, you shouldn’t be on the streets right now. No harm should ever come to you.

But right now, you aren’t replying to any messages your husband sends you, not a single sign of life.

He yanks the blonde-haired man up by his ponytails, on the brick of losing his temper completely. Not only did this thing kill countless of his comrades on its way, but maybe him and his comrades did something to you. Why would you not reply to his countless messages? If they hurt a single hair on your precious body…

Nanami slams him into a nearby building with full force. Despite the abilities of that man, he won’t be able to survive that.

“Did you receive any sign from (y/n)?”, Nanami questions towards the two girls, kneeling in front of Nitta to inspect her wounds.

They might look bad, but she’ll survive if she sees Shoko within the next hours.

“No. No sign at all”, Nitta mumbles.

Everyone knows about the value you hold for Kento Nanami. No wonder, after all you are his precious wife, the only human being on this earth who is able to make his features soften and steal a smile from him. Yes, you are truly special to him. And the fact that you are not replying…Nobara swallows, the look on his face sending shivers down her spine. You should have been evacuated, out of Shibuya, maybe staying at Jujutsu High as long as the fight goes on. But it was already too late, it would be way too dangerous to leave now.

“What is going on?”, he mutters to himself.

“I’m sure your wife is fine. She’s tough, someone like that loser wouldn’t be able to bring her down.”

His eyes dart towards Nobara. Yes, she’s right. You have to home. Maybe you just fell asleep. The pregnancy made you tired all the time. Probably you’re laying on the couch, the chaos around you completely unnoticed. Yes, that’s how it must be.

“I am sure he wasn’t alone. Maybe someone found one of his accomplices. It’s best we bring them down before they cause more trouble. ”

Nanami strictly forbid you to go out on the streets. And that’s what you do, laying on the couch with the blanket your precious husband wrapped you in pulled up to the nose. You just woke up from a heavy sleep, lifting yourself up just a bit to look out of the window.

“What is going on down there?” you mutter to yourself.

Please, let Kento be alright. He promised to return to you, that nothing major will happen. Oh, how much you wished you could help. Your hands caress your swollen belly softly. Fighting is no option at the moment, though. All you can do is say here in safety until they successfully exorcised all courses around Shibuya. You sign to yourself, lids already hanging so low that you are on the brick of passing out again. After this nap, you’ll definitely call him.

“Still no sign…”, Nanami mumbles, the only response being your angelic voice which directs him to your mailbox.

“Maybe she’s just sleeping, after all (y/n) is pregnant, right? Would you like to call someone to look after her? Your shared apartment is only two blocks away, right?”, Nitta suggests.

“I can look after her!” Nobara interjects immediately.

“No, that wouldn’t be wise. We still have to look after the other assistance directors. There’s no way he worked alone. When the area is safe, I will go and look after her myself”, Nanami responses before putting his phone back.

You always sleep around this time. Surely everything is alright. After all, no one knows where he lives…right?

Haruta smiles to himself, body not moving an inch before the steps of his three opponents are gone.

“Your pregnant wife, huh? So killing her counts as a double kill, how exciting!”

-at your apartment-

Your eyes snap open immediately. The energy around you completely changed. What you feel here…Your whole body is tense, hands clenched into fists. That’s cursed energy, without any doubt.

As fast as possible you lift yourself off the couch, grabbing your throwing knives placed underneath the couch. When Kento got the call, you knew this has to be something big, that you might not be safe at Shibuya anymore.

“I know how much I’m asking from you, but please stay here and lock the door. At this point it would be even more dangerous to leave. Promise that you’ll be careful, sweetheart.”

Your husband wrapped his arms tightly around you, careful not to squeeze your sensitive belly in the process.

“I know my limits, Kento. I would never risk the life of our child for a fight. As much as I’d love to help you out, I will stay here until you tell me it’s over”, you assured him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips before he left your apartment with one last loving look back.

Kento. You should give him a call, at least message him about what you feel. As fast as possible you type his number, eyes darted towards the entrance. There isn’t much time left, whatever is on its way here will soon arrive.

“(y/n), I was dead worried about you. Are you alright?”

“Someone’s here. Someone with heavy cursed energy, Kento. I will do what I can, but-“

“Did you really think a locked door would be enough to keep your enemies out of here? Oh, look at you, congrats for putting a baby inside you! That was that blonde-haired man, wasn’t it? Y’know, I’m here because of him, so better be thankful. Come on, don’t look at me like that, let me give you a hug.”

Instinctively, you let your phone fall to the ground, your throwing knives leaving your fingertips at horrendous speed. As fast as possible you seek shelter behind your couch, escaping his blade just in time before he’s able to pierce through your shoulder.

Normally, you would have been able to dodge his attack easily, but with that heavy belly of yours, every sudden movement feels like a burden. You depend on your husband’s help, that’s for sure. The man with the blonde ponytail and ruptured face might not be an impossible strong opponent, but you are restricted. And one single hit might not only mean that he hurts you, but also your unborn baby…

You furrow your brows, eyes busy analysing his moves.

“You know who’s responsible for how wrecked up my face looks? Your husband! He even pulled my hair”, the man in front of you cries out, sword just about to hit you when you escape his force just in time.

“I get it, you have a really kickable face after all”, you press out, grabbing your katana under the kitchen table to dodge his attack.

You huff heavily, lungs feeling as if they’ll burst every minute while you taste blood on your tongue. Fuck, this is more strenuous than expected. Your baby kicks you uncomfortably in your guts, making you see stars for a second. A second in which he is able to place another hit, a second in which he is able to brush over your forehead with enough force to make your skin burst.

All you see is red, blood taking your sight almost completely. With a swift motion you try to wipe it away, try to get a hold of yourself. But before you are even able to breathe again, he forces his blade against yours.

“He’s already on his way, I would shit my pants if I was you”, you hiss through gritted teeth, jumping onto the table in order to have the higher ground.

You feel so damn tired. The heavy weight on your belly, the fact that you have to pee again and that you haven’t trained in ages. You aren’t dumb, you are very aware of the fact that you are fucked right now. But you know Kento heard you, that he is already on his way. You just have to fight back a little while longer…

“Oh, don’t worry about me”, he casually replies.

You stare at his empty hands, eyes wide open in horror. Where the hell did his sword go? Did he lose it while the both of you were fighting? No, you didn’t hit him so hard, this can’t be. But where-

A toe-curling scream escapes your lips when a scorching pain runs through your left thigh. You don’t dare to look don’t, this just has to be his blade.

“How?” you breathe out.

Calm your breathing, calm your pounding heart. You have to keep going, you have to-

Suddenly your shoulder bursts open, blood spilling over your husband’s shirt. You can’t breathe, whole body on fire. His sword, it’s still stuck in your shoulder. Just when it’s about to move out again, you grab the blade with your naked hands to stop it from piercing through you again, your sharp and fast breaths hanging in the air.

“Come on, why stop now when it’s getting funny? I was aiming for your fat belly next”, the guy in front of you complains with a pout.

Blood rushes through your ears, glossy eyes fixated on him in front of you.

“But fine, if you want it that way, I will use my own hands.”

Fuck, what are you supposed to do? If you let go of the sword that cuts through your palms, he will stab your unborn child. But if you lay here and do nothing, he will punch your belly with full force. You have to make a decision, you have to save your unborn child, the child you and Kento awaited for years now. The look on his face when he found out, the tears of joy that pooled his eyes…

You can’t die here. And so does your child.

With the last force you have left in your body, you kick his chest while still holding onto his sword tightly. Fuck, every movement hurts like hell, your blood spilled on the carpet you bought a few weeks ago. You can’t do this any longer, you need to get out of here, you-

“You have some nerves.”

His sheer presence is enough to make the man in front of you stop in his tracks.

“Kento…”, you mumble, wave of relief washing over you.

He’s here, your knight in shining armour, your loving husband. You did it. You held on just long enough.

“Didn’t you learn your lesson by now. Didn’t I teach you what you get for the things you do?”

His whole body is tense, the muscles underneath his shirt to tight that they might burst every minute. Kento grabs the neck of the man who attacked you earlier with full force, dragging him across the room.

“Give up and die already”, Kento hisses.

Tears start to pool this man’s eyes, staring at your husband with wide eyes while he throws him through the bursting window, down onto the streets of Shibuya, over 10 floors.

Without hesitation he hurries to your side, hand gently cupping your cheek. The threatful man from only seconds ago is gone in the wind. What is left is your loving husband who caresses your belly softly, lines of worry decorating his face while scanning over your bloody body.

“Don’t worry, this is nothing Shoko can’t fix. The…the baby is fine…”, you huff out.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. I thought he was dead already, never did I imagine that…”

“Don’t think about it too much, Kento. This is in no way your fault. The most important thing is that the baby is fine. That’s all that matters.”

“But you matter too, (y/n). You are the love of my life. When you called me and I heard his voice, a part of me died. That he was able to injure you, that he put his hands on your delicate skin…I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I love you so much…”

Carefully, he wraps his arms around you and lifts your trembling figure off the ground.

“I love you too. But you have to admit I did pretty well”, you mutter against his chest.

“You definitely did. You are my wife, after all”, Kento replies with a small smile, carrying you to Shoko.

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i-draws-dinosaurs · 3 months

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Just saw ur vulture post. Could a dinosaur have a crown like a chicken? If so, which ones are most likely to have this feature?

I feel like chicken combs are one of those things that's so normal to us because we're familiar with chickens that we don't appreciate how wacky looking it is, like this animal's entire face gets turned into a massive billboard of red skin flaps.

As far as I'm aware there's no underlying bone structure that correlates to chickens' combs, so if an extinct dinosaur did have one we wouldn't see it in the fossil record unless it was exceptionally well preserved. That being said, there are a few guidelines that can help make some generally arm-wavey guesses about what may or may not have had them!

For predator species I'd say large brightly coloured billboards on the face are fairly unlikely since across most land vertebrates predators tend to prioritise stealth and blending in. I don't know for sure, but I would guess that more carrion-eating vultures have adornment because they don't need to stay hidden from their food, cause it's, y'know. dead.

Dromaeosaurs are generally though to be predators, although like most predators they probably incorporated scavenging into their feeding patterns and we don't know whether there were any species that specialised as carrion eaters! I have drawn dromaeosaurs with combs or crests before, and I definitely don't think it's an impossible suggestion, but I think it's most reasonable to give them muted colours like with this Saurornitholestes:

I would guess that smaller omnivorous or herbivorous maniraptorans like oviraptorosaurs or small ground birds are more likely candidates to have flashy skin on their faces, although large oviraptorosaurs with bony crests probably didn't also have a comb on top of that.

Something like Avimimus, which was a small oviraptorosaur that likely lived in groups according to a bonebed of at least ten individuals together. Something like a colourful comb or wattles on these guys could be used for social signalling or species recognition:

As far as I'm aware there's next to no skin data for small ornithischians like heterodontosaurids and ornithopods aside from the funky Kulindadromeus scales, but being small, mostly herbivorous, probably quite social animals I can see an evolutionary benefit to bright signalling structures! Alongside oviraptorosaurs, I think small ornithischians like Manidens here are probably the best non-avian analogue to modern ground fowl that have these kinda of wacky skin structures:

So overall. Yeah I think there's potential that Mesozoic dinosaurs could have had a chickenlike comb! Like with modern fowl, it would have evolutionary value to small social species as a display structure, but tradeoffs like being more visible to predators/prey would definitely be in play here.

I mean obviously the tradeoff is worth it in some cases since we get creatures like this walking around on this earth:

Basically my message with all this is like. When doing palaeoart look into what areas are open to speculation, then think about what factors might constrain those!

#dinosaurs #paleoart #paleontology #palaeoblr #id in alt text

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divine-donna · 8 months

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would you love me if i was a worm?

featuring baldur's gate 3 companions!! i'm probably missing people. this is just based on my own playthroughs of the game (i only have 2 so far). inspired by tik tok.

lae'zel

"a worm? what kind of question is that? what situation would arise for you to consider such a thing?" she looks at you with suspicion to hear your response. "hypothetical? i don't see why i would care for a worm. but i guess i wouldn't be...hasty to squish you."

shadowheart

"i thought you were already a worm." she jests. "i already love you now. i don't think i would love you any different if you were more of a worm." you try your best to explain what exactly you mean, but she just smiles and brushes you off.

astarion ancunín

"a worm? you'd make a...i don't even know darling. what kind of worms are there?" he didn't concern himself with gardening. he wanted to keep his hands and nails relatively clean. "i guess i would, even if you would be slimy."

wyll ravengard

"is this a test? not to be invasive." you tell him that no, it wasn't. it was something that piqued your curiosity. "why of course! i don't think anything could shake my love for you! you would be an adorable worm and i'd carry your across the sword coast so we may experience the world together."

gale dekarios

"now there are few questions i have encountered that bring in a severity like this. but worms are fantastic creatures. they are quite necessary, you know." you ask him to just answer yes or no and that you weren't looking for any sort of explanation or backstory. "well i thought it was obvious. i would. there is a spell we can try out if you're really curious."

karlach

"a worm? i don't think you could ever be a worm. i know what real worms look you know." you assume she's talking about gortash and zariel. you clarify that you meant the creature within the soil. "oh. of course i would love you! who wouldn't? i bet you'd still be so cute!"

halsin

"what kind of worm? or have you not thought about that?" you tell him that you weren't aware there were different kinds of worms. "well, the answer would always be yes. but if you were to, say, turn into a worm, i would like to accomodate your needs as much as possible. some worms require a specific kind of soil or a certain amount of moisture. i would want to take care of you as best as i can."

minthara baenre

"normally i hold no regards for worms. but i guess for you, i would make an exception." she crosses her arms across her chest. "the real question is how would i know it was you. would you be able to talk? or would your face be on the body of a worm?"

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #lae'zel #shadowheart #astarion #wyll ravengard #gale of waterdeep #karlach #halsin #minthara #x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

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gallusrostromegalus · 7 months

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So how much are you willing to talk about Ulquiorra?

I will talk so much about him. There are so many things wrong with that man, but to make a brief list of his most notable features:

He's dumb as hell.

I say that with tremendous sympathetic affection. Ulquiorra barely thinks. It's easy for him to do nothing and go nowhere. He eats chocolate in the middle of the night in the dark. When he gets access to a garden, he often just stands around in it. He's often waiting for things to happen.

He just LOOKS smart compared to nearly everyone else in the fic because he doesn't have much to say, so he's not constantly opening his mouth to jam his foot down it.

Consequently, Ulquiorra starts off having little to no initiative of his own. Stuff just happens to him. Some of that is because he is colossally depressed, but he's depressed because the idea that he has control over his circumstances has straight up not occured to him.

The first person he meets that shows him that "You can just do whatever you want, forever" and the boundless joy it is to be a creature of free will is, unfortunately, Aizen. And Aizen left off the key corollary "-EVERYONE is allowed to do whatever they want, forever. We are all equal in God's dead, empty eye sockets."

So Ulquiorra wanders around trying out this "doing stuff" thing without any concept of ethics.

I realize I am infantilizing this character, but I am doing so in a twilight zone "hey, wouldn't it be fucked up to watch a fully anatomically functional person who is able to speak and blow stuff up with his mind go through the emotional development steps of a toddler?", because I think that's a fun high-concept premise to explore with him. Yeah, what if a toddler could speak articulately and also destroy you? How would he act? How does he feel, learning to have feelings?

It'd probably suck for him and everyone around him, and make him very easy to manipulate, for one thing.

So I don't think Ulquiorra is evil, because evil takes intent. He is dangerous to be in the general proximity of, though

Like a horse

lose

in a hospital!

I love that sketch as much as the next person but if an IRL horse got loose in a hospital it would be bedlam, but the horse would be mostly confused and probably willing to follow around the first person who looked like they knew what they were doing.

You know, like how Ulquiorra follows Aizen around because that's the first guy he's met who THINKS he knows what he's doing, and is good at convincing others he knows what he's doing!

So Ulquiorra's entire first character arc is being exposed to more and more people and realizing he does have control over his life, and that he can take actions, and that those actions have consequences.

Like being emotionally devastated by a teenage girl because he was an asshole to her and she's willing to scream at him about it.

Hm.

Consequences hurt.

He lives through the Las Noches arc, and decides to follow his own star!

He follows it right through a portal that was not meant for him and now he's sort of trapped in somewhere he's really, really, really, really, REALLY not supposed to be.

But it's a beautiful place

And nobody is forcing him to do anything.

And for a long time, he just stands out in the garden, waiting for something.

But then

Ulquiorra experiences a novel pair of emotions that he's recently learned from his new...

Orihime is too mad at him for him to call her a friend.

-but he did learn the names and therefore the experience of two new emotions from her: boredom, and it's natural remedy: curiosity.

So Ulquiorra's second character arc is him learning how to be himself without anyone telling him who he is and what he ought to be.

He's travelling up Maslow's hierarchy with the inscrutable but unstoppable instinctual drive of a salmon returning to its spawning ground.

This has lead to an important discovery on my part: Ulquiorra is terrific for comedy because he is the ULTIMATE straight man to everyone else's nonsense, because he's immune to nearly all nonsense.

He doesn't have societal taboos to be hung up on, nor any sense of what is "normal", so the sole thing he geta hung up on is a lack of internal consistency in others, meaning he can slip between straight man to the absurdist at the drop of a single scathing observation. Yet, he retains a sort of understated dignity that compels people to try to earn his respect.

Hence, I'm having fun turning him loose on the most absurd, internally inconsistent and frankly, insane batch of characters in the series:

The Royal Guard.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #ulquiorra cifer #Ulquiorra #mild spoilers

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nova-dracomon · 4 months

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My Gender is [NOT] Human Zine is Now Accepting Submissions!

Xenogender: A gender that cannot be contained by human understandings of gender; more concerned with crafting other methods of gender categorization and hierarchy such as those relating to animals, plants, or other creatures/things.

This zine will be a collection of artwork, writing and more created by alterhumans and nonhumans to express both their species identity, gender, and how they intersect. While this zine will have an xenogender slant, everyone who has something to share about how their species and gender overlap are encouraged to submit pieces! Similarly, if you are currently questioning, you are still welcome to participate. Anonymous submissions are accepted.

What Can I Submit?

Both fiction and nonfiction pieces are accepted. As long as what you have in mind fits the theme, it’ll probably be a-ok.

Off the top of our head, we’re thinking of:

Essays of your personal experiences

Short stories

Poetry

Advice columns

Artwork

Fictional advertisements

Comics

Mock interviews

This is far from an exhaustive list, we welcome you to think outside the box!

How to Participate

Please email your completed submission to ruffledgryphon(@)gmail(.)com and title the email “My Gender is Not Human Zine Submission.” Also make sure to include the following information in your email:

A name you would like the piece attributed to

Title of your submission

Any content warnings that you feel are necessary for the piece

Any social media handle or personal website you’d like listed in the contributor section

A logo or icon for the contributor section

**If you would like to stay anonymous please let us know

Members of systems are welcome to submit individually or collectively. Please let us know your preference when it comes to attribution.

Once the deadline has passed, the submissions will be crafted together into a single zine and it will be posted on our itch.io as a free PDF.

Submissions are due by May 1, 2024.

Our itch.io: https://ruffledgryphon.itch.io/

Submission Guidelines

Each individual may submit up to 3 works to be featured in My Gender is [NOT] Human. Comics and multi-image works count as one piece. Individuals within a system may each submit up to 3 works. All work must be your own! Anyone caught plagiarizing or submitting AI-generated work will be barred from entering My Gender is [NOT] Human and any future zines from us.

Written submissions should not exceed 30 pages and multi-part art entries should not exceed 10 pages. Please keep in mind the zine’s pages will be 8.5x11 and entries will be scaled accordingly to fit that size. We request all art submissions to be sent in either .jpg or .png file formats.

For stories that use multiple different fonts, we will do our best to preserve the general “feel” of your piece but cannot guarantee we will be able to use the exact fonts or sizes due to restrictions in what fonts we have access to, readability and overarching zine style.

Submissions must fit the thematic criteria of

About the intersection of gender and species identities

If you’re not sure if you count, feel free to reach out to us. However, we will be leaning on the side of “Yes! We’d love to hear from you!”

FAQ

Q: Where will the zine be hosted? What will it cost? A: The zine will be hosted digitally on our itch.io and will be free to download. Our itch.io can be found here: https://ruffledgryphon.itch.io/

Q: Is there a cap on submissions? A: There is none, as long as the file doesn’t start getting too big for our computer we’ll do our best! If there are an unprecedented amount of submissions, we may have to delay the release. In the event that happens, we would communicate that through updates on our tumblr.

Q: Can I update my application after it’s been submitted? A: Yes you may, as long as that is communicated to us before the submission deadline.

Q: Can I rescind my submission? A: Yes you may, as long as that is communicated to us before the submission deadline. This is because once we begin work on the zine, having to remove content mid-way through would throw off the formatting of everything else after. Please take this into account before submitting.

Q: Will this zine allow NSFW entries? A: No, nothing 18+ will be accepted.

Q: What is your timeline for the project? A: Our submission deadline is May 1, 2024. We are then planning to spend the next month compiling all of the entries. Our goal is to have the zine live by June 1, 2024. If something unforeseen happens and we are unable to make that deadline, we will post an update about it on our tumblr.

Q: I have another question! A: Feel free to reach out to us at our email ruffledgryphon(@)gmail(.)com or here on tumblr with any other questions you have about the zine.

#My Gender is Not Human Zine #otherkin #therian #fictionkin #alterhuman #nonhuman #xenogender #nova squawks

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

moonlight on the river - joel miller x reader

masterlist | song inspo

summary: Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter. Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true. Takes place during episode one of the TV series. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 2.4k warnings: angst, fluff, good ol' fashioned hurt/comfort. depressive thoughts, reader sort of has a death wish, references to alcohol/drug abuse, death, loss of family members & loved ones. implied age gap, references to casual sex, heavy petting (no smut). a/n: it's been months since i posted a fic on here! some of my best work comes when it’s 2am, i’m emo and touch-deprived and i have an 8am appointment so i stay up until 5am to write. this was actually supposed to be fully a fluff piece but the angst queen had to strike.

You wish you could drown in the pile of blankets you’ve wrapped yourself in. Wish the couch would swallow you whole, like a whale, then drag you down to the deepest depths of the ocean and leave you there until you can’t hold your breath any longer, until the cold pricks the tips of your fingers and toes, until you succumb completely.

But in some ways, you’re already existing like that, in the sea-level equivalent of the Marianas Trench. One of those sea creatures that look not of this Earth, features warped – adapting, evolving, surviving, despite your environment’s best efforts to eradicate. Your mother had once shown them to you in her old textbooks and shown you the photos of anglerfish, frilled sharks, phantom jellyfish. The memory of your mother makes you wince, and you try to think of something else.

How anyone else around you managed to put on a brave face and make their way through each day was beyond your comprehension, even though you do it, too. They probably all feel the same way about it as you do, but no one talks about the collective trauma you’re all slogging through. No one has anything new to add, and it’s foolish to believe that anyone’s insight could somehow take the pain away. Even if you have a chance to tell your story, there is always someone who has it worse.

Get in line.

Exhausted as you are, you don’t sleep much. Most of your nights are spent at the precipice of unconsciousness, and you can never quite make it over the edge, the helicopters, radios, sporadic gunfire always manages to rouse you first. When you do manage to sleep, you’re plagued with nightmares. You prefer perpetual fatigue.

A knock at your door comes suddenly, and you start, sitting up quickly – but quietly – to not alert the unexpected guest that someone might be in the tiny studio you call home. It’s well after dark, which makes you doubt that whoever, or whatever is at the door, isn’t there for a friendly drop-in or a cup of tea, not that friendly drop-ins or cups of tea ever happened.

But before you grow too panicked, your name is muttered, accompanied by another impatient rap of knuckles against the hollow wood. It’s a familiar rasp, even-toned and calm, and your shoulders sag in relief before you abandon your post on the couch.

“Joel?” you ask softly, squinting in the dim light of the hallway through the crack in the door. He doesn’t look any different, though it’s been about a month since you’d last seen him. You’re not sure what to expect, but he’s the same as always, wearing a worn, tight denim shirt and fraying jeans. He looks tired, but you can’t recall a time when he doesn’t. Everyone looks tired all the time, it just only concerns you because it’s him.

Not waiting for an invite, he steps through the small opening you allot for him and into your place, wordlessly.

“What the fuck, Joel, it’s past curfew are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’ve done worse,” he says, dismissively, and yanks the door from your hand to close and lock it behind him.

You don’t argue with him. You rarely do – which you think is partly why he likes you – but especially now, you don’t have the energy. And when you do, he’s too stubborn to listen.

Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter. Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true.

So when he steps forward, crowding you backwards until your rear hits your kitchen countertop and you have nowhere to go, you don’t ask questions.

His hand cradles your chin, tilting it back to look into his sad eyes, and he kisses you. For a split second, it’s chaste, and you’re almost confused, until it’s suddenly not, and his grip on your jaw tightens, his lips parting. Joel stakes his claim, his free hand winding into your hair and pulling. You sigh, closing your eyes.

He moves both his hands to cup your ass through the flimsy athletic shorts you’re wearing, lifting your hips up and against him, making to carry you to the bed, or maybe even take you on the countertop – it could be one of those days. Everything he’s doing would normally light you on fire, and there’s a primal instinct that’s telling you you like it, but for some reason, you hesitate.

Joel senses it right away. You’re not sure how. And you don’t want him to. You’re prepared to submit, even though you feel numb everywhere, because you hope for the chance to feel something, anything other than what you’ve felt the last few days. He pauses, too, pulls back.

You expect to meet his eyes when you look up at him, but they are fixed on something else. Tugging on the collar of his shirt, you try to kiss him again, but he doesn’t budge, until you follow his eyes. An empty bottle of liquor sits on the bar behind you. Fuck.

“You’re drinking again.” It’s not a question.

“That was actually from yesterday,” you say, like it would make any difference. The remnants of a hangover have been tweaking your temples all day, biting the back of your eyes. It was half empty when I got it. It was just one night. I can have a couple drinks without getting out of control. Your brain cycles through several more excuses before you decide not to waste your breath.

“What did I tell you about this?” He reached behind you and lifted the bottle, holding it in front of your face like you hadn’t been able to see it clearly enough before.

“You should talk,” you don’t like being cruel, but you’re already desperate to end the discussion. He’s probably drunk or high right now, but it’s none of your business, and you’d given up trying to save him a long time ago.

You shift your weight to lower yourself off the counter and move away from him and the once-inviting warmth of his embrace. Joel doesn’t let you make it far, reaching out to grip your upper arm and tugging you back to face him with little-to-no effort on his part. His strength always startled you, even though it shouldn’t, considering his size. It also should’ve scared you, but the manhandling mostly just turned you on. Not enough that you were going to keep letting him lecture you.

“It’s different. You’re still so young.”

“What does that matter?”

He doesn’t have an answer.

You lift your chin, squaring up to him. “That’s what I thought.”

He puts his hand on hip and studies you carefully. Despite your attitude, you’ve never liked disappointing him. He’s the closest thing you have to a father, which you can recognize is an awfully fucked up way to feel about someone you regularly have sex with, but you lived in an awfully fucked up world.

There’s a wistfulness to Joel’s expression you’ve never seen before. He chooses to change the subject, and you’re thankful until what he says registers.

“I’m leaving town tomorrow night. You might not see me again.”

It takes a moment to process, but it hits you like a blow to the gut. So hard, you’re surprised you don’t stagger backwards with the force of it. Even when it settles, you know it hasn’t even sunk in all the way.

“Well…” you take a long, thoughtful pause, and offer the only thing that your brain can come up with, “....stay safe out there, then.”

“Yeah,” he runs his tongue over his teeth and squints at you. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Snorting, you know it’s important to remain as blase as possible so you don’t cry. Although, you don’t really cry anymore. Even when you want to, the tears never come. At some point, after watching every person you’ve ever cared for die in uniquely devastating ways, you must’ve reached your lifetime limit.

“I know you. Something’s up.”

No, you don’t! You want to scream, but that would be a lie. It’s been three years since you met, maybe one since your….arrangement, or whatever you’d call it, had begun.

How the two of you had become so close was a mystery even to you. It’s not like you were charming or charismatic, or willing to put up the innocent act. You didn’t try to inflate his ego, which most men loved. At first, you didn’t even really like him at all. That changed with time. Somewhere along the way, things just clicked.

“It’s nothing that no one has ever felt before,” you shrug. Joel has his fair….or rather unfair share of demons, and is the last person you want to complain to. Most of the time, he’s unflinchingly guarded, but he’s shared enough – secrets whispered in your ear while tangled in damp sheets, your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart – to make you wonder if you have it so bad. Focusing on a fixed point, a crack in the tiled floor, you avoid his eyes.

“Hey,” his voice pulls you back. “Don’t do that.”

“I’ll be okay,” you say. “I’m just having a d-a week.” A month, a year, a life. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze.

His face softens, his hand reaching to clasp with your own, thumb grazing across your palm. “Come here,” he murmurs. He pulls you against him tightly, tucking your head under his chin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

“You’re going to be alright. You’re a strong girl.” He’s too smart to believe that, you think. But it doesn’t stop you from pressing your lips against his sternum. His broad chest is sturdy, firm, and you close down your eyes.

Neither of you speak, and one of his hands begins to stroke your back in soothing circles. You stay wrapped in his arms for a long time. Long enough to think about how you might never get to do this again, and you suddenly want him in all the ways you never had him, and all the ways you had. Just one last time.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I can tell you’re exhausted, baby. Let’s get you to bed.”

There’s no reason to protest, he’s right, so you let him lead you to the bed. You’re already in your pajamas, and he draws back the covers and tucks you underneath them carefully.

“You’re staying,” you say. It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out like command, and although you can’t stand the idea of pleading for it, would if you had to. You’re that desperate.

You hear the clunk of his boots landing on the floor, feel the dip of his weight on the opposite side of the bed.

“Of course,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper as he slides underneath the covers.

Joel’s arm snakes around your waist, and you’re being pulled back against his chest. You wriggle to be closer, even though it’s not possible, his nose resting on the crown of your head, stroking your hair softly. He’s being so tender, so sweet, it makes you feel sick.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” you turn your head slightly, so you can see him out of the corner of your eye. You want to be able to remember his face, in case you never see him again. He was handsome, you’d always thought that, even despite the years between you.

“It’s my brother. I don’t have much of a choice, baby.”

Joel had told you all about Tommy. You wished you could be resentful at his leaving to find his brother, but you knew you’d risk pretty much anything for the chance to see anyone in your family again.

You shake your head. “This…sucks.”

He offers a rare chuckle, one that vibrates through his chest and straight to the ache in your stomach that started when he told you he’d be leaving. “It does. I’m sorry.”

Joel sighs, his breath on the nape of your neck, and you shiver. “I’ll miss you.” It’s a simple truth you can hear in his voice without even needing to look in his eyes.

“I’ll miss you.” You reach for his hand.

You roll over to face him, his head propped on his opposite hand, looking down at you.

“You remember everything I taught you?” he asks. “Be smart, keep yourself safe.”

Joel had proven to be a pretty valuable resource when it came to survival skills. He’d taught you how to shoot a gun, to load and reload it, how to take it apart, clean it, and put it back together. You recalled the feeling of him leaning over your shoulder, adjusting your grip to shoot at a target. And even if most of his lessons in hand-to-hand combat resulted in him having his way with you on the kitchen floor – you didn’t mind it at all – you knew enough to defend yourself.

“I do,” you answer. “And I will.”

You think of all the time you’ve spent with him the past few years. How it has made things bearable. It’s likely the last time you’ll ever see him, and you know what you’re supposed to say. But for the life of you, you just can’t say it.

Instead, you lean in to kiss him, lazy and lingering, both your hands on the side of his face, palms pressed against the scruff of his beard. You pull away after awhile.

“Tell me about what it was like. Before all this.” When the outbreak began, you were just a child. It felt like a dream, your memory so fuzzy it was hard to recall anything except the worst parts.

Joel does, and you listen, captivated, though it’s not the first time you’ve heard it. For such a gruff man, he paints a pretty picture.

It’s easy to imagine what your life might be like if none of this had ever happened. It would have been better, infinitely better, for yourself, for Joel, for everyone. It would be better, but if it hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t have met him. For some reason, something about that doesn’t feel right.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfic #tlou hbo #the last of us #fluff #angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #hi please read this and say nice things to me i worked really really hard on this #writing #fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst

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yaut-jaknowit · 3 months

Note

How about a human womans gets pregnant with a yautja (They are probably in a lab). The male escapes and takes her back to his clan and hands her off to the females of the clan. And instead of falling in love with the male, the sire of the unborn pup. the human womans gets together with another female who is teaching the ways of the yautja. Maybe the male stops by here n there...

Lose Yourself

Pairings: Male Yautja x AFAB!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 4039

Summary: Four concrete walls have been your sight for the last year. Caregivers and doctors see you every day to ensure your heath. Then three months ago, they introduced you to him. A creature not from this world that you can tell. He does not speak but the two of you have an understanding and one another.

Author Note: When this popped up in my feed, I started to bounce off of the walls like a crazed animal. I love this idea so much. In the future, I would love to write out a whole story like this. For now, I'm just going to do at least two parts, maybe three for this.

Part 2

Masterlist

Ao3

Blaring sirens jolt you back into reality. Your heart instantly leaps into your throat and lodges itself there. The whites of your eyes clear even in the limited light of the dingy cell you dared to call home.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around your knees and carefully watched the only entrance and exit to this singular, minute room. The alarm meant something. Terrible things. Nothing ever good came from it. Your head was plastered to the tops of your knees as you observed for any incoming threat.

This wasn’t a horrible life. Three meals a day; seen by doctors – or at least what looked to be doctors – practically every day; clothing on your body. But the fact you weren’t allowed to leave the room unless they wanted you or you didn’t have anything to stimulate your brain. Just an animal on the verge of insanity, forced to be driven there with no relief.

The people who keep you locked in here are the only people you are able to interact with. It’s one sided. You lost your will to try and gain any words besides the casual ‘how are you feeling today?’ from them. They might mix it up after some time but it was always the same doctor-patient relationship.

Out of everything here though, what caught your attention was the thing they brought you to a few times before. Everything about him is locked down and sealed tight from both sides. Not even a name from the lumbering giant.

From the limited times you’ve got to interact with him, you’ve learned he wasn’t a nice character. At first, he had nearly torn you apart before he had jerked to a stop. Akin to a horrified look passed over his alien features and he backed away. After that day, he’s been reasonable to be around. For some reason, your ‘caregivers’ love to know how you interact with him or what he’ll do if… you were some sort of danger.

Not the most protective creature, he’ll snarl and growl if the guards are too rough with you. His chains prevent him from doing anything physical. Once you are completely alone with him though, the chains that keep him locked to the wall are slackened. He’s now allowed to move about the vicinity as he seems fit.

Move he does. He stalks, prowls around the room, searching for any way for escape. They way he moves gives you the hint he’s this predator, like a lion hunting its prey. When you watch him, you admire him and prowess.

Wishful thinking makes you pray for him to find a weakness and escape from this horrid place. The chains on his wrists are more than tight. It’s daily occurrence blood drips from cuts. He tries to hide it, obscure it from sight but the eyes are the window to the soul. You are able to read his pain, every wince when the chains rub just a hair too much. You worry about him, this creature that was no human.

The first time he allowed you to touch him was a miracle. When the session was over, you were immediately yanked from the premises and shoved into a different room. Your caregivers began to berate and demand answers on why he was allowing you such contact. As the clueless person you are, you just shrugged your shoulders.

That night, they left you with a few more bruises than usual.

The door swung open and revealed a guard and a caregiver. Same protocols as always. You were taken from your room and swiftly led further down to what you believed to be the lowest level of this complex. The entire way there, you were compliant and willing. You’ve done your fair share of fighting, everything in your power to leave this place.

But it never worked. It wasn’t truly accepting your fate but going along the motions. Your mind has long grown numb, completely stale to everything. It needed stimulation but no one offered that.

A quick shove had you toppling onto your hands and knees. A loud snarl and rattling chains, metal creaking from tremendous amount of weight thrown against echoed in the limited space. You hissed at the new wounds on your knees and whipped your head up.

Though weakened from lack of food and proper exercise, the alien was straining against the shortened chains. His blazing eyes were on you, taking in everything your caregivers did to you.

With a click, the thick steel door latched shut and trapped you in here with him. You sighed and stood back up while taking a glance behind you. The only entrance to the room sealed off until they choose to retrieve you. Until then, you calmly walked over to the ashen, grey alien and sat down close by. A respectful amount of space placed between the two of you.

Two more clicks entered the air. The chains that once locked him to the wall slackened and allowed the predator free range.

He instantly stalked over to you and knelt down. You picked up your head to find his eyes still on your sitting form. His gaze flicked down to your scrapped knees.

Those strange mandibles of his, or fangs could be a better word, didn’t offer any lips to form words. Not English at least. He seems to speak in his own but neither of you could truly understand one another in words. Instead, gestures got you farther in this strange friendship you’ve created with him. He was the only being in this forsaken place to offer niceties.

You reached to the fresh wound. Blood already dotted the scrapped skin. Nothing that cried for a bandage. Not that you would get in the end. “It’s alright,” you reassured him and threw a thumbs up at him. A sign he’s learned meant everything was fine.

He hovered still and stayed sat on his haunches at your side. A little unusual for the predator always on the move. When he was with you, ninety percent of the time he is prowling the given space and observing the door. You didn’t need to be told he was searching for his escape.

One animal, spirit lost to the solidarity.

Another animal, always moving, always searching.

It didn’t take further than five more seconds for your gaze to drop and head to lean against the cool wall. It was colder in this room than even the halls that lead to here. You’ve pondered the reasons but have never come up with something concrete.

Warmth cupped your cheek and tilted your head back up to the only figure in this room. Your jaw dropped at the touch, eyes widening while you could only stare at the alien.

Once he found your eyes, he leaned in, diverted slightly to the side, and placed his alien mouth next to your ear. “I will get us out of here,” he whispered barely a fraction over his breath. You gasped in reaction, ready to spew questions when his thumb pressed against your lips. The words died in your throat before they could become sound.

Then, he nuzzled his mandibles to the crook of your neck and pulled back. The whole interaction had you puzzled but slightly scared shitless. Thise sharp fangs so close to your throat, knowing they could rip it out if he wanted. But instead, he promised your escape.

Escape.

It was like he offered you a sack of gold as a peasant.

“Please,” you murmured back and against the pad of his thumb. He grunted then stood up. The chains rattled at the movement and clacked against the ground. You saw the way his hands twitched at his sides when the sharp edge dug into his already sore flesh. Thick, raised scars would be left in its wake. That, you were sure of.

The alien moved away from you and began his pacing. It was the same pathing he always took. He looked high and low. You stayed there on the ground despite it hurting your lower back and watched him. As he moved, the hope that bubbled inside of your chest began to dwindle. Maybe he didn’t have a plan just yet or even the start of one.

You missed the feeling of the sun on your skin, the smell of fresh air. Freedom. That’s the base core you craved the most while in the pits of this place. You had no plans for escape. It didn’t look like he did either.

A hand ran through your knotted locks and started to work out the small rats' nests growing. He had spoken to you. Spoke English. After all the times you’ve been in contact with him, he finally speaks up and says that. But why did he say it so quietly?

Your eyes darted around the room, hiding behind your lashes. Four cameras. They left no space unseen. Did he not want anyone to know he could speak your language? I huffed and drew your knees while resting your chin on them.

Another click drew you from well of your thoughts. A sound you’ve heard before. The chains began to sucked back into the wall and dragged the struggling alien back to his original place. You watched with a sorrowful gaze, knowing every pull cut deeper into his forever bleeding cuts.

Before he could officially trapped back to the wall, he lunged at you and trapped your now quiver form to him. His body was a few degrees warmer than the room itself. The textured scales that covered him from head to toe rubbed against your back. You gave a yelp and struggled at first but stopped, hoping he wouldn’t harm you after all this time.

The first time you met flashing in your mind. What had stopped him?

His grasp on you wasn’t harsh or demanding, but firm, not allowing you slip away from him. The claws that tipped his fingers looked they could gut you like a fish. Yet, he ensured they didn’t dig into your skin.

The chains stopped once he was pulled to the wall but with you still in grasp. The door was ripped open and in poured seven heavily armed soldiers, guns directed at the two of you. You screamed and tucked into his chest and seek protection from the only friendly figure here. His arms tightened around in a secure manner. A deep rumbled beginning to grow from the depths of his chest.

In walked the main caregiver for you and him. You submissively bowed your head, afraid to look her in the eye and feel her wrath; or be knocked out and wake up in pain again.

The woman wearing a white coat looked down her nose at your meek form then gazed up at the predator trapping you. “You won’t hurt her,” she stated with a voice honeyed and sweet. How could she be so sure of something unknown? Even you didn’t know what his intentions were.

Warm, callused finger ensnared your throat. Your heart jumping and thumping against the digits holding your life. A whimper breaking free of your cracked, cry lips. The arm still wrapped around your torso tightened but the hand rubbed the area behind your back. You inhaled sharply and slackened in his hold.

She marched forward and only left a space between her and you that dared him to take the lunge. “It’s against your honor code, isn’t it?” Your brows furrowed at the new information, unsure of what this ‘honor code’ entailed but hoped it truly meant he won’t kill you.

He growled and sent vibrations up your spine. Goosebumps were left in its wake. You shuttered and pressed yourself more into him.

Harsh, vile clicks and snarls sounded from his alien throat as he spat alien words at the doctor. An unamused gaze fell on her face while the grey creature said his piece.

When the sounds ceased and he breathed heavily, she used a finger to wipe spit off of her face and flicked back at him. “Are you done?” she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Your kind is so predictable. Quick to surge with rage and believe themselves to be high and mighty. Not for much longer.” You wanted to somehow shrink even more against him but there was not even a molecule of space to take up.

“Now, hand over the subject and we’ll still feed you tonight. And if you don’t… well, that’s for me know and you to find out.” You shuttered at her words, hand finding his arm and squeezing it. He returned the action with his arm still wrapped around your torso.

An action she saw. Her posture sagged then she spun around and walked behind the seven soldiers. They were used as a wall of protection.

“Retrieve the subject. Don’t kill either of them. Harm is okay,” she gave the order you knew was about to occur. Your eyes instinctively shut as you prepare for bullets to begin flying.

A deafening roar rattled your brain. Metal snapped. The heat you were once pressed against was gone. The pure instinct to search it out strong before your brain could register the scene unfolding in front of your trembling form. Your feet glued to the spot.

Even though he’s lost some of his muscular physique, this lethal giant showed off his strength and prowess. He had already thrown one of the soldiers into a wall, a dent left in its wake. Another was meeting the business end of this predator… and loosing not only the fight but their life as well.

Blood sprayed across the ground in a terrifying arch. The ruby red a sight you weren’t prepared to see. His claws causing the damage to be dealt and valuable life essence to be spilled at your feet. The same claws that had been wrapped around neck so softly moments before.

Bright pops of light and ear-bleeding claps left you dizzy in where you stood. You stumbled back and rested your shoulder against the cool concrete wall. The scene before you continuing to unfold as if you didn’t even exist.

It swiftly became a blood bath. The seven soldiers she brought into here were desecration into nothing more than piles of shredded meat and bleeding blood bags on the ground.

The horror that morphed over her usually neutral face was satisfying to say in the least. The fact she wasn’t going to be able to step out of this room dawned upon her. You watched as the color drained from her face with each step backwards.

Unlike you, she was trapped and at the will of the alien that bore his gaze down on her. You may be pressed against the wall like her, but you were safe, not afraid of him spinning around and mistaking you as one of them. You knew it in your heart he was following through with his promise. You’ll see the light of day again, breathe the fresh air of the day. Strangely enough, you felt giddy.

“You can’t do this! I’m unarmed!” she screamed at him and pointed a trembling finger at the grey alien. What’s with that? Does it have to do with this ‘honor code’ she spoke about before?

Oh, but he could. In a terrifying millisecond, your eyes couldn’t register what had truly happened. Her body laid motionless at the feet of the lumbering alien. Her back faced you, her head was turned towards you. The cold, lifeless blue eyes of hers stared blankly, unfocused.

Dead.

You released a shuttering breath and timidly looked at him. Said creature stood back to his full height and rolled his dense shoulders. The muscles that lined his shoulders and back rippling at the motion.

Then, the alien spun on his heel and marched over to you. For a scared shitless moment, you best believed you were about to receive the same treatment. What stopped him from doing so?

He came to a stop before you and offered you a hand. “We are getting out.” Words of English were rumbled at you. Your eyes flicked down to the open palm. The freedom you begged for since the day you arrived here was standing before you. Not in a form you were expecting.

You took his hand.

One moment, the ground was touching the bottom of your feet. The very next, your legs had to wrap around a wide frame, arms snug around his throat. His back to your chest. He patted your forearm. “Hold on tight. Do not let go,” he ordered then marched towards the door.

It was closed, still sealed. What was he going to do about that?

That had to a be stupid thought after watching him massacre the entire room. Clearly he had an idea, some plan to get you two out of here. As much as you hated to this, it gutted you, you trusted him fully to release you from this prison.

Carefully, he crouched down and grabbed a key card from a pocket of the doctor. Red from his hands smeared onto the thin piece of plastic. He held it up to a small area next to the door.

With a whoosh, the door opened. The moment it did. All the white lights suddenly flashed to red. A horrifying screech entered the air before going into a low pitch then back up. It continued to do this while he carried him and you into the hall.

His head whipped side to side, thoughts determining which way to go. You perked up at this and motioned for him to go left. “The stairs are next to the elevator,” you reasoned with him. He grunted and began to full on sprint in the given direction. This hundreds of pound of flesh barreled down the hallway like a semi-truck. Nothing could stop him unless he wanted to stop.

A ninety degree came up. The alien just slid and used an arm to keep himself from slamming into the wall. He continued on. You buried your face into his neck, ignoring the strange rubbery dreads that slapped against your head and face with each of his steps.

The hallway led him to the necessary door. He didn’t even try the handle when he full on kicked it down. The metal screeched as it was torn from the hinges and laid to rest at the bottom of the stairs. With that out of the way, he leaped easily over it and took three steps at a time.

The alarm still blared its horrible tune and forced a headache to pound inside of your skull. You whined and scrunched your nose, unable to relieve yourself of the noise.

Over the noise, you heard the tall tell sign of thundering footsteps. You tensed up, breath shuddering and catching in your throat. In reaction, you go to open your mouth and speak of the discovery. A single finger was held up in your line of sight. You closed your trap and hunkered back down.

He launched himself up a flight of stairs and crashed into something hard. Gunfire sounded less than ten feet away. A bullet never hits you as he powered through a sea of bodies. You kept yourself locked onto his back like a monkey for dear life. You don’t know if he would come back for you if you were to fall off. Or if a soldier may just kill you to solve half of their problems.

Warm, slightly substance latched onto your arms. You shuttered, already coming to the conclusion of what it is.

Dying, horrified screams echoed off the halls. They decreased in amount and volume until the last one was silenced.

A new quiet filled the air besides the heavy breathing from the beast you clung to. Ringing echoed inside of your ears and worsened your headache. You groaned and clenched your hands into a tight fist.

He moved on.

You were brought back to reality as the warmth tinglingly the back of your neck and arms. Confused, you picked up your head and opened your eyes.

Bright light first had you flinching but powering through the pain. Sunlight greeted you. Its light painful at first but warmth more than welcomed. Your jaw dropped at the sight now before you.

A vessel… No. A space craft. A UFO. And it had to be his.

The alien didn’t stop moving across the short field that took him less than ten seconds to clear reach the feet of the ship. He slammed his fist against the belly of it. A screeching hiss entered the air.

A slab of metal began to peel itself away from the belly of the craft and angle one end towards the ground. The sight something you would see from Star Wars. You could only watch in amazement as the alien marched up the ramp. He rushed his way through the insides and took expert turns until he reached the cockpit. His feet skidded to a stop at a console and hands flying across the panels.

You pulled yourself up higher and watched. He pressed buttons and started the engines.

They rumbled to life under his feet. The ship waking up from an unknown amount of rest.

Hanging off of his back, you spotted movement through the glass window before you. A hoard of soldiers poured from the facility you had broken out of. A cold sweat dripped down the length of your spine at the sight. You tapped rapidly on his shoulder to gain his attention. “We’ve got company,” you warned, voice wavering.

The creature scoffed and turned his head enough to meet your eyes. “Not for long,” he answered. A smirk that you didn’t need to see was evident in his voice. He reached over and grabbed a throttle. Pressure was added to the stick.

Power was fed into the engines. Their sounds gaining in volume. You felt it before you noticed the fact the craft was starting to lift off the ground. The people rushing towards the two of you doubled their efforts as they began to grow smaller.

Something hit the roof and prevented the vessel from gaining anymore height. The creature just scoffed and added extra power to the engines.

Metal groaned and gave way. The ship returned to its form ascent into the sky. You release a sob of relief while the two of you continued to climb into the sky. The prison left behind as everyone could only watch your escape.

Once blue skies transitioned to black and sparkles shining through, he released the tension in his shoulders then patted your forearm. “You can get down now,” he said and knelt down. The warm metal floor touching the bottom of your bare feet. You finally relented your hold on him and stretched out your muscles. Soreness sunk into your muscles after clinging to him for so long.

He turned around to look at you fully. The two of you taking the other in without the constant pressure of being under watch and locked into a room.

A smile broke across your dirtied features. It was slow, a small dribble of happiness filling your veins before it became a rush. You pumped your fists into the air and gave a lungful cheer that echoed back at you. Damn that headache, you could care less about it when freedom was returned to you at last.

Close to the end of your excitement, an ear-piercing roar sounded with your call. You stopped abruptly and looked at the alien. His head was tipped back, fangs fully widened. You let the smile return and gave a hearty call again. You deserved it after all the shit you’ve endured while at the prison.

The roar died off. You cut yours as well and returned to studying him again. Despite not knowing who or what he was, you could trust him completely. He had fought off the advances of the soldiers and kept you safe. It was impossible in the moment to wipe off the smile on your face. You didn’t even dare to try and knew it would be futile.

Freedom at last.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #yautja x human #predator x reader #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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sanctus-ingenium · 3 months

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I’m really inspired by your world building and the creatures you use. I’m trying to kickstart my own world using Celtic, Norse and Scottish myths (it also involves werewolves because they’re cool)

But I’m stumped and a bit overwhelmed. How’d you start your project and what were huge sources of inspiration for you as you worked on The Black Horse?

hi there!!! this will probably get wordy i have a lot of thoughts on this but here's how i built up my inver setting

i had the characters first, and the werewolf establishment was basically the first thing invented about the world. I wrote a decent amount about the characters in the pre-1st draft slush pile just getting a handle on their voices, their history together, etc. the first slush draft was in painstaking chronological order telling of their lives from birth to like age 40 - it wasn't pretty to read but it meant I knew what big moments formed their worldview, their relationships with others, things like that. and then i got to pick and choose which ones would feature in the actual 1st draft, and which i would leave unsaid, in flashback form, or only in the form of vague allusions. the plot and world events changed significantly as i wrote the actual 1st draft so this ended up only being useful for backstory stuff and not book plots, but it was still good to have.

There was an important moment of a character being kidnapped into a faery realm, which is what started me off thinking about fairies in general. they weren't originally a part of this world - it was an undefined space before just for the characters to exist in, because i was (and still am) more interested in the characters than the worldbuilding. but i still like for there to be SOMETHING there in the background, and it gives a lot of opportunities to inform characterisation, so i started to make my setting. I picked the Púca as a pivotal being & major inspiration source to include because of its relatively large presence in the fringes of my childhood in stories told by my older relatives and i like the unusual aspects about it as well, how it has been both heroic and malevolent in different stories. you have to remember i grew up in this culture too, i knew a lot already, and that's what got me thinking of alternate Earth history - as in, the setting of Inver as alternate history, not wholly original fantasy set in a fantasy land.

So then I had to think about the implications of that, and here is where I think a lot of authors adapting extant mythology fall short. A world where faeries/mythological monsters/gods based in real cultures exist and people interact with them is indistinguishable from our own. We already live in a world where people interact with faeries in their own way; I've heard many older relatives recount stories of being trapped in their fields by faeries, how you can only escape by taking off your jumper and putting it back on inside out. There was no question as to whether they believed this was a concrete, meaningful interaction with a supernatural being. We have a motorway that was diverted while it was being built because the builders didn't want to risk cutting down a hawthorn tree. There is a deep stigma against harming hawthorns. Now, tell me how things would be any different if faeries were real irl? ftr I do not believe in the supernatural whatsoever, not even a little bit, but it is impossible to deny that I live in a world deeply shaped by it - I need only look out the window at the stands of whitethorn around my house to know that. because the main expression of that supernatural element is in how the people of that culture react.

you cannot, you cannot pick and choose only the monsters from a legend and leave behind the people who made & propagated that legend. you're only taking a single thread from a rich tapestry. I'm not arguing that other cultures should be untouchable, far from it, I'm just saying that to truly appreciate it, you need context for everything you adapt. you gotta know what you're writing about

in that sense, the people are more important to building Inver than the faeries. a citizen of Inver not immediately affected by the main plotline would likely never see or interact with magic in their lifetime, but their society is still shaped by it. so is mine (though that's more on the catholic church than anything else)

So now that I'd had that realisation, I decided to dump a lot of the traditional fantasy tropes I'd been working with. Think basic fantasy setting stuff, pop culture "The Fae" tropes, even the terminology of 'Fae' at all - that is not something I've ever heard the older generation in my life call them. It's just 'fairies' to them (although I did shift the spelling to match the Yeats poem because I could not handle writing characters making accusations of being A Fairy and have it not come across as a unintentionally homophobic accusation lmao). I did some research; mostly on JSTOR, using my institutional access, because my own university is mostly science and didn't have a big library of anthropological texts. I read An Táin Bó Culainge which is honestly one of the greatest stories of all time PLEASE READ IT if you are at all interested in Irish myth. It is a fantastic story and extremely comedic as well (a canon mmmf foursome lol). In terms of academic sources specific to the Púca, I have a drive folder of pdfs I will share with anyone if they ask.

I decided I was not going to include anything from what people actually think of as pre-christian Irish mythology - no fianna [rangers notwithstanding], no Ulster cycle, no Tuatha Dé, no Irish gods. All the things I include are post-colonial aside from the notion of the Otherworld in general. This decision wasn't necessarily accurate to what might have happened in this alternate history (given that christianity still has no real foothold in Inver) but it is a colonised society after all. It's why I got slightly steamed once when someone filed my Púca art into their irish deities/irish polytheism tag (I have my own issues with iripols/gaelpols for the same reason I dislike people taking myths out cultural context and in this case contemporary cultural context), because the Púca is in fact a postcolonial being - it comes from the UK, and likely the mainland as well

One of the last things I did before starting on my 2nd draft, which is what turned into Said the Black Horse, was decide to always capitalise the word 'Púca'. Because what really clicked from doing my research and remembering what I'd heard as a child was that the Púca is a specific character. Not a species, not a class of monster. A character, one guy. And you'll find this everywhere - the obvious example is the Minotaur being one specific guy, the son of Minos, not just 'a minotaur'. One very funny consequence of speciesifying mythological characters is dnd ppl saying their character is A Firbolg (fir bolg is plural!!). Fantasy bestiary books like Dragonology or Spiderwick Chronicles have done some amount of damage to how people relate to myths and legendary creatures, and I am not immune as someone who loves speculative biology, but in Inver I decided to cut all of that out.

Next once I got that out of the way I had to think about tone, atmosphere, and intended results. I didn't achieve my holy grail of a very atmospheric, undefined, and uncertain story that provides no answers, due to limitations in my own abilities, but I tried. I have given less than 1 second of thought to how magic or faery biology in Inver works because that is not conducive to the atmosphere of a fairytale. Many of these source myths and legends are really about the fear of the unknown. They are rationalisations to explain away something unknown, some mystery of life, and you cannot explain the unexplainable and expect it to carry the same punch as the original myths that you are drawn to adapt. That's also why I try to never actually give facts about fairies, but instead I talk about what people think of them. The word 'considered' does some insanely heavy lifting in that linked post lmao. Is any of what I wrote true with regards to the Red King?? It is for the people who believe it.

I'm saying all of this because these are all points I had to think about before writing that 2nd draft, but also because I think they're worth considering for your own story as well. I'll admit I invented my werewolves from scratch, they have no mythological basis, because they pre-date the faery stuff and also I wanted them to fill a very specific role and appear a little more concrete than the other supernatural elements. It is what it is; I wanted a werewolf element that didn't match myths and legends (and honestly was partially inspired by me rolling my eyes about those posts going around moaning and whining about 'the doggification of werewolves missing the point of werewolf stories'. I thought, well, there's more than one story you can tell with a werewolf - it isn't always 'i fear the beast within', sometimes it's something else! sometimes it's daddy issues! it's okay to make something new)

ok i think that's all i have to say.. modern Inver is a bit different, that worldbuilding is largely the same but with a big dose of actual ecology because the main characters are rangers and in Inver in 2017, rangers mostly do environmental monitoring. and that's a whole different sort of worldbuilding lol

good luck with your story!!

#me about to write literally anything: this will probably get wordy #mvf #setting: inver

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hazbininlove · 2 months

Text

Hopelessly Devoted - Chapter 2

-About 3.6k. Some slightly sexual discussions. Kind of a filler before I really get the story moving.

“What if we made a creature that could fly and walk and swim! Imagine that!” Lucifer says, his hands gesturing wildly around him as he pictures it in his head.

“Ever the ambition one, are you?” Esther replies, laughing into her hand as she sits on the bench in front of him. There’s a fond look in her eyes reserved just for him, and he knows it.

“Don’t tease me! You know it’s a good idea!”

“I do. I have no notes to give! So, what will this creature look like?”

He hums, tapping his foot a bit as he thinks. “Well if they can fly they should be feathery, like us! But like, all over!”

“And they’ll walk, so they’ll obviously need feet. But how will they swim?”

“That’s the best part! They won’t be like other birds, they’ll have wider feet! That’s webbed! And that way they can paddle through the water! And their feathers will be waterproof so that they can take flight without worry!”

Esther giggles at his enthusiasm. “And their colors?”

“Oh there’s definitely going to be a lot of variation in that. But the little babies are going to be yellow and cute and just waddle around on their little big feet,” he says, cooing at the images he’s imagining to himself.

“And what of their sizes? Will they be little? Big?”

“They’re gonna be little! Well, not too little. When they’re babies they’ll be tiny for sure, but as adults I suppose they can be bigger. Though I think it’ll still vary, maybe based on the color of their feathers,” he replies. He looks at her with narrowed eyes and a pointed finger. “The males will be bigger though.”

“Oh not this again,” Esther sighs.

“Nu-uh! Not again! Maybe they won’t be a lot bigger but still bigger! Or some features on them will be bigger!”

“I quite like the idea of a shorter male,” she says, a smirk on her face and she stands at full height and looks down slightly at him.

He blushes at her soft gaze, but pouts at her words. And suddenly an idea strikes him, and he smirks up at her. “You know what else of theirs is gonna be big?”

“Pray tell.”

He motions down his own body as his smirk widens. She looks confused for a moment, her head tilting slightly, before her nose scrunches and her hands are on his face and pushing him away from her.

“Oh gross! Luci, you fiend!”

“What can I say? If there’s anything about myself I’d like to give to my little creatures, why not let it be that?”

She groans and leans away from him.

“I kind of want to give it a weird shape,” he adds.

“Please don’t.”

“Come on! It’ll be interesting! How about we make it all coiled up?”

“Now why would you do that?”

“Because it’s kinda funny,” he says, laughing at her disgusted expression.

She continues to lean away from him, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes that tell him she’s still amused by him.

“Well in that case, I vote that the females have something similar. Except, they have false entrances to trick a male should she want to,” she adds.

“Oh that’s just terrible,” he replies. “I love it!”

“And the male has to do a dance,” she says, reaching a hand to stroke his wings. He shivers at her soft touch. “Show off some feathers, prove he deserves her.”

His wings flutter as he gives her a bright grin and tips his hat to her. “Oh I can show some feathers all right.”

——————————————————————————

Lucifer shuffles his feet as he walks behind her, kicking up dirt as he does. It’s been… well he doesn’t even remember the last time someone called him by his other name. It was definitely before his fall, and probably by Michael who often preferred that name because of its connection to the Divine.

Esther always preferred to call him Lucifer. If she called him Samael, it was usually in relation to work. He didn’t work with her now though, not for years since his fall, so the only thing he can assume is that she’s using the name to keep a distance between them in the same way she referred to him earlier as “Morningstar” and not his first name.

”Soooooo…. How’ve things been?” He asks, keeping his tone light to try and shift the mood a bit. He’s still upset about earlier, and he wants to bring it up again, but he hates seeing her sad, and he knows that she’ll only shield herself from him if he tries. Years may have passed but he still knows her. It’s the reason she hasn’t hidden her wings in all this time. She’s made them smaller than their true size, but they’re still present at her back.

”Don’t,” is all she says. He sighs at her curt tone. He wants to look away, avoid her gaze, but he also wants to stare at her and take the time to relearn all the details of her face.

She turns to face him when she decides they’re far away enough from the others. “Samael, I-“

”No,” he says, holding up a hand and looking up at her with a frown. “I won’t hear you if you use that name. You never used that name, so don’t start now.”

”Don’t make this more difficult,” she whispers to him. He can see the tears already forming in her eyes. “Please just let me do what I need to do.”

“Star, please,” he all but begs. His hand moves too quickly for her, and he holds hers gently in his. It feels as soft as he remembers, cold as it always was. “Let me explain everything to you. You know I’d never lie to you. I can’t lie to you.”

Her hand squeezes his, and he brings it up to his face, holding it against his cheek. He feels her thumb stroke his cheek. He smiles a bit at the touch and watches her close her eyes and let out a shaky sigh.

“Why must you always be so difficult, Lucifer?”

He wants to hug her. He wants his arms around her and holding her impossibly close.

“It’s part of my charm?” He settles for that, giving her a sheepish grin as she shakes her head at him. His smile falls as he presses his cheek further into his hand, holding her there. “I didn’t do anything with Lilith before the fall, or for thousands of years after. We were just friends, I promise. I… I empathized with her. I saw so much of us in her. Adam was supposed to be like me but he lacked any respect for his half. It was so different from us. We had our scuffles sure, but I always respected you, and I know you respected me too. I just- I thought she needed a friend, and there were no other humans so I tried to be that.”

“You never spoke to me of any of that. You stopped speaking to me about anything. What was I supposed to think?”

“I know!” His voice raises a bit, but he takes a deep breath and lets it out before he continues. “I know. And that was my mistake. I didn’t think, okay? I was just so caught up in everything, in talking, and I thought… I thought if I told you, you’d stop me.”

”Can you blame me?” Esther asks back. “Knowing what you do now, can you blame me for wanting to stop you? I always encouraged your dreams, Lucifer. I always supported your ideas. But you know that I also always wanted to make sure you’d stop to think before rushing in.”

”You definitely were the smarter one,” he joked. She strokes his cheek again, and he melts into her touch. “Lilith and I just remained friends. Charlie was… well depression’s a bitch and both of us were alone. I thought of you, of how I’m not allowed to step into Heaven, of how you would never be allowed down here, and we both let ourselves be stupid for a moment. And you know what they say! It just takes one time! I mean, I’m sure other people struggle but come on. I’m me!”

”Your pride will surely lead to your downfall if you continue with these jokes,” she says, her tone sharp. “Why you think I’d enjoy jokes about your intimacy with someone else is beyond me.”

He coughs, lowering her hand from his face and using his other to pull at his collar.

“Right, that was stupid. Uhhh,” he looks around, trying to figure out how to continue. “So uh, yeah. Nothing else happened. Just the once, felt like shit about it after, then woah! Charlie happens! And I don’t know, maybe we thought something else could happen, or whatever, but it just never did. I couldn’t forget you and Lilith… Well quite honestly I don’t think Lilith’s ever been romantically interested in anyone. Or at least no one that she ever told me about.”

He looks back at her with pursed lips, worried he’d further upset her. She smiles softly at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“What about you?” He asks nervously. He doesn’t actually want to know, but considering his own actions, he can’t say he’d blame her if she had moved on.

“No, never,” she says quietly. “It was especially difficult, at first. The others were worried I’d fall as well, so I was kept in Primum Mobile close to the Divine. I wasn’t allowed to leave for… let’s just say it was a long time. A few centuries ago, they decided it was enough and I could leave, but by then I saw no point. So I haven’t really been around others. Mostly the Seven, some of the other seraphs and archangels, but that’s about it.”

“So, who took my place in the Seven?”

“Raphael,” she replies. “He’s not around often. He spends most of his time on Earth and has dedicated his life to hospitals and clinics.”

“And the others?” He asks cautiously. He hates that he misses them, especially after what they, what Michael, did to him. But they’re his family just as much as the sins are and he misses them.

“They’re well! I saw Ramiel a few days ago, she’s doing well. Gabriel is all over the place, as usual. It’s hard to catch him unless you happen to be close to the Divine as well. And Michael… he’s fine.”

“You don’t seem too sure of that.”

“It’s a bit complicated with him,” she sighs. She looks away from him for a moment before turning fully towards him. This time, she brings both of her hands to his cheeks. “I’ve never forgiven him for his part in your fall. And I’m still mad at him for causing my own seclusion but he’s- he’s been there for me. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s been the one to check on me the most throughout everything and make sure I wasn’t always alone.”

“Careful now, you almost sound fond of him. I hear Stockholm Syndrome can be a bitch to deal with.”

“Lucifer Samael Morningstar, don’t start with your jokes again,” she scolds him, now pinching his cheeks. “I am not in love with Michael, or any of the others. He did terrible things, yes, but so did you and he did them under orders of the Divine and you know that.”

She lets go of his cheeks but continues to look at him, her eyes a bit sharper than before.

“Sooooo… no one after all these years?”

“Some of us didn’t give up hope,” she mumbled as her arms crossed over her chest and yeah, yeowch that hurt, but deserved.

“I’m sorry. I know that’ll never be enough, I’ll always have that guilt and I can’t fault you for being upset but… I don’t regret having Charlie,” he replies, his tone serious. Because if there’s one thing he wants to clear, Charlie isn’t to be blamed for his mistakes. He messed up, all on his own. Well, it takes two but that's besides the point. Lilith isn’t here to take her side of the blame and it’s probably for the best that she isn’t here. “She’s so amazing, Esther. She’s so cheerful and bright and she reminds me of us back then. About all the best parts of us. I know the way she came to be isn’t ideal but she’s here and she’s my daughter. I love her more than anything.”

“I know, Lucifer,” she says. Her arms are still crossed and her eyes still look sad but she’s smiling at him. “Regardless of how she came to be, she’s here, and she seems like a wonderful girl. She reminds me so much of you when we were younger. Looks so much like you too. If it wasn’t for her height, I’d have thought you’d cloned a female version of yourself.”

“Oh! Ha ha! So jokes at my expense are fine, huh?” He hip checks her for it and she stumbles a bit, not expecting the move.

“Mine are harmless compared to your more crass ones.” She hip checks him back and he laughs heartily. “We’ve gone off track. I was serious earlier, Lucifer. We didn’t know what Sera was doing.”

“Well, she is the High Seraphim. There’s a lot of power for a person.”

“She’s the High Seraphim of the first sphere, and you know that! Her duty is to her sphere, not the entirety of Heaven. For that, Michael is involved. He leads Heaven’s protection. And even as the High Seraphim, there are still others far above her! Or did you forget about Seraphiel? Johoel? For Heaven’s sake Lucifer, time away from it all couldn’t have made you forget all of that!”

“It didn’t!” He replied. His own arms crossed and he turned away from her, pacing back and forth. He never liked admitting when he was wrong. “You think the exterminations were my first thought? I wanted to redeem souls! You know I never wanted to be the one to create evil!”

“I know,” she says. She stops his movements with an arm around his shoulders, pulling his back to her chest. “But you forget yourself at times. You are Lucifer, the shining one, the leader of the choir, but you’re also Samael the destroyer. It was your job to destroy sin.”

“And it was also my job to tempt it,” he signed, leaning into her hold.

“So much so that you became the first,” she tried joking to ease the mood. “I always did say your head was too big for the rest of you. It’s a miracle you can stand up straight.”

“Oh we’re back to this? It’s time for jokes again?” His tone was bland and she laughed, pressing her cheek against his.

“I never said it’s a bad thing. I’ve always believed in you Lucifer. I know you were just doing your job, wanting to believe the best in everyone. And I hate that you’ve never been allowed to see proof of that. But we can change that now. Yes, there are some sinners that deserve damnation but not like this. Not in masses like what has been going on with the exterminations. We need a system.”

He looks up to her dark blue eyes, and feels hope swelling in his chest. “We?”

“I did mention that I’d be coming back down every so often, didn’t I?”

“Why not stay,” he asks. “Here, with me. We could be together again, like old times.”

Her arm starts slipping away from him until he grabs it. He turns around and wraps his own around her waist.

“Oh love, you have no idea how much I wish things could be like old times.” She presses her forehead against his and closes her eyes. Her hands move to grip his jacket on his shoulders. His heart soars hearing her call him that and he pulls her closer to him. “But so much time has passed, and I sent eons believing you’d moved on. And it hurt me. It still hurts, even knowing what I know now. And I don’t even know how long the Divine will allow me this happiness to be here with you.”

“But that’s the beauty of free will, isn’t it? You get to choose what you want to do. You could stay! I’ll spend even longer making it up to you, to prove to you that you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

“It seems I’ve forgotten that Samael is also known as the seducer,” she replies, tone sarcastic now. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“You haven’t seen seduction yet, my love,” he smirks to her, looking up at her with half lidded eyes and a confident smirk. She laughs a bit before leaning away slightly. Not so far that she’s out of his arms, but enough to put some distance between their faces.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself. I meant what I said earlier. Forgiveness isn’t easy, but it’s not impossible.” She smirks, poking him in the side. He startles and lets go of her, and she takes the chance to step away from him, wings extending. “So you better preen those wings and get them nice and ready for your next routine. I expect the dance of a lifetime and a beautiful show of feathers.”

Esther’s wings move and she lifts off the ground, just as a portal opens some ways above her.

“I’ll show you some feathers,” he says to her as the portal closes, a proud smile on his lips.

——————————————————————————

“Sooooo,” is the first thing she hears as the portal closes behind her. “How’d it go?”

She looks up to see Cassiel, Ramiel, and Uriel waiting for her, Michael off to the side watching all of them.

“It went well,” she replies, her cheeks a bit red as she hadn’t expected them to be waiting there for her.

“They want to know if you got back together with him,” Uriel says bluntly, getting straight to the point as always. Ramiel smacks her arm.

“Must you act so tactless!”

“Well, what do you expect me to say?! Don’t get me wrong, I love a good love story but after what he did to her? Love my brother, I do, but she shouldn’t fall back into his arms too quickly,” Uriel defends herself. Ramiel says and Cassiel shrugs.

“I can’t say I disagree,” Cassiel adds, wincing when Ramiel elbows him in the ribs. “What! She’s right! Luci shouldn’t get off easy after leaving her for thousands of years! And having a child with someone else, no less! She should make him work for it. And when she thinks he deserves forgiveness, I’ll be there to properly judge him.”

“You’re both impossible. Esther can judge for herself when she’s ready, not a moment sooner,” Ramiel says, moving closer to Esther and fixing her hair. “A wonderful woman such as yourself deserves a wonderful man at her side. I agree that you should make him work for your forgiveness, but remember that your forgiveness is yours to give. Not anyone else’s.”

“Do you really think this is wise?” Michael asks, speaking up from his spot farther from them. “He’s fallen, Esther, don’t forget that. He’s no longer the angel you once knew.”

“He’s not,” she agrees. He raises an eyebrow at her in curiosity. “He’s changed, no doubt, but so have I. He may have fallen but he’s still an angel, and I believe in him. The consequences of his actions may have been terrible but that doesn’t mean he meant for them to happen. He’s a good man, Michael. I know you know that too.”

“Good or not doesn’t change what’s done. Gabriel should’ve been the one to deliver that message to him, and all the messages moving forward,” Michael replies, stepping closer.

“The Divine chose me for this task. I will not question it, and neither should you,” Esther says, stepping closer to him in challenge.

His eyes soften at her as he moves to hold her cheek. She doesn’t pull away from him, but she also doesn’t lean towards his touch either.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” he says to her. Her eyes are closed and she holds his hand against the side of her face. “He is my brother but you are also like family to me. Had Samael been smarter I’d have been able to truly call you my sister. It’s my job to protect you all. It pains me to see you hurt. It hurts me even more knowing that someone I trusted was the cause of that pain.”

“I need you to trust me now, Michael,” she pleads with him, squeezing her hand. “I know it’s too soon for anything to happen. I won’t fall back into his arms over pretty words. But I love him. I love him so endlessly I feel it with every fiber of my being and being apart from him hurts more than the pain I felt at the thought of his betrayal. Let me have this. I’m begging you.”

“And if you fall?”

“Then I fall,” she whispers, a tearing falling from her eyes. “Not to evil or to temptation, but to him. He is a part of me I cannot continue to exist without.”

“I don’t support this,” Michael replies, wiping her tears. “But should the time come, should you choose to accept him again, I will have to remind him of the consequences if he messes up again.”

“You softie,” Esther laughs. Michael smiles down at her. He hates everything about this, but he won’t question the Divine’s plans.

——————————————————————————

Just wanted to lay down some foundations for Esther and Lucifer here. This is going to be sort of slow burn but in the most teasing way possible. Esther will make him put in the work.

Also, I thought I’d drop my original idea for Esther. I changed it because 1. Most of the angels’ clothes looks very covered. Like even before his fall, Lucifer looks to be wearing a robe/gown like what Adam wears. When I first thought of her clothes, I was thinking of something that matched Lucifer’s current ringleader look, which I realized it wasn’t the time for.

Anyway I hope you enjoy! I’m already working on the next chapter and will hopefully have it up within the next few days.

Taglist: @dreamcatcher62 @art3misa635

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar hazbin hotel #lucifer x oc #hazbin hotel x oc #hazbin hotel lucifer x oc #hazbin hotel Lucifer OC

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splitster · 8 months

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answering more POM WRAITH au/Pingo asks!!

featuring: biology questions, creatures, dingo (unfortunately), and more!! check it out ↓↓

she does need sleep! she doesn't need to sleep as often as people, but she's a little wraith and she needs to snooze every like... i dunno. three days? sure, let's go with that.

although in the first few days of her being on PNF404, i could see her getting bored one night and poking around her crewmate's rooms to see what they're doing (spoilers: they're all just sleeping). in the morning after, dingo talks about a very bizarre dream he had with a specter watching him sleep! everyone dismisses it as the ranger having some weird sleep paralysis, but pom's sweating at the table thinking about how she should be way more careful if she does that again.

this ask did inspire me though, i'll probably make more art explaining how she works sometime later hehe...

that'd be scary... although, if there's anyone incentivized to wraithify olimar, it'd probably be the plasm wraith! that golden goo is really fond of him, and they'd love to make olimar just like them

WAHH THANK YOU!!! if they ever dated and got married they'd be able to save on a dress! hehe

she might look kinda scary but she's a sweetheart!! pom would genuinely struggle to make herself hurt humans. if there's a beast threatening her crew though -- that thing is mince meat!!

WAAAHHH THANK YOU!! it's definitely a challenge to make it fit with the other wraiths but still be unique... it was fun to design though!!

IM SORRY i didn't get to your ask before i actually posted the full wraith design... there she is though!! HILAHERHLIAEERH

yes!! he's the first one to discover her secret. it'd probably happen on accident out on the field pretty early on when pom is forced to defend herself with no pikmin, but it's no difference to Oatchi -- pom is pom! he'd bark and give her helmet a lick, and when pom realizes her rescue pup isn't scared of her it's quite the relief...

i have art of oatchi and wraith pom i'll be posting later!!

WAHHH... this is cute i like this hehe!! dingo sees those striking X eyes and still falls in love!! GRRRR i must draw more pingo now...

AUGH.... OK!! more pingo on the way then boss 🫡 (i do appreciate it though lmao)

she doesn't need to eat human food, but she does need to consume living creatures for biomass! human food is definitely delicious and she very much enjoys things like chocolate or hot coco, but to sustain her form and keep up energy she has to go for creatures

i'll probably make art for this later to explain better, but it is kinda like an amoeba -- after killing something, she can cover it and dissolve it with her goo. easy peasy!

Louie: You're a wraith? I thought you were just weird like me Pom: ... Louie: ... Can you go get creatures for me

pom is trying her best to understand human social cues and etiquette but it's a struggle sometimes!

i took psychic damage from this ask thank you for penis ringo💖

YES!!!!!!!!! there are so, so many ways that could happen and each one is hilarious... i've written out a few different scenarios, i should pick one to draw out... it'd be funny if dingo learns her secret but decides to trust her and keep it safe. but he's, you know. dingo. he's not good at lying, especially to his crewmates (and especially to his actual childhood friend of a doctor who was already very suspicious of the new blood!)

of COURSE i'm very abnormal about those two.... actually if y'all have scenarios you wanna see with those two, send more asks and i'll probably end up drawing them lol

that's actually a really good question! i haven't thought too much about how her full wraith would visually change, but if she ate enough and got stronger i imagine she'd finally be as big as the other two. she'd probably gain more wraithy abilities and attacks! trying to take down a powered up full wraith pom would be a very difficult fight, even for those with the best dandori skills and a full squad of pikmin

Pom: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Shepherd: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Collin: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Dingo: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Yonny: this is gonna be fun Bernard: (doesn't care if people find out) Russ: (doesn't care if people find out) Oatchi: bark

#modpost #modask #pom wraith au #thank you all for the asks!!#i'm gonna try to keep the asks in batches like these #i still have a bunch to get to #pingo

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muzansfangs · 5 months

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Jugram x f! Reader NSFW??

In the river of crazy.

Starring: Jugram Haschwalth x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, dom!haschwalth, sub!reader, slightly somnophilia, choking, mention to pregnacy, rough sex, mention to bruises, not defined relationship status;

Plot: he had been always taciturn. You knew Haschwalth’s life was nothing like that of a common civilian. It was a miracle even being able to meet him, at times. Therefore, you left him the key of your flat. When he was upset, you knew what to expect from him. That night, when he slipped into your room and found you asleep in your bed, he did not hesitate to take what he wanted.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

He had never talked much. His cynic and detached nature matched with his stern expression. Haschwalth Jugram was more than handsome. His beauty made angels turn away in jealousy. You remembered with a certain nostalgia how you had thought he was not real, when two first met. No one could be blessed with such perfect features: no creature blessed by a divinity for sure.

There was something demonic about his perfect visage.

His icy blue eyes were his finest weapon. They always stunned you in silence, the moment you made eye-contact. All that you knew was that you could not resist him, you could not oppose yourself to him, you were totally subjected to his requests, eager to satisfy his darkest desires. Everything felt like an endless dream you did not want to wake up from, albeit your relationship was not defined. He would have never told you that he loved you, but if he kept on sticking around, his cold eyes lingering on your face rather than your body, perhaps you were not just a rag doll for him to toss around. It was not a simple lie you told yourself not to suffer for his mood swings.

Haschwalth never cared about anyone. You wondered if that little thing you had meant that he cared a tad bit about you. Then again, there was a chance you were being delusional.

Once, as the night breeze caressed your sweaty faces, blowing gently through the opened window of your bedroom, he had decided to talk to you. He had said those damn words that are still ringing in your head, making your heart skip a beat whenever the thought of him crossed your mind.

“It’s not just sex. I need you” he had stated, his eyes transfixed on the ceiling, his fingers combing your hair absent-mindedly, while you looked at him with droopy eyes full of expectations. Haschwalth Jugram confused you. What a way to mess with your head.

It had been a whole week, since your last encounter. You had waited for him, both day and night, standing by the window with the same apprehension a wife would have for her husband. But you were far from being his woman. In the end, he probably just seeked comfort from you, a person who would have nor questioned him, neither judged his behavior.

No matter for how long he was away, Jugram would have always come back to you. He knew your door would have been opened for him.

As the moon raised up into the night sky, your droopy eyes gave up. Waiting wide awake for him to arrive was useless at this point. As you dragged your feet along the floor to reach your bedroom, your gaze trailed up to the clothes hanger, hoping to see his white cape on it. What a fool you were. He was not there, you needed to deal with it, to accept this unavoidable truth.

Crawling over the bed, however, you chose to abandon your usual spot. Ignoring your pillow, you nuzzled your face on his one, inhaling deeply in a futile attempt to detect even a dull track of his cologne. Much to your dismay, it was fading away. But you would have never forgotten it anyway. Peppermint and an ounce of musk. The amount of nights it had lulled you to sleep was uncountable.

You sighed, heavy eyelids yielding to the fatigue of the day and the turmoil of emotions you were experiencing. You missed him, you missed the way he made you feel. Drifting into the realm of Morpheus, allowing the god to sing a peaceful lullaby to calm your heart, you allowed yourself to finally rest. Snuggled into the blankets, tired of waiting on someone who seemed to live just fine without you, nothing seemed to be able to torment you anymore.

The key unlocking the front door of your home a few hours later did not startle you. How could you hear light footsteps approaching your bedroom, or the sound of rustling clothes as someone began to undress himself by your bed? You were fast asleep.

But he was there. He had come back to claim you once again. He could not help himself, when he spotted you in a fetal position among the snow-white blankets, so small compared to him and, above all, vulnerable. A lamb to the slaughter, his favorite victim but also the only person he could never really get rid of.

You were stuck in his head, you and your way of letting him know that no matter what he did outside your flat, no matter how many people he had killed, you would have always welcomed him between your arms. You were his haven. How was he supposed to stay away from you?

As the last piece of his clothing fell on the floor and he carefully climbed on on the bed, hovering over you and inspecting your features, there was nothing he could do if not delicately tracing your cheekbone with his cold, soft lips. A way to worship you, a way to gently letting you know that he was there for you and you warmth and there would have not been anything that could have ever stopped him from it.

You hummed softly, still half-asleep as your senses began to awaken again and the presence of a naked, muscular body pressed against yours made your heart skip a beat. Your lids lifted slowly, lips parting as you soaked in the angelic visage of the man you had learned to love through blood-stained clothes and sharp blades.

Blonde strands of his hair fell over your face as you reached your hand up to cup his smooth cheek in your hand “Haschwalth…” you whispered softly, lips parted in disbelief.

“Hush, it’s me” he replied in his usual monotone tone, a simple confirmation that he was really there, that you were not imagining him. It was not a vision.

You sighed, tears brimming up in your eyes, but you knew better than allowing them to spill out and run down your cheeks. Instead, you fluttered your eyes closed and let his lips leave a trail of open mouthed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. He nibbled at the tender flesh, sucking, lapping at your skin so sensually, but showing that he had suffered starvation like a lion in a desert.

He was not gentle, once his hand reached down to hike the hem of your nightgown up, his slender fingers did nothing more than pushing the fabric to the side, and you were met with a guttural growl rambling from his throat, when the pads of his fingers met your wetness. You had missed this like crazy, you had missed the way he somehow always found a way to make you so responsive in a matter of seconds.

You moaned, his fingers delving into your welcoming core, pumping in and out as he prepared you for what was yet to come. It was true that you were used to him, to his rough touch, to the way you crumbled completely when he touched you. But you felt tears brimming in your eyes, the nature of which was either the immense pleasure he was making you experience or the way your body had missed him.

“J-Jugram” you breathed out, your toes curling in pleasure, as the pressure on your lower abdomen coiled. You were close to snap, to release and he knew it. He could feel it in the way your inner, spongy walls, tightened around his fingers.

“Shut up” he whispered firmly, wrapping his free hand around your throat. The pressure was enough to prevent you from squirming around, but not enough to strangle you. The air he was depriving you of made your head spin a tad bit, but it made you focus more and more on your incoming orgasm.

Touching yourself in his absence had been pointless, the only thing it resulted in was feeding your pent up frustration of wasted orgasms far from matching the ones he induced you at.

As he felt your inner walls tightening around his slender fingers, a clear signal that your climax was about to burst, he withdrew them quickly and grasped his cock, giving it some languid strokes before lining it up to your entrance. His hand, choking you, slithered down your waist and gripped your hip to keep you in place, eyes locked with yours, as he finally entered you with a guttural moan.

Inch by inch, you took him inside you, where he belonged, where he was always supposed to be. Your jaw went slack, a strained moan leaving your lips as he gave you the time to adjust to him once again. Your arms found their place around his shoulders, your palms flattening against his muscular back and shoulderblades.

“I missed you” you meekly whimpered, while Jugram kissed you briefly, before picking up a steady by rough pace that made your body jolt with each of his thrusts.

He groaned, his grip on your body tightening as you came to the terms that he would have left some clear bruises and fingerprints over your hips. But it was in his style, this was the Sternritter Grandmaster. As charming as he was, he was a cold-blooded man.

High-pitched moans and grunts filled the room. The crescendo making you shiver as a sinful orchestra played in your bedroom. The lewd sound of skin again skin, the shaky breaths, the sound of the headbed slamming against the cerulean wall behind you were all part of this sinful song you had agreed on playing.

You did not expect him to say anything now, as your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, but he did. As he gripped your jaw, your orgasm building up again, you realized he was close to the edge and quite desperate too.

“I will show you how much I missed you. I’ll fuck a baby into you tonight” he huskily said, leaving you in a daze as butterflied fluttered into your stomach. Maybe you were not just his stress-relief object. You were more.

You were more and you knew it, as he gave you one last thrust, muffling your moan with his mouth and pressing his lips onto yours, while he filled you up to the brim. Your own juices milked him, making Jugram groan and kiss your cheek, when he slowly began to pull out of you.

“You’re staying with me. Tonight, forever” he breathed out, before collapsing onto the bed beside you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Not me cheering because I have fulfilled a request after so long! I wonder why every single time I write for Haschwalth Jugram I end up writing such lewd scenes… Who knows?😂❤️

As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are highly appreciated!

Tags: @electronicwitchcollection @brittscafe @shattereddreamssara @tsuukichan @cyberdazetragedy

#haschwalth x reader #jugram haschwalth x reader #jugram x reader #jugram haschwalth #bleach jugram #haschwalth jugram x reader #bleach smut #bleach x reader

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ganondoodle · 20 days

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Hello 👋

Swallowing my nerves at last to send you an ask! I was just wondering, what inspires your designs? Are their inspirations in stuff like movies or games? Or just things you come up with yourself?

i .. honestly its kinda hard to tell, sometimes i just randomly think of something, like some detail, or color combination and try to incorporate that into a design somehow; it can come from anywhere, like the color scheme of a pithaya/dragonfruit is something i have been wanting to make a design with for ages but havent come up with anything good in all those years ;O;

im a very easily fascinated by color, espeically in nature, like sometimes i just stop and stare at something like i froze in time bc i just woooooooooooooah color! i probably look like a weirdo doing that though

its really hard to pinpoint anything specifically, the most is probably .. other artists? i guess? which always makes me nervous bc my memory is shit in most areas of life and i worry myself to pieces whether i unintentionally "stole" an idea and just dont remember and think it was my own, it goes further that sometimes i see something that makes me want to draw a similar concept but dont bc i dont want to 'steal' even if that couldnt be further from my intention (have been accused of that before ..)

that said for my ocs specifically .. most are rather old and have just kinda evolved out of their awkward first iterations (shargons first iteration was a hauro-howl- copy that was really just some human covered in feathers .. another oc was once a hellboy copy but in green- havent drawn nor redeisgn them in ages lol), the biggest inspirations for them is a mix of animals, bonus if you dont see them often- im a big shark, whale and sea creatures in general nerd so i tend to take from them as a priority but always trying to be less directly animal and mostly just .. features that work together

Eadrya is one of the newer OCs- i started to write but then looked at my folders and oh they are from 2017 .., i even made a design timeline for them how much they, and my art, have changed back in 2020, so thats also way outdated now lol (they apparently started as a whale .. thing? its like a pokemon evolution lol)

this is them now (i like this sketch still, though shargons design is now also outdated lmao)

this ones from early 2023 so also outdated now but you get the point

for demons i try to be a bit more wild on shapes and colors while still adhering to the rules of how they work (humanoid form, demon form, animalistic, one element each and more or less made to fit that, 4 arms is very common, look to be bost scary and wild but also something that would make you stop in tracks and stare in awe and fear if you crossed paths)

often times designs just kinda .. happen, i have maybe the idea ok i wanna make something with a white and red pattern also moose or those big horned cows are cool and kinda scary so maybe sth akin to that (though this one is technically a redesign too- its also pretty much entirely different)

for non demons but still non human i go for a much more restrained design, mainly inspired directly by an animal and giving the color scheme a good spin, plus adding unconventional body shapes, like ki'ita is also a good example, her old idea was just orca anthro pirate and just by making the white green instead in her most recent redesign already adds that little spin to it

that can have its pitfalls though, as i often fall into the big arm small head small legs scheme over and over xD

alot of it is trial and error, deciding on the colors can take me hours bc im always searching for my little rule of having one contrast color that shows up in very few places to draw attention to it (like with Eadrya its those bright yellow eyes and thingy at their tail)

and that is all about myy own ocs, when its fandom stuff it works kinda similar though, either in the connections i wanna draw or just thinking it further- like how deities in destiny work also just kinda .. happened like an ever derailing train

like for demise i was at first really just im gonna give him horns bc horns are cool and he got those on the starting mural in the game- so how his hair work? well maybe it isnt hair actually and just unbound energy, im making him a deity too and fit hylias design to his so, yeah, then so how does it work, ok he gotta have a skeleton still, but what if his entire actual body is made up of pure magical energy with its core in the ribcage? with the core in the ribcage >:3c and the scales you see are just like cooled down lava as an armor bc his thing is fire and earth !! the normal blood? is a thin layer of skin imiated from mortals to keep the scales together and flexible so if he ACTUALLY gets hurt hed bleed magic that looks more like lava and any normal blood you see is just the armor- so why does he have a skeleton still instead of being just energy? maybe its gotta be bound to something OH and what if all of the deities started as mortals like a mirror to the trio later on and the gods cannot have direct influence to the worlds so they needed a right hand that is neither god nor mortal but both by killing a mortal by whatever their element will be (demise burned, hylia drowned etc) and their skeleton and spirit is kept but put into a body of magic- OH what if their spirit core is like almost piloting their bodies like a mech in a way bc if youd look close youd see that every strand of magic is actual a hand of their spirit so it makes it more weird and other bc hed be able to reach out with thousands of burning claws of all shapes and sizes like the beheaded forest god at the end of mononoke- SO if hed lose and arm or something all those strands would untangle and rearrange his bones back together-OH MY GOD the whole armor idea works so well for ghirahims dark armor so what if demise had two swords once and lost one and since has forged an armor similar to his own for ghirahim out fo fear of losing him t---

and that all is a process that happens over several weeks and months not rarely while i am drawing something mindlessly and suddendly *have a thought* and omg that makes so much sense-

so "what" inspires my designs? an ever derailing train of thought about making cool thick monsters that arent the evil thing to get rid of for once? cool color schemes? idk it just kinda happens??

#ganondoodles answers #dont think this was the point of the ask #maybe i shouldnt actually try to answer any questions bc im inherently bad at ... having an answer #i havent even gotten into the anatomy of demons in my oc stuff #yes they ... they got organs #i dont know why id need to think about how and what and their arrangmeent #but i ssure did #I DIDNT EVEN GET INTO HOW DEMONS WORK-#wasnt the ask #my brain is an unstoppable train that never lets me rest #writing soem stuff out like that really makes me realize just how MUCH THERE IS #no wonder i got not space left for any actually important information #like i couldnt tell you my phone number i have had for years but i sure could draw an anatomical study of a demon oc lol #this took me an hour to write.#why am i like this

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skyeslittlecorner · 2 months

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Orphan from Hades, outcast from Gehenna

I've wanted to do this for a long time, and I finally got around to it. Here I collect all the details that this sweet lamb has in common with Hades. ...aaand some rambling about him and his Solomon thing, because why not.

Yes, I miss him very much. Yes, I did it just to look at his beautiful face. Get ready for a collection of screenshots.

We all know that Sitri is a little... ok, very delulu about Solomon. As strange as it may sound, this is the most superficial of problems. This is eye-catching. But underneath the irritation he causes there is much, much more, and it is not good for him.

In the first part we will go through the facts and his connection with Hades, the second part is my long rant. You will have marked what is where.

PS. Sitri lovers, don't worry. I belong to this nation myself, it's not a hate rant.

Jealousy and distrust

Do I even need to mention it? He's regulary call out for this. And this is the jealousy he feels especially towards the Solo MC. During the Halloween event, he was even called out that, paraphrasing, "at this rate, maybe you really should leave Gehenna and go back to Hades". Unfortunately, I don't have this one screenshot, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Not only MC is a person which makes him jealous, but also his king. Offtop, Satan knows this and really enjoys irritating him. Apart from Sitri, MC and Leviathan (so probably all others kings too), I don't remember Satan trying to annoy anyone so purposefully, but it may be me just not remembering.

Additionally, constant doubts. Sitri has always distrusted Leamas, and if it weren't for Satan, he would have killed him on the spot. The first thing he does when Marbas appears and threatens us is pulls out a gun and puts it to his head (he is justified here because the kings did the same). In the Christmas story, whenever he sees Gabriel, he immediately throws knives at him.

Who else kills everyone who has even a 1% chance of threatening Hell?

Let alone the thing that they know and remember each other.

It doesn't mean that they knew each other very well or that they were friends. But, for example, Sitri and Bimet did not know each other. Since both Sitri and Leviathan remember each other even after some time, Sitri must have spent a lot of time in Hades. No wonder he took over their vibe.

Also, a little spoiler of ch5, just as Sitri only called us by our name when we drifted off into the land of sleep, Leviathan in his H-scene only softened when we were so unconscious that we could no longer remember it.

Weapon of choice

I have already addressed this topic here. There's no point in me dwelling on this too much. His weapon is straight from Hades. We mark this point off as obvious.

Mark & clothes

Here's a slightly more interesting thing, I admit that I noticed it only later. The tattoo on Sitri's neck. We see that it is a pentagram assigned to Satan and Gehenna, but I want to point a little curiosity.

At one point, the Sitri's symbol on his neck and Leviathan's symbol in his eye were the same. Also, very distinctive - Levi's symbol on someone's neck.

The second non-obvious thing is his clothes. Sitri is the only noble of Gehenna wearing all black. Nobles from Hades also wear black. Does this refer to this? Not necessarily, because we know that Satan's closest commandos wear dark uniforms the same as him. Sitri as a noble and Satan's right-hand devil may combine these two features.

Some headcanons and rambling

The part where I tried to be objective and draw facts ends here. Now let me happily chatter on how I interpret his behavior

bUT FIRST, I still have some unused screenshots, and how can I miss such an opportunity? PB why did you create something so beautiful?

My aesthetic sense is satisfied~

So. Let's go to my ramble. This sweet creature has huge abandonment issues. He is intelligent, and even Ppyong is confused and explains that Sitri is usually really smart, but with us he goes crazy. Besides, you can see that he behaves quite normally around others (the only exception, he can sometimes become detached around Satan).

As for our name, he knows it, and he is aware that we are not Solomon. The famous words at the end of his H-scene. So why does he call us Solomon? Because he is unable to come to terms with his departure? The easiest excuse is that he misses him and projects him onto us. That Solomon never left them and those years never existed. That Sitri doesn't care about us, that he only really wants Solomon.

But I like to think of a slightly different version.

To Hades belong the orphans, to Gehenna the outcasts. And Sitri belongs to both. We don't know what he went through, we don't know what's going through his mind, but we see his behavior towards others. He is calm and perfectly controls his emotions even during his H-scene. He is smart and morbidly suspicious, what we see a lot. Finally, he must have everything under control, to such an extent that in some matters even Satan does not try to fight him (the most striking example is that he is the only one who gives Satan blood).

When he saw us, of course, he felt the familiar spirit of Solomon. But what he really liked was us. His emotions were out of control and it scared him. So he dealt with it the only way he knew how. He can't afford to trust again and be let down again, so he forced his true emotions that he felt towards us into the "it's just love for Solomon" box. Because he has already experienced mourning for Solomon and he can cope with it somehow, maybe not well, but enough to function on a daily basis. If he was rejected again, he wouldn't be able to cope. And he can't afford it.

He is Satan's henchman, prince of Hell and The Guardian of Gehenna. He can't show weakness. He can't break down. So the defending remnants of his sanity did what they could to maintain the fragile status quo.

Does he know what he is doing is wrong? Of course. Does he realize that he is hurting us? Of course. But he is one of the highest generals in a country at war, he has to deal with all the nobles, he has to support the king, he has to be ready to fight at any moment. And his Hades mentality makes him willing to sacrifice his happiness (and last crumbs of sanity) and our liking for him to protect his king and country.

Emotions cannot be controlled. But he tries nevertheless. If he didn't feel such strong emotions towards us, he wouldn't try to deny them. If someone is traumatized, they do not always know how to properly cope with it, and his mechanism is not healthy, it harms himself and us. But what else is he supposed to do? We know the approach in Gehenna. Only strength counts. Besides, he is the "responsible one" who would listen to him and help him? We? The moment we deny him, his psyche will collapse like a house of cards.

Maybe I'm exaggerating, overinterpreting, or it's just a running joke. But after how well-developed the characters are so far, I don't want to believe that his brain just turns off with the snap of his fingers.

After all this, I only have one question.

Sitri. Baby. Who hurt you?

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb sitri #woah I didn't expect it to be such a long talk #I really missed him #maybe I'm oversensitive because I'm a writer myself #I would really love to dig under his beautiful head and find out what he thinks #he has such potential to be a complex character and that's what makes him so fascinating to me #my delusion is as strong as his thats why we should kiss

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neochan · 1 year

Text

MISCHIEF (M)

PARING | loki!jeno x reader ft. thor!haechan

SYNOPSIS | the god of mischief wants you

WC | 1k

WARNINGS | kidnapping, implied sexual references, slight cnc / dubcon

A.N | okay i've been super into marvel lately, so here is a little drabble inspired by that. please pay attention to the pairings! btw this will be continued in full over on my marvel blog, though it will be with actual loki and thor

“i didn’t expect to be seeing you on your knees so soon darling.”

the god slouches leisurely against his high-back throne. dark green and golden metal that went beyond that of earth complemented his fair complexion, the jagged spikes at the top reminiscent of the hungry gleam in his eye. one of his legs is dragged towards his chest, a toned arm slung across the knee. it was uncommon to see a god in such a state. unbothered, unproper, inappropriate for someone of his status.

you suppose he could do what he wished. that much was evident in the situation at hand, literally. fingers uncomfortably dig into the skin of your upper arms, half pulling, half dragging, you along the cool marble floor until you were situated on your scraped knees before the god. the binding holding your wrists together behind your back pinches the skin, but you don’t cry out. in fact, you give them nothing.

his guards don’t let go until he flicks a hand in their direction, dismissing them from their duty. he looks unbothered when he does it, as if you hadn’t been the very thing he scoured the multiverse for. years on end, tracking, searching, yearning for you. the very thing needed to satiate that hunger in his eyes; the reprieve for an insatiable creature. it was only by your incompetence that he captured you. falling for his mind tricks – something so simple yet so incredibly careless. you’d beat yourself up every single second you spent in the tiny cell you were in – tucked away in the corner of his ship where no one could hear you yelling obscenities at yourself, the guards, the god.

without thinking, you spit in his direction. you hated him. despised him. the guards go to grab you again but jeno simply waves them off, “no need gentlemen. seem’s like our visitor here needs to learn manners. please occupy yourselves with something else so i can teach her.”

the two men bow low to the ground before retreating to tend to other matters on the ship. not like there was much to do, you were drifting through deep space. some place no one would find you. not even haechan.

“haechan will come looking for me.” you seethe, gritting your teeth when jeno hops up off the stool and tauntingly saunters towards you.

his footsteps echo through the room. the noise makes your stomach churn, and you fear him for a second. he was a god. someone so powerful he could rip your existence from time and space. he should be feared. you knew he could sense it too, a smug smirk lifting the corner of his upper lip.

“my brother isn’t even aware of your disappearance.” the annoyance on his tongue at their familial tie is evident.

that couldn’t be. he knew you were gone. he was probably assembling the avengers as you spoke, he was probably already on his way, maybe even close-

“oh my darling y/n, he’s not on his way. and he’s definitely not close.”

mind reading. you sneer, “fuck off.”

“what filthy words for a pretty girl like you. do i need to wash your mouth out with soap like a child?” his eyebrows raise, features mimicking faux concern.

spit works itself up in your mouth, but right before you’re about to project it in his direction, his hand reaches out and squeezes your jaw, “you are a child. didn’t your mommy and daddy teach you not to spit on people. gods, i expected more from you.” his calloused fingers squeeze harder, “swallow.”

you have no choice but to comply.

“now, why don’t i teach you how to properly use that mouth of yours, hm?”

the heat that was threatening to pool between your legs betrays your brain, which was screaming at you to say no. to break free of the binds and get the fuck out of there.

“darling, i can feel it. you want – need it as much as i do.” he lets go of your jaw and takes a step back, “it’s distracting…overwhelming.” his eyes close and he breathes deep, “your body… it’s tense. waiting for...”he smirks, and you feel the familiar probe of his mind searching your own, “my fingers?” his eyes snap open, “gods, you have a thing for my hands? oh darling it’s too late to deny it now.”

you hated how intrusive he was. how he could take any of the thoughts from your brain and devour them. a personal diary for the picking.

“stop reading my mind! i d-don’t have a thing for your hands. LET ME GO!” your scream rings out through the foyer. this was humiliating. defeating. you just wanted to go home.

“my sweet, i can make this your home. your empire.” he kneels down in front of you, a hand reaching out to caress the same jaw he had nearly crushed earlier, “i didn’t almost crush your jaw. i was stopping you from ruining my suit.”

doe eyes peak up at him with anger, “get your hands off of me.”

“would you rather them be here?” light as a feather, his fingers trail down the side of your throat, favoring the front of the tattered shirt you were in. they slip underneath the hem and slide over the expanse of your stomach.

the gasp that leaves your lips is a betrayal of your own mind.

“i know you want this darling. give in to me.” the god of mischief, chaos, and trickery stares at you through his heavy lashes. you knew he could manipulate someone’s mind, make them bend to his will with one look, but as you nod your head slowly, the words refusing to come out, you realize that there was no manipulation.

he was right all along.

#jeno smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct jeno smut #jeno x reader #marvel!nct #loki!jeno #marvel x nct #lee jeno smut #jeno drabble #nct dream drabble #nct scenarios #jeno blurb

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