I’m not sure howww exactly to go about infodumping properly but I’m going to try! I have ALOT of worlds, and some are way more developed than others, but I’m gonna talk about critter pitter for now since thats the one my friends are the most interested in! I assume you guys will be too! Depending on how this is received/makes me feel I might post about my other worlds and characters! Anyway
The species in this world’s ancestors were made of a slime like substance! They had complete control over their forms due to their malleability! This also allowed them to merge together into one form with a shared consciousness were neither party was harmed, though this wasn’t always done willingly, unfortunately. The species intermingled and bred with humans so much that they lost most of their abilities, including the ability to harmlessly merge into one another! Unfortunately the instinct still sort of stayed, so there are people who have a confusing urge to eat other members of their species, and there are people who have an even more confusing urge to be eaten by other members of their species.
Some people act on these urges more violently, but some have found safely eating and holding another person sates the urge well enough. It’s illegal for people to eat others fatally, obviously, but that doesn’t stop everyone. Prey feel unsafe around Preds for the most part because of this. They don’t often find justice due to most the evidence of the murder being digested, and even when they do, most prey aren’t saved in time, which only makes the divide worse. Humans are technically lumped in with prey, though they are at less risk of being eaten since urges rarely bleed over into wanting to consume human beings. That doesn’t always apply though, so they are encouraged to be just as careful.
This is the basic world set up! The next part is still sort of a work in progress, so bare with me if it sounds scattered or makes little to no sense. Constructive criticism on this idea would be greatly appreciated as I am very conflicted on it!
The trade is an organization of predators in power who believe eating and digesting prey is their birthright. They are very very selective on who they let join them. To get in you must be referred to by someone already apart of the trade, and then the trade will begin its though-rough background check on you. If you pass all their basic criteria, you will be allowed to purchase prey. If the trade finds you interesting enough, or you apply when applications are open, (which members are also informed of when this time comes!) you might be offered a job in one of their four sectors.
Sector one is responsible for collecting produce. You are either apart of the pickup crew, or you are one of the many preds who work undercover for the trade, looking for prey who won’t be missed. These preds work in many many places, like hospitals, churches, colleges, etc. They make a list of prey who’s disappearances won’t be noticed and deliver it to the pickup crew, who are responsible for, you guessed it, finding and collecting the prey on the list. They are also responsible for holding the prey until they are ready to be sold. The locations in which they hold prey changes frequently to lessen the risk of being caught. The qualifications for this job vary. If you are a seeker, you must have a good, or at least neutral public image, and you must be able to read people well. You also must be at least somewhat welcoming, so you can get to know the prey you are around and pin point who exactly is best fit for the list. Collectors simply must be good at keeping themselves and the prey quite and going by unnoticed during the pickup process. Intimidation and strength are usually what the trade looks for in members of this department.
Sector two is responsible for letting in new members and hiring new recruits. Members go to sector two to refer a friend or family member, and then sector two will proceed to do their background checks. If they deem the person a good fit they are responsible for discreetly offering them a chance to become a member, and making them aware of the responsibilities and risks that comes with knowing about and being apart of the trade. They are also responsible for going over applications and holding interviews. This is one of the safest jobs in the entire trade.
Sector three is responsible for keeping people quite, for lack of a better description. They are responsible for threatening pred and prey who try to talk about the organization, and if that alone doesn’t work, they are responsible for killing these pred and prey to keep them quiet. They are also responsible for killing traitors inside the trade, though there are very very few. The qualifications for this job are similar to that of the collectors, though they must also possess the ability to hold themselves up in a fight, and actually kill when needed. This job is the most dangerous in the trade, but it doesn’t come without its benefits.
Sector four is where the higher ups work. They are responsible for keeping track of every single member of the trade and making sure they are all doing their jobs correctly and keeping a good public image. They are also responsible for keeping track of escapees or preds who turned down their invitations to make sure they don’t talk. Most people in this sector have powerful positions outside the trade, and use this power to cover up any mistakes their members might make. They work very very closely to the executioners.
The rebellion is a collection of prey who are fighting against the way they are treated and the little amount of protection they have for themselves. The rebellion’s origins were already very violent, the members attacking preds in power or with fame with histories of violence or mistreatment towards prey, but they quickly learned there was something much much more threatening at large, and are working together to stop the trade as a whole. The rebellion is much less picky about who they let in, but all members must pledge their lives and loyalty to their cause. They are split into groups similarly to how the Trade is split into sectors.
Group one is responsible for helping people get situated when they initially join. They help them decide what group to be in, and give them the run down of everything the group stands for and what that means for its members. They are responsible for sending all members of the rebellion notifs on events and meeting locations as well.
Group two is responsible for prey in need. They collect food and money and provide support for prey families who need help. This is done anonymously, but they always make the families receiving their donations that the rebellion is who provided them in an attempt to gain new members, or supporters of their cause. Members inside the rebellion can also ask for finical help, but it is up to the group to decide if they are in need of their resources.
Group three are the hunters. They work and train with preds to learn how to kill them in groups despite their size, as well as how to get away or survive in the hands of one. They are sent out to kill preds in power with violent histories to make powerful statements about their cause, as well as take in and torture others for information about other preds on the list that are more dangerous than them. When they have the information, they will also rescue prey on the list before they can be picked up by the collectors. This is the most dangerous job in the rebellion, but it is “the most important”, and most new recruits are ushered to at least check it out.
Group four is responsible for keeping up with preds on their list. They keep track of their history, their position, and if they can, if they are apart of the trade or not. They also keep track of events the preds hold in attempts to find the best times to strike those they wish to kill or kidnap.
The last position isn’t a group at all, it is simply just the leaders. He is responsible for keeping track of each and every member of the rebellion, and killing anyway who tries to sabotage it. He also keeps up the morale, giving frequent speeches about what it is their actions stand for and what they will accomplish in the long run.
Ermm my hands are cramping and I don’t know what else to write. Seeya
I haven’t finished reading this yet, cuz my brain says we can only read so much at a time, so I’m bookmarking to read the rest when I can. However what I have read is intriguing. Do this other species have inhuman characteristics? Do pred and prey have distinguishing traits? If it says there’s size difference, I haven’t gotten that far but. I will hopefully be able to read the rest soon
I don’t think healthy people every really get chronic illness.
I have a friend I know from when we were both 6. She is the only person living nearby and so she saw me go from walking through limping to wheelchair on a daily basis. I keep her updated on my health even tho we rarely hang out anymore.
She was gonna come over yesterday and I had to cancel. She asked if I can’t hang out later that day. When I said i won’t feel better later, that if I feel that bad in the morning later will only get worse she got annoyed and “joked” that I’m just finding excuses. And I was surprised, she knows all about me being disabled after all? So, a bit taken aback, I told her it’s a normal thing for me.
“But you got the diagnosis now, aren’t you better?? I thought you’ll get better now”
She was honestly surprised and it made me realize a thing. They don’t get it. They don’t get that getting diagnosed only equals benefits like welfare or parking spot for us, and sometimes better pain meds but that is just like pushing luck. That it’s a forever thing. That that one day we felt good a week ago was just a bright spot and doesn’t mean we won’t need our aids anymore, cause chronic illness is not linear and will make a great comeback in next four hours, and the next good day is planned on when we’re 70.
Cause when abled people are sick, they get better. And our illness is just an excuse for them. And when we say we will never get better they think we’re being dramatic and pessimistic.
And I don’t think they’ll ever get it, cause to get it you need to live it.
And I want my friends to stay healthy and not go through hell.
I routinely have people well aware of my disabilities/chronic illness congratulate me on how I “seem to be doing so much better these days!” on a good pain/energy day and then basically try to stage an intervention a week later on a bad one. “You seem to be on a decline lately, I’m just concerned you’re not taking care of yourself!” And then a week later on a good day again congratulate me on how I really seem to have improved and must be making a real effort to keep on top of my health, with no irony or self-awareness whatsoever.
The narrative of “getting better” is so ingrained that healthy abled people will ignore massive amounts of cognitive dissonance to apply it where it makes absolutely no sense.
And this belief in “getting better” is actively harmful because that’s how we get shitty things like people having their benefits “reviewed” and taken away because it’s been ten years and they’re not going to the doctor “enough.” They don’t need to get constant treatment after they know what they have, but that doesn’t mean they’re magically cured or just “not trying”!!! It means they’re ill, they’re always going to be ill, and going to the doctor every week isn’t going to change that (not to mention it’s expensive af)!
I see this in my job much more frequently than I should (we help people fight benefit denials and occasionally get back benefits after these “reviews”). Sometimes it’s justified - the person went back to work - but more often, it’s not, it’s just that some worker somewhere decided that this person or that person should be all better by now, and that’s just not how chronic illness works, so ending this idea that chronically ill people will just get better would help put a stop to shit like that.
They cannot comprehend that we do not control our health. In their world, when people are sick it’s because they caught it from someone else, and if you stay sick it’s your fault for not taking care of yourself. They cannot fathom a world where you can
do everything right and still be sick.
“don’t let your disability define you! Fight! INspirEd! Taking back my life from Cancer!” This narrative is everywhere in Able culture. If you JUST tried harder you’d get better. THAT is what they live and believe.
Therefore to them if we are “still” sick or “Sick Again” it’s because WE did something wrong. They can’t comprehend a world where you can’t Earn health as a reward for performing purity, kale and yoga.
Going vegan, praying, making a pilgrimage, going gluten free, slathering yourself in Oils, working out, running, yoga, living on kale and ethically harvested fruit smoothies- Some people are convinced that If I Do Good And Live Correctly No Bad Things Can Happen- I Do Good So I am Earning A Life Without Problems.-People With Problems Must Not Be As Pure As I Am. This is of course directly in opposition of every (accepted) major religious or philosophical doctrine known to man. There are millions of reasons to do things we believe to be good but “Because it will earn me a mortal life where I have no problems I can’t control” is NEVER promised ANYWHERE.
“Expecting the Bull not to charge you because you’re a vegetarian” as the proverb goes, is the height of Human folly.
I’m trying my best. I’m doing what I can. I’m eating and exercising and moving and doing self care- why can’t you see that? You say I’m not trying. You say I haven’t gotten enough done; that I haven’t met your status quo. But I am doing what I can. You say I should drag myself everywhere I go when my legs don’t work, because having a chair will ruin my recovery. It’s been years. I’m not going to recover. You’re stealing my quality of life simply because you can and I’m so sick of it. You think you know what’s best for me and you don’t. I know my body better than any doctor or well meaning parent or teacher ever can or will. I know I won’t stay down when I don’t have to, but you don’t trust that. I’m done. I’m so tired.
Also it’s not entirely the same, but when middle aged adults complain about how sore they are or say things like “wait ‘til you’re my age and your body starts to hurt” or “I hate getting old.” It hurts. Because you had the whole entirety of your youth to feel good; where your body did what it was meant to and acted the way you told it to. You had your time. I’m sorry you’re sore but could you try and be a tiny bit sensitive? My body has hurt for years and I’m not even eighteen. I know what it feels like, don’t tell me I don’t.
also my religion does not say that if you do things right, good things will happen to you, just side note but you’re right that most people do seem to think that
(Reposting because I forgot to add the water mark)
Commission for KayRyNautical on DeviantArt, of their character Captain Valÿx Alew, an alien mercenary. This character was honestly really fun to draw! Thank you Kay for the commission!
lmao but what if I didn’t write anything I should be writing and just wrote this instead
Second part to Caught * Masterpost
*note that canonically Meryl does some Things before this happens but cutting that out since it has NOTHING to do with the content on here. Though I am like this close to making a blog just to post his full story at this point Oml)
Content warnings: Kinda NOT vore-ish, but it has its parts. Some themes of self-esteem issues, implied murder (not fatal vore), menacing pred bs as always, some crying/breaking down
======
Once more Meryl slipped away and was spending the night roaming, enjoying the deep rich colour of blue that surrounded him and another wonderfully clear night that sept into the water. It was all ordinary, and this time he kept his distance from the shore.
He knew better than to go after someone who could, and probably absolutely would, kill him. However, by his luck, there was something else to disturb him tonight. A little ways out, trudging along, was a massive, black beast that dipped into the water, and yet also floated upon it, with most of its body above the shore.
A ship.
Those weren’t entirely unusual, however, he noted how the ship dragged something along.
Fishing nets.
Meryl knew very little of the human world, however, he knew one thing, humans weren’t allowed to fish here. It was an area protected from it, disallowed. Yet the black beast, to his dismay, chugged on- towards him, as a matter of a fact. Towards where his family and colony slept peacefully and vulnerably, and towards where fish colonies were rich and plentiful.
These humans were not welcome there, but he knew exactly how he’d deter them. He’d seen it done before, as a ship certainly wasn’t an outlier in occurrences, but he’d never done it himself. He’d only handled all the cut nets and lines, disposing of them. His father said he was too weak to take care of it otherwise, so he simply took to cleaning duty.
But he could do it.
He could chase them away; from what he saw, there was only one net, and even if they had a spare, he could easily get that, too.
So, he headed back home on a mission for passive sabotage, and slipped between weeds and coral until he came into the comfortable, caved out spot, a spot very close to his family’s sleeping quarters. Although, as long as he was stealthy, he would be fine—they were all heavy sleepers. Meryl wished he were a heavy sleeper.
Once he was inside his little den not a moment did he linger, quickly rushing over to a stone-carved compartment and began to slide off its terribly heavy lid. He allowed for it to sink to the ground slowly before he looked inside.
As he searched through his things, finally his eyes set upon his target, inciting a tingle of disdain from a place deep inside him.
The gold colour was something opulent and appealing to the eye- most others wore bronze or silver or metal of other kinds, but his was special. He was treated unfairly—better than everyone else, which was ironic when he felt he was the only one worth less.
The metal shimmered and shined as he dared to pick them up, and gazed at the sharp, pointed ends. It was easy to tell from its condition it went entirely unused; it looked pristinely new. Its build was strange—the way there were so many parts that had to click and move to allow proper use of the hands. The armor sort of hugged along the top of one’s fingers and closed together at the base, leaving the bottom edge unprotected in that regard, but the way the claws curved would make it very difficult for someone to hurt his palm or the uncovered parts of his hand.
Uncomfortably, he began to slip it on, and felt the ring click onto the wrist it was perfectly sized for like a bracelet or band, but much heavier and unpleasant. He cringed as it bit onto each one of his fingers and fully locked into place. Fingers flexed and moved, and latching onto him was a tinge of horror as in its full movement, his own hands became something quite monstrous.
An involuntary shuttered sparked up through as the only memory he had of the tool slipped into his mind, and how the water had turned a deep, violent red.
Under any circumstance but his, they were to kill. “To defend yourself,” his father would insist, but he’d rather be killed than do something so grizzly to anyone. That sort of burning grief and guilt, regardless of whom he harmed, already haunted him.
Although he’d only have to use the claws once, and it wouldn’t even be on anyone else, he couldn’t. It felt wrong, and so each piece un-clicked and cautiously, so slowly and fearfully, he pulled it off and placed it back into the stone compartment it had come from before he heaved the lid back on.
Favouring a friendlier solution, he picked up a particularly sharp shell and set off. It would do the job just as well.
********
Soon enough he was getting close, and wearily he slowed so as to not get himself caught. High above him he placed his sight on the ship, and grasped the shell carefully. He was calculated and hesitant as he pressed forward and found himself nearer and nearer to the boat, yet he couldn’t see any sort of lines or nets down yet.
Maybe they had taken it up?
His heart sank.
If they had done that, it meant they already caught all the fish they wanted. But was so quiet here. They hadn’t come across any of the good spots yet as far as he was aware, though he only found the ship recently. How could they have already filled their nets? And more importantly, why would they come to these waters to do so? What made them so desperate?
That thought became latent in his mind as his answer came to him, terrifying in the way he felt something push him forward, wrapping and encapsulating him entirely. He thrashed and panicked against the net as it yanked his weapon away from him.
I should’ve been holding on tighter, he scolded himself in the midst of his struggling.
He pushed and swam against the net, but whatever hoisted it up was far stronger than he was. How many humans were pulling this net? It only heightened his fear to realize he’d be in their grasp when it was clear these ones meant harm, if not to him then to his home, and frankly, to hurt his home was to hurt him either way. He fought mightily against it and regretted the fact he hadn’t taken the claws instead, those would be helpful right now. He couldn’t be such an Idiotic screw-up with those.
He let out something between a whimper and a shout as he was jostled and tossed repeatedly as something tugged him upwards and forced him out of the water entirely. He mourned for every drop of water that he lost. The side of the ship was nothing of note, but he quickly missed it as he made it up to the deck and was flashed with violent light. His eyes squinted shut in discomfort and he covered his ears mostly at the sound of human chatter, but there were plenty of heavy, foreign sounds accompanying them. Once he felt the light ease up, he opened his eyes, just in time to watch as a few humans grasped onto the net and shoved him down. He was pressed to a cold, strange floor that was dark and metallic. It reminded him of the feeling of the claws, and what he imagined they’d feel like when they were dry.
He tried to push himself up, but the net still wrapped around him tightly, like a snake eagerly coiling its prey. It did him no use, but he looked around anyways, somewhat frantic to understand how many humans he was with. He could only count about six. Six humans lifted him up with such ease?
One reached over to the net, and seemed to untangle it until another human spoke.
“What are you doing?” It asked the other human, angrily.
The questioning human was a tall and dark figure who loomed over almost the entirety of the human group. It must’ve been the important one, he thought.
The one that had grasped the net stared. “We’re letting him go, aren’t we? They aren’t legal to sell.”
The dark human looked at the helpful human with a grimace as its gaze now pounded down at Meryl. “And that’ll make it sell all the better. Put it away.”
“Dead or alive?” An obscure human asked, and his heart might’ve tasted a brief moment of death as it skipped a beat.
“Alive.” It said bluntly, and began to walk away before it turned back. “You,” it pointed to the helpful human who still clutched the net. He noticed the look of shock on its face. “If you like it so much, put it away.”
“Yes sir.” It mumbled quietly, then looked back down to him.
He stared up with pleading eyes. Out of all the humans, this one seemed kind. He hoped dearly he could convince it to save him. Another human or two joined it, but rather than removing the net, they decidedly cut it and sealed it back up with some other material winding around it. Rope, he was pretty sure it was called. Either way, it made the net feel like an even tighter space, so he spoke out helplessly against it.
“Please let me go.” He pleaded and squirmed, but the humans only seemed to gaze away, perhaps out of guilt, or maybe it truly was an apathy.
He begged and begged again, and no response was received. They tossed him onto something strange to secure him, then left him be. He was alone with all but one human as company, it was the helpful human who stared at him pitifully. He could see the gentle rounds and wrinkles in its face, and its white hair- it looked sympathetic.
“I’m sorry.” It said quietly, compassionately, before it turned and walked away.
He appreciated the sympathy, he felt terribly ungrateful for it too, but… it wasn’t that helpful. Now he was entirely, completely alone and there wasn’t a prospect of escape anywhere, which only left him feeling hopeless. The true direness of his situation began to press into him mercilessly, an erratic beat in his chest and a twisting in his stomach. When he squirmed and thrashed, the feelings only seemed to heighten as the net gave no care to his desperation. He watched humans walk by carelessly, and his eyes began to water. To this he scolded himself, water is too important to waste right now, crying tears and struggling would probably just make him dry out quicker.
A long time went by, a few hours perhaps, and by then Meryl felt a little lightheaded. His body allowed for him to breath above water to a certain degree, but it functioned best beneath, where the gills that accompanied and outmatched his lungs thrived. The world was dizzying and confusing, and distant noises such as the shouting of men and splashing of water were only vague in his mind. One by one the crew seemed to disappear. He knew it was happening, but he had no idea why, and his brain was too blurry to muster a substitute answer for him or otherwise wonder. He let out a distressed whimper at his state. Was there going to be someone who came for him? This was painful and uncomfortable. He was vulnerable and dry and dizzy and all sorts of disorientated by tonight and now he wished he had just stayed home and tried to sleep like a normal mer. Why couldn’t he ever just be a normal mer?
Meryl’s body froze up as he heard the thudding of footsteps approaching, and suddenly the air powerfully whisked by him and made a WHOOSH sound, as if someone had just… flapped their wings.
“Oh my,” came a familiar voice, and Meryl scrambled to look around and place it. In the gross yellow, dystopian and fake light Diosia looked much different. Scarier. “Why, they even left me a treat.” Diosia purred as he placed his hands down on the edge of whatever Meryl was on.
His narrowed eyes and a smug curve to his lips suggested something sinister, and in the light the yellow of his eyes looked saturated. Meryl was frightened and half-dazed, he couldn’t muster a reply if he wanted to.
Diosia chuckled as he leaned in and studied his condition. “You’re a rather unlucky thing, aren’t you?” He asked as he tugged at the net briefly before he rose back up and brought himself high.
Meryl weakly nodded, laying down and curled up as much as he could be. He’d reply to Diosia kindly if he could, he felt awful for not answering, but he felt truly terrible.
“You’re rather quiet tonight,” Diosia mused as he prowled about the sort of table Meryl had been left on. “Something wrong in particular? Or was our first meeting merely an exception to your typical?”
Meryl realized maybe this was his chance.
“W-water.” He creaked out, so hoarse and faint one might’ve thought they imagined it.
“Ah, you’re thirsty? Very well then…”
Meryl tried to poke his head up as Diosia disappeared somewhere. His sight tried to follow the black of his wings, but those too disappeared behind a corner of the vessel. It was clear the siren misunderstood, but as long as he was brought his water, he’d be fine. He rested his head for a brief moment to be interrupted by the sound of Diosia returning. THUD and Diosia stood on the surface with him too, a cup in his hand and a sly, plotting look on his face as he bent down to sit. He set himself down and even through the netting pulled Meryl close to his liking, using each strand as if it were a puppet’s string to adjust him to be forwards facing and back pressed against Diosia as his legs looped around Meryl.
Diosia grabbed his chin, which made the netting cut into him, and forced it to tilt upwards as he pressed the cup to his lips. Meryl hadn’t any sort of energy or power to resist, and regardless of whether or not he did, Diosia would have total power over him as long as he fancied. He obediently drank until Diosia pulled the cup away.
“Better?” He asked Meryl as he forced him to look over to him.
“I-in water.” Meryl murmured back.
With a sudden, great poise Diosia rose and let go of Meryl, making him realize all the support Meryl had been using, and how he’d been leaning against him. However, he was given hardly any time at all to register or think further as the heaving sensation of gravity tugged his whole body down and pressed him into the bottom of the net. His brain was given just enough time to understand that Diosia was flying before almost his whole body was dunked beneath the water and held there.
The sensation of relief was powerful- that was two things checked off. Escape the humans, breathe clearly. But a third problem had so kindly graced him now. Diosia had him entirely in his clutches- he was helpless still, just by a different name. There would be no chances for running unless Diosia let him go, and why would he do that? He already noticed how the water pushed along, and with the view from above it was clear Diosia was carrying him along towards shore. With a revitalized breath and mind, he battled powerfully against this newly assigned fate. No matter who it was for, he was NOT going to be dinner.
But by his odds it seemed he was, as now Diosia had scooped him back up out of the water, and they were soaring incredibly high while only going higher. Meryl watched in horror as the sight of water disappeared below them and was replaced with the rocky top of a cliff that became closer and closer until he met the ground in a surprisingly gentle way.
His breathing was heavy as he gazed about and tried to seek out the nearest body of water. He found the edge of the cliff taunted him with the prospect of all the water just below it, but that was mixed with jagged rocks, and he couldn’t out-swim Diosia even if he somehow managed to land safely and consciously. He conceded to the fact he was trapped with Diosia, and now he could only cower and hope Diosia may make it painless for him. Speaking of him, he approached- Meryl scrambled away desperately and gasped with shock as even though he was already aware, it truly solidified an image of death in his mind.
He was lulled and forced to be tame by the sweet sound of song, and Diosia loomed over him for a moment.
“I will be back soon, little mer.” His wings began to spread as he took a few light steps away. “I’d advise staying still for both our sakes.”
And then again Diosia was gone. Meryl whimpered and clutched at the netting for some shred of comfort, cuddling into the sharp, unfriendly edges as if it were a blanket, for it was all he had, and maybe all he would until he was dead. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes and began to flow easily, and he couldn’t help but tremble. It’s not as though, this time, his crying inconvenienced anyone. It was a long time before something aside from his sharp, sobbing inhales could be heard.
“Meryl.” Came a soft voice, sweet and still harmonic.
He curled into himself more, and didn’t bother replying- something that only made his crying worse as guilt sept into him from ignoring someone.
“Y-y-yeah?” He managed to chatter out.
He heard the gentle grating of something against the net, and glanced up to see how Diosia cut it away.
“Are you alright?”
Diosia’s expression was unreadable. It was nothing sympathetic, but nothing cruel or menacing either. He didn’t know Diosia well, but it felt strange, maybe out of character.
The question broke him.
“N-NoOOO.” He sobbed and collapsed into himself in the same way the net had fallen around him now.
Suddenly he was lifted out of the coils of rope and into something gentle and warm. It wrapped around him entirely, and shielded him from anything but himself. He appreciated the gentle act of sympathy, especially right before he’d be gone, and so thanked him quietly.
Diosia did not sing nor speak. He only breathed, peacefully. Meryl cried a little more, and the emergence of a gentle voice broke him down further.
“I won’t hurt you, Meryl.”
He didn’t question it, he took every word as the truth it was intended to be perceived as, and wrapped his arms around Diosia tightly. “TH-th-thank you.” He whimpered and sniffled.
Diosia sang a few tender notes and calmed Meryl’s mind, chasing away every fear and anxiety that plagued him. Slowly, Diosia’s embrace retracted, and Meryl understood it was time to let go.
Diosia smiled in a way somewhat similar to what he had become accustomed to. “I’m merely repaying the favour. You saved me, and now I have done the same for you.” He leaned in, finally some of the menace returning as his smile grew. “I won’t owe you anything next time though, little mer.”
Meryl smiled warmly and sweetly in the way he always did. “You owed me nothing,” he spoke as calmly as he could, “but thank you. I won’t forget it.”
Diosia chuckled softly as he rose, and with ease scooped Meryl up in his arms to carry him back to shore. It all went too quickly for him, and before he knew it he was being gently and insistently placed into the soft tempo of waves retracting over sand. By the time he was set down completely and had adjusted himself to turn around, Diosia was already disappearing again- a bleak, almost invisible figure in the night. He dipped his head beneath the relieving familiarity of the water, although he was tempted to simply gawk, and made his way back home as well.
This chapter has gone through a lot of editing aagghh. But, here's the start to Meryl and Diosia, thanks for giving it a chance <3
Masterpost
If any lore/mentions/whatnot doesn’t make sense I apologize! These characters are pulled from a story of mine that I haven’t posted here. If any concepts intrigue/confuse you I am happy to explain lol
Content warnings: Danger/general menacing aura shenanigans, passing out due to choking, some physical violence, one instance of profanity/strong language, brief vore mention
======
Meryl slowly lifted his head to the surface to be brushed by the cold air, and patiently waited for the water to run down his face before he breathed in and sighed out. The merfolk bobbed up and down along slightly with the sea. He studied everything around him, and although it seemed he was alone, was still dissatisfied.
Alone did not necessarily mean private.
He gazed at the silver light painted that shuttered and wavered across the water for a moment, before he ducked back down and continued on, headed for shore. The ground below rose up, becoming taller and taller, until it forced him to duck down further in order to not be noticed. Soon, he bordered the shore and the water became much more shallow. It was still deep, though.
He hadn’t been out this way often before; he rarely got this close to land, making this place strange and foreign to him. The terrain began to shift and jagged rocks all around him looked hostile and wicked, the cliffs from above complimented in their black colour with the shadow they casted, darkening the water. The waters only blackened further with more jagged rocks and fragments of vessels and human things, as if it were a sort of graveyard.
When he swam by the sand he disturbed it, and only uncovered more disturbing things, so he swam much closer to the surface. All the fish crept in corners and stared bug-eyed.
He didn’t like it here.
He was about to turn back, and then something… called for him? It was a soft and harmonic sound. He froze up, knowing exactly what it meant. He remembered hearing it a long time ago, goodness… he was so young then. Now he was much older, but he still doubted that, even as a fully grown mer, he was strong enough to fight a siren.
But he wasn’t strong enough to resist them, either. The sound lured him along unwillingly, and he fought with impulse after impulse, pushing himself back a few feet only to push himself forward a few more. Fighting was useless and helpless until the sound stopped. He gazed around nervously, wondering what had caused its ceasing. His head lifted up above the water to get a better look, and yet he was still alone. Alone, but—
Beat, beat, beat came the sounds of wings. He whipped around to see it, and his eyes took in the sight of a creature tall and large—he didn’t remember sirens ever being that big.
Siren.
He reminded himself in a panic, but felt frozen still under its gaze. It stood tall upon one of the jagged rocks, its eyes a bright yellow and the night-black of its wings sumptuous and impressive. The sun-coloured eyes absorbed everything about him, from the turquoise of his scales and gold jewelry strewn across himself, to the curls in his hair and blue in his eyes.
The creature thoughtfully paced forward, each step elegant and seemingly part of a calculated dance. It was graceful. Its chin and shoulders held high and bold, sly smirk upon its face. It was very handsome, and the way it held itself reminded Meryl to correct his own stance.
Once it was close, it spoke as if it were humored. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a little far from home? Hm?”
Its voice was hypnotic and melting.
Meryl stammered, “Yes, I’m so very sorry.” He agreed. “I did not mean to intrude.”
Its eyes flicked up and down.
“It is only of a minor intrusion. I’m not one to mind company.” It replied with a grin.
Meryl kindly reciprocated the smile- here’s to hoping you’re not hungry tonight. “I’m glad, may I ask your name?”
Smoothly, the creature lowered itself to its haunches to get a better look at him, seemingly more fascinated with his form than anything else. “I am Diosia—“Meryl’s heart lurched when their eyes met. “—And you are?”
“Meryl.” He answered, trying to maintain a friendly smile above his nervousness.
Diosia sat down comfortably and quite suddenly reached out for him. it was something he couldn’t fight—a sweet voice brought him to submission and dragged him up onto the rock. Unwillingly, he had joined Diosia.
“Oh please, sit with me.” Diosia purred over him with a sly grin.
Meryl tried to shake it off, laughing slightly as he tucked himself in. “Well, you are friendly enough to.”
Diosia leaned in a little, his voice somewhere between teasing and taunting. “So it would seem.” Suddenly, Diosia changed the topic, “Might I ask where you received the gold from?” He enquired as he tapped against the band—a golden one which matched the base of his tail and curved to complimented the natural, rounded V shape he had there.
“My jewelry has all been gifted to me by my family.”
“Ah, that’s so very sweet of them.”
Something about the tone didn’t feel right.
Abruptly, Diosia’s scanning and assessment seemed to cease, and he leaned forward and grabbed Meryl.
Diosia held a firm yet gentle grasp around his wrist and spread out his palm to study it. “Where are your claws?” He went on to inspect them with a smug curiosity. “Certainly if you intended to go out you’d wear them-“
“I don’t use claws.” He replied softly.
Diosia smiled wider. “Oh?”
He felt uncomfortable elaborating to the stranger, and so he simply nodded.
“Well… I must admit, that is a surprise,” Diosia leaned in and loomed over him, pressing his hand and arm into the stone below as he did so. “but certainly a welcome one to have an unarmed mer in my midst. You’ll be fun—I can already tell.”
Meryl flinched at the emphasis of the word, but still only stared up at the creature with a wonder in his eyes. To be in its presence was the sensation of having something divine wash over you, something seraphic. All at once calm and yet fear washed over him as Diosia’s eyes met his.
Meryl’s breath hitched as Diosia leaned in, and seemingly belittled, “Not even going to fight me, little mer?”
“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Meryl said in an earnest reply.
Diosia retreated a little, taken aback by the remark, but then he laughed softly and spoke on, “You couldn’t if you tried…”
Meryl’s reasoning was obscured by memory, the memory of someone he couldn’t save. He didn’t want to hurt this siren—there were already so few left.
“I wouldn’t try.”
A more warm, inquisitive look answered back, but then Diosia pulled it all away. “It would be lovely to have a willing meal, wouldn’t it?” He pondered, a purr to his tone taunting and threatening, yet very velvety.
He gave a meek smile back. “Oh I don’t mean that. I would like if you let go of my arm, please.”
Surprisingly, Diosia let go, and slowly drew his hand away as he studied the mer some more.
A smirk came back to Diosia’s face. “If you do not wish to be eaten, but you do not wish to fight, what are your options, little mer?”
In a friendly gesture, Meryl sat himself up and smiled. “I’d be happy to talk!”
A mocking chuckle in reply made him shrivel up a little, and in an act of shielding he subconsciously tucked his head and shoulders in.
“Oh no,”—Diosia looked entertained, but still deathly serious—“run.”
Diosia leapt at him and he yelped in surprise, hastily rolling off the rock and struggling off of the harsh surface as his body rapidly garnered terrible cuts and scraps from scrambling away. He dived half-way into the water until, to his horror, he was tugged back upwards.
He struggled and thrashed and pushed away from its wall beneath the water until he was very purposefully released and rolled over himself, whacking his head against it. A hand grasped his head to support himself, but he quickly and desperately darted away regardless of the pain.
His heart beat wildly in his chest.
He dared to glance behind himself to see if he was being pursued and saw no one. Out of suspicion, his pace slightly slowed, and he took note of how bright the water was. Below the sand almost looked like snow with how it was illuminated, but then he froze, realizing there was more than moonlight and his own silhouette strewn across the floor.
He hardly had time to look up as Diosia dove beneath the water and grabbed hold of him, trying to bring him up to the surface. He regretted having to do it, but it was for his own survival.
He whipped his tail against the siren, and the shock forced his release. Then he continued to run, trying to avoid patches of light in order to best obscure himself from the surface as he didn’t want to be easily plucked up. Without a thought he pushed himself into a crack in one of the many wrecked ships, and gazed at where he came from warily. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Pointlessly looking about he sought for his answer.
By some miracle, it came to him in the form of something he hated greatly. He set his eyes upon it, and how each awful string crossed over and intertwined with another to ensure as much damage as possible. He could hardly keep count of how many he had disposed of before, it was a weapon he could handle. And it wasn’t lethal, too. He snatched up the net and braced himself, poking his head outside his refuge. It looked… ‘safe’, so he proceeded to squeeze himself out of the tight space.
Unfortunately, Diosia spotted him before he spotted Diosia.
Diosia dove after him as a gannet plunged after a fish, causing him to flail clumsily with his tool. They tangled with one another between the net, and he felt Diosia grasp and claw at him alarmingly as he struggled in the chaos. He could hardly understand what had happened until he could pull away, and turned back to see Diosia’s wings and arms bound tight with the net.
He had done it.
But now Diosia was drowning.
He panicked and hastily rushed back over to him, wincing slightly as Diosia clutched and scratched at him like a mad man, but luckily cooperated with moving upwards. He brought Diosia’s head above water and hauled him over to one of the many jagged rocks that still provided platforms with great swiftness, but still felt Diosia go limp. He felt terribly confused, until he saw how the rope twined about his neck.
shit.
It wasn’t Diosia drowning, it was Diosia choking. Quickly and easily he unwinded the net, but Diosia still passed out against the black, bumpy stone beneath them.
Tears began to fill his eyes as he looked over the siren, worry quivering in his eyes.
No, no, no please I didn’t want to hurt you-
He whimpered and buried his face into Diosia’s chest helplessly, he didn’t know what to do. Quietly he sobbed into the corpse, another wretched mistake that made him good-for-nothing. He gasped violently through what were now ugly sobs when he felt something brush against him. His face met Diosia’s and was overwhelmed to be met back with live, moving pupils.
They stared at each-other for a moment before Meryl sniffled out, “I’m so sorry. I-I-I really didn’t want to hurt you I should’ve been more careful—“
A slight smile came upon Diosia’s face as a matching laugh escaped his lips. He settled himself back and leaned deeply into the rock, closing his eyes for a moment.
“No need to be sorry,” he spoke softly and hoarsely, “thank you. You are much kinder than I.”
“O-of course. I’d always help, I really didn’t mean it-“ he cut off his own words as Diosia weakly lifted himself up, and Meryl realized his weight had been pressing down on him.
He fumbled off of him and stared a moment more.
Diosia looked much more peaceful and down to earth from this angle, strewn out across the rock with wet strands of black hair and feathers clinging to his face and everything around him. Meryl had chosen a rock where the moonlight reached, which also made his skin glimmer and shine smoothly. He was glad to have not hurt him—sirens were very beautiful creatures. Angelic.
Diosia broke the silence. “If I were you,” Diosia went on with a sort of amusement, as if he found it ironic, “I would’ve never spared you. I suppose simply for that I owe you.”
“Oh no,” Meryl spoke tenderly, “you owe me nothing at all! Just… let me go back home safely, please.”
Once again Diosia relaxed and thumped back, nodding once more as his eyes closed. “Go on then.”
Meryl forced himself to sink into the water, still watching Diosia as he did so.
How would he explain all these new cuts and bruises?
Can you imagine how weird it would be to be in a preds stomach while they're sleeping? Like especially if they snore and those snores just reverberate all around you shaking your little chamber or if they toss and turn like you could be relaxing one moment only for the next to be squished as they've rolled over in their sleep to lie on their gut. Like just everyone describes it as still aside from the occasional gurgle when a sleeping pred's tummy would probably be WAY more active and loyd. Combined with the moving and snores it would be hard to sleep in if it weren't for the warmth teehee
Many people already know that digestion slows down while you’re asleep, along with many other bodily processes like muscle strength, breathing rate, and heartbeat. This is why professionals say eating a huge meal right before bed isn’t very good for you, since your body won’t be as active to digest it.
But after around 90 minutes, brain activity picks up again as your body goes into REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep. This is the phase of the sleep cycle where you get really vivid dreams. Peristalsis/gastric motility actually increases for about ten minutes, and then slows down again as the cycle starts over. Your body goes into REM sleep 3-5 times through the night, each one longer than the last. Later stages can even last for up to an hour!
So basically, being inside the stomach of someone who is asleep would be pretty calm and relaxing… about 75% of the time. (Not counting any sudden position-changing during the night, haha)
The results of the poll!! Apologies for it being late, but it was a total massacre either way,,, Eli is way too popular.
Working on the official Drive post ( sketch below) which hopefully will go up this month or the next! Planning on having 2/3 update drawing + a potential’ bonus round’ when I put the drive up. Thank you for voting and I’ll be back with filler content until I can get everything drawn up!
I accidentally murdered my first version of this post by deleting it (without having a back-up saved), which was very sad until I rewrote this and realized I like it much better now!
I would say this serves as an epilogue/conclusion to the main story line of Little One and Them, but I am nowhere near done with these characters. I love them very much and definitely plan on posting more about them! (Please if you have a question about them ASK I love them so much)
Thank you all so much for the support on this series, and my other works as well. I’m definitely going into the new year with inspiration to write much more than I ever had, and I’m thankful to all of you for that <3
If you haven’t read this series yet: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Putting more than usual under the cut to avoid le spoilers for previous parts on this one
TW: The safest, softest, most willing platonic vore I think I will ever have on this blog (not being sarcastic it actually IS safe/soft/willing and somewhat fluffy!), some possessiveness
A sense of normalcy was finally finding its way into their lives. The tremors and earthquakes were settling and now Aion lived with Edan and their family comfortably, albeit disapprovingly by said family. It hadn’t mattered much though, considering, as Aion had explained to them, after living in the outdoors for so long, they weren’t fond of being inside anyways. Plus, according to Aion, Edan’s house was “weird”.
Either way, when Edan felt so happy and whole again, Aion being inside or outside didn’t matter, as They were there for them either way. Whether it be to the crackle of the fireplace in winter (the only season Aion was forced to come inside), the breath and rising of daisies in spring, the twinkle of star-like bugs throughout summer, or the taste of jasmine leaves in autumn, their family was complete. Altogether, Aion was adjusting wonderfully well to the new lifestyle, too.
Although, they couldn’t help but notice a few instincts or urges spill out every now and then, but it would take time to control that, and Aion had never fully acted. They never truly meant harm. Even so, sometimes they wondered what would happen if Aion ever caved to Their instincts. Would it be something grizzly and murderous, or much more like what They had done to them before? Of course, they hoped for neither, but they’d much rather the latter.
They could survive the latter, they knew as they already had done so twice. They hadn’t any fond memories of it, at the time it was miserable, but looking back now, not as awful. Perhaps it was simply that the passage of time had mellowed out their stress, or the fact that they knew they’d survive (unlike when it first happened) that eased their distaste for it. They truly wished they could form a memory of the experience without all of the dread, as when they glanced back at it with objective lenses, it intrigued them greatly.
They very well knew they couldn’t mold their own memories to that degree though. They’d have to make new ones. Part of them wanted to, too. It was tempting to ask Aion, but if They somehow decided They couldn’t let go again… their concern was merely that Aion may find themself carried away. Perhaps it wasn’t something that either of them needed, but rather something they both craved. A closeness, a final healing of sorts amongst everything else going well. It would be another leap into something dark and uncertain, but Aion had always caught them when they jumped.
They could trust Them.
Edan was certain of it, so next time they saw Them, they, as softly and carefully as they could, asked Aion. A confidence in them began to wither as they saw those eager, predatory eyes set on them in confusion. The wide-eyed stare that remained after they finished explaining was one of disbelief, but also one of want. Whether or not Aion liked to admit it aloud, They very obviously wanted to. However, to their relief, Aion acted much more hesitant than They looked. They questioned Edan many times over, and a combination of fear and worry spilled through the way They spoke and looked at them.
They were scared.
“It’s okay,” they comforted Aion, “I trust you.”
It made them feel a little anxious too, but they really did trust Aion, and they really did want this. It took Aion much more convincing though.
“You don’t have to do that for me,” Aion pressed, “I’m fine.”
It was mostly for them actually, but they had to admit, They weren’t entirely wrong. They hoped it would help Them with all the seeming instincts and cravings to have a safe alternative to eating people. And it seemed maybe they were right, as eventually, once they had casted most concerns and worries aside by explanation, They agreed.
It was nothing like before- nothing at all. For one, even though Edan hadn’t been one for the idea of watching, They made them agree to feet first; according to Them, it was so that neither of them had to worry about Edan changing their mind and trying to back out, but being unable to. So they watched with a sort of strange amazement as gentle swallows made their ankles and lower calves slowly disappear. They couldn’t help but inhale sharply when Aion took a bigger gulp, and this caused Them to withdraw completely. They were truly, earnestly worried about hurting Edan, and the worry in Their eyes made them both feel a bit guilty, and warm inside.
It was sweet how very much They cared.
Edan laughed, a little awkwardly as they sat up out of habit. “I’m sorry, you just surprised me.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Aion replied quietly as They set Their head sweetly against their leg, seemingly unbothered by the fact it was wet.
“Try again?” Edan asked gently, and They looked up with a sort of surprise.
“You want to?”
When they spoke, Edan tended to laugh. “I haven’t changed my mind yet.”
Once more Edan felt themself pulled ever so slightly into the soft warmth, and each swallow pulled them just a little closer. Closer and closer they got to Aion, until everything including and below their lower torso and forearms were all tucked away, and all that was left was their bust and head. At this point Aion seemed to hesitate to move further, so they did their best to tenderly comfort Them. It seemed to soothe Them, as soon a darkness fully enclosed around them and they sunk deeper and deeper into a warmth and place so secret not even they could see it.
It felt as though they had been scooped up and folded out of time and danger and the world, and now they were in a place where there was only something that cradled them and staved off anything but contentment. It was so terribly surreal- had they been plucked out of reality itself? They weren’t so sure, but now, unlike any other time before, they felt safe, more deeply so than they ever had. They could only hope Aion felt well, too.
…
Theirs. Theirs, Theirs, Theirs, Theirs, Theirs. Little One was wholly and truly Theirs, and not by fear and force, but by their own trust and willingness to be so. They couldn’t deny the feeling of euphoria and zeal that They were experiencing. It was truly wonderful, overwhelmingly so. Love was the taste that lingered on their lips and in their mind. It felt akin to a sort of excited mania in Them, They wanted to yelp and bounce with joy. But They’d stay peaceful and calm, for Little One. They didn’t want to jostle them about or scare them more than they may already feel. So instead They curled in on Themselves and brought Themself even closer to Little One.
It was completing. They felt understood, that Little One would do this for Them. That they cared and loved and trusted Them so much, and that realized They did this out of love. The thought was so pretty and pure that it calmed them, mostly. Yet They felt terribly guilty, as surely it must be terrifying for them. They hurt Little One this way before, and even if They were gentle and careful now, how could They ever make up for it?
Then from inside They felt a gentle touch of their hand against Them, and all their fears fell away like icicles from a roof in spring. They were warm, safe and happy- both of them. And they were both complete.
baratheonpilled
germansingergirl
discoholicmusic
janainaart
annaxmalina
stormborns
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
