#I hope you like it Faun! <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[akirakirxaa]

This is my gift to @faunflower with her lovely OC, Louisxane, for the FFXIV Swap! Lou is a resident of the First and a shard of Azem, and while the WoL was working to stop the Lightwardens, Lou was developing feelings for a certain Ascian.

And a little bonus autumn stroll in Raktika because I'm love them. <3

[springcatalyst]

on here I'm always ASK ME ABOUT MY WORLDBUILDING. LET ME TELL U ABOUT OCS UNPROMPTED YOU WILL LOOK AT THEM but then someone irl is like 'whats all that then' and I'm like itsssssssfgsh. some thingsssss.sssgh

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

EDIT: PART 2 HERE

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

[jinnie-ret]

hellevator

stray kids x ninth member male!reader

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: implied anxiety, implied disassociating

word count: 2.1k

summary: he's going through voice changes in their debut era and fans are already sending in hate

Requested: anon!

This is my first male!reader fic so please be kind, I hope you enjoy! <3

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He was so excited to finally be a part of something, not that he had been training for long. But when Bang Chan told him he saw potential in him, despite their 6 year age gap, and recognised how well he got on with the other members, he was quickly added onto the line up for Stray Kids.

During the survival show, Y/N was babied, of course he was, the maknae in the upcoming JYP boy group. Fans of the show fauned over his fluffy black hair and the oversized hoodies he'd wear, making him look smaller. It was similar to how Jeongin was babied too, the two of them being the youngest and seen to have that sweet, innocent air around them. Plus, for Y/N's case, his voice hadn't broken yet at the age of 14, so that fed more into how he was perceived by fans.

However, it was not long after the group had finally debuted that a more mature, deeper voice had overcome him. Of course, not without the struggles of getting used to it. Originally singing the chorus of District 9 wasn't difficult, in fact it was easy. His gorgeous, husky tone was unique yet when he hit those high notes his voice was instantly recognisable. Now, he had to deal with voice cracks, and the rapidly depleting self-esteem that came along with it. This is what he trained to do after all.

"You're getting stressed out. We need to practice getting your voice in a position where it can hit those high notes again. It's not going to help if you're standing there thinking you can't do it," the vocal teacher sighed, putting down her sheets of the lyrics Y/N had been singing.

She was firm, yes, but she was being kind about the situation too. She has coached many that had gone through the same thing as Y/N, and all she wanted to do was to see him succeed, but he couldn't see things through her eyes, that was far too big of a mountain to climb for him. A treacherous journey to realising not everything is one dimensional.

Y/N could only focus on those last four words. 'You can't do it'. And he hated the way that everything suddenly felt hot, and how his throat itched. How his neck itched. He started subconsciously scratching lightly at his neck, feeling the stress flood through his body. He scratched away at the thing he wanted to change most, knowing he couldn't turn back time and have things stay the way they were.

All the comments he had read, all the whispers he had heard, circulating in his brain, like an endless loop of vicious words to bring him down. He would be the reason Stray Kids would fail, they had said. He wasn't good enough, they had said. It all came from jealous trainees that were bitter they didn't get to debut instead of him. The only failure apparent in this situation was Y/N realising that.

"I need some air," Y/N barely managed to speak as he rushed out of the small practice room, tugging at the strings of his hoodie and making his way outside.

Fresh air.

Just breathe, Y/N.

And he managed to do so, not without his mind taking him to another place as he stared up at the JYP sign on the building. Was he meant to be here? Did he deserve to be here when his talents were no longer there? Y/N just couldn't see it the same way anymore, he couldn't see himself the same way anymore when the thing he had been praised for so deeply had changed. Even the people who had supported him before had changed their opinions, because his growth had shattered the image they had of him.

Y/N was unaware of the familiar presence beside him, one that had playfully called out his name before realising something was wrong. He was gently guided back into the building, and swiftly surrounded by the warmth of the 3RACHA studio.

"Hyungs! I found Y/N but he's not talking to me," Jisung's voice quivered as he himself was now feeling worried about his dongsaeng.

Changbin took Jisung aside, hushing him and reassuring him that he did the right thing, whilst Chan took it upon himself to understand what was happening to his youngest brother.

"Hey, hey, you're ok, come on, look at me," Chan spoke quietly, yet he managed to break through Y/N's mind as the younger looked around the studio.

"I shouldn't even be here," Y/N shook his head, voice monotonous. Just being there upset him further, yet he still fought against everything within him to show that side.

"What do you mean? This is our studio of course you're allowed in here, I mean, I know Channie likes his own space sometimes but this is different," Changbin moved to stand in front of Y/N too, having successfully calming Han, "hey, no no no don't float away again, I need you to listen," Changbin forced Y/N to sit down in the sofa. Han automatically wrapped his arms around the younger, wanting to do his best to show he was there for his fellow member.

"What's going on Y/N? Your vocal teacher said you just ran out of the building. She was waiting another 45 minutes until Seungmin turned up for his lesson because she couldn't find you," Chan sighed as he sat down in his chair, opposite the distressed boy.

"I bet Seungmin was much better than me," Y/N mumbled, but even with that, throat thick in emotion, his voice cracked yet again. Flustered that it had happened yet again, Y/N's fist came down against his own leg, huffing in frustration.

"Yah yah, don't do that!" Han frowned, pulling Y/N's arms away from him.

"I'm just so frustrated!" Y/N spoke through gritted teeth, looking up at the ceiling to keep his tears at bay.

"About what?" Changbin prompted Y/N further but he just stayed quiet.

"You need to tell us ok, we're your hyungs, we want to know what's going on, we need to know," Chan moved closer, resting his hand on Y/N's knee.

"My stupid voice," Y/N whispered, embarrassed to admit it.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"What about it?"

"Ever since it's broken, you know, gotten deeper, I just sound stupid when I try singing, it's embarrassing, I mean, it makes sense when they say I shouldn't even be in the group anymore, I-" Y/N opened the gates to his mind as his mini ramble began and was quickly cut off.

"Who said that..." Changbin frowned deeply.

"Stays, other trainees," Y/N threw his hands up in the air, just done with the whole situation.

"Trainees are saying it too?!" Han gasped, looking at Chan and Changbin worriedly, a hint of malice in his eyes as he thought about all of those around them that still acted like their friends.

"Y/N they're just jealous, you can't listen to what they say," Chan began, sighing once more as he ran his fingers through his hair, somewhat at a loss of how to reassure Y/N anymore.

"Easier said than done. Why did you even have me join this group when, when... when I was just going to make us fail!" Y/N exploded, pushing himself up from the sofa and out of Han's arms, away from Changbin's concerned glances and especially away from Chan's words which went in one ear and out the other straight away.

It wasn't long until he found what he thought was an empty practice room, not noticing the bags of his other hyungs that were for once tucked away neatly in the corner of the room. He found solace in the emptiness and allowed himself to collapse to his knees, breaking down into tears of frustration, sadness and all the other emotions he kept pent up.

The rest of Stray Kids returned from a small snack break at the vending machine, all going together of course, you wouldn't find one Stray Kid without another, even this early on in their time of being together.

"Hey hey hey, aegi, what's going on? Omo..." Lee Know gasped as he saw the baby of the group shaking and sobbing. He ran up to Y/N and wrapped his arms around him, the other members astonished until 3RACHA ran in and finally found Y/N after hearing the commotion.

They began to explain what happened to Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin whilst Felix sat down in front of Y/N to help calm him down, brushing his hair out of his face and rubbing his leg soothingly. He tried his best to listen to Y/N at first but due to his growing knowledge of Korean not being up to par with Y/N's incoherent sobs, it was easier to stick to physical affection. You could say Y/N was in a Lee sandwich, the best place he could be right now.

"Can't... Shouldn't..." Y/N sobs soon calmed down and the rest of his members gathered around him in a semicircle, Minho still hugging him from behind. Yes, he could come across as cold and brash sometimes, but no one could tell you just how soft Minho really was apart from his members. They knew him the best.

"Y/Nnie... please you have to listen to us, you're in this group for a reason," Hyunjin patted his knee from beside him.

"T-they didn't say anything about Jeongin's voice when his broke!" Y/N exclaimed, pain clearly still there, tired of all the judgement he had been receiving. He wasn't able to listen to his hyungs right now.

And the boys go quiet not knowing what to say back to Y/N, they were sure he didn't mean to offend Jeongin but it didn't stop Seungmin from patting his shoulder in support.

"Not, not, oh gosh not that I wanted Jeonginnie hyung to get hate I'd never want that for my hyungs I just..." Y/N put his face into his hands, feeling bad as if he has indirectly insulted his hyung, just because he was feeling hurt. From behind him, Minho hugged him tighter, whispering in his ear to try and gain his attention.

"It's ok, I know you didn't mean it like that," Jeongin smiles from across him, and Y/N could tell it was a genuine one.

"Look, our vocal teacher said something to me earlier about what was going on, she was worried about you, she thought she said something wrong," Seungmin trailed off, trying to get to the bottom of the matter.

"No she was actually really nice about it, it was just too much of a reality check and then my mind just took control and... Ugh I don't even know," Y/N came to a realisation that his vocal teacher wasn't being rude to him and it was all these overwhelming feelings that had built up and caught him out.

"Just take a moment, yeah, and think, would I have added you to this group if I didn't think you had the talent, had the potential," Chan rose an eyebrow, firmly talking to Y/N to make sure he understood what he was saying.

"Or his personality, personality is important too," Felix piped up, not wanting Y/N to feel like his worth was only reduced down to one thing.

"Of course it is, but that isn't what this is about right now, answer me, Y/N," Chan nodded to Felix before looking back at his upset member.

"N-no..." Y/N stuttered, realising the depth of what his leader was saying.

"Good. We can see how good you are. The only reason fans are getting annoyed is because it's a change they haven't adjusted to yet. Just like you're adjusting to this change too. Now, they shouldn't be sending in hate, so please, I will do everything it takes for you to not listen to it anymore, ok?" Chan promised Y/N, sitting in front of him and making sure he got that one answer he needed.

"O-ok, I-i understand now, thanks hyung, I-i love you all," Y/N felt the stress leave him, finally able to understand things from a different perspective.

"Aww he said he loves us!" Minho suddenly picks up Y/N and spins him around, causing the younger boy to squeal.

"I wish I had a camera!" Seungmin laughed along.

"I need to remember this forever," Jeongin and Han fooled around, widening their eyes and pretending to screenshot this happy cute moment into their brains.

It was definitely a moment that Y/N would be teased about in the future, being exposed for his true feelings for his hyungs when normally he'd be quiet about what he thought about in the normal way. It was just a good thing they got in his head this time, because now they had a happy memory to think about instead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria

[interstellarsystem]

Experiences With Being Out as a System

So, our parents know we're a system. It's all good, they understand that when we suddenly speak like someone from London that it's just another guy taking the body for a spin real quick and that they don't need to question it too much.

The thing is... They don't know our names, or anything about us as individuals. We don't have enough open communication with them to actually discuss the inner-workings of the hundreds of little guys in our brain and who they are or what they like, but even if we did, it's not actually important to them. It almost seems like it's swept under the rug.

Our mother said that she doesn't get why she should have to know anyone else when we're all "us". We're all just a collective to her still, a bunch of bits that make up her child, even though she knows we're separate. Her child, the original, isn't here anymore. But the thing is.. some of us want to get to know her and the family individually. Even beyond just being seen as who we actually are, we want to be a part of it aside from being treated as someone who is gone. But it's not a thing they understand despite our explanations of what it means to us, even despite the fact they know the original is dormant and has been for years.

The most anyone in our family knows about us is our mother, and she only knows anyone with a voice similar to Sark as "the american one". She doesn't know that there's even multiple who sound similar to him.

Technically, we're out as a system. Effectively, though... We're still closeted. Though not really because we're staying in it, moreso that we left but it follows us around like a shield within our own household, but it's not shielding us. It's shielding them from us.

Our experience with talking to medical professionals has been hard because of this--sharing bits about ourselves has been scary. It's scarier to show them pictures of our nonhuman headmates and say "that one is me", but it's never actually been bad when we've mustered up the strength to do it. One of them looked at Mal and saw his horns and said he looks like a faun from Greek mythology. Even though he's not, a positive response like that was empowering. That same one said Filigree's hair was cool. Little acknowledgements about who you are when you've tried to be seen before is great.

With our IRL friends, we expected the situation to be similar to our parents. Swept under the rug like a taboo and given weird, uncomfortable looks when spoken about. But it's been completely different.

We get asked who is fronting, we get acknowledged as separate people, hell, we even felt comfortable telling them about our actual fictive identities and letting the ones who wanted to follow this blog (hey guys if you're reading this <3) get access to it. They acknowledge our nonhumanity and nonhuman parts, share things about our sources with us because it reminded them of us, etc. Sometimes, now, because we've been open about it, we get people actually ask "is x fronting" and we say yes and they say "I knew it".

That specific feeling of being recognised even when your outward appearance doesn't change is absolutely amazing. Little manerisms, little ways our voice sounds even when masking accents out in public, even the words we choose to use are tells toward who is actually controlling the body and they pick up on it--even things we might not recognise we even do. Sure, there's hundreds of people in here and people won't know every single one off by heart, but the ones who are out here often are being recognised and that, to me, is amazing and validating to all of us.

I guess the point here is me sharing our experiences, but also.... You will be able to find people who see you for you. You as a system, you as a nonhuman, you as a disabled person, you as a queer person--you'll be able to find your people. And you know, I hope you do soon--because the feeling of being known is great.

[plumadot]

I'd love to hear any ideas about dnd Gem or Pearl if you have any!

Like. The most obvious thing would probably be some type of elf for Gem

But who else does she know? Does her time in Empires and HC play a role with her being able to dimension hop? Are normal little cottage core Gem and GeminiSlay just her being silly or is it magic related? I think this could make for a very cool backstory idk

Is Pearl the scarlet witch or does she just try to exist and keep her doggos safe? Well. Scarlet Pearl was also keeping her dogs safe but still

Imp and Skizz would be interesting too! They've known each other a long time irl, but would that carry? Is Imp a short little dwarf like s9?

(I'm such a newbie to dnd i love it but boy does it make my brain hurt when i try to learn more about how many races there are there's probably a whole lot better ones they could be than my little suggestions here fjhhf)

-🌿 (new anon hoping I'm not stealing another anons identity here hi)

hehe hi!!!!!

for gem i was thinking a faun hdbfvdhf there's an opportunity to give her pretty antlers so i will take it!!!! she also uses them to fight :)

this may be too inspired by hc10 but i was thinking she might know joel and etho from their shared pirating days. these days she hunts monsters on land with pearl :D i think she has pretty high charisma for a rogue and she uses it to catch any enemies off guard; pretending she's a sweet helpless girl only to stab them with many many daggers :D

pearl is slightly feral by nature and always preferred to spend time with wolves over people (until gem came along). i think it could be fun if there were fables about the scarlet witch as like a cryptid wandering and protecting the woods... when really she's just a druid :')

imp and skizz need to be besties in every universe it's so important. idk how they met but them maintaining their friendship with impulse being all settled at the crastle and skizz being an outlander would be interesting waaaa also i still haven't decided whether impulse should be a tiefling or dwarf aaaaaaaa help!!!!!!

there will always be other options but everyone's ideas are fun and valid so no worries hehe <3

(i don't believe anyone uses 🌿 yet so :D)

[life-of-kalos]

Welcome to the pokeask blog hunger games

Bellow, you will find the 24 contestants have been divided into pairs of 12 teams in hopes of being that last one standing in this brutal (and fake) fight to the death!

Tags and info will be under the cut ✂️

District 1: Oakwen from @flying-type-teacher and Rimi from @ask-the-shiny-pokemons

District 2: Vespa from @askvekpa and Perceus from @poniquest

District 3: Kanna from @perish-song and Parisa from @sinnohsiblings

District 4: Jet from @symphonies-of-silver and Zipporah from @the-last-of-alto-mare

District 5: Monarch from @the-sleepysiren and Zantzu from @ask-suicune

District 6: Wo from @the-feral-one and Morris from @askleaderscrest

District 7: Faun from @life-of-kalos (here) and Reshi from @lightofunova

District 8: Singularity from @singularity-and-co and Kyurem from @askthehoenngods

District 9: Roshi from @lustrous-dawn and Deo from @askdeoxys

District 10: Diane from @ask-diane and Abigail from @office-pokemons

District 11: Riddle from @ask-meowscarada and Altair from @starintheday

District 12: Matthew from @greedentstripes and Begonia from @ask-imaginary-dreamers

There were a small handful of those who submitted characters but we're included because of the limit. I apologize if you didn't get in but hopefully I'll do another later on so keep an eye out in the future!

Now for info;

Tag anything that has to do with this #pokeaskhungergames2024 and feel free to @ me too! You can draw/write/rp/ect for this if you'd like but honestly no pressure! I just think it's funny to see how it goes haha you can just sit back and watch if you want.

I will have a queue for the progression to post every 2 days. (If you do not want to be tagged every time just let me know) Day 1 will be posted on Sunday 03/31

Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.

[sri-verse]

Wipper Snipper

Thanks for the tag @shyinsunlight<3 LYSM and sorry for the late response.

My WIPs are a pile of unedited mess so I'll just put the last thing i wrote for my crack fic How Not to Kidnap a Mafia Boss haha

Tagging @bubbleversity , @izharmilgram, @cindle-writes in case you feel like sharing anything but no pressure.

Ron shot up from the couch like he’d been electrocuted. “Blimey! That’ll be the delivery!” he yelped, bolting toward the door with all the grace of a startled ginger cat. Riddle didn’t budge, his head tilting ever so slightly as a single curl of dark hair grazed his annoyingly perfect eyebrow. “For fuck’s sake, put some bloody clothes on!” Harry yelled, throwing his hands in the air as if the sheer force of his frustration could conjure a wardrobe onto the smug, towel-clad lunatic. His cheeks flared red, his blush burning brighter than it had any right to in the garish daylight spilling through the windows. Since when did they have windows?!! The room was annoyingly bright. But it was almost as if the gods had heard his plea because things got infinitely worse. As Ron cracked open the door, light exploded into the apartment like a supernova, leaving Harry blinking in sheer disbelief. It was worse than looking into the sun—it was a weaponized threat to his eyesight.  Harry threw up a hand to shield his face, half expecting celestial trumpets to announce the arrival of whatever deity they’d accidentally summoned. He squinted, his brain scrambling to process this sensory assault. “Ron,” he cried in help, “I think you opened the door to Narnia.” But no faun appeared.  Instead, standing at the door was a man—a very human, very obnoxiously radiant man. His sunny smile practically doubled as a lighting rig, illuminating their dingy apartment with an unholy glow. His wavy hair could give competition to the naked criminal looming over Harry. The brunet looked between the three people in front of him. It was a bizarre scene with Ron sprawled on the floor, his freckled arms shielding his eyes; Harry trying to ward off a toweled tom and the background music playing from god knows where. All they needed was a laughing track for Harry to stare into the camera with a disappointed look. “Uh... hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the delivery boy began, his voice smooth and face sparkling like he was a vampire straight out of a YA romance novel. “I’ve got an order here for... Mr. Potter?”

:)

[blackheart-6]

noelle holiday age progression chart

without height lines

explanations of designs:

hi yall

so, i actually finished this drawing like a week ago lol. but i didnt want to post a bunch of drawing in a row, and then i got sick, so i havent been able to post it till now!

its my imaginings of what noelle looked like as she grew up, and a potential adult noelle design! ill explain my thought processes about these designs below, if anyones interested 😁

i also plan on doing one of these with dess, but this one was pretty difficult, so it might be awhile before that (unless yalls are interested in seeing it?)

first off, im not 100% sure ill keep using all these designs. some of them im not that happy with (im no good at designing outfits 😔) but i just went with them so i could finish the drawing. so if anyone has any alternative outfit ideas for any of her ages, id be interested in seeing/hearing it!

secondly, something that may stick out to yall for all the designs is how tall she gets. its the same height i normally draw her with, but given how i usually draw her by herself you cant really tell how tall she is! i have 3 main reasons for why i headcanon her as this tall: deer are pretty tall irl, so having her be tall makes sense in my head; i just like the look of her being super tall, it makes me happy lol; and third, i personally also headcanon the holiday family as boss monsters (i think ive explained this headcanon before on here, so i wont explain again, unless someone is interested ^^). so yeah, she ends up being 7 feet tall as an adult, the second tallest in her family!

also, i gave all her children forms stripes in some way, as a reference to when monster kid in undertale says they can tell frisk is a kid because of their stripes!

now onto my explainations for individual drawings!

theres nothing really to say about her baby design. the only thing i did that might be new is give her faun spots! they are most plentiful on her baby form, but they persist until shes in her teens, i would say (on here you cant see them after age 7, but thats just because i imagine they are mostly on her back). and i gave her a cute lil onsie that says a-deer-able! if you guys cant read it ^^

this outfit i made for her toddler design is actually an outfit ive used in the past! i wonder if yall know what drawing it was? its pretty much the same as it was there, i just added a stripe to the shirt. i felt like overalls are so reminiscent of childhood, i had to give at least one of her designs them! i also added a little mistletoe to the front pocket, to make it more christmas-esque. and i gave her some bandaids, just cause.

7 years old is one of the designs i really struggled on, and im still not happy with it. i dunno if ive said this yet, but i headcanon noelle to be trans, so at 7 is when i decided she started realizing it. so here i gave her long sleeves and pants, to show how shes more hidden now because shes unhappy with herself, if that makes any sense? i was also trying to make her look a bit like a nerd, with the button up and khakis, just because its funny. but yeah, ill probably end up changing this design at some point :P

11 years old was one of the easiest to do, considering how ive had her design for this age for awhile lol. one thing i did change was going from 2 red/white stripes to one, but ive done that before, so it wasnt something entirely new. i also gave her a smile and closed eyes, cause shes happy being a girl 🥰. other that that, its the same, so yeah, thats it for this part

okay, this next design is a fairly different looking one than all the rest, but i have my reasons! at this point in noelles live, dess has gone missing, so i wanted to show her being sad and stuff. i also gave her shoes and long sleeves because she probably goes out looking for dess when she can, hoping to find a lead 😭. but outside of in-story stuff, this outfit is based off of an old one i drew, but its fairly edited, so i wouldnt be surprised if no one recognizes it even if they have seen my old stuff. she has straight hair here, to show how unhappy she is (idk what it is about straight hair it just feels sad) and because i wanted to give her different hair varieties on this progression chart. i gave her antlers 2 prongs each at this point, because the way i see deer monsters, their antlers show their growth/aging, so youll see them getting bigger and having more prongs as the chart continues.

this outfit for 15 is another one i dont like. i tried to make it similar to her current outfit, but still pretty different. im not even sure what precisely i dont like about this outfit, it just doesnt feel that good. for this one i gave her leg warmers because i used to (and sometimes still do) draw her normal outfit with them. i gave her the curly hair she has as a callback to when i used to draw her hair like that! but yeah, ill probably end up redoing this one too

for 17, i just gave her the normal outfit, so it was easy ^^. in game i think shes 16, but close to turning 17, so i just went with 17 here to fit the +2 age pattern thing i had going on. i also gave her an extra horn prong than i normally give her, just to show age once again

finally, her adult design! i dont like this one either lol. i spent so long trying to think of what outfit to give her, but i couldnt come up with something i liked >.< so i just gave her something simple. i feel like once noelle graduates high school and probably goes to college she branches out more and tries things her mother never let her do, which is why i gave her an outfit like that, that has a crop top and a shorter skirt. also, yalls might recognize the hair style i gave her, i drew a potential adult noelle before and i gave her the same hair ^^

i think thats all for the post! i probably have more thoughts that im just not thinking of, but its fine for now. i hope yall enjoyed the drawing, and if you have any question or comments or whatever, go ahead and say them!! if youve made it this far, have a cookie, you must be hungry after reading so much ^^ 🍪

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 3 - Ruhn: Nesta's 25? she should be at the club

The phone vibrating on the bedside table told Ruhn Danaan three things. One – he was late. Two – the mirthroot that Flynn had bought was more potent than first thought. Three – there was a snoring faun next to him.

Ruhn leaned over her bare body to reach his cell. He’d missed the call. And six others. Plus a couple of texts.

Hunt Athalar.

Hunt Athalar.

Hunt Athalar.

‘Stalked by the Umbra Mortis,’ he groaned, flopping back against the pillows. Micah’s insistence that heads of the city’s departments should exchange contact information was proving more of a ball ache than anything.

The faun beside him – Ruhn couldn’t remember her name – stirred then blinked at him with bleary eyes. They’d had fun last night. Well, as much as Ruhn could remember.

He hit the shower, hoping she might find her way out to avoid the awkward exchange, but when he came to his room with a towel around his hips, the faun was still perched on the edge of the bed.

‘I have some, er, aux work to do. I’ll pay for your cab home.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘You can’t remember my name, can you?’

Ruhn flicked his tongue against his lip ring, stalling for time.

The doorbell rang. Over and over, somebody was buzzing at the door and Ruhn had a good idea who.

‘Official aux business,’ he said, ushering her down the stairs despite her muttering under her breath about him being an asshole.

A storm by the name of Hunt Athalar loomed on the stoop. He took a step back before the faun barrelled into him.

‘Seriously?’

It wasn’t Athalar who spoke but the pretty blonde that Ruhn had met a couple of days earlier. Her arms were folded across her chest. The fae look of you’re-a-worthless-piece-of-shit had been perfected on her features.

‘I need to work,’ said Hunt, turning to her and grazing his knuckles down her arm.

‘I am not a child, Hunt. I will manage a day without your company.’

He winced. ‘Nesta, you can’t cross a road without help.’

Her expression stiffened into stone.

Hunt’s wings spread out, veiling them, but not muffling the sound.

‘Hey. I care about what happens to you. Danaan won’t let anything bad happen. I’ll swing by when I’m done. Buy more cookie dough. Watch a movie.’

Ruhn couldn’t stop himself from frowning. This fallen angel was better known for gutting his enemies, not getting cosy with females and watching movies.

‘Answer your cell when I call,’ said Hunt, turning to look at him. Lightning wreathed his hands in warning. ‘Put some clothes on too. Ruhn – no shit today.’

In answer, he gave a lazy salute. The angel clenched his jaw, but didn’t pass comment. He turned to leave, touching Nesta on the shoulder as he departed, before bolting into the sky.

‘Welcome to my humble abode, Nesta Archeron.’

The place was usually a mess, but under her scrutiny, it seemed worse than usual. Ruhn was painfully aware of the peeling, graffitied wallpaper, the scrunched-up beer cans littering the stained carpet and the stench of smoke and alcohol clinging to the walls. The ashtrays were overflowing. A photo of a naked female was tacked to the dartboard with a dart piercing her head. Nesta peered over his shoulder to look into the living room where Flynn was naked and unconscious on the couch then her lip curled with disgust.

Ruhn guided her through the house, picking up discarded beer bottles along the way. Well, even if she wasn’t from Midgard, Nesta maintained the same stuck-up aura as other fae. He could imagine her and Sathia Flynn looking down their noses at one of the lace doily infested tea-houses the fae liked to frequent.

‘Do you engage in such activities every day?’

‘Not every day,’ he replied. Most nights though. And most nights Ruhn would wake up with a gorgeous female beside him with no memory of her name – but he usually sent them home happy. He had a reputation in the city, but it wasn’t a bad one.

‘Hello.’ Dec sat on a stool in the kitchen, already clicking away on his laptop. ‘You’re the fae who fell from space.’

‘Nesta,’ she replied tightly.

Dec held out a hand for her which she tentatively took to shake.

The three of them sipped at coffee in a painful silence once Ruhn had dressed. Dec kept throwing glances his way to encourage him to say something but Nesta had already made her opinion of him – and his home – clear from the pinched expression.

‘Do you need sugar for your coffee, Nesta?’

At Dec’s question, Nesta’s lips parted. ‘It can have sugar?’

‘Sure. And milk.’ Dec pulled open the fridge to sniff the milk. He retched. ‘We don’t have milk.’

Nesta frowned again. ‘How old are you?’

‘We’re only seventy-five.’

Her brows raised again. ‘Only.’

For an unknown reason, Hunt Athalar had taken a liking to this female who had a stick up her ass so Ruhn didn’t want a target on his back for cutting her loose in the city. It would be long fucking day babysitting her. Ruhn glanced down at his cell. A message from his father flashed on the screen. As if the day couldn’t get any worse.

‘What do you like to do, Nesta?’

She glanced around the kitchen at the piles of dishes in the sink and the overflowing bin. ‘To read.’

Thank Luna.

‘How would you like to see Lunathion’s library?’ 

She jumped off the stool as if sitting on it had been a punishment. Dec had probably cleaned them once or twice. He hadn’t. Flynn didn’t know what a sponge was.

Just as Ruhn thought of his friend, Tristan Flynn staggered into the kitchen. To all of their relief, he’d pulled on a pair of grey boxers. His chestnut-brown hair was flat on one side from his sleep. At the sight of Nesta in their kitchen, he pointed to himself then Ruhn, trying to remember which one of them had spent the night with her.

Ruhn cleared his throat. ‘This is Nesta Archeron. And this is Flynn.’

‘Oh. The female with the magic sword. Nesta. Hello,’ he said, winking. ‘I’m Lord Tristan Flynn.’  

Her eyes went from his head to his toes then back up again, entirely unimpressed. ‘You need to bathe.’

 ***

The reek of sex and alcohol lingered even when they were far away from Ruhn Danaan’s pleasure house. The male was patient with her at the roads – no doubt in response to Hunt’s reprimand that she didn’t know how to cross. It wasn’t Nesta’s fault that those metal vehicles moved so quickly. But it was her fault that she forgot to look each time. On the whole, Ruhn Danaan seemed… fine. Not cruel. Not overwhelmingly arrogant even for a prince. He yawned his way along the walk, stopping to greet people he knew. But Nesta could not shake her prejudice because he looked so much like Rhysand. Even the low timbre of his voice was reminiscent of Rhysand’s despite the differing accent.

‘I have to meet my father,’ he explained. ‘I’ll save you from that. He’ll be panting if he finds out about the sword and he’ll want you wedded and bedded to… somebody.’ Ruhn cleared his throat again. ‘At the library, you can read books for free.’

‘I know what a library is.’

‘Alright,’ he said. Ruhn clung onto her hood at the approach to a busy crossing to stop her from walking into the road.

‘I can do the ones with the lights,’ she insisted.

‘Yeah, wait for the green male, good girl.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

His violet eyes alighted with mischief. ‘What should I call you?’

‘My name,’ she snapped.

The idea of Ruhn – Rhysand’s facial double – trying to flirt had Nesta wanting to shrivel up and die. No, it was bad enough having to listen to her sister and her mate’s toe-curling conversations. Nesta did not want fake-Rhysand to turn the charm on her.

‘You, er, you’re really not from Avallen, are you?’

‘I am from Prythian.’

‘You know of Fionn though.’

Nesta shrugged a shoulder as they continued down a quiet street dotted with trees as a warm, summer’s breeze swept through it. ‘It’s a story that I heard.’

‘I like stories.’

‘I’m not a good story teller,’ she insisted.

They stopped outside an elaborate building of white stone, made to look ancient even if it was new. A row of pillars lined the front, holding the overhanging roof up. Many stairs led to the entrance doors which were propped open. Ruhn led the way and dropped his voice as he pointed out places she could visit within the vast library. There were sections for artefacts, an archive, ancient books which were kept in glass cases, and rows and rows of books that were free for anybody to browse. From his wallet, Ruhn pulled out a faded card. The handwritten numbers were almost illegible.

‘This should still work,’ he said, taking to Nesta to one of the screens with portraits.

‘A television?’

‘Computer.’ He gave her a queer look. ‘You don’t have computers in Prythian?’

‘Obviously not.’

His tattooed fingers glided across the keyboard too fast for Nesta to make out what he’d done – so she pressed him on it.

‘I’ve used my library card to log you in. Still works after all these years. Good old public funding. You get three hours browsing then it will boot you out. You’ll have access to news journals, the internet, videos, whatever you want. Alright.’

Nesta nodded, not understanding most of what the prince had said.

‘Keep this,’ he said, pressing the small card into her hand. ‘If you want any books or whatever.’

‘When will you return?’

Ruhn shrugged. ‘I’ll send Flynn along to keep you company.’

‘Not him,’ Nesta said quickly. ‘Why can’t the other one come?’

‘Dec has a job. Flynn also has a job but he never shows up anyway.’

Once Ruhn Danaan’s steps faded from the library, Nesta was left in peace. The tranquil environment created by a library seemed a universal thing. She watched workers returning books to their rightful place and thought of her brilliant friend likely hard at work in Velaris’ library. Had news of her disappearance reached Gwyn and Emerie or would they hush it up?

Out of curiosity, Nesta searched her own name. It took an agonisingly long amount of time to find each letter but it yielded no results anyway. Then she searched Ruhn Danaan’s name and found pages upon pages of results about him. There was a birth announcement then subsequent ones about major milestones in his life. The portraits – photographs, she reminded herself – of him showed his glossy, black hair lengthening in each one with more and more tattoos added to his skin. His father, the king of the fae, reminded Nesta of Eris Vanserra. Both shared shining, wine-red hair and a long, thin nose but there tended to be amusement on Eris’ face like he knew a joke that nobody else did. Ruhn’s father appeared cruel and unwelcoming.  

Nesta couldn’t help but think of Gwyn again and how this process would streamline her research. Rather than finding obscure references in books, a simple search could be entered and the hard work had already been done. It was magnificent.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, wondering what to search next.

H-U-N-T A-T-H-A-L-A-R.

Hunt had just as many entries as Ruhn did. Perhaps he was a prince of angels.

There were news reports that featured his name as one of the malakim who’d worked on a case in the city. He’d caught many demons from Hel, but also prevented a lot of crime in Lunathion. There was the odd photograph of him – where he looked entirely unimpressed to be photographed. Nesta laughed at that. He’d endured her experiments with his cell phone in good enough humour.

THE UMBRA MORTIS PURCHASED BY ARCHANGEL MICAH DOMITUS

Nesta sat close to the screen, scanning the lines of text to ensure she understood it fully. Hunt was a slave, as he’d told her. But he’d had many owners. The latest, Micah Domitus, was his fourth owner and the governor of the city. She hated the way those words were thrown around. Slave. Master. Bought. It made him sound like cattle.

She should have stopped delving into this. It wasn’t Nesta’s business to know – but she had pulled a loose thread and could not let it go until it was unravelled.

Hunt had fought in a battle against other angels. The general he had served had been his leader and his lover. And he’d watched her die at the hands of her sister. He had been prepared to die for his beliefs, but instead a slave brand was inked to his forehead. What had he endured for two hundred years? When would he be free?

‘Hello, gorgeous.’

Nesta scrambled to close down her search history as the irritating fae male slid into the chair beside her.

‘The Umbra Mortis? I can tell you what you need to know,’ said Tristan Flynn with an easy grin.

‘Shh. This is a library.’

‘Then lets get out of here so we can talk,’ he suggested.

Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. He reminded her of Helion. No amount of charm would work on her.

‘Ruhn said you know about Fionn. I can tell you our version of the story.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper, ‘The fae one that’s not in any book or article.’

***

For a slave, Hunt rarely had interest in his day’s work. It could be made bearable by the company in the 33rd, but today, Hunt’s heart wasn’t in it at all.

He’d fired off a couple of texts to Danaan asking about Nesta. He didn’t trust the fae not to dump her or piss her off – and he’d learnt that Nesta wasn’t shy or retiring when it came to letting her mood be known. There had been no replies so far.

‘Hunt, you’re in daydream land,’ said Isaiah, waving a hand through the air.

Hunt spread out the papers in front of him at the table. ‘Because you’ve given me the driest task imaginable.’

There’d been an influx of demonic activity in the last four years so Isaiah had him searching for patterns – the time, the location, the type – through old reports. It could not have been more boring. Hunt wasn’t made for paperwork. Hell, nobody was.

‘You’ve been keeping tabs on our friend from the sky?’

Hunt raised a brow. ‘Is that what we’re calling her?’

Isaiah shrugged. ‘Micah will be away for another week. I’ve not let the word out yet. We’ve not found anything on the sword except that it’s magic and hated Ruhn Danaan anywhere near it.’

That did make him laugh. ‘He’s on guard duty today. I wonder if she’ll feel the same way as her weapon.’

***  

‘This is what we call a liquid lunch,’ explained Flynn, as he insisted on being called.

The pair of them had tall glasses filled with crushed ice, brightly coloured juice and strong alcohol.

‘And it is acceptable here?’

‘Oh yeah,’ he said, sipping through a straw. ‘You’re on holiday from Prythian. Enjoy the delights that Lunathion has to offer.’

It was difficult not to enjoy his company. Nesta knew he was trying very hard to be liked, but also had an aura that he wouldn’t have cared if she didn’t like him either. It was different to be with the males from this land. Nesta felt safe with them. She could not imagine being left in Illyria or the Hewn City without harm befouling her. Flynn was a flirt, but his handsome smile was offered to every female with a pulse.

Money seemed no object to him either, so she had to wonder what he did or what he was a lord of. When her eyes had snagged on a dress, Tristan Flynn had wasted no time in purchasing it. A pastry pumped with cream had also been bought for her to snack on as they walked along the Istros counting the otters. He’d introduced her to one of the Mer who basked on the bank, enjoying the sun streaming upon his glistening muscles, but Nesta had been reluctant to get too close to the edge after Hunt had mentioned creatures called Sobeks. It brought up too many memories of being dragged to the bottom with the kelpie.

‘I can’t pay you for any of this,’ she replied.

Nesta took a tentative sip of her drink – and found it to taste delightful.

‘Wire me it back from Prythian,’ said Flynn, winking.

‘I have no money there either.’

‘A kept female?’

How right he was, Nesta thought. Everything in Prythian came with a condition. Look for these items or we’ll dump you in the mortal lands. Train or we won’t let you out. Her food, her lodging, her clothing, her everything was benevolently provided by Rhysand as long as she toed the line and did as she was told.

A female pulled up a chair at their table. Flynn’s demeanour changed at once.

‘What are you doing to this poor female, Tristan? She looks positively morose in your company.’

‘Haven’t you got a rich male to sink your claws into in The Five Roses?’

The female was as petite as she was, with light green eyes that were at odds with her dark hair. ‘I was actually on my way to have my hair done then I saw you tormenting a female and thought I might offer her a lifeline out of your abysmal company.’

Nesta had been about to offer that Flynn was not that bad – a shameless flirt perhaps who thought money could buy her affections – when he announced that their guest was his sister, Sathia.

‘I’ve not seen you before,’ she said, in a tone that suggested Sathia knew all of the fae worth knowing.

‘Nesta is visiting from Avallen.’

‘Father will be overjoyed to hear that you’re courting her.’

A blush stole across Flynn’s cheeks. ‘I’m not. Ruhn is.’

‘He most certainly is not,’ Nesta shot back.

Sathia took hold of Nesta’s hand to examine it. ‘Your nails are ghastly. Have you ever had a manicure?’

Nesta did not know the word. She glanced to Flynn who was staring daggers at his sister. ‘No.’

‘Then we must remedy it at once. Tristan, go and find another female to pant over. We’re busy.’

‘Can’t. Ruhn’s tasked me with looking after her.’

Sathia smiled sweetly to her brother. ‘Then I suppose you can come for a manicure too.’

***

A visit with Einear Danaan always left Ruhn bitter and broken inside. No matter what he did, he was always reduced to a boy who could never match his father’s demands. Ruhn could shake it off, pretend he didn’t care, but he always left his father’s villa with another splintering crack running through him.

He hadn’t planned to spend so long there, but his father had kept him, demanding information about the wolves and vamps. They’d gone over reports then his father had insisted on showing him his working model of the universe. That had kept Ruhn longer as he tried to wheedle out information about Fionn and the northern rift from his father without exposing Nesta.

It was dark when Ruhn finally left the Five Roses. There’d been a couple of messages from Athalar. One asking how Nesta was and another saying he would be later than planned but to stay with her until he arrived.

Ruhn groaned. If she hadn’t killed Flynn in all the time that they’d been together, it would be a miracle.

‘Dec, where’s Flynn?’ Ruhn asked into his cell. ‘He’s not picking up.’

Music thumped in the background of wherever Dec was. Through the cacophony, Ruhn made out, ‘We’re all in the White Raven.’

Hunt Athalar was going to kill him.

***

Sathia Flynn was going to kill her.

They had managed to lose her brother in a nail salon when his patience frayed. He’d given Nesta a card and said it was for emergencies only. It was not like the library card that Ruhn had given her. This one allowed Sathia to purchase anything.

Both her fingernail and toenails had been trimmed and buffed then painted. They’d gone to another shop where Nesta’s hair had been cut an inch or two shorter, but Sathia had her hair painted too and complained keeping it dark was so much upkeep – whatever that meant. They had gone shopping for heeled shoes and clothes that Sathia used her brother’s card to pay for. Then they’d gone to another place where Nesta had experienced pain like no other. Hot wax had been put on her body to rip out her hair.

‘Is it supposed to be this painful?’

They were in the bathroom of a club. She imagined Rita’s to look similar, but music played so loudly that it made the walls vibrate. They had drunk lots of cocktails. Her favourite – and the most difficult to ask for – was sex on the beach. Sathia and her friends had dusted glitter on to her face – and their own. One, Alice, was applying more make up in the mirror. Nesta barely recognised herself with her hair unbound and cosmetics on her skin too.

‘You can go commando,’ offered Sathia.

Nesta narrowed her eyes. She knew what that meant thanks to Hunt. ‘Do males do the same? The waxing down there?’

One of Sathia’s friends, Prunella, swigged at a bottle of wine where she sat on the sink. ‘You’re lucky if they trim.’

‘That’s why you get a vibrator,’ chimed in Alice.

‘What’s a vibrator?’

Sathia squealed. ‘I just love her.’ She ran her hand against Nesta’s hair. ‘Right. Shots and dancing. Let’s go.’

***

Hunt felt his age when he left the Comitium. A day spent at a desk had left his neck and back aching from holding up his wings. When he landed at Ruhn Danaan’s home, none of the lights were on. He bit back his irritation and dialled his number.

‘Where are you?’

Hunt had no doubt that Nesta would be able to hold her own. The issue was she was naïve in their world and he knew what fae pricks were like.

‘We’re out,’ said Ruhn.

‘Where?’

There was a slight intake of breath. ‘The White Raven.’

Fae assholes.

It was a short flight to the Old Square. The owner of the club was a butterfly shifter who was still on the door greeting patrons. At the sight of Hunt landing, with lightning crackling in the air, his jovial expression changed to one of concern.

‘Not trouble here, I hope?’

‘Off the clock,’ he replied tightly. ‘Come to visit a friend.’

‘There won’t be trouble?’

Hunt threw him a bland smile. ‘Let’s hope not.’

He spotted the three fae pricks drinking amongst other females at a booth near the door with Nesta not amongst them. Hunt worked his jaw as he marched over. One day, Ruhn Danaan would learn to grow up.

‘Where is she?’

‘In my defence,’ slurred Tristan Flynn, ‘it was my sister who brought her here. We’re just on guard duty, doing as we're told, Umbra Mortis.’

Declan Emmett, the most amenable of the three, pointed towards the throbbing dance floor. ‘She’s just enjoying the music.’

The others began peeling away from her at the sight of the Umbra Mortis striding through the crowd, a scowl on his face. Loose and free, Nesta was dancing amongst a group of fae females with her gorgeous hair tumbling behind her, without a care.

Gone was the female in leathers with a sword strapped to her spine. Gone was the female who found jeans uncomfortable. She was lost in the music, utterly free. One of the fae had shelled out on a new wardrobe for her, by the looks of the sparkly, black dress that skimmed her thighs and clung to her narrow waist. A shimmer of pink glitter dusted her cheeks.

When Nesta finally noticed the ebb of the crowd as he approached, she finally snapped her attention towards him.

‘Orion!’

Before Hunt could react, Nesta had moved at preternatural speed – faster than fae in Midgard could move – to throw her arms around his neck and lean all of her weight on him. Hunt lifted her off the floor to steady both of them and Nesta pressed deeper into his body.

Nobody had called him Orion for a long time – and never with such warmth.

She kissed his cheek. ‘Have you come to dance?’

‘No,’ he replied over the thump of the music. ‘To see you safely home. I was worried. Do you want to go with me?’

'I will go wherever you lead me, Orion.'

There was little resistance from Nesta who seemed happy to be led through the crowd towards the exit. From the giddy expression, she’d had a lot of drinks under Ruhn Danaan’s care. Hunt pulled off his jacket to protect her from the chill of the night on the way out.

‘Did you have fun with Ruhn?’

Nesta gave him a funny sort of smile with bleary eyes. ‘The Prince of Pricks.’

‘Shh,’ he reminded her as they passed a group of fae also staggering along the path. ‘You’ll get me into trouble.’

Hunt held out a hand for Nesta to take to steady her clumsy steps. Instead, she fell against him, knocking the air from his ribs as her arms came around his body.

‘Thank the Mother that he isn’t like Rhys even if they have the same face,’ she said.

On the walk home, Hunt hoped the fresh air might sober her up but it only emphasised just how drunk she was. Twice, he’d had to grab her before she planted her face into the concrete then she insisted she wanted to walk along a wall so Hunt had held her hand tightly while Nesta stepped across the crumbling brick in perilously high heels like a wobbling toddler. At the end, she leapt into his arms – before he was ready, so the pair had nearly gone down together.

‘I missed you today,’ she said with colour high in her cheeks.

It was just drunken talk, but Hunt would play that on a loop in his mind until he was dust.

It was too far to her hotel. If they walked, they might be there by sunrise with the pace Nesta was setting and Hunt didn’t want to risk her throwing up on him if they flew. The Comitium loomed on the horizon, still a hub of activity despite the late hour. He’d take her to the barracks. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody had been snuck in, although never by him.

‘Are you going to lock me up, Hunt Athalar?’

He grinned at that. ‘Have you committed an offence?’

Nesta gave him another inebriated smile as she clambered up another low wall to walk along. ‘I used to be a very bad girl. So they locked me in the House of Wind and destroyed my home and made me train until I was very good girl,’ she slurred.

Hunt lifted her off the wall before she fell and broke her neck.

‘Who locked you up?’

‘My family. My sisters. Cassian. Rhysand. All of them.’ She threw out her hands like it should have been obvious. ‘They all sat and told me how useless I am. You have become a pathetic waste of life.’ Nesta gave a low laugh then jabbed him in the chest. ‘Not eating won’t bring your father back, Hunt. And – my personal favourite – we did this because we love you. We ruined your life, ruined your future, but it’s because we love you.’

‘Stop,’ Hunt commanded, holding her still. ‘What are you talking about?’

Then it all came out, as if Nesta couldn’t stop herself. How she’d witnessed her father’s neck snap and retreated into herself because she couldn’t cope with the grief. How she drank every single night and took men to her bed to hate herself more. That her family had staged an intervention and forced her to become a warrior even if she had never wanted it. That her sister’s child would kill her but when Nesta revealed the truth, the male she was entwined with forced her to march until she collapsed. If Hunt ever met him, he’d kill him.

Nesta crawled onto the path then flopped onto her back. ‘The whole world is spinning.’

Despite Hunt’s attempts at trying to lift her up, she’d become a deadweight and patted the ground so he’d be beside her.

‘Nesta, we can’t lay in the middle of the path.’

‘Please,’ she begged, voice full of pleading so desperate that it twisted his heart.

What the hell was he doing? Hunt eventually lay next to Nesta on the concrete. The bright lights of the streetlamps blocked out most of the stars so he had the mad urge to fly her all the way to Mount Hermon for a better view. The night before that final battle, he and Shahar had fucked like animals – but Hunt had gone out to look at the stars one last time before the dawn took them. The stars had been stunning. And he had naively took it as a good omen because they’d made him hope of a better future.

‘I ruin everything, Hunt.’

He laced his fingers into hers. ‘That makes two of us then.’

Nesta closed her eyes, her other hand pressing against her forehead.

‘What did you drink today?’

‘Cocktails. Shots. Liquid lunch.’

Oh, she would need a medwitch in the morning to stop the hangover from hell.

‘They didn’t give you any mirthroot? No lightseeker?’

‘I don’t know what they are.’

When Nesta was ready, she pushed off from the ground and scrambled upright again. In the morning, he’d call Ruhn Danaan to give him an earful about getting a female who was lost in their world blind drunk.

From the bare shoulders that her dress exposed, Hunt could see the tattoo on Nesta’s back again.  

‘The male who made a deal with you and made you hike - is he your mate?’

Nesta threw up her hands then flopped onto a wooden bench on the sidewalk. ‘He trapped me in a house and laughed at me when I fell down the stairs. He fucking better not be.’

Hunt crouched down in front of her, touching a length of her hair. ‘Let’s get you to sleep. We will talk about it all tomorrow and see if I can help.’

Although, he doubted he’d get this much truth from her in a sober state.

Her mood was swinging to a different emotion every minute so Hunt wasn’t sure which Nesta he’d see next.

‘I don’t think you’d make me carry a heavy bag and make me walk until I collapsed.’

‘Never.’

Her hand touched his face, stroking it gently. Tears welled in her eyes. ‘I did something stupid.’  

Hunt caught her hand and kept it cradled to his face.

‘I went to the library and I searched your name. I know why you’re slave. I know what happened.’

It meant Nesta knew about Shahar. Sandriel. The war. The slaughter. Who he was. What he did.

She freed her fingers to touch the witch-ink on his brow.

‘Orion,’ murmured Nesta.

There would come the inevitable revulsion. Some still believed in their cause even if they’d never act on it, but most found it laughable. Each person had a place in life, a standing which would never change. If you were at the bottom, then it was tough luck. Those at the top would always be there. Hunt had been a fool to hope he could change the world. And he’d lost everything as a result.

Tears spilt down her cheeks. ‘I wish there was a Hunt Athalar in my world fighting for people like me.’

‘Nobody wants that,’ he replied, standing and deflecting from the tenderness in Nesta’s voice. ‘Let’s get you to bed.’

The bubble of emotion that Nesta had shown to him was replaced for a strange sort of anger where everything irritated her on the final portion of the walk. When she walked into the hedge, despite his best efforts in tugging her out of its path, Nesta kicked it – then told it off for hurting her leg. At the Comitium, Hunt took her in the elevator but forgot how curious it would make her. When he showed her how to press a button for their floor, she pressed every single one then complained that it was a ridiculous invention for stopping at every floor.

There were some battles that Hunt knew not to engage in.

He steered Nesta into one of the kitchens. It was a small, rudimentary thing for snacks with most meals provided in a mess hall. The toaster worked, so two slices of toast were shovelled into her mouth to try and sober her a little before sleep. Her lips glistened from the butter and she ate with her eyes closed.

‘Shall we watch Bangs and Fangs?’ Nesta asked as she tried to throw an arm around his neck, but managed to collide with the wall instead.

‘Fangs and Bangs. You need to sleep. We can catch a Sunball game tomorrow, if you like. I’m not working.’

‘I don’t know what that is.’

‘You’re in for a treat then.’ He unlocked the door and pushed it open. ‘In you go.’

Hunt made a noise at the back of his throat. Nesta had barely even stepped into the room before she whipped her dress off over her head, tossed it on the bed, then staggered towards the bathroom. Half-way there, she bent over – glorious ass on full display in a lacy green thong – to take off one shoe which she threw across the room then stumbled the final distance.

This was going to be a long night.

[ok-ish-hermitcraft-headcanons]

Just a bunch of species headcanons for the hermits! Also they are all either gods/immortal for fun :)

Xisuma (he/void): Voidwalker prince. Knows he's immortal. One of the oldest immortals

Grian (he/parrot/chirp/they): Parrot hybrid, Head/First Watcher. Minor god of chaos. Has lived a thousand lives. Treats YHS as a joke because why not?

Mumbo (he/him): Half Watcher, minor blood god. Does not know he's a god. Eats redstone for fun, scares his friends because of it.

Scar (he/it/vex): Vexling elf (Vex with allay magic). Does not know he's a god. Was born in Riverdale, kidnapped at a young age.

Pearl (she/her): Half-Watcher/moth hybrid. Also knows she's a god, actually likes the Watchers.

Impulse (he/they/yellow): Demon. Very much knows he's immortal, wishing that he isn't because he doesn't want to watch his brothers die. One of the oldest hermits

Tango (he/magma/they): Netherborn avian, Listener hybrid. Party knows he's a god. His Listener traits aren't visible and more of a development from the experience that was his high school to keep him fucking alive

Zed (he/void/wool): Harbinger of the Nether. Knows he's immortal. Looks like a basic sheep hybrid but also has demon wings and black blood!

Gem (she/her): Faun. Thinks she might be a god but it would mean her brothers aren't. Also has magic and can world-hop!

Etho (whatever vibes work for you): Voidling (Voidborn changeling), Watcher. Knows he's a god, could care less. First player turned Watcher. One of the first players

Iskall (they/he/she + some neos): Cyborg (also something else. I don't fucking know anymore). Doesn't care about gods, marked by the God of the Hunt.

Doc (he/it/blast): Creeper/goat/cyborg. Can and will fight the gods, Xisuma hopes that he doesn't find out he is immortal (he knows).

Ren (he/pup/they): Wolf-shifter. Knows he's the god of the Hunt. Idk this dude is cool

Bdubs (he/sun/sky): Glare/phantom hybrid, also has a connection to plants. God of the sun and flaunts it. Also is a full blooded Listener

Stress (she/leaf/spring): Nature spirt. Knows that she's immortal. Looks like a cinnamon roll, would kill you.

False (she/wing/they): Avian, with golden eagle wings. Does know she's a god, could care less.

Cleo (she/they/rot): Zombie hybrid. Knows she's immortal. Spites her old friends by getting attached to Joe. Also one of the oldest players

Joe (any pronouns): Angel of life. Known immortal. Just vibing with the soul he was meant to harvest.

Jevin (he/it/slime): Slime hybrid. Doesn't know he's immortal. Honestly idk much about him

Cub (he/it): Allayling (allay with vex magic.). Doesn't know he's a minor god. Claims to be a vex for fun.

TFC (he/ender): Ender dragon hybrid. Knows he's a god. Brothers with Notch and Herobrine.

Beef (he/they/it): Cow hybrid. Doesn't know he's immortal. He is basically just existing. Gotta love it.

Keralis (they/he/black/empty): Watcher!. Knows he's immortal. I also know next to nothing about this dude

Xb (he/river/fish/they/it): Guardian hybrid. Doesn't know he's a god. Idk fish

Hypno (he/they): Fire sprit. Could care less about being immortal.

Wels (he/him): Angel hybrid. Knows he's immortal. Hates being an angel because they are a bunch of stuck up beings.

----

Bonus (5) Helsmits:

Ex (he/they/void/end): Voidwalker prince, 2/3 Watcher. Yeah knows their immortal

Hels (they/it/he/fire/blaze/hell): Fallen angel/Watcher. Same as Wels tbh. But 10x worse because Wels escaped and Hels suffered.

Badtimes (he/blue/xe/they): Allayling! Also a Listener! Just vibing :D

Xornoth (they/it/red/dark/vine/he): Demonic elf! Demigod and just out there living vines life

Grain/Ariana Griande (she/it/chirp): Watcher! She knows it's immortal! (trans mtf not important to the hybrid sheet but important to me <3)

I went nuts with pronouns the rest of the helsmits have so much more I'm holding myself back bc I'm being forced to bed :( - 🔮🍄

fun!!

(also i’m so sorry this is from jan 2023)

[dirtytransmasc]

This might turn out like rambling but I've been thinking something around the mama Neytiri AU.

In humans there is a vocabulary "coincidence" in which many of the words for mother and father in various languages sound around the same by using the same syllables (ma, pa, da, ba, etc) because this are the first things a baby can pronounce and we started to use these sounds as a way to refer to a child's caretaker, it doesn't happen in every language but it's still enough to maybe think that the same might be true for the Na'vi.

The words Sa'nok and Sempul might be an indication that Na'vi children might be able to pronounce the sound "S" really early in life, maybe even when babbling (also there's an insane amount of words in Na'vi starting with s), so when her children grow up they have almost no trouble calling her Sa'nu.

All except for Spider.

Because humans are only able to pronounce "S" at around four or five years old.

Neytiri and Jake notice and they go and ask Mo'at for help (because speech delay is something that also happens to the Na'vi so she should know what to do), and when she can't find anything wrong, they check with Norm and Max, who tell them there's nothing wrong, it just will take more time for him to speak like his siblings.

They are both glad that there's nothing wrong with Spider but Neytiri still feels something is missing, she comes to love being referred to as Spider's "mama" by Jake and cries the when he calls her that for the first time like she would have done if he had spoken in Na'vi, but she still hopes that he is able to call her Sa'nu soon, which she will never confess to anyone.

And when it happens there's nothing anyone can do to separate her and her boy for the rest of the day.

so, I've answered this once, but I'm actually kinda excited to add onto this, cause the first time around was when I first started writing this AU, and I'm much more confident in my characterization of neytiri now. so for my long time regulars, this is gonna mostly be a repeat post.

I think neytiri has a super unique take on this, cause like any variation of the word 'mom' means the same general thing; someone who cares for you, who protects and loves you, teaches you and guides you through life. on some level, you are a part of her, physically or emotionally, even spiritually, a mother and child are bound by the bond between them at their cores. so while, yes, she would love to hear "sa'nu" would fill her heart with the upmost joy, it doesn't hinder the joy she feels hearing spider call her mama, knowing what he saw in her, what he felt about her. spider was her son and she was his mama and for a long while that was all that mattered to her. he saw her as his mama, he was one with her spirit, he looked at her with his big round eyes and saw a protector, a guide, a caretaker, someone to love him with no limit and no conditions. so she could wait as long as it took, because this was enough for her.

it does raise concerns though. would spider fall behind? should they prioritize english, would his "speech impediment" hold him back too much, how much would he struggle? neytiri still worries the most, norm and max assure her that it will all be fine, jake does as well, even mo'at, but she still worries for her littlest child. but even upon her worrying, her fauning, her mothering, spider excels; sure, he makes an odd noise when he attempts to speak words with S's in them or leaves them out all together, he takes up both na'vi and english in leaps and bounds, not even acknowledging his setbacks.

he attempts it many times before he actually gets it, adjusts to calling her that even before he gets his S's when he was 3 or so, when he realized he called her something different then his siblings, ignoring any and all coaching from jake or norm or max to call her mama (not that they don't want him to call her sa'nu, they just worry that if he's unable to pronouns it he'll either form bad habits or his frustration will stunt his willingness to learn, but like with many peoples opinions and judgements of him, spider doesn't give a single fuck). but the day he gets it right, she damn near cries all over again, like she had the first time she knew what he meant when he called her mama, when he starts calling her -a'nu. this time though, the tiny gap in her chest that had always irked her, small enough that she could pretend she didn't notice, was finally filled. she held her boy, the boy she had waited to hear call her sa'nu for the last 5 years, finally looking up at her with his sweet chocolate brown eyes and his whispy blonde hair dangling in his face, the word falling out of his mouth with a yawn as she went about her day with him bound to her chest (tell me she wouldn't baby wear that boy well into his early childhood, first off, speed demon, spider child. second off, clingy mama with an excuse to hold her baby constantly; "he's fragile jake") she immediately rushes to jake so they can both hear it, spider very proud with his new word.

I think the kids would have coached spider day in and day out till he got his S's down just for their mum. jake knew and didn't say a word, just so he could see the look on neytiri's face when she heard it.

speaking of jake, he is much less affected by spiders hinderence to say sem'pu, as when spider was still little, he was still very human in nature, so he had no qualms with being called "dad" and "dada", but he will admit, the more he hears spider attempt to say sem'pu, the more he begins to fall in love with the title. between him and the other kids, jake embraces every title they're willing to give him. he cries a little for the first couple months spder calls him dad, then -em'pu, then sem'pu (jake is the emotional parent in the, he's a blubbering idiot at all the simple things type of way, which is super sweet don't get me wrong, I just like making fun of him, cause I can. norm and max too, they totally make fun of him, but its all in good fun).

[felmonth]

Hello everyone!

As I said before, since a while ago I wanted to change the content and well, I don't know if it's interesting to see but I will post these drawings that are from a long time ago when I draw my ocs more frequently, I want to take them back and make a new story so don't hold back asking about these new characters, I leave their names and small descriptions.

Kuppis

These creatures behave like birds, make canary sounds and eat cookies, I was inspired by Pokémon to make these characters, I hope you like my creatures.

Old design:

Felmonth

First... Felmonth is not me, is my oc, Felmonth is actually a formless smiling slimy mass that in order to have a physical body, it has to devour people, although it can't just eat them, it has to make its victim depressed to the brink of collapse and then devour them, however, the physical body it has after it has devoured someone, after a few minutes or so after the victim is consumed, cracks and breaks, making it short lived. Basically the story I have from Felmonth is how to get out of the depths of depression, I don't know how to fully develop it but it's more or less the attempt.

Fushi Sweetheart

This character was my favorite since 2016, I had a story together with a friend but since we don't talk for a long timew anymore, I had to start from scratch so he has a side story as Tom's adopted son, yes....the puppet, like the movie Peabody and Sherman (I love that movie) but actually the original story Fushi had and I plan to develop it again, he was the typical human half demon, but this time he is a demon of the "cracks", because of his emotions the cracks react to his magic and so, I have comics but I don't plan to show them since I don't consider him canon in my head now, the person who can see him is Lulu >:3 mwehehe nah it's joke xd I'll leave all the mystery to Lulu and you guys too.

Pettitil (Bunny) and Eve (Elf)

The world my characters inhabit is a place where they only learn magic and consequences of it by using it, as the original story is cruel and sad, this time it's much more regulated soft but having the conflict of the characters, I didn't feel comfortable with the original story XD literally everyone died and I don't like that.

Pettitil is a bunny girl, she is the middle sister of 8 bunny siblings, she has plant magic, she acts as the older sister of another character I will show later, named "Lionel", she treats that boy like her brother since Lio is going through a hard time with his demanding family, Pettitil's father has no problem with her inviting his friend over for tea at home. She has no definite age (in fact, none of my characters are of age, but until their story is fixed, the characters will be between 20 years old and up)

Eve the elf, a clumsy but kind hearted girl, her family is poor but she has the opportunity to study thanks to a lottery provided by a school, her world falls apart when her mother demands her to marry to get riches, she doesn't want to marry someone she doesn't love but she is forced to get together with someone, she meets Lionel her "fiancé" they both become friends and realize they are nothing for each other in terms of falling in love.

Mimi the faun

According to the comics I have of her, she is a tarot reader, her magic specializes in intuition and divination, she has no personality yet, so in the comics she survived without personality.

To be continued...

[silken-threads-bah]

a headmate who loves and cares for animals? could maybe be a beastmaster (https://pluralpedia.org/w/Beastmaster) or something!

Sorry for the wait!!! I hope they're what you were looking for :3 if the links are in the wrong order, just ignore it - Wade

Name: buck, Beatrice (bea), bear

Age: 19

Pronouns: they/it/he/faun/moss/ce/xe

Gender(s): nonbinary, etheridaen, floradeeric

Orientation: faun achillean

Source(s): n/a

Role: beastmaster

Personality: they're calm and quiet, keeping to itself for the most part. He's very flighty, running away whenever something scares it. They're scared of many things like: humans, loud noises, machines, loud machines, and humans controlling loud machines. You'll typically find them surrounded by its animal friends because he's very talented in getting animals to listen to him.

Interests: zoology, biology, basically any sort of natural science, anatomy, hiking.

Extra info: it's prone to disappearing for days at a time only to reappear with a new animal friend that he's nursed back to health.

Faceclaims:

[study-with-aura]

Wednesday, July 31, 2024

I feel like my posts have been dry lately, specifically my study photos. It's not a bad thing. It merely forces me to get a little more creative with my setup. In my defense, I have been taking these photos later than usual, usually right before I post (I adjust the temperature and use my regular filter 'blossom' so it doesn't look dull). I did buy washi tape, so maybe I can utilize that somehow once it gets here. The ones I got are so cute! I can't wait to show them to all of you!

As mentioned in yesterday's post, I will not be posting again until Sunday, but I will still have my phone to check in on the app. I am really excited for the weekend overnight! I never get to do too much with the youth group because of ballet during the academic year and camps over the summer that run into youth night, so this will be a good thing! I'm really close with the other girls my age in the youth group, and even a few that are a couple of years older. Other than Sundays, we don't really see much of each other.

Oh! And in final news, I have an interview for this really cool leadership project that involves media, event planning, fundraising, and even community service! It's all volunteer and the commitment is only 2-3 times a month on the weekends, so it fits my availability. But it feels like going out for a job! I need two letters of recommendation, had to fill out an application, and now I have an interview. I am really excited, and I really hope I get it! I'm not sure how many people actually apply, but the applicants are very limited in the fact that you have to identify as a girl, be in the last three years of high school, be regularly involved with a church, and you have to meet certain academic requirements outside of grade level whether that be through GPA, extracurricular leadership, sports leadership, or whatever. Plus you have to live within a certain vicinity because it's only available to girls in that community since it's for that community. And they accept around 30 applicants, so the possibility of me being accepted is actually quite high. The interview is next week, and I'm a little nervous, but I'm also looking forward to the experience.

I'm off to get ready for bed. Have a great weekend everyone, and I will see you again on Sunday! 💛💛💛

Tasks Completed:

History 9 - Learned about impressionism in music + learned about Claude Debussy + studied Debussy's Prelude of The Afternoon Faun, Claire de lune, and Voiles

KA GRF Algebra 2 - Completed Unit 4: Lessons 3-5 + Unit 4: Quiz 3

Duolingo - Studied for approximately 30 minutes (Spanish + French + Chinese) + completed daily quests

Piano - 60-minute piano lesson + practiced for two hours in one hour split sessions

Reading - Read pages 125-162 of The Luminaries by Susan Dennard

Chores -  None today

Activities of the Day:

Morning yoga

Swimming

Personal Bible Study (Psalms 25)

Church youth group

Journal/Mindfulness

[shadowkira]

Thasmin Fic Recs:

Action / Adventure:

Echoes of War by Eriadu (Series - 2 Works) (T) (Telepathy) ( AO3)

Ghostwalk by Eriadu (E) (3) (Angst) (Spooky)

The Curse of the Pharaoh by Mag_lex (T) (13) (AO3)

Angsty:

A frozen moment by Eriadu (E) (2) (AO3)

are you really gonna love me when i'm gone? by freefallvertigo (E) (4) (dark!Doctor) (AO3)

Cloudbursting by headcanonsandmore (T) (1) (AO3)

Corrosion by Mag_lex (M) (6) (Memory loss AU) (AO3)

Courage & Stupidity by seaunicorn (T) (1) (AO3)

Forever in a moment by Captainswanmycaptainswan (T) (1) (AO3)

The Path Erased by Eriadu (T) (4) (Two of Yaz) (AO3)

time has been unkind by seaunicorn (E) (1) ( AO3)

When it all comes crashing down by Eriadu (E) (1) (AO3)

You laugh like there's hope in the story by freefallvertigo (T) (1) (AO3)

AUs:

A Dark & Verdant Door by Eriadu (M) (27) (faun!13) (sheriff!Yaz) (AO3)

A week (and half a world) away by Eriadu (E) (7) (human!13) (modern AU)(AO3)

chance is the only game i play with, baby by timelxrd (E) (15) (nb!Yaz) (boxing AU) (human!13) (AO3)

honey don't feed it, it will come back by timelxrd (E) (4) (cryptid AU) (AO3)

Love is Blind by Might_Be_A_Zygon (T) (1) (Angst) (Gorgon AU) (Major character death) (AO3)

Never Cruel or Cowardly by Bow_Ties (E) (65) (Fantasy AU) (AO3)

Pink Elephants by TechnicolorRevel (G) (1) (daemon AU) (AO3)

Star by Star by Eriadu (E) (27) (Space Opera AU) (pilot!Yaz) (medicaldoctor!13)

The Line of Fire by mag_lex (M) (11) (Wordpress) (human!Doctor) (bodyguard AU)

where I want to go by seaunicorn (T) (12) (AO3) (human!13) (road trip AU)

Comedy:

don't sound like friends by InLust (T) (3) (AO3)

Halloween Time-Knot by edlweiss (E) (4) (AO3)

home is where you rest your bones by orphan_account (E) (1) (AO3)

Notes to Self by Eriadu (E) (1) (PWP with humor) (AO3)

Fluff:

A Home for the Holidays by mag_lex (T)(2) (AO3)

Astronomy in reverse (it was me who was discovered) by transboytwelve (T) (1) (Fake dating) (AO3)

Buttons by mag_lex (G) (1) (Wordpress)

By the light of the moon by freefallvertigo (G) (1) (AO3)

Candy Floss by Evviejo (G) (1) AO3)

collision by timelxrd (T) (1) (AO3)

Stars On The Ceiling by swallowthecap (G) (1) (AO3)

The Earring by Evviejo (G) (1) (AO3)

Hurt / Comfort:

baby, you could be the death of me by freefallvertigo (E) (1) (AO3)

dead leaves and the dirty ground by Eriadu (T) (1) (hanahaki inspired) (AO3)

keep me close, love me most by seaunicorn (E) (1) (AO3)

right here, right now by InLust (T) (1) (AO3)

OT3:

baby, it ain't right (but isn't it amazing?) By transboytwelve (E) (1) (human!13) (Riverx13xYaz) (AO3)

begging for thread by orphan_account (E) (3) (unfinished) (Fashion / Model AU) (human!13) (ClaraxYazx13) (AO3)

I've never been a natural (all I do is try) by transboytwelve (E) (1) (Billx13xYaz) (AO3)

the way you react to me - Dirty Little Secrets by how_to_sit_gay (E) (13xYazxRose) (AO3)

PWP:

A Suprising Lack of Context by Rowanthestrange (E) (1) (AO3)

Ad Astra by Mag_lex (E) (1) (fluff) (wordpress)

anodized by TechnicolorRevel (E) (1) (AO3)

boiling point by vividfriend (E) (1) (AO3)

crave by freefallvertigo (E) (1) (AO3)

Drifting by Eriadu (E) (1) (AO3)

Drive-Through by mag_lex (E) (Crack) (1) (Wordpress)

Go Quiet by WinterTheWriter (E) (1) (AO3)

I Read It For The Articles by TechnicolorRevel (E) (1) (AO3)

I'm the holy water you have been without by transboytwelve (E) (1) (trans!Yaz) (AO3)

On Begged and Borrowed Time by transboytwelve (E) (Angsty) (1) (AO3)

take a picture, babe (cos I'm already yours) by transboytwelve (E) (2) (AO3)

Tendencies and Bravery by GolM (E) (1) (AO3)

the way that you react to me- Good Clean Fun by how_to_sit_gay (E) (1) ( AO3)

Tickety-Boo by TechnicolorRevel (E) (1) (AO3)

Time and Time Again by rowanthestrange (E) (Angst) (1) (AO3)

we're all born naked by TechnicolorRevel (E) (1) (AO3)

what will be the signal be for your eyes to see me by TechnicolorRevel (E) (1) (AO3)

Romance:

come as you are by freefallvertigo (E) (1) (AO3)

Discovery by Mag_lex (E) (1) (wordpress)

in the lines of time by fictorium (G) (1) (AO3)

Love found me all disarmed by Mag_lex (E) (4) (AO3)

misplacing home by yazkhan (G) (4) (AO3)

Sneaky Little Ghost Monument by LoadsofCustardCreams (T) (2) (AO3)

Soar (when I lay down with you) by how_to_sit_gay (E) (2) (Angst) (AO3)

through the waters and the wild by TechnicolorRevel (G) (1) (AO3)

your soul calls out in a familiar voice by abcooper (G) (3) (AO3)

Whittaker!Master:

Enter at Last, Master. by Might_Be_A_Zygon (E) (2) (Paranormal AU) (AO3)

Never Cruel or Cowardly - Dangerous Liaisons by Bow_Ties (E) (39) (Fantasy AU) (AO3)

The Unraveling of Yasmin Khan by transboytwelve (E) (3) (AO3)