#LIKE I can literally count with my fingers how many times I've drawn any of my OCs

[theoreality]

I am doomed for however long I'll live in my hometown because I can never commission artists to draw my OCs (cries) (dollar is expensive here)

[stuckymonkey]

Hot But Not Bothered

Natasha Romanoff

Pairing - nat x autistic!reader

Summary - it's a very hot day at the compound, and nat is getting flustered by y/n's distaste for over-warm garments.

Warnings - use of y/n, implications of sexy times, reader has autism and too much confidence to care about the demons that are clothes, fingering, oral

Word Count - 1k

a/n - i love this ship, and i thought this was a fun idea! literally ended up turning into pure smut

masterlist natasha romanoff

Summers at the Avengers Compound could get a little heated, in more ways than one. Today was one of the hottest days of the year and an awful time for the AC to take a very unauthorized break.

I lounged around on me and Natasha's shared floor in barely any clothes. The feeling of warm clothes sticking to my skin no matter what was unbearable. I was breaking a sweat just from sitting on our usually comfortable couch.

No matter how much iced water I drank, or how many cold showers I tried to take, I could not cool down. I had drawn all of the curtains closed, making our living room nearly pitch black, save for the T.V that was currently playing.

"Baby, what do you want for dinner?" I heard her call from the kitchen. "Something cold!" I whined. Her footsteps could be heard as she made her way to where I was sitting, only in a pair of pajama shorts and floral mesh bra. "Hi," I made grabby hands at her, successfully getting her to sit on my lap. "Hi," she breathed, her face heating up in a blush.

She was wearing a black sports bra and capris, somehow. "How are you not dying in these?" I asked, tugging at her pants. She shrugged. Having autism was a gift. My grandmother had told me so and I believed her with my whole heart to this day. But it could also make things very difficult for me, like being warm and wearing clothes.

I had a very specific garment palette: baggy hoodies, jean shorts, leggings. The end. See how shirts aren't included there? I hate shirts with a passion, Nat knows this but it never stops her from getting flustered when I don't wear them.

"You know," I whispered to her, "I've seen every glorious inch of your naked body, and you've seen mine, so I don't know what has you all flustered, kitten." she preened at the name, grinding her hips on mine.

She gasped as she must have rubbed her clit the right way on the fabric of our pants. I grabbed a hold of her hips, stopping her movements. Her wide green eyes flew to mine. "Go make dinner kitten. We can play when you get back." She whined while I have her a wink. Reluctantly she got off of my lap, earning a small slap to her ass, making her moan as she went back to the kitchen.

Because it was dusk now, the air had cooled off and I threw on one of Natasha's old shirts. "Hi baby," she giggled as I placed kisses on her neck from behind. She turned around, leaving the counter to kiss my collarbone and rub my nipples through my shirt. "Natty," I grabbed her hands, once again halting her movements.

"Y/n/n," she whined. "Let me play," she said, smirking after licking her lips. I gently spun her back to the counter where she had ravioli cooking on the stove, one of my favourite comfort foods. "Pay attention to the food Natty." I said. Once I saw that the meal had her full attention, I swiftly pulled down her capris, exposing her bare cunt to me.

"Fuck, Nat." I ran my finger through her glistening folds. Her quickened breaths filled my ears as I kept teasing her entrance. "This all for me, kitten?" I asked. "Yes," she managed to get out, doing her best to focus on the stuffed noodles and keeping her knees from buckling.

"Good girl," I purred as I put one finger in. I felt her lean back on my hand, making the heel of it rub against her clit deliciously. She let out sinful groans as she kept tending to the food. I added another finger, moving it quicker as she started grinding and clenching on my fingers.

"You're almost there, aren't you kitten?" "Yes, please." she moaned into the light of the kitchen. I moved my mouth to her dripping folds, licking around where my fingers were buried inside of her, pumping quickly and curling to hit just the right spot. I sucked on her sensitive clit, getting "Oh"s and chants of "Yes, yes, yes!".

Before I knew it she was cumming on my face. I sucked at her cunt, devouring everything I could before straightening up and letting her taste herself on my lips.

We moaned together, moving our tongues in a dance. "Fuck," she said. "tastes good, doesn't it, kitten?" I asked. She hugged me closer and nodded. "I love you," I said, pecking her lips. "I love you too, dekta."

I filled both of our plates and helped her get comfortable on the couch, taking off my shorts and giving them to her, knowing she didn't appreciate being bare for long periods of time. I, on the other hand, loved it.

I loved this woman with my whole heart and I know she loves me too. The show we were watching soon finished, and I helped Nat set up a warm bath to soothe her muscles while I cleaned up the counter.

After cleaning up the dishes and putting the extra food in containers I joined Natasha in the bathroom. "You were such a good girl today" I whispered. She closed her eyes at the praise. I would have joined her but I knew my body couldn't handle the heat, or the task of drying off and feeling a towel against my skin.

Nat fell asleep in my arms, her skin still warm from the bath. Thankfully by then the AC was back on full blast and I could enjoy a comforting night with my best girl and the love of my life. Also the best thing I've ever tasted, but you get it.

[epickiya722]

Happy holiday.... What do you think that made Yuuji is so likeable as a character? I've only been in the JJK fandom for a year, and I've seen a lot of other JJK characters' stan. But one thing in common, they all love Yuuji and mostly will include him in their top 5 fav JJK charas (including me :D)...

Okay, in general I don't know, but I will tell you why I find him likeable!

For one, it's his design. Yuji's design is actually one of my favorites in JJK. That pink hair + brown eyes combo? Love it. The touch of red on his uniform, I like that, too. Since when I got into JJK, I started with the anime and then the manga, I didn't know Yuji used to have blond hair.

Neither way, I like it! I find both colors fitting for him.

And it's not just his features, but also how he's animated/drawn. He has a range to him that I just love so much. It reminds me of how my other favorite, Izuku Midoriya from BNHA, has a range.

Yuji will literally look like this one minute!

And then look like this the next!

Of course, with everything he's been through, he's going to look different, but you get what I mean! 😆

Another reason is his overall personality. First episode/chapter alone with clock you on that he is a goofball with gets along with people, but he's not a pushover. He care about others and has a good heart. He's just so kind and energetic. His energy easily matches up with other hyper characters like Satoru and Kugisaki.

He's willing to sacrifice himself just to save someone and really, it's also a sad part of his character. He later on gives into the idea that he is just a cog in a system. He accepts death, deciding to help as many people as he can before his time is up. It leads to him going through so much as the story goes on to the point that he isn't exactly the same as he was before.

On a funnier note, he's just this strange kid to me. Like, Yuji finds a love story within a movie called Human Earthworm. Those dolls Yaga be making? Yeah, he calls one "creepy but cute" and even Satoru Gojo questions it "this thing is cute"? When Megumi tells him about Sukuna's finger and curses wanting it, wanna know what Yuji asks? "Why? Is it good?"

YUJI, IT IS A FINGER?!

He didn't even freak out when he saw Megumi's Demon Dogs.

Love his strangeness though. It's an endearing part of him to me.

Adding on, I adore about him is his overall skillset.

Yuji didn't even have cursed energy or any special techniques, but he was already capable of breaking records and outrunning cars. So much so that he gained a nickname like "Tiger of West Middle" and believed to be the reincarnation of Mirko Cro Cop, who is an actual person who is still alive.

His strength is so powerful that he was even given curses like Hanami and Choso a hard time fighting.

On top of that, it wasn't as if Yuji needed to go through a training session to learn basic fight skills. He was already beating ass before curses!!

Yuji is also a quick learner. Apparently, Black Flash is a move that is difficult to accomplish, yet Yuji was told about it for a couple of minutes and managed to delivered several Black Flashes within that same time frame. And if you count the amount of Black Flashes that has happened in the series so far, Yuji has executed the most at 8 - 10. Yuji is also able to adapt to the fighting style that whoever he is fighting alongside has. He has done it with Nobara, Aoi and Megumi. Three different styles, yet Yuji is able to work with each of them like nothing.

One more thing, is his relationships with other characters.

Again, Yuji is a sweet guy so it's easy for people to take to him and be his ally. It's not even just him being sweet, but there's also his other personality traits and skills. He was able to impress someone like Aoi Todo. There are not a lot of characters on the same wavelength as Satoru because of his personality, but Yuji is one that is. Even Megumi, one of the grumpiest characters, takes to him.

And while I do love the positive relationships he has, there's also the negative ones I like, too.

Out of all the characters, Yuji's clash with Sukuna is the most entertaining to me. That is not to say that the other relationships are boring.

It's just that with these two are so different. So very different, yet share a few things in common that makes my brain get to working and then I have thoughts I have to write down.

Really, that's all I have to say for now!

Yuji Itadori is a favorite of mine, the #1 on my list. I don't blame others for liking him, too, because to be for real... Yuji is a character I can't imagine anyone genuinely hating. Like... how can anyone, I don't know! Maybe not care for him? Not everyone has him as a favorite character, I'm sure.

I mean, I have seen people say they prefer Yuta or Satoru as the main character (makes no sense to me, I highly disagree, if either of them was the main character of the main storyline, then it would be a totally different story, HELLO, and I do like those two).

I have seen people call him "weak" and "useless" for losing to Choso as if Yuji didn't give Choso a hard time even after running around and fighting curses and curse users before then. "Yuji should stick to jumping". Yuji be doing 98% of the jumping, stop it now I'm exaggerating but you get it.

I'm just saying, Yuji could do almost all the crazy stuff a lot of other characters do without hesitation, but I doubt anyone else would be able to willingly, without thought, swallow a finger that looks like that like Yuji has. That kid is a menace, but an absolute sunshine and I adore him.

[cloverwood]

Hi!! I’m a Therian who is questioning fairykin. Do you have any signs I may be one? I feel really connected to them and nature. (I always just assumed it was bc of my theriantropy). I’m apart of the so called “fairy-tok” and the more I’ve gotten into it the more really felt connected to fairies. Walking on my toes to feel as if I’m frying, having dreams where I can fly, feeling right when I’m wearing wings, pretending to do magic as it feels like I should be able to. It all feels right but I’m not sure? What things would you recommend me to look for to know I’m a fairy kin?

hi hi friend! this...ended up longer than expected apologies in advance (^_^")

well for starters, anyone who knows me or who has been in my discord will know that I am very against "deciding" someone else's kintype for them or the idea that you have to have exact specific experiences to identify as anything. So the only person who can find this out for you is yourself BUT! I will share some thoughts that could help you and others with similar feelings.

For starters, what experiences would equate one person to be a kin of something could be entirely opposite to another's experiences of the exact same kintype. even more so with fairies with how broad of a concept we are. The 'little humanoid figure with wings' concept of a fairy for example (of which i am one also) is very unique to folkore of only the last couple hundred years or so and modern media (tho i believe modern media counts as just modern folklore. pixie hollow fairies are as valid as the sidhe.) But it means one persons "fairy wings and flying" fairy would be another's "troll tail and three fingers on each hand" fairy. Just something to keep in mind in regards to "signs" and why its very much up to your own personal interpretations and feelings.

However that isnt to say that comparing experiences can't be useful and it can certainly be joyous. I've def had some people open up to the idea of possibly being fairykin without ever them considering it before bc they described some experience i was like 'oh thats similar to how i feel as a fairy' and they go 'REALLY!?' bc many folks just don't know that much abt fairies or some other reason. But again its more about finding connection less than finding 'signs'.

Secondly it never hurts to just dive into some research. Learn about all the different kinds of fair folk throughout history and cultures. Different fairy media as well if you're more modern inclined (Brian Froud is a big influence on me). Fairies are very very broad and it may help to try find different ideas and concepts you're drawn to and help you specify ur feelings, tho def not necessary.

And thirdly, my advice to anyone questioning a kin (even tho i need to start taking this advice myself XD). Just try it! Just call yourself that even if you arent 100% sure yet, plop the label on urself for a while and if it it sticks? great! if it doesnt? oh well! now you know! It's really the easiest approach. Because theres literally no harm in being wrong here. it can feel a bit embarrassing or weird after but its hurts noone, truly.

hope this ramble made any sense at all lol. again i have strong feelings about trying to confirm kins using other people or looking for specific "signs" because theres really no sign other than "i feel this". At the most it gets tricky when knowing you feel a way towards a 'type but not the exact relationship (ie where i am with homo-cladotherian rn, not sure if its kin or hearted or a more complex relationship) and that one is a pickle but again just rly smth only u can figure out with lots of time and introspection. It's not a race.

I can't remember who said this, but I once heard "Your kintype is an identity, not a diagnosis." and it very strongly aligns with how i feel about approaching this kinda thing.

[anystalker707]

You wish (1/2)

Pairing: Frank Iero x [non-binary, afab] Reader Word counting: ~ 2 200 Genre: Enemies to lovers Summary: Reader is the only one who doesn't take Frank's shit, but all the bickering eventually turns into flirting.

Requested on Wattpad

A sigh escapes my lips as I finish cleaning the last glass and put it under the counter along with the others before setting the cloth aside. It's going to be a busy night because, apparently, a band is going to play in the club tonight and that usually brings a lot of people in. On the other hand, at least Mikey is helping me today – let's hope he doesn't fuck up with anything, but if he does, it's Gerard's problem and not mine, after all.

"Hello," a guy greets as sitting down on one of the stools.

I raise an eyebrow at him, glancing at his clothes; white, with a hand drawn black symbol on the shirt. Probably someone from the staff considering we haven't opened yet. The club is empty apart from me, the cleanse people and the ones putting the stage up. "Hi."

"A beer, please." He presses his lips together into a smile, watching me moving to grab what he asked, pouring the drink into a glass before I set it in front of him and throw the can away. "Thank you..." It's clear he wants to know my name, but I don't say anything, carrying on with my job, and proceed to clean the empty area of the counter. He frowns. "What's your name? Nice to meet you, I'm Frank."

"I'm just the one in charge of the bar," I reply simply. Giving attention to everyone isn't something very wise to do and something I didn't learn easily; most of the idiots sitting around the bar will just insult me in the moment I reject them or say gross things, so talks certainly should be avoided. Even if it isn't from a customer.

"Aw, you're not funny!" His words don't sound genuine tho, the disappointment is hidden under certain amusement. "'Bet you don't have many clients while acting like that!"

Cool, just like predicted. To be honest, getting rid of this stain here is more interesting.

"Hi, hi," Mikey greets and I glance back to see him walking in with a smile, "oh, hey, Frank! Didn't know you'd be the one playing here tonight!" He moves to next to Frank leaning his side against the counter. I observe them for a brief moment – so Mikey knows the punk, huh?

"Yeah," Frank replies excitedly, "Gerard could help us with it, so..." He shrugs, smiling. "Didn't know you work here, either."

"I don't," Mikey chuckles. "I just help here once in a while."

"Laze around, you mean," I add, glaring at Mikey. He gasps, widening his eyes, but I speak up before he's able to say anything. "Not to mention that your last time here costed us two glasses, you butter fingers. Thank hell Gerard is the only one to be scolded!"

"C'mon, you know how difficult it is to handle these," he groans. "You're just being annoying."

"And rude," Frank adds under his breath. "'Won't talk with me."

Mikey raises an eyebrow at Frank before chuckling. "Not surprising. I wouldn't talk with you either if you showed up like that, even more knowing how you can be—"

"Stop, you're supposed to be helping me!"

"(Y/n) is just this way, c'mon!" Mikey shrugs. "And you're annoying. I bet they were just doing their work." He glares, moving to serve Frank a can of soda this time after he pushed his glass forward while muttering something. I can't help but to glance at them with an amused smirk, having fun in watching how Frank shoots me a bitter look and Mikey is being suspiciously nice today.

"Cut off the sweet talk, Mikey," I say as approaching them, putting the cloth away for real this time. "I'll love you more if you work more. And you." I turn to Frank. "Yeah, you're annoying."

While Mikey chuckles, a long and dramatic whine comes from Frank. "You just met me! You're the annoying one! And even rude!"

"I don't go around attacking people for free, Frank." I shrug, leaning back against the counter with a sigh. "And insulting me because I didn't do what you wanted me to? What are you, five?" I hold back a chuckle, rolling my eyes. Part of what I'm doing is because I am not going to take his shit, but it is also entertaining seeing how Frank can react.

As predicted, the night ends up being quite agitated, but Mikey and I do have a break during the concert since people focus more on the music instead of getting drinks, what gives us the opportunity to pay attention to it too. It's a bit difficult seeing them – LeATHERMOUTH, that's the name – because of the low stage and huge crowd, in a way most of what I can see resumes itself to Frank jumping around like crazy, though he sometimes disappears in what I presume to be kneeling on the ground and my suppositions he has any sanity left are erased when I see him with the cable wrapped around his head. Cool.

Frank returns after the show is over, asking for a drink and, once again, using that shitty attitude that I do not take.

Through the time, Frank's band makes more shows in the club and, if it wasn't for Mikey there – consequently –, I probably wouldn't be sharing any word with him again. He is annoying. It is literally impossible to talk to him for longer than five seconds without being attacked and receiving a rude remark, even if it turns into some kind of weird flirting through the time.

I suppress a sharp sigh when seeing Frank approaching after another show came to an end – even so, it's still early in the night and another band took over when they left the stage.

"G'night, what d'you want?" Pete, who is also working in the bar today – because Mikey couldn't make it due to something related to Electric Century, if I'm not wrong –, is free and approaches Frank in the moment he takes a seat on a stool across the counter. Thank hell, maybe I don't have to deal with the dumbass today.

"I actually want (y/n) to fix me a drink, thank you," Frank replies without any pity and I need to hold back a chuckle at Pete's reaction; Frank smirks a bit as meeting my gaze.

Throwing the Cosmopolitan in the glass, I push it towards the woman, finally moving towards Frank. "Hey, rat, good concert. Would've been better if you weren't there." I grin, leaning forward on the counter with my hands on the edge of it.

"Very funny!" He rolls his eyes, twisting his mouth a bit. "I bet watching me performing would be the best part of your night if it actually wasn't talking with me."

"You wish, you're always counting the seconds to come here annoy me," I breathe, shaking my head. "Anyways, what do you want?"

"I'm actually not up for much alcohol today..." Frank hums thoughtful as looking at all the drinks behind me while placing his elbow over the counter and resting his cheek against his palm. "I was going for a Manhattan, but fix me a Spritz instead."

"As you wish," I mutter while moving to grab the bottles I need then coming back to prepare the drink.

"So, Mikey isn't here today?" Frank asks and I slowly nod in response.

"Yeah," I reply after a moment, having been focused on getting the right quantity of each drink in a way it isn't too bitter or too boozy, just as he likes it, "apparently he had something else to do, so we fixed someone else." I mix everything before throwing it inside a glass with ice, adding a rosemary branch for the looks, and push it towards him. "I needed to endure you moaning your ass off on that stage all by myself, unfortunately."

Frank snorts as taking the drink, shaking his head to himself. "Shut up, you wish you were the one to be making me moan like that." He takes a sip of the drink and raises his eyebrows lightly, quickly taking another sip of it.

I roll my eyes, not worrying if my reaction is dramatic as I pretend to gag. "I actually wish I was the one wrapping the cable around your neck, y'know?"

"Aw, babe," Frank groans, looking up at me from under his eyelashes, "I'd love that."

The words set a silence between us for a moment, in which I glare at Frank with disbelief and he's got that fake innocent look on, batting his eyelashes while looking at me. His look gives me this weird feeling in my chest, but I look away before I can identify whether it's good or bad, cursing under my breath at the same time he starts laughing.

"You're terrible," I tell Frank, moving away once seeing a guy taking a seat.

"A Paloma, please," the guy asks and I nod, moving to do as asked.

"I'm the best, actually," Frank replies in his usual smug tone and I can't help but to laugh, sarcastically agreeing.

"Here." I hand the guy his drink, sighing as moving to take a few empty glasses away from the counter and hand it to Pete so he can go clean them.

"Thank you, baby." The guy winks at me and here we go again. I ignore him. "What's your name? You a cutie, aren't yah? When is your shift over? Maybe I could take you home," he insists, but his words just turn into a background noise that I try to ignore as moving to the back to put away the bottles I've used. "Oh, you gonna play it difficult? 'Bet you—"

"Can you please leave them alone?" Frank's voice cuts in and I need to glance back to make sure I'm not making things up and there is Frank, glaring at the guy. "C'mon, man, if they're not giving you attention, that's a no. Accept it nicely and don't make it obvious how frustrated with yourself you are."

"Who even do you think you are?" The guy retorts bitterly.

"I'm just—"

"Y'know what, I'm not coming here anymore," the guy grumbles to himself and just downs the drink before he stands up and disappears among the crowd. Frank and I share a confused look before shrugging.

"Thank you, I guess," I sigh as walking back to Frank, leaning on the counter with my forearms over it and we're about the same level. I observe him for a moment, thinking about what he did, and there's this feeling in my stomach again. Butterflies? No, no, no. Not for him. I try my best to not let him know about what's going in my mind, not looking away from him.

"Don't worry." He smirks and that's just Frank. He's always smug and convinced of himself, not afraid of saying what he thinks or feels. What an idiot. For real, I like it. "You deserved it."

"Honestly, I don't know how to react," I confess, "because, since we met, it's been sounding like you're going to throw me from a cliff in the moment you have the opportunity to."

"I'm not like that, (y/n)," he breathes, eyes drifting down for a second as he bites back an awkward smile. "I, um— You're actually really nice. I just like fucking around with you." He shrugs and looks down at his glass, playing a bit with the remaining ice cubes. I keep observing him, not replying, so he looks at me again, raising an eyebrow.

Y'know what? Fuck it.

I glance down at Frank's lips and a red tone immediately takes over his cheeks with it, but I just lean in and am actually surprised by him meeting me halfway. I can still taste the Spritz on his lips, faintly, what ends up irrelevant under how nice and surprisingly soft they feel against mine. His mustache brushes lightly against the skin under my nose, tickling it, something I try to ignore as cupping his face and deepening the kiss as he places his hand over mine.

There's this feeling in my stomach again, followed by a nice tingling sensation that goes down my spine while a warm sensation fills my chest. Okay; it feels right, for once.

"I'm driving you home," Frank mutters against my lips, a bit breathless, just like me.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I smirk a bit as we gaze at each other for a moment and I'm not sure about what'd happen next, but we are interrupted by Pete before I can find out. Idiot.

"Stop making out and go back to work, (y/n)," he calls from the other side of the bar and I sigh heavily, rolling my eyes as I move towards the couple who just approached the counter. "I'm going to tell Mikey about it!"

"You are not going to tell Mikey!" I glare at Pete before turning to the couple, asking what they want and quickly putting myself to prepare the two Martinis.

______

Part 2

[hanadoesstuffbadly]

Daughter of Giants

"You should move along, Giant, we don't want your sort around here." The bartender's voice was low and authoritative, the voice of a man not easily ignored, but one didn't need the ears of a bat to make out the tremors coursing through it. Everything about him was a well made manor with good foundations, but Aravis could tell it was built on sand. Give him a little shake and everything would start slipping.

Aravis smirked and tapped her fingers idly against the bar's puckered wooden surface. A part of her cursed  how ineffective her disguise had been proving recently, even after she's taken to covering her folc markings. The last thing she needed now was to have word of a nomadic folcwoman travelling the Engle Lands like a sad silk trader. Her tankard's rim just brushed her lips as she held it there and she concentrated on the fact that the man had not moved along, still standing just out of sight behind her mustard coloured hood. If he just needed a shake, why was she feeling inclined to rattle him until the very bricks of his character were dust to be scraped off of her heel. Maybe she was too tired for this today, too done with walkers and their sloppy, indelicate ineptitude. But at the same time, her ichor was roaring through her veins, violet and rushing. It made her lungs burn like magma beneath the island's crust. Her titanic heart yearned for a fight. It had been too long.

"My sort?" Silk dropped into her tone inadvertently, turning her deep, hoarse, broken voice into an almost mechanical purr. Fear rippled through the room like ribbons. It was a cool breeze in a suffocating glare of self-importance and Aravis breathed it in.

"You're a bounty-hunter!" Not the bartender, but a nasal, underdeveloped voice called from the crowd of patrons that had interrupted their own meals to gawk like a gaggle around what had been a peaceful evening drink. Aravis didn't bother seeking out the speaker (though she suspected one of the pasty, mealy shepherds seated closer to the entrance. An easy escape, she mused, smart choice.) Her brow, however, creased at his choice of words. Bounty hunters were perhaps the lowest of the low creatures grovelling on the earth's filthy surface. Turning in fellows of your kind for the reward of others? Had they no sense of honour or kinship at all. Had a folcman or woman acted in such a way, they would be plunged beneath the clouds to the endless oceans below and ripped to shreds by the wild, Bacchic merpeople of the depths. Honour, trust, loyalty; mere dramatic concepts to be learned and forgotten by those thugs like poor poetry.

"Now what would give you that idea?" Likely her stature or lack of ladylike grace. Maybe-

"The ends of your hair. They're white." The thought died before it even took shape in her mind. A chill crawled up around her shoulders, turning the thick muscle there into cold stone. She was frozen in place, barely able to open her mouth to reply through gritted teeth, her head bowed lower toward the counter and her tankard rested against her suddenly ringing forehead.

"Why," she ground out, "would that," turning slowly like a tin doll, her eyes flashed, "mark me out?" Moonlight flashed against a bronze knife behind the bar and it set the room aflame. The man- boy really- stood and quaked like a tethered kite before the entrance like it was a headwind. He had a round, dark, unfinished face; the face of a scholar or bard, not a warrior. Nevertheless, Aravis wanted nothing more than to turn it blue with bruises.

"I've heard stories," He shuddered and searched any face but hers for help "my father's a pepper merchant, he told me about you and your kind." The idea of some miserable, slimy, slithering underwalker's tongue speaking of her ‘kind’ made Aravis' fists curl. "Your hair is dark and- and blue, right?" He was slipping, but didn't run. Yet. "He used to say, when- when what was inside your head became darker, your hair literally started paling in comparison... Making the tips turn white... And- I-I thought..."

"Tom Tom, that's enough." Hissed the bartender.

Aravis was very still. Whispers are meant to be lost in the chaos. Aravis’ words were like breaths, yet each one rang in the floorboards and out of the door like the echoes of screams.

"Your father is well-learned. Darkness seeping into every crevice of the mind, turning you into a miasma veiled in flesh? What better fits that description than a callous, underhanded criminal? What could be so dark, so evil, as to turn the tips of my hair so pale?"

With one hand she tore the hood from her head. And not a breath was drawn as their pathetic faces took in the blank, dull cascades, the colour of new snow. Cold and dead. White to the roots.

She closed her eyes when the whispers started seeping into their fear, and as always, before her there stretched a great gash in the clouds on which she, still an adolescent wrapped in sunlight, stood. Beneath that crevice she saw the island of the underwalkers. But she wasn't looking at them. Instead, all that filled her vision was the great, massive warrior lying like unwanted venison beside the hulking, grotesque, monstrous corpse of a Beanstalk. And the underwalkers were dancing. At their head, leading them on there stood a creature of pale flesh and golden hair. To others he might have looked like a child, beautiful and beaming. Aravis knew what he really was. The axe was still in his hands. That smiling, glittering face was the last thing she saw before the vision cleared and Aravis opened her eyes to the bar counter. 

Shards of metal and broken wood lay before her. Her hand was bloodied by purple ichor. Still lodged within the cut were some remains of the crushed tankard. But it was her eyes that were burning with pain.

The whispers had ceased. And so had the roar in her veins. She was ice.

Standing, she swept her cloak aside to rest both hands on her hips, her feet apart. She was taller now than she had been when she entered, and now the crest of her ringed headband just skimmed the ceiling. Everybody in the room cowered below her. It felt right.

"Indeed. I am a hunter. But what I'm after is not the reward of a slippery, stupid nobleman. It is justice. And it is mine alone." the low rasp of her voice grew full and round as pride swelled within, "as a daughter of the mighty Laestrygonians."

At the name of her folc, new horror trickled into slow running red blood all around her. So many eyes darted to the door, for escape. Many more became fixed on her lips or, more specifically, on the teeth that lay behind them. Aravis didn’t need to be a mind mage to know they were wondering how much mortal flesh had been shredded upon them. That stout bartender was the first to finish quivering.

"Who do you seek, great Giantess? I will tell you all that I know, just don't hurt any of my customers, I beg of you!" Ugh. Begging. Typical underwalkers.

"I'm hunt Prince Jack of Gaul. As I have for almost ten years." Voice rising such that everyone might hear, she let fear carry her words. "He has taken something very precious from me, many things in fact, and I intend to exact justice."

“But, he’s been missing over three years! Many young princes have been.” Aravis was well aware of that. So close. She had been so close she could see the ridiculous peak of his hair, illuminated under dragon fire. But the presence of one of the more powerful fae had forced to keep her distance. But she had him cornered. It was almost over. And then he was gone.

“Haven’t you heard? They’re back, now.” Every head turned back to the scholarly boy by the entrance. “Yeah, the entire Fearless-”

But Aravis was deaf to the world.

They’re back now. He’s back now. He’s back. Again, and again, and again. The sound of clouds being split down the middle and the shining eyes of the blonde, beautiful murderer. And dancing. Aravis’ eyes were filled with axes, ichor and dancing.

Her bident spear was in her hand one moment and whistling across the room the next. The boy- Tom Tom he’d been called- was pinned between its prongs like a fish, flailing and panicked. He grasped at the twin spikes which were twice as thick as his arm. As Aravis strode over, he just resisted going limp.

With her feelings crashing and shrieking in her head, Aravis paid no attention to the fact that the ceiling had splintered around it. She didn’t notice the splinters to timber that clawed at her waist, nor the frigid night air whipping her face as she waded through the bar like mud. People the size of dolls scurried for the exit, while the one she wanted remained pinned. Until she knelt down and gripped the long handle of her weapon, pushing it closer into his throat.

“Where?” Was all she managed. Everything inside was a storm that even she herself was becoming lost in.

“I- I don’t know! I was told by a friend!”

“WHERE?!” Her bellow ricocheted off the dark sky itself like thunder and the bident spear-head pressed harder against his trachea until he gasped for air.

“STONEBURY!” Violent sobs wracked his body but Aravis did not relent, “GLASS STONEBURY! MY FRIEND HORNER IS IN GLASS STONEBURY! HE CAN TELL YOU!”

Only then, with a grunt of dark satisfaction did she pull the spear from the wall, releasing him. With the first real, tangible feeling she had felt in years melting into her veins, she shrank back down until she was practically the same stature she had been when she had arrived. The bar’s roof was gone, allowing freezing wind to howl through. She cared not.

Aravis finished a drink that had been abandoned on a table in the panic. It was revolting, crude stuff, typical for underwalkers. But a smile was curled on her face regardless.

"What will you do once you find the prince? He's a hero, and has many powerful friends!" So the bartender had stayed, she hadn’t counted on that. She graciously turned to look at him, feeling lighter than she had in almost four years.

"Simple. I will rend his arms from his sides. I will cast his broken body across the air until each and every bone is ground into dust."

"They'll see you coming, people have already run to tell others of you."

"You speak as if I’d intended this to be a slaughter. You are wrong.” Aravis’ hood fell to the floor and her hand reached into her satchel. She sighed softly when her fingers met the gentle, rippling fabric of her cloak. Her mother’s cloak. “It’s an execution.” she pulled it free, letting it grow in size until it could wrap around her completely. Her legs and torso disappeared from sight. “And I must have him know his sentence.”

Turning, she vanished behind the concealment of the cloak and into the darkness of the night. The Engle Lands were solitary, located deep in the marshes of Fairytale Island. 

It wasn’t far to Glass Stonebury. And then all that was left was to find this Horner.

Just an intro that I couldn't get out of my head since creating Aravis (her name was Astrid originally). I kinda want to write a whole fic about this but I'm not sure since it would be pretty much all my ocs... I'm imagining basically zootopia but with a Giant princess and a bounty hunter.

Also ive already started about two big projects with no third chapter soooo.....