#a little ancient goddess vibes

[jackienova]

FUNGUARY 2024 — Week 2: Demonic Silver Leaf Fungus with Lilac Bonnet & Bird’s Nest Fungus Spirit of the forest.

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter II

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 12k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter. we delve a little bit into their backstory now (gladiator II is set around 211 AD). feel free to let me know if you are interested in reading how these two get to where we picked up before <3 i also have a little acacius playlist that fits the vibe of this fic very well. feel free to check it out here!

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame (details will be explained later in the story) dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) domus - a roman house palla - a traditional mantle for women paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials

Chapter II

209 AD

The domus sits just on the edge of Palatine Hill, on the side opening towards the Forum Romanum and Via Nova. You have passed below it more times than you can count, though you have rarely walked the small street that weaves up the hill and leads to the edge of the property.

Many of the neighboring houses are too harsh for your taste, with columns twice as wide as your body and barely a shrub of greenery in front of them. A supposed sign of strength, no doubt. But when passing the house with the large garden, you like to take as much time as you dare, occasionally catching a whiff of the lavender that grows all around it.

It reminds you of the shadowy figure you often saw walking those same gardens after dark, many years past. A bereaved woman, shrouded in dark cloth, keeping her head down as she tended to the plants with dainty fingers, decorated with a thick gold ring that framed a green stone. You remember lingering too long on your way past the iron fence once, fascinated by the way her dress flowed in the wind. She had called out to you, beckoning you towards her.

Lucilla was not a terrifying woman but you knew that every misstep could cost you, especially in your position as a vestal. She had knelt down in front of your trembling form, brushed your hair out of your face and looked at you with an expression you did not understand. But she had whispered words that you did. Asked you not to collect the water after dark, to stay with the older vestals. Then she had offered you a small bundle of lavender.

You stuffed it under the linen of your bed later that night, breathing in a scent that felt like a world where a woman could freely roam her garden and the city beyond, who did not have to be afraid.

The guard at the gate gives a small bow of courtesy when you reach him and moves to the side, allowing you to tread the stone path that leads up to the house. “The General is inside. Please, knock.”

A gentle “Thank you” escapes your lips as you reach to lift your stola just enough to not step on it. The torches lining the way are extinguished, not needed during the day. A short glance down the hill allows you to spot your own home, right beside the rounded building that is the Temple of Vesta.

When you reach the wooden door, you raise your hand and will yourself to knock with enough force to make it heard.

You can hear someone calling out from inside and a few seconds later, a man with broad shoulders opens the door. His gaze flies over you briefly–taking in your white tunic and the palla wrapped around your shoulders. The thin veil attached to your headdress and all the linen of your clothes tucked neatly into place are usually enough indication for whoever is stood in front of you to understand your status.

“General Acacius?” You ask softly, your eyes taking in his brown eyes and the curve of his nose, one that looks like it belongs on a statue rather than a living man.

“Vero, that is me. Please, come inside.” He gives a small bow, gesturing past himself and you nod at the invitation, gracefully stepping into the house and finding yourself in an atrium that renders you speechless. The columns that line its sides are slightly worn, flowers stretching along them towards the upper floor. Stone basins and pots holding a variety of plants stand at almost every corner of the open space, making it feel more like a garden than the stuck-up room you would have expected in a Generals home.

Acacius’s hand hovers behind you, guiding you past the fountain that holds a few orange fish and to the opposite end of the open room, though he never actually touches you. “Please. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” you repeat your earlier words, lowering yourself onto the chair he indicated.

“Would you like some wine? Perhaps some grapes too?” He waves to one of the servants, who promptly places two glasses on the table, though Acacius takes the carafe and dismisses him with a small nod as he begins to pour you some of the dark red liquid. You make to reach for your glass to hold it steady but he shakes his head quickly. “Allow me. Please.”

You nod at that, leaning back and waiting politely while he pours himself a drink as well. It allows you a moment to take in his form up close, the white tunic and his red paludamentum wrapped around his body. A cloak fastened with a gold brooch, one that–similar to your headwear–makes him a respected man no matter where he goes. You wonder if he feels the same about it, that some days it's more like a heavy curse weighing one down. Then again, he is a General of Rome. You are a priestess of Vesta. Your paths may cross today but you are certain they look very different from one another.

He sits down across from you, a small sigh leaving his lips as he toasts in your direction and takes a sip of his wine. Then, he leans to the side and produces two rolls of parchment. “I had to make some adjustments to my will. It was kept by one of the other priestesses, but I believe she has finished her service with the Vestals since I last saw her.”

You give him a small smile as you take the parchment from him, nodding. “Yes, she left the year before last. But of course I will be just as happy to keep the will for you.”

His eyes fly over your face briefly and he gestures to the rolls on your lap. “I crossed out the old version. I married, you see.”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding a little too quickly. “Of course. Yes, I–The lady of this house I presume–” You break off, realizing your mistake. If he indeed married Lucilla, he is now the head of this house. “What I meant–” you add hastily. “–is that it is your house now. And the house is beautiful, I mean–” It’s the second time you stop in the middle of the sentence. But this time, it is because you have dared to look back over at the General. And he is not even trying to conceal his amusement.

You bow your head in another silent apology and he tuts softly. “You are quite right, you know. As far as I am concerned, she is the woman of this house.” A smile plays around his lips. “And I would not have it any other way.”

It’s clearly not his atrium that surprises you. He is not what you would expect a General to be. Especially not one that is about to entrust you with his will. “I give my word that I will see it is stored safely,” you reassure him, carefully taking another small sip of the wine.

Acacius nods. “I appreciate that. You have my thanks.” He pauses briefly, his gaze darting around the atrium for a split second before landing back on you. “You seem uneasy. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No. No, of course not, General.” It is not a lie, per se. But you are all too aware that it sounds like one.

“Is it your first time taking a will?”

You do not know how he does it. He seems to have read you so easily–or he is just very well connected to know such a thing. “Yes. It is, but I promise–”

“I trust you,” he states almost casually while reaching for the grapes and offering you some as well. You politely decline.

“Forgive me but … you met me mere moments ago. How can you know I am trustworthy?” Your eyes catch his and this time you hold his gaze, not missing the small glint in them.

“All of Rome trusts the Vestals. If not you, who would we put our faith into?”

“The gods. You should put your faith in the gods,” you say quietly.

“I prefer to put my faith in people,” Acacius responds, though his voice is slightly lowered as well. “The gods do not fight our wars.”

You stand up so abruptly that you almost drop the scrolls. “I should go.”

He seems perplexed for a moment but quickly catches himself and nods, standing up before leading you back the same way you came. You allow yourself a quick sideward glance at his face and are met with a professionally neutral expression. At the door, you turn towards him, giving a last, small bow. “My General.” His title falls off your lips like the silk they sell at the market, flowing effortlessly. His brown eyes lingering on you as you address him–even if normal custom–as yours, make your stomach clench slightly.

Acacius lets his hand hover beside you again, never quite touching you. Yet you almost seem to be able to feel his touch. “I did not mean offense.” His voice is much softer than it was when he greeted you.

“Of course.” You force yourself to smile and step away, shaking your head at the brief moment of confusion you allowed yourself. He is a General, you are a Vestal. He has sworn his vows and you have sworn yours. And both include promises that are enough to keep you at a few feets distance for several lifetimes. “Please, call for me if you ever need to make adjustments to the will. And–” You force yourself to smile a little wider. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

You turn around before he can speak again, suddenly wanting to put some distance between yourself and the house you so longed to see from inside–until you did.

***

211 AD

“You have to go, dulcissima.”

Acacius' voice is quiet, the back of his head resting against the stone pillar as he watches you drag the chaise lounge across the atrium, muttering under your breath when you have to maneuver it around the small fountain in the middle of the space.

“Please.”

You shake your head just as you reach him, gesturing for him to sit down. His begging breaks your heart–it always has. But the thought of leaving him here with open wounds is worse.

“Let me see your arm.” He doesn't move, forcing you to become a bit more stern. “Acacius. Let me see the arm. I am not leaving until you do.”

A curse slips out under his breath but he does as told, sitting down and allowing you to inspect his wound. The rustle of the chain on his ankle breaks the quiet as he moves and you pointedly ignore it as you crouch down in front of him.

You let your hand hover above his skin for a moment, taking a small breath. It is still difficult to break the rules you have been taught for so long sometimes. You tell yourself that this is not even a sin, that you are merely caring for a wounded Gladiator. It tricks your brain enough to lower your hand onto his skin. You do not believe it tricks Vesta.

“He should not have fought you,” you mumble quietly, thinking back to how Lucius was swinging away the moment he entered the arena.

“He did not understand. And it is how the Colosseum works, you know this.” Acacius mutters back, tensing slightly when you run your finger over the cut the sword left on his arm. It doesn't seem too deep but you know Acacius must be in much more pain than he lets on.

“I hate that place,” you whisper, surprising yourself with the force of your words. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you stiffen when you feel a calloused hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before brushing over your cheek.

“Oh, sweet,” he mutters, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “I am fine. I made it out, see? I promised I would.”

“They were going to shoot you,” you choke out, trying and failing to hold back the tears now slipping down your cheeks. You feel his lips touch the crown of your head briefly.

“But they didn't. Now, please, I will take care of this. But you have to leave.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and shake your head again, blinking a few times to clear your vision and shift your attention back to his wound. “How would you take care of this? They have sentenced you to death. The Emperors have called for it, in front of the whole empire.”

“I can talk to them. I have things to offer, even now. They do not know how to lead an army. But they need someone who does. And–”

“You would sell your soul to stay alive,” you whisper as you reach for a piece of cloth and begin to wipe down the crusted blood.

Acacius sighs. “No. But I would sell my soul to stay with you.”

! when commenting or reblogging, please make sure to hide spoilers from others !

[marilynthornhilllover]

*chants* Lady D size kink/tentacle kink! Lady D size kink/tentacle kink!

Kinktober fic #2

What eyes can’t see

Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader

Warning: smut, mommy kink, manipulative kink, cunnilingus, tentacle sex, skin marking.

A/n: this is a bit lengthy so I apologize, I’ve never written a smut fanfic on tentacle before so I hope you enjoy<3 happy spokey season👻

Dr. Alcina Dimitrescu was said to be the best gynecologist doctor in town. Everyone said that she takes care of every woman’s problems as if it were her own, and never failed to make anyone feel comfortable and every woman who ever went to her for treating left her office with what was said to be shaky legs. But the reason for this was never revealed. They all just said that she worked some kind of magic and now they feel fantastic down there and we’re able to perform their sexual duties as normal.

So there you sat, in the doctors office waiting for your name to be called, it was really late in the night and you were completely exhausted. You’ve been there since eight in the morning but the line was tremendously but since you weren’t going to be given other opportunity to be off work for a day you settled on the waiting game.

“ miss y/l/n?” Your head shot up in the direction of which your name was called and there standing was the doctors assistant. She was a short girl with an enclosed composure, a black pencil skirt with a fitted red blouse. Her hair was curled and tucked away neatly behind her ear as her green eyes smiled warmly at you but her lips didn’t mirror the action.

“ doctor Dimitrescu will see you now.” She spoke softly before retreating down the dimly lit hall. You quickly stood up, grabbed your purse with you then proceeded to follow her lead. Honestly the clinic wasn’t what you would have expected. It was small but gave off a warm and cozy vibe making everyone who entered feel safe and comfortable. The lady came to a halt infront of a big shiny black door with a gold plate that read “ Dr. Alcina Dimitrescu “ on it. She knocked three times in sync before turning the handle and allowing you to entire before her.

“ doc, this is your last patient for the night, she’s been here all more so I’d suggest rewarding her for her patience, and goodnight I’ll be taking my leave and signing out shortly ” the red head announced before she closed the door behind you. After a while you just stood there awkwardly, the office was just like the other parts of the clinic, dimly lit. Her desk took up half of the room even though it was huge. She had shelves with books and medicine and pictures on the wall of what seemed to be flowers with blood on them. Weird…. Maybe even creepy.

Her office was modern with a little bit of a historical background to it, it seemed more ancient like or maybe even European, you knew a European interior design when you see one.

The room was filled with the mixed scent of citrus and lavender but something old and sweet giving it a sweetened spicy scent. On the opposite side of the room was a bed with a sheet of plastic on it like all hospital beds but it was big and on each side had toys…. Sex toys to be exact. You saw vibrators, dildos, anal toys etc. you were too entrapped in your own world that you didn’t even notice that the raven hair goddess was now full on staring at you.

“ do they intrigue you?” A low husk voice asked, you were suddenly torn away from your trance and that’s when both your eyes met. The gaze lingered for a moment before you quickly looked away and swallowed thickly. Something about the way she looked at you made you wanna run away and never come back or even if the ground could open and sucked you in that would be nice. You could feel your face heat up and your breathing start to get shallow.

“ no need to be nervous darling….come take a seat” she spoke up again, her voice was low and dripped like honey but it had a certain roughness and firmness to it, like a soft command but you heard a little bit of exhaustion behind it as well. You found yourself obeying her order and move swiftly to sit in front of her on the chair provided, the quicker you got this over with the better. You didn’t know why you had decided to wear a short mini shirt that rested only above your upper thighs exposing your bare skin because for a moment you could have sworn that you saw her eyes lingering a little too long on your legs. When they caught your eyes again a shiver ran down your spine.

Alcina raised from her chair and slowly walked around her desk, as if she wanted to intimidate you. She carefully sat on the edge right infront of you and crossed her legs. Man she had legs for days…She studied your face for a moment before she allowed her eyes to wonder down your body. She watched how your fingers held onto your purse for dear life, how your chest heavied with every breath you took and of course you clenching your thighs shut tightly.A subtle smirk appeared on her face for a quick instant before it quickly disappeared.

“ so what brings you here today must be quite serious? My assignment says you’ve been here all morning, is that so?” She asked taking a step closer towards you, and soon you realized where the spicy smell was coming from, it was from her, her perfume was strong and it clung to you like a rope and was suffocating you. Her entire presence was intoxicating. Never once did you think an older woman could get under your skin like this….. a doctor to be exact. Well that’s a new kink unlocked for you….

Again you were broken away from your trance when a hand came in contact with your chin and pushed your head upwards.

“ what’s troubling you my dear?,you seem to keep getting lost in these thoughts up here quite often” She asked, but somehow you felt as if she already knew, obviously it was something sexual or else you would not be here. You would have gone out of town to see another doctor. You felt lost for words but you didn’t wanna seem stupid so you attempted to answer her question.

“ I—I um—I’m” you quickly became a stammering mess and quickly shut your mouth in embarrassment. She smirked and pursed her lips, shaking her head, either in encouragement or disappointment either way the gesture made your thighs clench tighter.

“ take your time darling” she interrupted, her grip on your chin tightening as her hand slowly creeped downwards to your neck. You swallowed again and squirmed in your seat.

“ I’m having trouble masturbating…..” you finally blurted out, closing your eyes shut tight expecting her to laugh or do something to match with your awkwardness but inside she just remained still and, now you felt even more stupid for closing your eyes. Alcina released your chin pivoted to retrieve a small note pad from her desk, quickly scribbling something down before putting it back down in it’s before position.

“ is that it? What do you have trouble with specifically?” She asked kneeling in front of you as her hand snaked their way up your calves then up towards your thighs, you almost jumped out of your body and her hands came to an immediate halt.

“ hey, I’m not here to make you feel comfortable ok? I’m here to help, you’re a bit tense I want you to relax ok?” She asked, almost like a whisper and you nodded.

“ use your words baby” she said firmly and you sighed.

“ yes doctor” you replied a little too loud. You cringed internally at your volume choice and hide your face in the palm of your hands. But Alcina quickly tore them away and placed them back down at your sides.

“ good girl” she purred. She gave you a pushing look which made you remember her question. You tried to think of a way to tell her your sexual problems without sounding weird but nothing was coming to mind.

“ I can’t explain it….” You whispered shyly slouching down into the chair. Alcina chuckled and looked up at you through her lashes.

“ it’s ok darling there isn’t anything I haven’t heard before and even if it is I’m sure I can find a way to work around it, I’ve been in this job for over 30 years I’m no stranger to anything, I’m a professional…..” she said, her tone of voice deepening on the last word which again caused you to shiver once more. You thought about it for a second and trust me her eyes are some of the most reassuring ones ever.

“ I can’t make myself cum….” You whispered. You didn’t even know if she heard it because it barely left your lips but regardless she better had because you wouldn’t be repeating yourself. She shook her head and smiled.

“ now that I can work with my love, now fill out this form and I’ll be right back, follow all instructions that’s there on the paper ok?” You nodded and she handed you a sheet of paper before exiting the room. You sighed a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding before looking down at the paper before grabbing a pen from her pen cup on the desk. You held the paper up close and began reading it’s contents. Some questions were quite reaching and definitely had some privacy concerns.

Some asked how you like having sex, where, toys or fingers, what were your kinks etc.But never the least you filled it out just in time for when the door opened again and alcina stepped through, you handed her the paper and she scanned through it with the best poker face you’ve ever seen before she hummed with contentment before she then proceeded to walk back to the door, locking it before returning back to her desk.

“ you can pull the curtains and take off your clothes, when your finished you’ll call me” she spoke, turning her computer back on as her finger moved swiftly over the keyboard. You stood still trying your best to process what she just asked you to do.

“ you need me to get naked?” You asked in slight disbelief and you watch as she nods but not looking up to properly confirm.

“ I need to do some tests” she replies when she realizes that you went quiet.

“ and what test require me to be naked?” You asked with maybe too much attitude, now you got her attention. She glanced up at you and for a moment you see her stern poker face crack and little and a glint of desire pass through her eyes, but she masks it well and cover it up with a twitch in her eyebrow.

“I’m sorry are you here to get help or ask me about my job because by all means continue I have all night my next shift doesn’t start until ten tomorrow…” the room goes quiet and the tension continues to rise until it becomes unbearable so you just comply and proceed behind the curtains and begin taking off your clothes. Then you were abruptly interrupted when alcina steps in and pulls a rollable stool infront of you. You quickly cover yourself and look away.

“ up on the bed and spread your legs” at this point you couldn’t even complain. You came here for something now you need to let her do her job. You hoped up onto the bed and pressed your back against the plastic pillow and slowly opened your legs shyly. You were honestly kind of embarrassed because you were damp down there and you didn’t know why, maybe it was the sexual tension between you both, or maybe it’s the fact that no woman has ever seen you down there before. Alcina drew her stool closer towards the edge of the bed and pulled you down by your ankles and you release an audible gasp.

She pulled out a box of gloves from her cabinet and put on a pair.

“ chose a toy and demonstrate to me how exactly you play with yourself” she hoaxed out, your breathing became more elaborated and it came out in shorten breaths, alcina sensed your hesitation so she gently caressed your ankles. You dipped two fingers down between your folds and started sliding them through your wet slits gasping quietly at the contact. You refused to make eye contact with her, she had something naturally sinful in her eyes. Your fingers took their time and dragged themselves up towards your clit, drawing out small circles around the small bud.

You eyes closes and you bite your lip as you dip two of your digits into you soaked cunt. A moan coarses its way from your throat as you slowly start pumping your fingers within yourself. You started off with a slow intense pace before you increased it going deeper and rougher, but no matter how fast you went you never seemed to reach a high or a climax, it was like walking towards something but the closer you got the further out you had to walk. The room was filled with the sound of your fingers slotting themselves in and out of your cunt and your gentle quiet moans. You fingers eventually got tired and you stopped with an exaggerated sigh.

You opened your eyes and you were met with the most lustful stare by alcina, you almost forgot where you were and seeing her lustful eyes made you tremble under her gaze.

“ ok, I can see you have a mental block mostly, your not thinking about the pleasure enough, your not touching yourself before or properly at all— have you ever had sex with anyone? Man, woman?” She asked emphasizing on the last word a tad bit too much. You shook your head and she nodded.

“ ok here’s what i want you to do, just lay back and close your eyes for me ok?” You nod and she flashes you a warm smile for the first time since you’ve entered the office and for once you had hope but you hoped you wouldn’t leave this room with a crush on your doctor because god knows that wouldn’t end well. You fixed the pillow behind yourself and layed down spreading your legs to the widest they could go. Suddenly alcina comes up to you and places a soft peck against your lips.

Your taken back by the sudden action for a second but soon enough you caught on to what she was trying to do. You kissed her back with more force and passion and she matched you in an instant. Her lips were soft but played a dangerous game, the heat of it all was getting to you. You moaned against her lips which gave her the perfect opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth without a fust. Her tongue fought against your in a battle for dominance but after a while you gave up and fully submitted to her. You loved the way her tongue felt roaming your mouth.

She then broke the kiss and began kissing her way down your neck and collarbone all the way down to your chest. She nipped at one of your nipples before pulling a bud into her mouth. She sucked gently on the bud before gently grazing her teeth on it before continuing sucking and pulling at it. You swore you felt a small thud or heartbeat in your pussy that you never felt before. She was making you feel things and it was intense. You didn’t know how to feel about it. You don’t know if you should run or hide or scream and jump.

One of you hands reached up and grabbed her hair pressing her mouth closer to you as your eyes looked down at her. As if she could sense you looking up at her eyes locked with yours. Alcina was a smart woman, skilled too, she distracted you for a moment and got you turned on so she could insert two fingers into your cunt with ease. Your eye contact with her came to an end as they now rolled back. The moan you let out was absolutely loud absolutely pornographic.

Your hands flew to something to cling onto but you ended up tearing the plastic on the bed instead, oops too that’s too damn bad. The stretch was brutal, but it felt so good, the way she filled you up was uncomfortable but you loved it. you’ve been fingering yourself for years and never once did you feel this good. It felt as if she was tearing your pussy apart but pleasure quickly subsided the pain. Alcina kissed your stomach as she continued her way down until she was face to face with your cunt. Her fingers slowly began easing their way in and out of you in a way that felt too damn good to be true.

You could feel your world spinning as your mind began to get clouded, ascending you to cloud nine.

You whimpered desperately as she slowly starts to thrust her fingers in and out of you, hitting that spot and nudging your clit every time. She’s so gentle but so rough making the pleasure build inside you slowly, burying deep in your gut and creeping up your spine. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible and you could feel a weird tingling feeling deep within your stomach and you try to shake it off as much as possible but it soon becomes unbearable. Alcina continues her work for a while before she releases her fingers and allows her mouth to take over. You feel her tongue move across your clit a few times teasing the small bud before making it’s way up and down your folds flavoring your taste.

What this woman was making you feel was nothing like what you’ve ever felt before and it was scary. Your hands flew to her hair as you tried to pull her away but she wouldn’t budge. Your back arches and you feel this overwhelming pressure building up in your lower abdomen and your entire body feels like it’s about to go up in flames at any given moment.

“ fuck— alci— doctor please i—I can’t do this, it’s too much” you breathed out before a moan over took you and your back arched again and your grip in her hair tightens. Her eyes flick up towards your and you swear you see her smirk. She’s chuckles softly and the vibration goes straight to your core. She pulls away and you feel something slimey creep it’s ts way up your thigh. You flinch and look down to see a dark tentacle submerging from alcinas back. Your eyes widen and you feel like running away for real this time but the fear feels good.

Sticky substance drips from your thigh area where it was before it makes it’s way further up your cunt.

“ I’ve always wanted to use my tentacles on someone” she purred sinfully.

“ I wanna make you cum on them til you break” she whispered. The tentacle makes it’s up up to your hole and hovers itself there for a while. It was huge, we’re talking big dick energy here, just in the form of a tentacle. It was fucking hot.

“ I want you to fuck me so bad, pleaseplease make me cum I wanna cum so bad” you became a broken record for her and you didn’t care. You needed to be stuffed you needed to be filled so good. It runs down your slit ,letting the slick suckers wake up your pussy, sliding through the sticky mess that was dripping out of your cunt. The tentacle suddenly gently slid it’s s way into your hole which caused you to prop yourself up onto your elbows and let out a soft cry of pleasure. It stretches you open so good it’s unbelievable.

You whine uncontrollably when he tentacle began thrusting fast and at a deep curved angle within you. Your muscles clench and spasm around it as the suckers brush hastily against all the best spots inside you.

“ that’s it baby I’m right here, be a really good girl and mommy will reward you” you manage to hear alcina say as another one of your whines overshadows the room. The tentacle fucks into your pussy at a fast pace and you feel your walls closing in. The squelching noise was driving you insane. The slithering slimey feeling of being fuck and stuffed by a tentacle was unmatched. Alcina used her finger to help you climax faster by rubbing your clit at a fast pace.

“ oh my fucck—feels so fucking good” you cry as you felt how the tentacle had now curved itself in you, kissing you cervix at just the right angle and pace, you looked down to see the most beautiful sight of alcina focused on rubbing tight circles around your clit to the little tummy bulge that was evident on you lower abdomen. Alcina spreads your legs a little wider getting the tentacle a deeper access in you and your eyes roll back as you grabbed the plastic. You feel your body spasm and trash against the bed as the feeling of what felt like cumming and squirting completely took over you.

You felt as your pussy clenched down hard against the tentacle causing it to flatten and squirm inside you. Your back arches a little when your juices shoot out from you as you squirted. You feel the tentacles release their own juices inside you before taking their time exiting you and disappearing. You looked up at Alcina who was smirking down at you.

“ you came here not knowing how to simply cum and now you just learned how to squirt naturally? Fast learner I must say” she gets up and pushes the stool away, she takes your hand in hers and sits you up on the bed.

“ I’ll see you on Thursday for a follow up session” she said with the smirk of the devil….. you walked out of the office with shaking legs and small bruises along your inner thighs but you couldn’t be more eager for Thursday to approach….

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #99

Jazz went to Gotham to finish her degree away from her parents, as their obsession with Ghosts started becoming dangerous to everyone. So, of course, she brought Danny with her, so he's also far away from them and the GIW.

Danny held out a whole year without going out on patrol, just establishing his haunt in the new city. Lady Gotham was very happy to be able to show them to their new place, almost giddy that the little King and his Queen Mother have come to live in her beloved city.

Of course, the first time Phantom floats out of his window and into the night, he has a new suit, made of padded black leather, and a fluffy white cape with a hood (imagine the Lightkin Cloak from Destiny2, but snow white, rather than black and grey), along with a facemask engraved with a fanged design. New haunt, new look, and the new look fit right in with the viciousness of Gotham City.

And, as luck would have it, his first Gotham Rogue was Poison Ivy. Thinking back to his fight against Undergrowth, Pantom opened with his ice, forming a double-sided axe to better cleave her vines apart, and locking Ivy herself down with ice.

To further distance himself from his identity as Phantom, in case the GIW somehow became smart at some point, instead of blasting ice like most ghosts fire ectoblasts, Danny asked Pandora for lessons on fighting with weapons, and Frosbite taught his how to channel his element as an aura, or a freezing breath. He even sat down to listen to Nocturne speak as they wove spells and ectoplasm, and the Personification of Dreams softly taught him how to use his powers through objects acting as catalysts, or as manifestations of his will, rather than throwing his affinities around by brute force.

With his new abilities and look, rather than fight like a feral raccoon, Danny took to fighting more like a spellblade, slinging around ice shard and spells to enhance his physical strikes, controlling the pace of a fight to get the upper hand on his enemies.

Suffice to say, Poison Ivy hadn't expected the Avatar of Icy Vengeance to lock her in a pillar of ice up to her neck while her vines withered into frosty sculptures.

Gotham's newest hero got awarded a new name by the news the next day: Ymir, Frozen Progenitor.

Danny thinks it's too pretentious for a random ghost, or random halfa, like him. Joke's on him, the perception of Gotham's people slowly starts empowering him, slowly enough that the only reason he notices his oncoming Ascension to myth as a Protector Spirit is when a terrified kid begs for his help, and he hears them loud and clear out of nowhere.

The Bats are confused by this Entity. Constantine stepped one foot in Gotham, felt it's cleaner air, the sharp bite of ice in his nose and lungs, and the overwhelming pressure of the new Godling training under Gotham herself to control his new powers, and ran out screaming about not getting paid enough to deal with divine beings. Zatanna is trying to contact Ymir to ask them to join the Justice League Dark.

Jason is vibing with the tall redhead Amazon he's met at Babs' library, and her feral little brother who cured his Pit Rage by biting his arm when they first met. One time Jason is in a pinch after a stakeout gone wrong, Bellona (Ancient Roman Goddess of War) takes the fight to his captors to free him, dressed in golden armor and wielding a spear Pandora and Firght Knight made for her. Nocturne and her brother worked together to imbue a spell into her back to give her wings she can use to fly or fight with. The fact it left a badass tattoo on her back, is just another way Jazz rebels against her parents. It also has Jason weak in the knees when he first sees it.

[marvelmusing]

Set In Stone

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sankta Alina and the Darkling rule over those who live in the hidden realm of magic. Alina herself is particularly fond of turning those who trespass onto their kingdom into statues. Legend says they like to toy with their victims, and if they think you’re pretty enough they just might keep you forever.

Warnings [18+]: sexual content, non consensual human to statue transformation, dub con fingering, very brief anal fingering, nudity, mild threat, Aleksander and Alina collect people consensually (excluding the reader), praise kink, sensory depravation, smidge of humiliation kink and exhibitionism

A/N: just me dropping a big fic out of nowhere, don’t ask me what this is, I don’t even know, it’s mostly vibes (kinky magical vibes)

My Masterlist

“Did you know, I can choose what kind of statue someone will turn into?”

She ignores the quiet, fearful whimper that escapes you. Instead, she continues to talk, playing with your hair as she sits in your lap. Despite the blindfold looped around your head, you keep your eyes squeezed tightly shut, your heart hammering against your ribs. She hums thoughtfully.

“I think I want you to be marble. Something smooth.” Her hand rubs over your thigh, pushing aside the delicate fabric of your dress to reveal your bare skin and a shudder runs through your body. She laughs. “My apologies.” Her tone turns teasing, dripping with faux sympathy. “Are my hands too cold?”

Being an expert in Ravkan mythology, you had expected to find some artefacts or ancient stone carvings in these caves - not the infamous Sankta Alina. Known as a trickster goddess, the more recent legends state that she turns her victims to stone with a mere glance.

The dress you’re wearing was picked by the men who had sent you down into the caves, no doubt in the hopes of enticing the saint or perhaps even the Darkling himself. Another shiver prickles over your skin.

She presses a kiss to your cheek. Her lips are plush and warm, a painful heat sears down your body, stoking the traitorous arousal between your legs.

“Don’t worry, little statue. You won’t feel the need for warmth for much longer.” She kisses the spot beneath your ear, her nose buried in your hair as she breathes in a sigh. The affection makes you tense, confusion stirring in your heart.

“I usually pick limestone or granite for the humans intruding on my husband’s kingdom. They get broken up and used for construction.” Her hands wander over your body, feeling every inch of you. She curls a hand around your throat, squeezing momentarily and laughing when she feels your pulse leap. “But you. I think my husband will like you. I think you will fit in perfectly amongst his private collection.”

Her fingers reach for the ties of your dress, tugging lightly on the knots over your shoulders. Instantly, you squirm, holding the fabric close to your chest. She grasps hold of your chin tightly and you whimper in fright. When you continue to shift nervously, she clicks her tongue sternly and you freeze in place.

“Good,” she says softly, as you lower your hands down to sit at your sides which allows her to pull the front of your dress down. “A pretty statue like you shouldn’t be covered up by clothing. I want to see every part of you.”

Her nails tear at the rest of the dress, ripping the bodice until it reaches the slit at your legs. Goosebumps spread over your skin, your nipples hardening at the sudden chill. She hums appraisingly, her fingers dancing over the waistband of your underwear, before she removes the garment with a harsh tug that makes you squeal.

“There we go. I prefer you like this.” The smile is evident in her voice. She sinks a hand into your hair, grabbing a fistful to bear your throat to her and you can imagine her smile twisting into a grin. “Let’s get you into a better position.”

She urges you down onto your knees, nudging your thighs apart with her foot. There’s a knot in your stomach and a stiffness enters your body, your muscles quivering beneath your skin.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she murmurs. “It isn’t actually my eyes that turn people into stone. That’s a silly myth. It’s my touch. Can you feel it happening yet?”

Panic spears at your heart and you realise how deep the ache inside you actually is. A weak moan vibrates in your chest as the weight of your bones becomes noticeable, heavier than usual as they press into the softness of your body.

A pained whimper catches in the back of your throat and she hushes you soothingly. Her hands cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. Her touch burns like a gust of winter wind. A tear spills from your eye, cool against the painful heat of your cheeks.

“There, there. It’s alright,” she soothes. “It will happen slowly, at first, as your bones and muscles change, but when it spreads to your organs I’ll make it quick for you.” She brushes your hair backwards, working it into a more presentable style. “Can I see your pretty eyes before the end?”

With trembling hands, you pull off the blindfold which you had thought would protect you from this fate. The light in the cave is low, but it’s a startling change from the darkness behind your blindfold. Blinking away the blurriness, your eyes immediately lock onto the figure in front of you.

She’s beautiful. Impossibly dark eyes with a frightful amount of perception lurking in their depths. Bright white hair that casts an angelic glow over her features and you can’t tear your eyes away from her. She’s wearing a kefta, a garment you’ve never seen before aside from the illustrations in picture books. The silk is black, embroidered with golden threads.

She smiles widely, her expression softening as if she’s watching an adorable baby animal.

“Such a sweet little thing. He’s going to love you.”

She settles her knee between your thighs and you gasp at the sudden contact. Her smile widens into a grin as she cradles your face between her hands, forcing your back to arch slightly. Anxiety thrums beneath your skin as your body stiffens further. Panic begins to wind its way around your insides when you realise you can no longer move any of your limbs.

The sensation is cold and painful, each part of your body aching fiercely as it changes from warm flesh into hard stone. Each breath you take is frantic, despite her soothing words. She steps back to admire you as the pain spreads over your face, your features hardening into stone.

Sound is muffled, your ears filled with a soft roar like the distant waves of the sea. Her voice echoes through your consciousness, though you struggle to catch one singular word. Then she touches you.

She runs her hands over your breasts, admiring every dip and curve made into smooth marble by her. Her touch is methodical, checking over every inch of you for any imperfections in the stone. Her fingers stroke between your legs searchingly and the urge to squirm coils violently inside you. But you can’t move.

Her soft laughter echoes as she steps away from you.

Seconds, minutes, hours go by. With your senses narrowed, sound is indistinct and your sight is nonexistent. All you can feel is an incessant throbbing between your legs. The world fades in and out of focus as you drift thoughtlessly, tethered only by your unending arousal. Then someone approaches you.

“Oh Alina,” he remarks in an appraising sigh. “She’s beautiful.”

A deft finger traces along the underside of your jaw and a shiver fights beneath your skin at the feeling of two sets of eyes on you.

“She still experiences sensation,” she explains, a glimmer of pride in her voice. “Has full consciousness, though that won’t be too capable given her current state of constant arousal.”

He places his hand on your stomach to steady himself as he leans down to take a better look between your legs and the heat and pressure of his palm makes a silent moan writhe in your throat. There’s a molten sensation in your core. If he pressed his fingers against the seam of your cunt, you wouldn’t be surprised if he found it soft like wet clay.

“I know you wanted a piece for our bedroom.”

“You’ve outdone yourself.”

There’s a hint of shyness to her voice as she says,

“You like her?”

“Alya, she’s perfect.”

“I don’t know much about her temperament, but she made the sweetest little whimpers when I changed her.”

His hand strokes your cheek, fingers dropping down to trail between your breasts.

“I don’t mind if she needs some housetraining, and the girls will help her with the rules.”

She hums quietly in agreement, reaching over to cup one of your breasts, pinching the nipple. There’s no pain, but the pressure of her fingers makes your stomach flip somehow.

“I think, with a little breaking in, she’s going to be such a good girl for us.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Bright moonlight wakes you. There’s a stiffness in your limbs; you had been sleeping in an awkward position with your legs folded beneath your body. Blinking your dry eyes, you lift your head to survey your surroundings.

An unfamiliar bedroom, decorated in black silk and shimmering gold accents. The covers shielding your body are thick and cosy despite the gloss of nervous sweat gathering over your skin. The events of the last day are hazy in your mind, vague words and strange sensations blurring together, indecipherable from your dreams or nightmares.

There’s a knock at the door and you freeze in place, your heart hammering with fright. Drawing the covers up to cover your naked body, you stand on shaky legs and approach the door cautiously.

The moment you open the door, someone says,

“Oh, you are pretty, aren’t you?”

Her hair is the colour of autumn leaves, pinned delicately at the sides to frame her beautiful face. Smooth cheeks, flushed prettily with a rosy hue and wide eyes the colour of the summer sky. The rest of her hair spills down her back in gentle waves. She’s wearing a robe, made from a rich emerald green fabric that flares at her waist, where the belt has been tied neatly. The garment halts at her knees and her feet are bare, toenails painted a pearly pink.

The girl beside her is equally gorgeous.

Her eyes are as dark as midnight, singular stars shimmering in each of them as she looks at you. Full lips curl into a smile full of mischief. Dark hair cascades over her shoulders, creeping down to frame her breasts. The deep blue robe she’s wearing clings to her figure, showing off an ample amount of cleavage and her bare legs - the hem is much shorter than the red haired girl’s robe.

They are both wearing necklaces, identical to the one you now notice is hanging from your own neck.

Everything about them both is polished and pampered, yet their beauty seems effortless and innate. You have the distinct feeling that if you stripped them of their fine clothing and pretty jewellery they would be even more stunning.

The compliment offered so casually makes you draw back on yourself, tightening your grip on the covers shielding your body.

“Thank you?” you say shyly.

The dark haired girl smirks and your stomach flips. The other girl’s smile is friendly as she gestures to herself and then her companion.

“I’m Genya. This is Zoya.”

The door handle remains grasped tightly in your other hand, your body half hidden by the door. Genya seems to notice your apprehension.

“It’s okay, we’re like you.”

“Like me?”

“We’re part of Aleksander’s private collection.”

Her words stir at your thoughts, jostling the back of your mind. Then you remember. I think my husband will like you. I think you will fit in perfectly amongst his private collection. It wasn’t a dream. It was all real.

“Aleksander?”

“Alina’s husband.” Zoya’s eyes narrow fractionally, her gaze assessing you. “The king.”

Sankta Alina’s husband. The Darkling.

“You remember Alina, don’t you?” Genya asks gently.

Swallowing hard, you nod. You certainly remember her. The phantom sensation of stone spreads over your skin, drawing goosebumps to the surface. Entranced at the sight, you stare down at your arms, turning one of your hands over so that you can study the lifelong grooves and marks on your skin that now seem foreign.

“How- how am I back as me?” you ask quietly, continuing to stare at your hand.

“Not a statue, you mean?”

Gaze flicking upwards to meet Genya’s eyes, you nod.

“Alina’s magic only holds during the daytime. The night is when Aleksander’s magic comes to life.”

“So what happens to us during the day?”

“We turn back into statues.”

Instantly, your stomach drops. Glancing towards the window further down the corridor, you see a glimpse of the night sky. Anxiety gathers in your chest at the thought of turning into stone again once the sun rises. Zoya tilts her head at you with something like suspicion in her eyes.

“Alina doesn’t usually like to keep trespassers intact once she’s transformed them.”

Reading between the lines of her statement, you frown at them both.

“You came here willingly?” They nod. “Why?”

“Aleksander and Alina keep us safe.”

“By being their statues,” you state incredulously.

Zoya shrugs.

“Partially.”

Before you can ask her what she means, Genya interrupts your line of thought with a question.

“Did Alina tell you what material she made you into? I’m alabaster.”

“She said she wanted me to be marble.”

“Marble?” Genya muses quietly with a thoughtful looking smile. She appears to be suppressing a smirk, pressing her lips together as she turns her head to the side, away from Zoya. The dark haired girl in question draws her brows together, scrunching their perfect shape as she frowns.

“What kind are you?” you ask, before you can lose your nerve.

Zoya lifts her chin, a prideful glimmer in her eyes as she says,

“Bronze. I’m the centrepiece in the grand hallway.”

Despite your confusion, you nod slowly, feigning comprehension. Zoya seems to be expecting some sort of reaction from you, which makes you fidget anxiously. Genya’s smile softens kindly before she explains,

“We all have our own personal place in the house when we change into our statue form.”

“Oh,” you say, as understanding dawns on you. “I heard her - Alina - say she wanted a piece for their bedroom.”

Zoya scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Most of us started off in their bedroom. Don’t be insulted when they move you elsewhere.”

Something twists in your chest. Disappointment? Annoyance flares beneath your skin as you bristle at your own emotions. Why are you disappointed at the thought of not being wanted by them? They’ve abducted you. Genya places her hand on your forearm and you flinch at the sudden contact. She drops her hand instantly, smiling in reassurance.

“Alina and Aleksander usually like to keep an eye on a new edition to their collection. Once you’re more settled, and they’ve gotten to know you, they will find the perfect spot for you.”

She glances down at the bedcovers wrapped around your body.

“Alina has asked us to help prepare you for breakfast.”

You blink at her.

“Breakfast?”

Zoya smirks.

“Just because we’re statues during the day doesn’t mean we don’t eat.” Her comment makes your cheeks flush warm with embarrassment over your ignorance.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Genya prompts you gently. The prospect of food makes you realise how empty your stomach is. You nod hesitantly and she smiles. “Can we come in?”

You nod again.

Zoya strides in confidently, moving directly towards the bathroom to begin drawing a bath. Water tumbles from the faucet, spilling into the bathtub with an echoing rush. Soon, the room is filled with steam and the sweet scent of soap. Genya extends her hand towards you, which you take tentatively. She entwines her fingers with yours, giving them an assuring squeeze before she tugs you gently towards the bathroom.

Zoya has untied the belt of her robe, loosening the front of the garment so that it hangs casually over each of her shoulders. She’s wearing nothing beneath her robe. Unable to pull your eyes away, you stare at her body with heated cheeks. She smirks, crossing her legs elegantly as she sits down in the chair next to the bath.

“You’ll get used to it,” she remarks teasingly. “The rest of us statues rarely wear real clothes in the house.” She grins. “It makes for easy access.” Her fingers dance along her thighs, slipping momentarily beneath her robe and your stomach flips at her insinuation. You can’t ever imagine feeling so comfortable being naked.

Genya tugs lightly on the bedcovers wrapped around you. Instantly, you turn your face to look at her, your eyes widened.

“Do you mind?” she asks softly.

Swallowing hard, you steel yourself and nod with as much bravery you can muster. Loosening your grip, you allow Genya to drop the bedcover to the floor. A tension enters your body, every muscle stiffening as you stare directly ahead, to avoid both their gazes and the chance of seeing your own body.

Zoya turns her body, muscles stretching languidly as she reaches for a bottle of bath oil from a nearby shelf. Out of the corner of your vision, you think you see her eyes roll.

Genya offers a hand to help you climb in which you take shyly as you clamber unsteadily. Once you’re settled in the warm soapy water, she traces her fingers delicately through the bubbles.

“You really are pretty,” she says softly. “I can see why Alina liked you enough to keep you.”

Her words prickle over your skin, embarrassment and disbelief and painful hope coiling around one another as they rush through your veins. This time, you can’t even muster a word of gratitude. Genya doesn’t seem too bothered though. She begins to scoop a handful of water, pouring it gently over your back.

Throughout your bath time, Zoya remains an observer, while Genya takes it upon herself to bathe you. Her nails scrape delightfully over your scalp, drawing soft moans from your lips quite involuntarily - much to your embarrassment. With each sound you make, they share glances and stolen smirks that make your cheeks warm.

Zoya retrieves a thick towel, patting your body down herself when you step out from the water. The instinct to cover your body prickles over your skin, but there are too many parts of yourself to hide so you settle on rubbing your arms nervously, feigning a shiver. Genya takes your hand again, leading you back into the bedroom.

She sits you down in front of the vanity table by the window, while Zoya opens the wardrobe and begins to search through the cacophony of clothing nestled inside the cabinetry.

Genya smoothes creams and ointments over your face, using a soft brush to sweep powder and swipe shimmer across your eyes and cheeks. She collects a dewy gloss on her fingertips, dabbing the substance onto your parted lips. She styles your hair effortlessly, in a manner that has you staring in awe.

“Why do they keep us?” you ask her. She frowns slightly, brows drawing together as she hums quietly in confusion, her gaze remaining focused on your hair. “What do they get out of it?”

She hesitates.

“We all offer them something different. I think both Aleksander and Alina would consider me as a companion.”

“You’re friends?”

She nods. Looking away from the reflection of her in the mirror, you glance at Zoya as she spreads a garment out across the bed. She lifts her eyes, meeting yours from across the room as she smirks.

“I guess you could say I’m their concubine,” she says with a pleased smirk, pride woven between her words.

Her admission makes your stomach flip, your eyes lowering to your knees self consciously.

“What will they want from me?”

Genya places a hand on your shoulder, which draws your gaze back to hers.

“Whatever you’re willing to give them.”

Her words are reassuring but before you can ask for clarification, Zoya is moving towards you with a dress in her arms.

“How about this?”

A soft blue dress. The fabric is practically sheer and the hemline is indecently short, but with your current nakedness you would be willing to wear anything. Slowly, you trace your fingers over the fabric, admiring the gentle shimmer of silver throughout.

“It’s beautiful,” you admit.

The two of them help to tie the strings at the back of the dress, fixing it into place on your body. Nerves begin to gather in your chest and you fidget with the hem, rubbing the material between the pads of your fingers.

After a few final adjustments from Genya, she takes you by the hand once again and begins to lead you out of the bedroom.

The nerves thrumming through your body prevent you from admiring the house as you follow Genya and Zoya towards the dining hall. As you approach the doorway, you can feel them both looking at you.

Genya says your name quietly and you turn to face her. Before she can say whatever is weighing on her mind, Zoya turns and stops directly in front of you, blocking your way. She and Genya share a look that you struggle to decipher. Then, Zoya seems to win whatever silent argument has ensued.

Genya squeezes your hand in reassurance, before she walks into the hall. Once she’s out of sight, Zoya turns back to you.

“Listen. If Alina has decided to keep you, she must care about you already - for some reason.” Her tone is incredulous, as if she hasn’t figured out why Alina has decided to keep you. “A word of warning, they both have a sadistic streak. Aleksander just hides it better. They will want to humiliate you and push you to your limits. If that’s what you’re into, you’re a perfect fit for them. If it isn’t, tell them, and they will find some other use for you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m not getting replaced by someone who didn’t even have to ask to be here. You’re not getting everything I’ve been working for.”

Unable to stop yourself, you argue,

“And what if I’m a perfect fit for them?”

She wrinkles her nose slightly, her mouth quirking with a barely suppressed laugh.

“You’re not. You’re too soft, I can tell. You won’t enjoy half the things they want to do with you.”

Her accusations make you bristle. She doesn’t even know you. The thought of being around Alina again, and meeting her husband, does make you nervous. In all honesty, you might be too soft for them. But there’s a curiosity deep inside you that longs to discover that for yourself - without any help from Zoya.

“Thanks for the advice,” you say stiffly.

The smirk remains on her lips as the two of you walk into the hall, her hand pressed to your lower back.

There’s intricate crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting an iridescent glow over the polished marble floor. The surface is cold against your bare feet and you shiver at the sensation and the reminder of how your flesh had changed to hard stone.

Along each side of the dining hall, there’s a row of marble statues, one in front of each window. The expression etched onto most of their faces is terror, their bodies bent into odd angles with a strange elegance as they all seem to have been captured in the midst of fleeing. Each one of them are morbidly beautiful, smooth features twisted by fear in a manner that makes your stomach turn.

By the time the two of you reach the dining table at the end of the hall, you’re shaking in anticipation. Zoya moves away from you, sitting herself down in the seat next to Genya. There’s a number of other people already seated and you can feel their eyes on you. The only familiar face is the one who keeps your attention - Alina.

She lowers her glass with a smile that widens as you draw closer, beckoning to you when you realise there’s no chair available for you.

“Come here, little statue.”

The nickname feels silly, given that the majority of the people at this table are probably also statues. Does Alina call them by the same term of endearment?

She pushes her chair back slightly, providing some space for you in her lap. Swallowing down your nerves, you take a deep breath and sit in her lap. She curls her hands underneath the crook of your knees, dragging you closer, and heat rushes through your body. Her smile twists with amusement.

“I see you’ve met Zoya.”

At the mention of the girl sitting across from Alina, you nod rigidly and Alina laughs. She strokes your cheek fondly, her eyes roaming over your figure.

“Before you eat, we need to check you’re fully human again. Make sure there’s no stone left in your body.” She hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head backwards so that she can peer up your nostrils. “Nose seems clear.” Holding onto your chin, she turns your head from side to side. “Ears as well.”

Embarrassment burns over your cheeks and you can feel your pulse beating its way along your throat at the thought of everyone’s eyes on you. She presses her thumb against your lips.

“Open your mouth.” When you obey, she slides her thumb into your mouth. “Good girl.” Instinct has you closing your lips around her digit and she shakes her head with a stern expression. “Ah ah. Keep it open for me.” She presses the pad of her thumb down on your tongue and your stomach flips. She smiles. “There we go.”

Drool spills from your mouth as your tongue goes heavy, and panic grips at you when you remember how her touch had turned you into solid marble.

“Relax, little statue,” she teases. “My magic doesn’t hold during the night.”

“Mine will hold,” Aleksander counters with a small smirk, twirling his fork between his fingers. Then his gaze locks onto yours and he grins. “Though I have much more restraint than my wife, and I quite like the idea of you with a beating heart and warm body.”

Even with her thumb in the way, you manage to whimper and they both laugh. He beckons to you, fingers gesturing between you and himself as he says,

“Come now, Alya. Let me see my gift.”

She removes her thumb from your mouth, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek as she murmurs a warning.

“Be good.”

Even though Alina is the one who turned you into a statue, she’s familiar. Her husband, Aleksander, is a complete stranger. The pressure of impressing him weighs on your mind as you look over at him shyly. Unable to stop yourself, you glance across the table at Zoya. She presses her lips together, suppressing a smug smirk and frustration prickles over your skin.

Straightening your shoulders, you scrape together enough courage to move towards Aleksander. He uncrosses his legs, leaning back in his chair. His eyes move between you and Zoya, observing the brief interaction. Amusement glimmers in his dark eyes as he tilts his head, appraising you as you approach his chair.

His hands roam over your body, gripping at your hips to guide you into his lap. He smoothes his palms over your thighs, slipping beneath the soft skirt of your dress to grasp at your bare body. He traces his way over your hips and waist, curving upwards to admire the rest of you.

“What’s your name, little gem?”

Suddenly shy, you murmur your name to him. He smiles and repeats it in a low voice that makes heat spread over your face and neck. He circles his thumb over your cheek, stoking the fire burning beneath your skin.

“There are a few more areas we need to check,” he informs you. A frown creases at your brows as you think over the areas Alina had checked, and consider what spots she might have missed. There’s a smirk in her tone as she says,

“I thought I would save them for you, Sasha.”

He settles his hands back on your hips, dipping to trace the crease at the top of your thighs, while his thumb strokes your mound.

“May I?”

Realising where he intends on touching you, the breath catches in your throat. Turning to look at Alina, you find her expression fond as she regards her husband. Dumbly, you turn your head back and forth to stare at them both, unable to answer properly.

“I-”

“I’ll be gentle.”

You blink at him, confused. Zoya had said they would both enjoy humiliating you. Why is he asking for permission? Why isn’t he forcing you? He could spread you over the table in front of everyone to examine your remaining holes. Why does the thought of that excite you?

His hand presses against your stomach in an assessing manner, his head tilted as he seems to be searching externally for any stone left inside you. The expression on his face is serious and you realise Alina was telling the truth. Hesitantly, you nod in consent.

He nods with a soft smile.

“Just keep your eyes on mine.”

His fingers trace over the seam of your cunt and your eyes flicker between each of his, fighting to do as you’re told. His smile widens as the pads of his fingers sweep through the mess of arousal gathered there.

“Good girl,” he murmurs appraisingly. “That’s it.”

He sinks a finger into you slowly. A low moan catches in the back of your throat and his smile widens slowly. His finger curls searchingly, tilting to explore every inch of you, and your back arches with a small gasp at the sensation.

The skin of your thighs tingles with pleasure, your thoughts hazing over as he thrusts his finger teasingly inside you. Suddenly, you remember where you are. The sensation of so many eyes on you makes you bite on your lower lip, cunt tightening involuntarily around his finger. Sensing your dual embarrassment and arousal, he slips another finger inside, stretching you out delightfully.

The slight twinge of pain makes you whimper and he hushes you soothingly. The sounds escaping you seem to encourage him. He kisses along your neck hungrily, his lips moving eagerly over your pulse point. He increases the pace of his fingers, your toes curling with pleasure.

“There we go. Such a good girl for me.”

His teeth nip lightly at the sensitive spot beneath your ear and you inhale sharply. He smiles against your skin, his nose grazing the hollow of your throat as he murmurs more praises. The pleasure runs up your spine and you moan softly.

When he presses the pad of his thumb against the puckered hole between your buttocks you grow tense. Weakly, you shake your head and he hushes whatever protest you might have voiced.

“Easy now. Just relax.” He cups your face with his hand, keeping your eyes fixed on his as he eases his thumb into you slowly. “Deep breath.”

It’s intrusive and humiliating, yet he seems genuine in his care. Each breath you take comes out in stilted little gasps until he removes his thumb from you. He kisses your cheek, as a reward, before he murmurs,

“All done.”

Aleksander assembles a plate of food for you to share with him and he feeds you by the forkful, seated in his lap. Occasionally, Alina will lean forward to touch you - a soft squeeze to your breasts or thighs.

After breakfast, Genya shows you around the house, explaining a little more about the new life you’ve found yourself in and you follow her on shaky legs.

“Alina made the majority of the statues in the house,” Genya tells you. “She takes great pride in their maintenance.”

“Maintenance?”

Genya smiles, her cheeks flushing.

“During the day, when we’re in our statue forms, she likes to clean and polish us.”

“Oh.”

The image makes your blood rush hot beneath your skin - Alina with a cloth, polishing your marble body which has been frozen in place by her magic. Flustered by the idea of being so totally at her mercy, you glance towards the open window. A cool breeze strokes your cheeks and you take a moment to admire the sight of the grounds outside.

“Are we allowed out into the gardens?” you ask.

Genya regards the outside warily.

“Sometimes.” She reaches for the window frame, pulling it shut carefully. “If either of them are displeased with you, you might find yourself decorating the fountain on the front lawn.”

Being turned into stone is bad enough, you can’t imagine being left outside in the elements, where anyone could see you. The concern must be visible on your face, because Genya settles her hand on your arm.

“But you’re marble, I doubt they would risk damaging you like that.”

Lost in thought about what you’ve discovered, you hum quietly with a small nod.

The library is by far your favourite room. Once Genya realises you’re content to stay amongst the books whilst she seeks out her partner, David, you’re left on your own for the first time since you awoke.

It doesn’t take you long to find the books on magic. Absorbed by the words in front of you, the world around you fades as you read everything you can. Magic users in Ravka have always been called Grisha. General knowledge regarding their abilities has changed over the years. Originally, their power was divided into specific orders, but over the hundreds of years since the myths of Sankta Alina and the Darkling first began, their magic has developed.

One particular spell attracts your attention. The ability to turn someone into stone - and how to reverse the effects. An arm curls around your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest. Aleksander’s voice is low as he muses against your neck.

“That is a particularly complex spell.”

Heart pounding, you turn your head to face him, your grip on the book tightening.

“I wasn’t- Well I’m not Grisha, so it wouldn’t work.”

He tilts his head at you.

“Yes, you are.”

Perplexed, you begin to shake your head minutely in disagreement.

“I’m not.”

He nods his head, a condescending edge to the motion. He reaches over the book, flicking back several pages before he stops to trace his fingertips across a specific passage of text. It’s hard to forget that his fingers have been inside you and the memory has you growing warm.

“Read it aloud,” he instructs you.

“Should the object of this spell be Grisha, the effects will not be permanent. During the spellcasters height of power, the object will remain in their new form, shifting into their original form during a lapse in power.” The frown on your face deepens with each word you read and once you’re finished you look up at Aleksander. “What does that mean?”

“At sunrise, you will turn back into marble.” You nod. Genya had explained that to you earlier. “If you were an ordinary human, you would be a statue forever.”

“But I’m Grisha,” you state, unconvinced. He nods. His eyes slide slowly over your body, studying every inch of your expression and you struggle to meet his gaze due to its intensity.

“Do you want to free yourself?” he asks.

“I don’t think I want to be a statue for half of my life.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, fuelled by his statement. No one in their right mind would choose to be a statue - would they? And yet, you think of what Genya and Zoya had said. Aleksander and Alina offer them protection. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly as he watches you, shrugging as he decides to save you from your thoughts.

“Alina’s magic surpasses whatever latent power you possess,” he states. “It would take several hundreds of years for you to master such a spell.”

“Would you teach me?”

“No.”

“The stories say you taught Alina everything she knows.”

“You dare compare yourself to my wife?”

His words are sharp, yet there is a teasing smile dancing over his face and his eyes sparkle with a dangerous humour. Instantly, you shake your head, your stomach twisting itself into knots as you step backwards. Panic closes your throat as your spine presses against the bookshelf.

“N-no. I wouldn’t-” You stammer, before adding, rather self deprecatingly, “I couldn’t-”

Aleksander steps forwards, closing in on you. He laughs softly, hooking a finger under your chin. His smile fades as he looks into your eyes, his expression growing serious as he whispers against your lips,

“Don’t doubt yourself.”

He leaves the barest hint of a kiss there before he steps back, striding out of the library without another word to you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

As the night draws to a close, your muscles begin to ache, anticipating the change your body is about to undergo. Genya walks you to the northern wing, stopping in front of the door that leads to Aleksander and Alina’s bedroom. She gives you a hug, wrapping her arms around your body for a brief squeeze of reassurance.

“They like you. I can tell,” she whispers.

“Thank you for today, Genya.”

She draws back, sweeping a stray strand of hair away from your face. Her thumb strokes your jawline briefly before she withdraws with a smile.

“See you tomorrow night.”

You nod shyly.

Then you’re alone.

For a moment, you consider fleeing down the corridor to find somewhere to hide. Then you hear movement from inside the room and the low sound of Alina’s voice, talking to her husband. Inhaling deeply, you curl your fingers around the handle and open the door.

Alina turns at the sound of you entering, a smile spreading over her features as her eyes lock on yours. She’s dressed in a soft bath robe, her damp hair bundled at the top of her head. Aleksander is sitting at the foot of their bed, his legs crossed casually.

There’s a fuzzy pain filling your head and you blink back tears as Alina extends a hand towards you which you accept.

“Where does it hurt?” she asks, rubbing your hand soothingly. Emotion catches in your throat, a hot tear spilling down your cheek.

“I- Everywhere.”

Her expression softens.

“Come here.” She draws you into her arms and you press your face against her chest, squeezing your eyes shut. She pets the crown of your head gently. “Come sit with me.”

She guides you over to a low daybed, settling your head in her lap as she sits. The velvet is plush against your skin, moulding into the shape of your body as you lie down beside her. She slips the shoulders of your dress down, pushing the fabric to your hips.

Heat prickles over your cheeks as you tug at the dress, ignoring your embarrassment as you pull it down your legs to pool onto the floor. The thought of being naked is still daunting, but Alina’s words ring in the back of your mind. A pretty statue like you shouldn’t be covered up by clothing. I want to see every part of you.

She smiles at the sight of you baring yourself to them both. Aleksander sits down beside you, stroking his hand along the bare curve of your waist.

“If you’re relaxed when you change, you will stay in that state in your statue form.”

You blink hopefully at him.

“I will?”

Alina hums softly in affirmation, cradling your face between her hands. Her thumbs stroke delicately over your cheeks as your muscles stiffen involuntarily. Aleksander’s hands wander over your body, providing soothing and affectionate touches as you try to fight the instinct to panic.

“Deep breaths,” he instructs you gently.

Trying to be brave, you nod. Despite your best efforts, a tear slides down your temple into your hairline. Aleksander wipes it away carefully as your body freezes in place, rigid as you begin to change into solid stone. They both murmur reassurances that become less comprehensible with each passing moment.

The world fades into darkness.

Alina continues to stroke your hair and face carefully. Her fingers trace over your features, wandering over your lips, up to your nose, before she smoothes her way across your brows. Aleksander was right, you do feel relaxed, especially with Alina touching you with such reverence.

She slips out from beneath you and the sensation of your head remaining suspended in the air without support makes you momentarily unsteady. The fear of tipping over clutches at your silent heart. Her hand curls under your head, keeping you in place as she replaces her lap with a velvet cushion.

The action has emotion welling in your chest, feeling cared for even in this moment - even when you aren’t human. Aleksander stands and his footsteps move over towards the centre of the room. The sound of bedcovers creasing with his presence have you assuming he is sitting on their bed - watching you and Alina.

When her touch disappears, you imagine her turning to look at Aleksander. The feeling of her weight leaving the daybed makes you want to reach for her.

She laughs, giddy with joy. Her feet pad hurriedly over the floor as she moves towards her husband. His hands rub over her skin and you can imagine her bounding into his arms.

“I really like her, Sasha,” she whispers.

The sound of them kissing makes your stomach flip.

“I do too, milaya.”

Her voice is quiet and with your mindset growing hazier by the second her words are barely intelligible.

“You don’t think I’m being silly, getting my hopes up so soon?”

He sighs.

“If it was anyone else, I would tell you to be cautious with your heart. You love so deeply, milaya, I don’t want to see you hurt again. But I have a good feeling about this one.”

They kiss again and your thoughts melt into nothingness as the sun filters in through the curtains.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird

[stardew-and-cozycore]

Nicknames the bachelors/backelorettes would give the farmer:

Sam: darling, sweetie, honey, baby, love. Very innocent and traditional nicknames said with the same tone as everything else he says UNLESS it's after 9pm and you're cuddling.

Abigail: sweet cheeks, hot mama, babe, hoe, chickie. She'd smack your ass and kiss your cheek after every nickname.

Harvey: dearest, love bug, pookie bear. Basic but cute. He secretly watches rom coms and steals the weirdest and cheesiest names from them.

Shane: chickadee, sunshine, bro. He just gives off washed up frat boy vibes to me but he'd say them all with a smile at least.

Penny: darling, dear, honey, lovely. She just adores you and will call you all these and their Latin equivalents.

Sebastian: boudica, babe, mami, my moon and stars. Firstly, if you don't know who boudica is, she led an army against the Romans and was a great warrior and I feel like he'd definitely know this and call you this after you get back tired from the mines.

Alex: bae, dove, big L (L for love), broski. He's a little awkward and brags too much about having romantic attention to have actually been in a relationship.

Maru: Einstein, honeydew, dew drop, diamond, flower. She's just adorable and is going to give you the most adorable and meaningful nicknames.

Haley: bae, baby, babe, bitch, whore, love, gorgeous, kitten, girlie, sunflower. All said with soooo much excitement. You are literally her favorite thing in the whole world and how she says all these it's obvious.

Elliot: my love, darling, goddess, the most gorgeous muse, angel, ethereal rose, my heart, melita (little honey in Latin cus you know he's fluent in it). He will say the most gorgeous names to you while carefully tucking stray hair out of your face. He's so calm and caring and sweet and will recite to you ancient Latin poems while cooking you dinner.

[daenystheedreamer]

Valyrian Pantheon Headcanons

We know the names of 5 of the Valyrian gods and that's it. We don't know anything about the practices or even what those gods were patrons of. Here is my headcanon reconstruction of the pantheon ^_^

I think the Fourteen Flames (the volcanoes) are named for fourteen gods who constitute the main pantheon, similar to the 12 Greek Olympians or the 12 Roman Dei Consentes. There are many minor gods, usually personifications of concepts like seasons/emotions.

I imagine them like Egyptian gods, who are personified sometimes as humans, sometimes as animals, sometimes as animal-headed humanoids. I imagine the main fourteen as dragons, though idk how silly that would look lol.

I think they were also androgynous gods. Why? That's fun. That's so fun. Dragons are theorised to be hermaphroditic/intersex who can change their sex at will, but also are referred to as she-dragons if they are confirmed to lay clutches of eggs. So some of these gods are gods, and some are goddesses, despite being a-gender

Canonical Gods

BALERION: I believe Balerion's name is at least a little inspired by Ba'al, an ancient Semitic god who was very important to the religions of the region (Canaan, Babylon, etc) and features as a false god in the Hebrew bible. I think he's the King of the gods, like Zeus. God of war or fire or conquest or all of the above. Many ancient gods shifted their patronage and powers.

VHAGAR: Consort of Balerion, similar to Hera. Goddess of war/wisdom, similar to Athena. I think this fits a person like Visenya.

MERAXES: Perhaps a concubine of Balerion? Like how Zeus had thousands of lovers. Metis, Leto, Demeter, etcetera. Goddess of love, because Rhaenys seems like a woman who enjoyed love and life. Perhaps also a goddess of marriage?

SYRAX: It's gotta be someone Rhaenyra would think is cool. Perhaps a goddess of the sun/moon? Another war goddess? A queen? Actually, perhaps Syrax is the Hera of the pantheon, while Vhagar is not necessarily virginal like Athena but 'unmarried' so to speak. Goddess of beauty/wealth would also fit Rhaenyra. Goddess of the sun or moon would be fun in opposition to Sunfyre.

BOASH: called 'The Blind God' Mentioned as the god the Lorathi worship, whose religious followers (dissidents of the Valyrian Freehold) founded the city of Lorath. The name doesn't follow the typical Valyrian naming traditions, perhaps he was originally Boax/Boaxes? Would be fun. He's a very esoteric god connected to 'higher truths', the priests are eunuchs and the followers are vegetarian teetotalers and a main tenant is that everyone is equal. They also wear hair shirts which is an old Christian practice. I think he's a version of a Valyrian death god

the BLACK GOAT: Whose followers founded Qohor. I think he's a minor god, perhaps of magic or agriculture even, agricultural deities tend to be very important to common folk. However the goat imagery evokes Satan and Baphomet, so I think a villainous or death deity would be fun.

Non-canonical gods

A lot of the Targ dragons are given names with similar naming style to the canonical god dragons.

VERMITHOR & VERMAX: The naming conventions of Vermax and Vermithor intrigue me... I think one is the name of the God and one is a theophoric name in reference to the god. Perhaps a god of justice, law, order, etc, since they were the dragons of Jaehaerys and Jacaerys and I can see them picking that kind of God.

ARRAX: Lucerys names his dragon this, so I think a coming-of-age god or god of youths would be fun since he, yknow, got eated at 14.

CARAXES: This is Daemon's dragon so I'm saying Caraxes is the Dionysus/Hermes trickster god. Daemon picking the bacchanalian drunk sex god for his dragon is real to me.

MELEYS: Rhaenys TQWNW's dragon. Rhaenys gives off SUCH demeter vibes idk so agricultural god would be fun but idk i don't think she'd pick something like that. Perhaps its based off of Meraxes since Rhaenys is her namesake. Perhaps an oceanic or weather-based god.

MORGHUL: Morghul is simply the word for death in High Valyrian e.g. 'Valar Morghulis', but I like it as a euphemistic name for a God of death. Like his name is so tabboo that you just refer to him as death, or he's just named death in relation to afterlife, like how Hades refers to both the god and the underworld. I think perhaps Boash and the Black Goat are actually interpretations/aspects of the same deity, perhaps a death - morghul - god.

SHRYKOS: Sick name sorry just had to say that. He's Jaehaerys (son of Helaegon)'s dragon. got no clue what he could be a god of cos jaehaerys is a plot device character. I think he's just a cool Valyrian word, like Morghul, since Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are twins. Be fun if they picked life/death dichotomy for their dragons :p

TERRAX: ridden by the pre-doom character Jaenara Belaerys, who flew further south in Sothoryos than anyone else. God(dess) of travel/wisdom/conquest/oceans would be fun since she's a traveller who flew across oceans and sort of exemplifies the Valyrian conquest/adventurer spirit.

TESSARION: Okay the blue queen has to be a goddess of the ocean or the sky<3

TYRAXES: Joffrey's dragon :) I think a god of animals would be cute also cos he sounds like T-rex. I would name my dragon T-rex. Possibly a bastardisation of Terrax though...

URRAX: This is the name of a legendary/fairytale dragon from the story of Serwyn and Daeryssa from the Age of Heroes. By Daeryssa's naming convention and the fact she is mentioned only in AGOT, I think she was perhaps supposed to be a Targaryen before GRRM had established a full history. I think he's just a bastardisation of perhaps a Valyrian god like Arrax.

So my vision of the Valyrian pantheon includes Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, Syrax, Vermithor, Arrax, Caraxes, Terrax, Tessarion, which is 9 gods

plus Meleys and Tyraxes who I'm not sure if I want to be referring to above gods or just the name of a god entirely, which makes 11

Adding a death god (Boash, Black Goat, Moghul) makes 12,

which leaves another two unnamed for my personal idea of a Valyrian pantheon :)

[fantasticbean]

The Nymph and the Sea I.

Authors note: Okay so… this is my first fanfic for reals reals. Nothing in here is historically accurate, it is just based in greek mythology for funsies and Roman clearly gives off vibes of a powerful entity, so with that said don’t take any of this plot as genuine facts. I enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy reading it :) ALSO there will be smut but for now I’m just trying to develop the characters and the plot SO BEAR WITH ME.

Warnings: Minor Character death, animal death, blood, emotional abuse, toxic “mother” and daughter relationships. It is Ancient Greece people, there will be weird things going on. If I missed something let me know :p

Word count: 4,508 (got a little carried away hehe)

Pairing: Roman Reigns as Poseidon x Maleina (OC) Love Nymph

Chapter I. The Creation

Maleina, the tender-eyed nymph with the glowing purple gaze, was no ordinary creation. Crafted by the divine hands of Aphrodite, she was destined to carry the power of love, a living embodiment of the arrows shot by what mortals called Cupid. Her origins were as divine as her purpose, woven together one fateful night beneath the moonlit sky over Corinth. Aphrodite had long shared a passionate bond with Dionysus, the god of wine and revelry, and that evening, their union became the subject of much divine entertainment. The gods of Olympus, known for their indulgent voyeurism, watched eagerly as the pair gave themselves over to love and lust in a display that was meant to captivate them all.

Aphrodite, ever the showwoman, was determined to leave an indelible impression, to give her audience something worthy of their gaze. As she and Dionysus reveled in their moment, a new creation was born—a nymph whose beauty and power would echo through the heavens. The gods, enthralled by the spectacle, knew that Maleina would be no ordinary being.

Her form was an exquisite masterpiece. Apollo, the god of the sun and arts, nearly fell to his knees at the sight of her—so breathtaking was her beauty that he had a statue crafted in her likeness, one so flawless it would become the pinnacle of artistic reverence. Her hair, dark as the midnight sky, cascaded in soft waves, and her lips, full and beguiling, resembled the finest of Dionysus’s wine—sweet, intoxicating, and irresistible. Her skin shone with the glow of the full moon, luminous and ethereal, and her smile revealed teeth so perfect they could only have been sculpted by Poseidon himself, the god of the seas, whose skill in crafting beauty was unmatched. Even Hades, the god of the underworld, known for his usually impassive demeanor, sighed dreamily as she stepped into the room. Maleina’s presence was magnetic, her beauty transcendent, and the gods, one by one, acknowledged her as Aphrodite’s greatest creation.

And as if to crown her perfection, Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and protector of women, bestowed upon Maleina a final, unforgettable gift: a pair of violet eyes—eyes that held the power to awaken deep love and desire in those who gazed into them. The gods, from Zeus to Hecate, each saw something unique in her, something they had never witnessed before. Her eyes were not merely beautiful; they were a force of nature, a weapon of love itself.

It was the gods’ unanimous decision that Maleina would serve her creator’s will, tasked with wielding the power of Aphrodite’s arrows, binding mortals to the whims of love. But more than that, she would stand apart from the other nymphs, her allure unmatched, her powers unparalleled. Maleina was not just a messenger of love—she was its embodiment, the embodiment of divine passion and desire.

“You’re the embodiment of love and desire Dear,” Aphrodite said once Maleina was wrapped in soft silk gowns “With your gift you’ll grant us a future of many mortals to come and populate this earth but you should not indulge yourself with them.”

Those were the first words Maleina had ever heard: Bring love to others, but never to yourself. As the years passed, the weight of that command grew heavier. Maleina carried her quiver of arrows with grace, yet the burden they represented was one she felt deeply. Her existence was defined by bringing love and desire into the lives of mortals while denying herself the same. She could witness love in its purest, most fervent forms, but she was forbidden to partake, her duty bordering on punishment.

Maleina’s first encounter with love—true, unbidden love—was one she would never forget. It happened when she was tasked with a simple mission: to strike a mortal boy with her arrow, binding him to his childhood friend. She had seen him by the riverbank, his brown hair catching the golden light, his pearly blue eyes reflecting the water’s shimmer. He was a warrior, strong and proud, and wholly forbidden.

Curiosity rooted her in place as she watched him strip off his tunic, revealing a sun-kissed body carved by years of labor and training. Though she was a nymph, created from divine hands, she was still a creature of flesh and emotion. A warmth stirred deep within her, a sensation foreign and consuming. Her heart quickened, her body heated as if Hephaestus himself had stoked a flame within her very being.

Maleina hesitated. Her task was clear, her creator’s command absolute: bind him to another, and leave. But her hand faltered, the arrow never released. She fled, overwhelmed and terrified—not just by her feelings but by what Aphrodite’s wrath might bring. Love and chaos were two sides of her maker’s coin, and Maleina dared not challenge her. The consequences for disobedience were severe, and the goddess’s fury was a force even the gods themselves feared.

That night, Maleina returned to the temple in disarray. The image of the warrior haunted her thoughts, his laughter and form etched into her memory. She sat by the fountain, her feet submerged in the cool water, seeking solace in its stillness. Her sister Liv approached, her rosy cheeks tinged with cold and mischief.

“What’s spinning in that pretty head of yours?” Liv teased, her tone playful as always. Liv was unlike Maleina in every way—a vibrant soul full of theatrics and charm, the life of every gathering. She was a favorite at Apollo’s feasts and often found herself entwined in the schemes of Hermes’s sons. Yet, her teasing was tempered by an innate loyalty to her sister.

Maleina hesitated but finally spoke, her voice soft and uncertain. “Something… strange happened to me.” She leaned her head to the side, her gaze fixed on the rippling water. “I think I got too confident in my abilities.”

Liv raised a brow, her grin mischievous. “You mean you fucked someone?”

“No, you moron!” Maleina hissed, kicking water at her sister, her face flushing with embarrassment. “But it crossed my mind.”

Liv laughed, throwing her head back before leaning closer, her expression both amused and serious. “Well, I’ll be damned. The one who can’t fall in love… fell in love.”

Maleina shot her a sharp glare, placing a finger to her lips. “Liv! Someone might hear you.”

“Fine,” Liv said, lowering her voice but frowning deeply. “But did you…?” she asked again, her meaning clear, sex.

Maleina shook her head. The feeling had consumed her, burned through her in a way she had never experienced. And yet, she had resisted. It felt unfair—no, cruel—to be made a vessel of love and desire yet denied the ability to feel it freely.

Liv’s smile faltered as she studied her sister’s conflicted face. Maleina’s thoughts were a storm of lust, shame, and longing, a war between duty and the desires she had been forbidden to explore.

How unfair, she thought bitterly, to give love to others and never receive it for herself.

“I’ll be fine,” Maleina convinced herself “It won’t happen again. First thing tomorrow I will be done with it.”

“You know,” Liv said with a mischievous smirk, her tone dripping with devilish charm, “the instructions are to never fall in love. It doesn’t say entanglement is prohibited.”

Maleina rolled her eyes, the burden of her overthinking clashing with Liv’s careless temptations. “That’s not how it works, Liv,” she replied, though her voice lacked conviction. Her sister’s words lingered in her mind longer than she’d care to admit.

The next morning, Maleina found herself once again at the riverbank, her target in sight. The warrior stood near the water’s edge, cleaning his sword with quiet precision. His soaked tunic clung to his body, every muscle defined by the morning light. Maleina’s fingers tightened on the golden string of her bow, ready to complete her task.

But then, the rustling of leaves drew her attention. Her sharp eyes caught the movement first—a lion, stalking through the brush, its hungry gaze fixed on the man. The predator crept closer, its intent clear. Maleina’s breath hitched. She saw the warrior turn, his body shifting into a defensive stance. He was prepared, but what could a mortal do against an apex predator in its domain? It wasn’t a fair fight.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. The arrow meant for the man flew through the air, striking the lion directly in the eye. The beast roared in pain and collapsed, its death immediate.

The warrior stood frozen, his sword lowered as he stared at the lifeless lion. Confusion clouded his features, and his sharp blue eyes scanned the surrounding trees. “Who’s there?” he called, his voice steady but wary. “Show yourself.”

Maleina’s heart raced. She hadn’t planned for this. She could have vanished, dissolved back into the safety of the trees, but something held her there. Taking a steadying breath, she stepped out of the shadows.

Her silk gown shimmered as if woven from moonlight, its deep purple hue mirroring the color of her eyes. Golden cuffs adorned her wrists, catching the sunlight, and her presence radiated an ethereal glow. The warrior’s jaw dropped as he took her in.

Surely, he thought, she was no mere woman. The way her beauty defied mortal comprehension, the way her very being seemed to command the air around her—he was convinced he stood before the goddess of beauty herself.

“Who are you?” he whispered, his voice soft, reverent, as if afraid to shatter the illusion.

Maleina’s lips parted, but she hesitated. Her mind raced with excuses, with answers, but none seemed to suffice. Instead, she simply stood there, her amethyst gaze meeting his.

“My name’s Maleina,” she said, her voice soft and low, like the whisper of a breeze through the trees. The sound ignited a flicker of something unnameable in Marcus’s chest, a heat that spread like wildfire.

“Marcus,” he replied, still unable to tear his gaze from her. It was as if his very soul feared she might vanish if he blinked. “Thank you, for, you know…” He motioned awkwardly toward the lifeless lion, the predator that had moments ago been his death sentence.

“You’re welcome,” Maleina replied, her tone measured and distant, uncertain of what else to say. Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than necessary before she turned, her movements graceful yet hurried. “Well, see you around,” she added, her words rushed as though she needed to escape.

“Hey! Wait!” Marcus’s voice rang out, desperation thick in his tone. He couldn’t let her leave—not yet, not so soon. His feet carried him forward instinctively, heart hammering in his chest as he tried to hold on to the moment.

Maleina stopped but didn’t turn immediately. Her shoulders stiffened as the weight of her actions replayed in her mind. She had already gone too far, broken unspoken rules she had followed since her creation. This was bad, worse than she’d anticipated. She needed to leave and never look back.

Still, she turned, her face unreadable, though her violet eyes betrayed the storm of emotions swirling within.

“A-Are you from around here?” Marcus asked, his voice unsteady yet earnest. For the first time in his life, he felt like a boy again—nervous, uncertain, with his heart thundering in his chest.

Maleina hesitated. She could feel the pull, the dangerous thread tying her to this moment. “No,” she finally said, the word clipped but soft. Her mind screamed at her to disappear, to let the forest swallow her whole before things spiraled further out of control.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she let herself linger just a moment longer, watching Marcus as he stood there, looking at her as if she were the most extraordinary thing he had ever seen. And perhaps, in that fleeting moment, she allowed herself to feel extraordinary, too.

And so, the man Maleina once observed from behind the trees became her secret companion—a bond forged in stolen moments and hidden from the eyes of gods and mortals alike. Marcus, the warrior with a chiseled body and a heart softer than he’d admit, became her solace. He was a man of gentle humor and fierce loyalty, his strength honed not for glory but for survival. Every coin he earned went to care for his mother and younger sister, who lived by the coast of Argos.

Through him, Maleina came to know pieces of his world. She learned of Aria, the woman who had once been his promised wife, whose destiny Maleina had quietly shifted with her bow. Instead of binding Marcus and Aria together, the nymph had paired her with an older artisan from the village, a match that had blossomed into a quiet, happy life. Yet, the knowledge weighed heavy on Maleina’s shoulders. She had altered Marcus’s path, stolen his future in the name of her own selfish desires.

Still, guilt melted away each time they met by the small temple near the riverbank—their hidden haven. It was a place untouched by time, where the only witnesses to their stolen moments were the whispering trees and the murmuring water.

Marcus never questioned her origins. He didn’t need to. To him, she was Maleina, the mysterious daughter of a wealthy merchant, a woman of ethereal beauty and elusive grace who allowed him to share her time. She never corrected his assumptions. It was safer that way—for both of them.

But as the months passed, and their connection deepened, Maleina found herself tethered to him in a way that frightened her. Each smile, each lingering touch, each stolen glance was a defiance of her purpose, a rebellion against the rules set by her maker. She knew Aphrodite’s wrath was as swift as it was merciless.

Yet, she couldn’t stop.

In Marcus’s company, Maleina felt something she had never known—a sense of belonging, a warmth that seeped into her very being. He looked at her not as a creation of divine perfection, but as a woman. And for the first time, she allowed herself to believe she was one.

Everything crumbled like a fragile sandcastle swept by a tidal wave. Nia, daughter of Thalassa and one of Poseidon’s loyal creations, had stumbled upon a tragedy at sea—a sight so harrowing it sent ripples of fury through the realms. Aria, a devoted wife and mother, lay lifeless along with her children, their bodies adrift on the salt-laden waves. The crime was heinous, committed by none other than Aria’s husband, whose heart Maleina’s arrow had forcefully turned. A bond meant to bloom with love had ended in bloodshed, a perversion of destiny itself.

This unnatural tragedy ignited chaos in the underworld, shaking its dark foundations and compelling Hades himself to rise from his shadowed throne. His demands for answers echoed through Olympus until they reached Poseidon’s halls. The Sea God, his rage like a brewing storm, dispatched Nia to uncover the source of this upheaval. Her investigation led her to a secluded riverbank where she found the culprit: Maleina, cradled in the arms of Marcus, her forbidden mortal lover.

It was in that moment that the truth struck Maleina with unbearable clarity. This tragedy was her doing, her defiance of her sacred duty unraveling the delicate threads of fate. The illusion she had so recklessly spun was now collapsing around her, its remnants sharp enough to wound not just her heart, but the very order of the divine.

The wrath of Aphrodite was swift and merciless. Her arrival was a storm of beauty and fury, her golden form shimmering with a light so intense it demanded reverence and fear. Her voice, a venomous blend of rage and disappointment, cut through Maleina’s trembling defenses.

“Can’t you see what you’ve done?” Aphrodite’s words dripped with accusation, her gaze like a dagger aimed at the nymph’s soul. “You’ve disrupted nature’s sacred order. And in Poseidon’s domain, of all places.”

Maleina stood frozen, the weight of her actions crushing her spirit. Her voice, when it came, was small and broken. “I just wanted to know what it feels like…”

Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, her divine temper teetering on the edge of a violent eruption. She stepped closer, her presence a suffocating reminder of Maleina’s failure. “To feel what, Maleina?”

The nymph’s violet eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Her answer was a whisper, fragile yet heavy with the longing that had driven her to defy the gods. “Love.”

The single word hung in the air, a confession that burned through the tension like a stray ember on dry parchment. Maleina’s heart shattered further as she realized that, in her quest to feel love, she had sown only destruction. The silence that followed was unbearable, filled with the unspoken weight of her punishment yet to come.

Aphrodite turned her back on Maleina, her movements elegant yet unnervingly cold as she walked to her gilded throne. The air in the chamber shifted, heavy and foreboding, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. With a simple snap of her fingers, two guards entered the room, dragging a limp and bloodied figure between them.

Maleina's heart dropped, her knees buckling as she recognized him.

"Marcus!" she cried, rushing forward, only to be stopped mid-step by an invisible force. Aphrodite's power pinned her in place, her outstretched hands trembling as she watched the guards drop Marcus to the floor. His body crumpled, legs dragging uselessly, his face battered and bruised beyond recognition. Blood trailed from his lips, his once-bright blue eyes barely open.

"No, no, no, please!" Maleina begged, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't hurt him! This isn't his fault!"

Aphrodite turned slowly, her expression devoid of sympathy. "Do you think the gods care about fault, child?" Her voice was sharp, laced with venom. "This was not my choice, but the balance must be restored. I follow orders as you should have."

Maleina fought against the unseen force, desperate to reach Marcus. "I'll fix it! I'll do anything! Please, just let him go!"

Aphrodite's gaze hardened. "You already had your chance. You chose defiance, and now you will learn the cost of disobedience."

At her signal, the guard nearest to Marcus unsheathed a blade, its edge glinting cruelly in the dim light. Maleina's screams pierced the chamber as she fought with every ounce of her strength, but she couldn't move.

"No! Stop!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Please, I love him!"

The words hung in the air like a fragile confession, but they did nothing to soften the goddess's resolve. The blade descended, sinking into Marcus's chest with brutal finality.

The sound of steel meeting flesh seemed to echo endlessly. Maleina's body froze, her mind unable to comprehend the sight of Marcus's blood spilling onto the floor, pooling beneath him. Time slowed as the guard stepped back, leaving the mortal slumped over, his life draining away.

With a snap, Aphrodite released her hold, and Maleina collapsed to the floor beside Marcus. She gathered his broken body in her arms, cradling him as though her touch could keep him tethered to the world.

"Marcus," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Stay with me, please. Don't leave me."

His eyes fluttered open briefly, the light in them dim but still holding her gaze.

"Maleina..." he rasped, his voice barely audible. "I would... do it all again... for you."

Her tears fell freely, mixing with the blood staining his chest. "I'm sorry," she choked out, pressing her forehead to his. "I'm so sorry."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and then he was gone. His body stilled, the warmth fading from his skin. Maleina clung to him, her sobs racking her body as her world shattered around her.

Aphrodite watched in silence, her expression as cold and unyielding as marble.

When she spoke, her words cut like a blade. "This is the price of your selfishness. Love is not yours to claim, Maleina. It is yours to give, nothing more."

Maleina's grip on Marcus's lifeless form tightened as Aphrodite motioned for the guards. They seized the nymph, pulling her away despite her cries and thrashing.

Her lover's blood stained her hands and gown, a haunting reminder of what she had lost.

The once vibrant and flourishing world of Corinth slowly decayed, the land withered beneath the weight of Maleina’s sorrow. The nymph, the embodiment of love, now imprisoned in her temple by Aphrodite, could no longer summon the power that once made hearts dance with desire. Her soul mourned the loss of Marcus, the mortal whose love she had so fiercely longed to taste, but now, that love was nothing but ashes in the wind.

Years passed in her isolation, a never-ending cycle of grief and longing. The temple walls, once radiant with the energy of her presence, now stood dark and cold, mirroring the void inside her heart. The nymph could no longer perform the duties she was created for, her once-bright purple eyes dull with the weight of despair. Aphrodite, though unforgiving, had left her with one instruction: to heal.

But how could a nymph of love heal when love had been taken from her so cruelly?

Meanwhile, on the shores of Corinth, the consequences of her actions were felt by mortals and gods alike. Without Maleina’s arrows to ignite the fires of passion, the world fell into chaos. Wars erupted over power, hearts grew cold, and the once harmonious relationships between gods and mortals began to fray. Even Poseidon, ruler of the seas, felt the shift—a disturbance in the natural order of things. His domain, once teeming with life and love, now felt eerily empty.

The land that once thrived on the affection and desires of its people now stood as a barren wasteland, much like Maleina’s heart—silent, aching, and devoid of the very essence that kept it alive.

Aphrodite watched from her celestial throne, a quiet anger brewing within her. She had created Maleina to be the ultimate agent of love, but the nymph had betrayed that creation by indulging in emotions she was not meant to experience. Yet, the goddess of love knew that even the gods were not immune to the consequences of love—destruction and creation alike.

The goddess of love and war leaned back in her golden throne, her expression unreadable, as the towering figure of Poseidon entered the temple. His presence was commanding, the air thickening around him as though the very sea followed in his wake. His long, dark hair cascaded like a storm, and his eyes—deep, cold, and endless as the ocean—locked onto hers without hesitation.

The goddess of love had never been one to be shaken, yet she could feel the weight of his arrival, the immense power he exuded.

“Roman,” she said, her voice cool, though the surprise in it was undeniable. “What brings you here?”

Poseidon’s gaze remained impassive, his tone as harsh as a crashing wave. “A proposition,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Aphrodite’s brow arched. “A proposition?” She tilted her head slightly, studying him. Poseidon was a god of the sea, not one to venture far from his domain, and certainly not to the temple of love. His motives were always shrouded in mystery. But today, there was no mirth or intrigue in his eyes, only cold purpose.

He took a single step forward, his tall, broad form filling the space. “The world is drowning in chaos, Aphrodite. The mortal realm is devoid of balance. And your precious creation—Maleina—has strayed too far. Her weakness has infected the world.”

Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, though she kept her composure. “You speak as if you know what love is. What do you understand of it, Poseidon?”

Poseidon’s eyes flickered with a glint of something fierce—something dangerous, like the deep sea itself. “Love is a force of nature, like the tides. It cannot be controlled, only guided. You have let it run wild, and now the storm you’ve created threatens everything.”

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a thin smile, though there was no amusement in it. “So you’ve come to fix it? Do you think you can restore what I have built?” Her gaze flickered to Maleina’s shadowed figure in the distance, a silent reminder of the chaos that had ensued.

Poseidon’s voice grew colder, his eyes unwavering. “I don’t intend to restore what you’ve built. I intend to erase it. Maleina must return to her original purpose—no more distractions, no more false desires. She will remember who she is. Her love must not be wasted.”

Aphrodite’s breath caught, but she did not flinch. “And what makes you think you can accomplish this?”

“I will take her to my domain,” Poseidon said, his voice devoid of warmth. “I will cleanse her of your influence, restore balance, and let the tides of love once again flood the world. In return, I ask for one thing: permission to wield your power where it has been lost, to guide the broken hearts of mortals back to their true course.”

Aphrodite considered his words, her heart betraying her only for a moment. Poseidon was not here for power or gain; he was here to set things right, in his own ruthless way. He was a god of the sea, and he understood the balance of nature as no one else could.

“Very well,” she said, her voice as cold as the marble beneath her. “But know this, Poseidon: Maleina is no ordinary nymph. She was made for love, but love can break as easily as it can heal. You may find her more dangerous than you realize.”

Poseidon did not flinch. “I am not afraid of what I must do,” he said, his voice firm, unwavering. “You created her to guide love, Aphrodite. I will make her remember her true purpose, even if it means destroying the illusions she clings to.”

Aphrodite’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, her thoughts swirling. She had never seen Poseidon so determined, so utterly cold in his conviction. But in that moment, she realized that he was the only one who could undo the mess she had created.

“Go then,” Aphrodite said, her tone final. “But if you fail, it will be on your head.”

Poseidon’s lips barely twitched in acknowledgment, “I do not fail,” he said, turning away from her, his form already shifting toward the exit.

“Prepare yourself, Aphrodite. The tides are changing.”

And with that, the god of the sea left the temple, his presence like a distant thunderstorm on the horizon. Poseidon was not a god who dealt in mercy or second chances, but perhaps, just perhaps, he was the only one who could right the wrongs of the love she had forged.

As the doors closed behind him, Aphrodite’s gaze turned to where Maleina's last moments were—still broken, still lost in the chaos she had created—and she wondered what would become of the nymph now that Poseidon had entered the picture.

[shit-people-probably-didnt-say]

Crows Name Meanings because why not?

🐦‍⬛ Kaz:

Meaning: Destroyer of peace; One who declares peace; Child of peace or harmony

Kaz is an incredibly dynamic name popular for boys and has Slavic origins.

Kaz comes from the name Cassius, which means “hollow”, and was famously worn by one of the conspirators against Julius Caesar. This may be why it has gained the meaning “destroyer of peace.”

However, Kaz has an endearing connotation, too! In Japanese, Kaz comes from Kazuko, which means “harmony” and “child of peace.” This powerful title will find a home in a soul who is unafraid of forging their own, unique path.

Baby Kaz will undoubtedly stay true to themselves as they journey through life, carrying a remarkable presence everywhere they go.

🌺 Inej:

Meaning: Faithful, The faithful one

Inej is a girl's name of Spanish origin.

Meaning "faithful" or "the faithful one", this name is for the parent intending to raise baby in a life of faith.

🎲 Jesper:

Meaning: King of the treasure; Treasurer

Jesper is a masculine name of Danish, Dutch, and Persian origin.

A variant of the Persian name Jasper, this name translates to “King of the treasure” or “treasurer.” Wealth comes in many forms, whether it’s gold, knowledge, or moments with your loved ones.

Of course, baby is going to be a priceless new addition to your family. If you want to always remind baby how invaluable they are, the name Jesper makes for a bountiful choice.

🎼 Wylan:

Meaning: Wayside land; Crafting one; Brave in battle

Wylan offers a dapper appellation steeped in cool kid vibes. A form of Waylan and Waylon, masculine Wylan is a topographical name meaning “wayside land.” Wylan’s origins don’t stop there, as the name also has Germanic and Old Norse roots, where it derives from Wayland.

Wylan adopts the meaning “crafting one” from Wayland the Smith, a mythological master blacksmith who escaped the king’s custody by flying away with a winged cloak he crafted. He is mentioned in several Germanic and Old Norse poems, including the Old English classics, Waldere and Beowulf.

Wayland may also mean “brave in battle,” equipping baby with a warrior-worthy title. Not only is Wylan effortlessly chill for the cool-as-a-cucumbers, this handsome title comes steeped in ancient lore and ingenuity.

🫀Nina:

Meaning: Little girl

Nina is a girl’s name with various possible   origins, arguably the most well-known being Spanish.

Aptly meaning “little girl,” this simple title never seems to go out of style.

Sharing her name with the Incan goddess of fire, Nina can be inspired to let her flame burn bright. Also connected to a Babylonian goddess, there is no shortage of heavenly influences for this little girl.

🐺 Matthias:

Meaning: Gift of God; Bear

Matthias is a refreshing twist to the ancient masculine name Mathew sure to give baby a distinctive edge.

Emerging from the Hebrew Matityahu, meaning "gift of God," Matthias bears this definition with all the swagger of a rock star.

As much as Matthias seems to push against tradition, its very sound directly links it with the Ancient Greek translation of Matityahu, Mattathias, which pre-dates even Mathew.

Touring overseas to Celtic shores, Matthias finds an intriguing kinship with the Irish mathúin, which means "bear." A relic with a rugged appeal, as names go.

Matthias serves up stage presence before baby has even taken their first steps.

Do with this what you will

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: No Ordinary Duchess by Elizabeth Hoyt

4.75/5. Releases 12/10/24.

The Vibes: stern hero/perky heroine, femdom with an alpha submissive, caretaking, and soothing long-held wounds

Heat Index: 8/10

The Basics:

Elspeth and Julian come from families with a deep history of betrayal and dislike. He's cold, brooding, and strictly regimented; she's free-spirited, quirky, and... oh yeah, aligned with a centuries-old secret society of Wise Women. Julian is on the hunt that his wicked uncle murdered his mother, which brings him directly into Elspeth's path as she seeks out an ancient text of vital importance. As they continue on their separate missions, they keep running into each other—and sharing secrets... and perhaps discovering that their feelings run far beyond on the forbidden....

The Review:

THE QUEEN HAS RETURNED.

I will read anything Elizabeth Hoyt writes. She's written several all-time favorites of mine (Thief of Shadows, Duke of Midnight, The Raven Prince, Sweetest Scoundrel... to name a few) and her Maiden Lane series is, as far as I'm concerned, one of the greatest things committed to the romance genre. She takes big swings, she writes some of the best sex scenes on the block, and she pays equal attention to the characterization of her tortured heroes and her varied heroines who, frankly, rarely have time for said heroes' collective shit.

I have missed her, and I was honestly getting a little worried that she'd decided to take a step back. But I kept the faith! And it paid off, because this return release is everything I could have asked for. It reminds me of what historical romance can be, how it can stretch, and how it can, at the same time, harken back to the bonkers romps I love most.

There is, by the way, a bonkers overarching plot that honestly isn't as wild as Hoyt can get, but. You know. There's a mystical ancient society of goddess-abiding women and also the whole thing where Elspeth's brother killed Julian's sister (Many Thoughts On This) and the hunt for two separate crucial books... It's still wacky. And it should be!

That being said, this plot falls to the wayside in favor of Julian and Elspeth's relationship and character development. I feel like the first Greycourt book, Not the Duke's Darling, which I actually did like, might not have hit as hard for some readers because the Other Plot kind of overtook the Romance Plot. That is not the case here at all. Elspeth and Julian are so front and center that I feel like the Other Plot is borderline tangential, aside from the battle against the Evil Uncle (who you will have seen in When A Rogue Meets His Match, which I really enjoyed a lot but need to reread). You get a satisfying follow-through on all that, but you're absolutely reading for a truly swoony, hot, FEELINGS-Y romance.

I am a longtime lover of books that are basically "stoic man who's constantly wrapped up in his tragic backstory is flabbergasted by That Broad's Audacity". That... could just be how you sum up this book. At every turn, Julian, who it must be said is stupid hot, tries to stay devoted to his brooding. And at every turn, Elspeth pokes him, blinks, and goes "Why is that?"

When she's not reading Georgian porn. Which she does a lot, for someone who's on the hunt for an ancient, super important book. While also dodging assassination attempts. And that's so valid of her.

Julian just can't deal with Elspeth. She baffles him. He's supposed to hate her! She's the sister of the guy who killed his sister! Mortal enemies and all that! Also, she's seriously getting in the way of his own hunt, what with her constantly getting almost murdered and, you know, That Ass. And she's just so disarming, so honest (... in some ways), so blunt about her interests, her desires, what she believes in and what she doesn't. She immediately begins worming her way into his heart, while also making him Hard As A Rock.

But he can't allow for worming into hearts! Not when he has so many secrets, from Plotty Secrets I can't tell you about, to Sexy Secrets I can tell you about. In many ways, this book is basically a classic melting of the hero book. But instead of Elspeth melting Julian with her good, innocent heart... She's melting him with her dogged inability to be anything other than who she is. And her disinterest in being anything other than who she is, for that matter. Which is such a great contrast to Julian, a man struggling to deny who he is, to be what society wants him to be.

It's Uptight Meets Wild in a lot of ways, but Elspeth's a unique form of a rebellious heroine. She's not super concerned about society, but she's also open about her lack of experience in some ways. She's not mean in any way, shape or form. She doesn't have a chip on her shoulder. She's not really like... fighting society? There's one tirade she has about the hypocrisy of it all, but it's less "Fight the power" than "this is so fucking stupid". Which is a refreshing take on it all. Elspeth doesn't get it because it's all so dumb that like... no one as real as her should be able to get it.

And before anyone goes in on how unrealistic this is, A) it isn't B) this is a romance novel C) it actually makes sense, because Elspeth's backstory literally involves being raised in an anti-society, weird family with their own ingrained beliefs and customs. Literally away from high society.

For all that I think the sex scenes in this book will be a major talking point (more on that later)... dude. This shit is so soft at points. You have multiple scenes where Julian just catches himself wanting to stare at this woman. Even before she understands the extent of his pain, she wants to care for him. This is not an enemies to lovers book, despite the enmity between their families. There's a melancholy to their forbidden, especially on Julian's part. He's baffled by Elspeth, but he doesn't dislike her. He's not even in denial about his feelings for her, after a point. He just truly doesn't think they can be.

On some more technical points—this JUMPS right into the story. They meet on like... the second page. The plot kicks off immediately. I've seen so many slooooow, overlong new releases lately. This is a brisk, story that reads so quickly and isn't in any way overlong. You have an extended chunk that takes place in one setting, and yet... plot happens. Character development happens. Relationship building happens. Julian and Elspeth are together for so much of the pagetime, despite their opposite goals.

None of this should be like... notable. But it is. You feel the expertise in the writing here. She's just one of the best to ever do it, in my opinion.

Also! I respect Elizabeth's process and whatever may affect her writing schedule. But my God, I hope we get more Greycourt books, and I hope we get them fairly soon. I counted at least three possibilities for future love stories. And I have Thoughts.

The Sex:

NOW. On to the elephant in the room. The good elephant. The elephant that is as big as Julian's Appendage.

As I said earlier, Elizabeth Hoyt writes some of the best sex scenes in romance. They're unique, they're earthy, they feel tailored to the character. She uses language that is sometimes anatomical and sometimes campy and sometimes like... feels kinda filthy, even though I've read filthier?

Julian's struggles lie in the fact that, for all that he is cold and domineering and stoic, he's submissive in the bedroom. While Hoyt has definitely dabbled in some light kink in earlier books, I would say that a lot of it tends towards like... The kind of kinkiness you often seem in historicals. Where there are definitely dog whistles, but it may not be intentional (historical romance has long lended itself to an unconscious dip into D/s dynamics, in my opinion) historical romance kink often isn't explictly stated.

Here, it's called out for what it is, the societal judgments about it (some of which remain to this day, mind) are discussed, and Julian has processes. Elspeth is more than down. It's like he's unintentionally found his perfect woman (sexually, at least).

But for all that this is explicitly a femdom romance, I think it skirts around so many stereotypes, and it is not, in my opinion, a BDSM romance. They don't get into anything super OTT or formalized. It's really something Julian just... needs. And it's really not a sadomasochism situation at all. It's truly about this soft domme/sub dynamic. He wants to serve, and he wants to be cared for. His submission and what it gives him is described so beautifully. There's a lot of caretaking in this book.

Which doesn't in any way take away from how hot the book is, mind. There's a really unique de-emphasis on something historicals and honestly romance in general often obsesses over, which was so refreshing. There's a true sensitivity to why Julian is into this, and where it stops for him. I feel like Hoyt was doing a sendup of the tortured alpha here, while also exploring what that can mean in more unique scenarios. It was so good.

And so... sooooo hot. There's a lot of body worship in general and pussy worship specifically. Elspeth is curvy, and has her moments of insecurity, and Julian LOVES her body.

Those of us who missed some fun Hoyt-isms about sex are well-rewarded. "Lazily mouthed her cunny" is like.... everything....................

Basically: I loved this. I am so glad she's back. I hope she's back for good (but no pressure). I want a million more Hoyt books. I will, again, read whatever she writes. When I tell y'all she's showing us how it's done... I mean it.

Thanks to Forever and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[hyog-blog]

Fangs of Fortune (ep. 09 - ep. 10)

Okay, after so many side stories ending with deaths, I think it's safe to say there's a 0% chance of a happy ending for any of the show's main characters D: Mighty demons fall in love and end badly, powerful Godesses get sick and end badly, whoever cares for someone else - ends badly. It kind of sets the mood, and I'm taking all the hints, yep.

The Original Goddess and her demonic partner have met quite a tragic end. Another heartbreaking couple dissolving into thin air, ah... I just hope the history won't repeat itself with Wen Xiao. But I wasn't at all surprised to see that the other half of the Bai Ze token was, indeed, inside Zhu Yan. it was pretty much on the surface, but the reunion was still quite beautiful. And that heartfelt talk between Zhu Yan and Wen Xiao after, when she said she wanted to cure him :3 I mean, he seemed actually, genuinely happy. But then again we got reminded of the deadly promise Zhu Yan and Zhuo Yichen made, so XD

I'm starting to think Zhuo Yichen is just 99,9% socially awkward. Given his past with just 1 brother and almost no friends, I wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't show his affection to other people, like, at all. He's getting along with Bai Jiu pretty well because of all the brotherly vibes going on between the two. Bai Jiu reminds him of his childhood and, well, he's young and he poses no danger whatsoever.

Zhu Yan, on the other hand, is ancient, knowledgable, pretty and intimidating just as he is, and seems to get a kick out of lovingly trolling Yichen whenever he can (and Yichen does the same to the best of his capabilities). Actually, all the guys in the show seem to be somehow broken in oh-so-many places (maybe apart from Yinglei, but we probably just don't know his story yet).

"But I want to cure you..." :3

Rewinding a little back - the whole sequence with the doll was hilarious XD If the show didn't create a balance between drama and humor, it would have been one totally overwhelming beautifully made depression)) But this - it's not only watchable, you just naturally fall in love with everyone and everything going on screen.

"Let's take the puppet as a hostage," said the 34,000-year-old demon lord XD

[scriptorsapiens]

Classicstober Day 18: Phaedra (𐀙𐀂𐀉𐀨)

Phaedra was Ariadne's sister and married Theseus to become Queen of Athens (that must have been a WILD Christmas dinner). Things were good until Theseus' son by the Amazon queen dropped by for a visit. His name was Hippolytus (𐀂𐀢𐀬𐀵)…

Phaedra's story isn't quite as well known as many others in greek mythology, outside of a few tragedies and operas. The nature of the beast for most of these stories is that there are a couple of versions and no one can say which one is the 'real' one, but Phaedra's story, depending on the version you go by, can have wildly different vibes.

As I mentioned, she was Ariadne's sister. In some versions, when Ariadne helped Theseus defeat the Minotaur and escape, Phaedra was with her and part of Theseus' crew when he decided to abandon Ariadne on Naxos, eventually becoming his wife in Athens. In others, Phaedra is ignorant of the role Ariadne played in Theseus' victory and is instead sent to Athens to marry him for a political alliance. The implications of both versions are fascinating from a story-telling perspective. If Phaedra left with Theseus, just how complicit was she in leaving Ariadne behind? If their marriage was purely political, what did she think of the man who had just abandoned her sister? In the end, though, the important part (story wise) is that she marries Theseus and becomes Queen of Athens.

I depicted Phaedra here in her full queenly raiment. Yes, Athens was a purely Mycenaean settlement at this time, but the Mycenaean woman's fashion borrowed LOTS from the Minoan and considering where Phaedra was born she deserved a more Minoan look. That's why she has that quilted-looking over-garment on her dress. I made her palette green to represent her role as queen of Athens, and since Athena is the goddess of olive trees it made sense to me to lean into it. She is also blonde and amber-eyed to show her connection to Helios through her mother, Pasiphaë.

The architecture here is based on Minoan buildings. I imagine that inside the Cyclopean walls of Mycenaean Athens they could afford to make things more royal and less military-pragmatism. Athens is known for being a center of intellectualism in the ancient world (an image they painted themselves with), but even though this scene is set many centuries before the height of Classical Athens' power I decided to lean into that here too.

As for Hippolytus… the sources we have for the ancient Amazons are vanishingly rare. Most scholarship has focused on the Phrygians during the Classical Period, and I was able to find precious little reference for the Bronze Age Phrygians that might represent the historical Amazons. I did find one reconstructed garment, and even though it was very plain (and probably mean for a woman) I decided to put Hippolytus in it anyway. The Amazons were practical warriors, so I doubt that, as a child, Hippolytus would have had any other clothes than what his mother had. I also decided that he should be tall, taller than Theseus, as the Amazons were said to stand taller than normal men.

I could go into more details on the very disastrous story between Hippolytus, Phaedra, and Theseus, but I think it falls outside the purview of this piece. It is a fascinating, compelling story, though, so if you have made it this far into my ramble then I recommend checking it out.

[uva124]

PRESENTING THE REDESIGN OF THE GIRLBOSS QUEEN AMAYA 📢🗣🗣(I AM SO HAPPY TO HAVE FINISHED THE DRAWINGS)

It should be noted that this is a redesign for the Wish Au character written by @ animación , who helped me with the ideas and references for Amaya's design,@ animación it is very fun to collaborate with you :D

Now I will start to explain how we came to make this design:

-At first I didn't have many ideas for their design (the truth is before I was concentrating more on Aster and Asha) so I decided to watch the Whis movie to get a better idea of ​​the aesthetic I wanted to look for them………yes, the movie is not that good, later I will talk about my opinion of the movie but in terms of design I was disappointed that out of so many possibilities for the design and costumes of royalty, Disney chose a neutral color palette with small details of blue color, I don't know, I feel like there were so many striking possibilities wasted for they desings.

-Well, continuing with the topic, the author of this Au Wish sent me references about what her vision was about the design of Amaya, which were mostly about the storyboards of the movie, I really liked the idea, since it gave me vibes of a threatening but elegant queen,she also sent me some concept art of Mother Gothel that I used as a reference for the structure of Amaya's face

This gave me the idea of ​​also using Sephora that belongs to the movie "The Prince of Egypt" as a reference for the aesthetic that I more or less wanted for the character.

so first I decided to practice the structure of the face to familiarize myself with the design :D (I clarify that I traced the structure of the drawings here because it was just a practice, I used none of these sketches in the final result)

After a while I started making my own sketches when I finally understood how to draw the face

(For the hairstyle, I was guided by the photos that the author sent me, I almost forgot to put that😅)

-I also decided that instead of putting a crown on Amaya, I put a kind of headband with a jewel, because in addition to being comfortable, practical and cute (something that greatly characterizes Amaya's style)

It is also a parallel to my Asha design which has a diamond-shaped tattoo on her forehead.

-Now talking about Amaya's dress, yes or yes I wanted to design a cape with a hood, although at first I thought about adding a neckline to the top part of the dress, an idea came to me which was to be inspired by the Greek mythology character Circe, since curiously she is also a sorceress, I mentioned this to the author and she mentioned that at first when trying to draw her she was inspired by the conceptual art of Megara, who is also Greek, so in the end she decided that maybe the queen comes from from a town in Greece (Also this could have something to do with her backstory 👀)

-At some point in the story we discover that Amaya keeps different potions inside her dress (I guess for emergencies, I don't know), that's why I decided that the dress has a small opening, because in addition to making it easier for you to walk, it would also help you. get your potions out in an easier way (her potions are attached to a belt that would be on her leg or waist I suppose).

-In the end I designed these 3 prototypes and sent them to the author to help me decide which one to choose or which to combine because the truth is I couldn't choose alone (I'm too indecisive).As I said, I was inspired by the character of Circe, so I looked for references of how the Greek goddesses dressed in ancient paintings, and if you look a little closer you can notice that I added the Leo symbol, since it represents the lion. , an animal that was associated with the Greek mythology character I mentioned

Another important detail is the moons on her dress, since it represents motherhood, an aspect that Amaya uses as a facade with her people, and speaking of space, the writer gave me the idea that Magnifico represents the sun since in her own words:

"I know the association with the sun and the moon fits their personalities really well. As the sun can be seen as bright, fun and warm like Magnifico presents himself, but it can also be a force of destruction that burns and is unpredictable. And the moon can be associated with Amaya for being a protective glow in the darkness like how she presents herself as a caring guide, but the moon also has a mysterious dark side we can never see.And the moon only shines to us because the sun is shining on it, so like… Amaya only shines because she’s next to Magnifico"

(Honestly, I'm always surprised by how much symbolism the writer can find for the characters, I only put it in because of what I mentioned before and because I thought it looked cute lol).

(I came up with the belt and most of the costume thanks to this circe painting)

-Don't think that I decided on the colors yellow and dark blue just because they go together well, nonono, this one also has a meaning :D , you see, while I was looking at some of Wish's concept art there were these discarded designs of Magnifico:

And doing a little google search I found this:

-That's why I chose these colors, blue is a color that represents the truth, something that Amaya and Magnifico want to pretend, but the color yellow represents what they truly are, liars.

-And finally (because this writing is taking me more than 2 hours) the roses that are in her dress and hair are natural, and without giving you too many spoilers about the rewrite, Amaya suddenly ages a little, and when this happens the roses also have a change as they wither

Final comments :D

wow, that was quite long ,wasn't it?, I'm more than happy with the result, I hope you like it too, @annymation and I've put a lot of effort into this design and history of Amaya :)

[foreststarflaime]

What degree(s) do you think Genesis would have?

Ooohoho well. If I may throw my projecting opinions into the discussion lol

He would do great as a classics person I feel (meaning here the study of ancient Greece and Rome, because that is a really ambiguous name to give a study area, but here we are I don’t make the rules). I’ve said plenty about the parallels you can draw with him and the Iliad before, and Loveless absolutely does give me ancient epic vibes, and specifically homeric epic vibes with the themes and the character of the goddess. And if I may go into lore speculation mode for a second, the Cetra do give me the ancient Greece kinda vibe in some ways, so it would be cool if that was the role they played to Gaian society like greece/rome is for us, and with how little of it there is and the whole freaking out over a couple new lines that got discovered (oof that’s a weirdly structured sentence)! So I am pinning my fellow classics major pin on him, he would love the classes I’ve been in which are solely dedicated to reading and discussing a specific text like that especially. He would so be the type of person to walk up to your discussion of the Odyssey or smth and be like “well actually it’s more complex than that bc the greeks’ society was based off this thing called xenia” and procede to lecture you on greek culture with the greek words that don’t translate quite right thrown in all the time lol (haha I would never do this wdym). I actually did have the idea for my thesis in my Greek Gods class that was very much inspired by him—I’m studying sorta the relationships between warriors and poetry in ancient epic

But he would not stop at just one, he is so extra lmao—I could also definitely see him being an english major. And I won’t say theater major exactly because I feel like he would he the exact flavor of english major my uni used to have that I have been told stories of where they had this weird rivalry with the theater department lmao—the eng department would put on productions of Shakespeare, and every department would usually have a decent amount of rep with showing up at the performances, except. Most notably. The theater department, because they were salty that anyone besides them got to put on Shakespeare. The petty energy of that is so Genesis to me, whichever side of that he would he on—although I do tend to lean towards the english side of that for him because he loves analyzing the work so much

And then he’d also probably have some random chemistry degree because he’s a child prodigy genius who invented pasteurization apparently, so great for him lol I could never

[1800naveen]

One of my book Roman empires is Tamlin's family.

His dad is a literal tyrant (not surprised if he was a dictator) and is stated to be worse than Beron. BERON who tortured his son, tortured his own fucking wife after he found out about her affair, and made Lucien watch as Jesminda was killed.

His mom who I like to think is a sweetheart, an absolute delight to be around. She loved her mate so much that she would look to the side when it came to his behavior. I like to think her name would be Arduinna, it's such a beautiful name and I like the vibe of it for her. In Celtic mythology, Arduinna is the Goddess of hunting and forests, fits with the whole Spring shtick.

His older brothers. Tamlin said that they would've killed him before he reached adolescence if he ever wanted to be a High Lord. They're also worse than Lucien's brothers (you can exclude Eris out of this if you like) who made Lucien watch his lover getting killed.

It's no wonder the guy's all fucked up in the head, look at his mess of a family 😶.

Here's a beautiful art of this family!

🎨: Art done by @copypastus , check them out and give a follow!

(Little Tamlin and Mama Spring are so cute ☺️)

If they had names, it would relate to Scottish/Celtic origins, mythology, or folklores. Here are my headcannons for their names because Sarah didn't give them any (What's up with the nameless characters)?

Tamlin's dad: Taranis. He's the Celtic god of thunder, lightning, and storms. He's associated with a celestial wheel or the Wheel of Taranis. This wheel is also associated with weather but I'm not too sure.

Tamlin's older brother: Cian. It means ancient, enduring one. In Celtic mythology, Cian is the son of Dian Cecht, Celtic god of healing. He's also a part of Tuatha Dé Danann, a supernatural race in Irish mythology. They also represent the deities of pre Christian Gaelic Ireland.

Tamlin's second older brother: Weylin. It means wayside land, crafting one, brave in battle, and son of the wolf. There's also a similar name which is Wayland the Smith, a master blacksmith and apparently a lord of elves. (The name is picked on purpose to be similar to Tamlin's. The thought came to me and I liked it).