#and the centaur was her second to last

[tending-the-hearth]

so the one on the far left is obviously thalia’s tree, the one on the immediate right of the college ring is the centaur wearing a dress, and either the red or yellow bead is the trireme on fire

I REALLY hope we get an explanation of what the other two beads are, since we never really find out what the are in the books, but at the very least, i REALLY hope we get a good visual of the beads!

[erlandious]

Doodle crumbs

[lady-ashfade]

Blood And Pressure

Part three

Yandere!Pjo × Fem!Grisha!reader. (Platonic Yandere gods) (romantic!various characters)

-♡ Chapters: Previous // Next

-♡ characters: Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan, Clarisse La Rue, Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood

-♡ this is a shadow & bone slight crossover. Reader is a heartrender and that's all really (maybe more in the future!)

-♡ Please note that all characters are aged appropriately, so all characters are older versions of the book characters. So 17-19 characters for these, you can choose any of them really. Just that they are older teens. (Except for Clarisse and Luke at pjo show actors)

-♡ warnings: short, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting, platonic yandere too, blood powers, powerful powers but not godly, and future warnings when more chapters come out. (Luke will be back don’t worry)

“Well,” you sigh and look at Percy with sadness but tried to not show it. In this short time you had someone who dispute just meeting you, gave you something you wanted for as long as you have been here. A friend.

“You’ll be great here. Luke will take care of you.” Percy gripped the straps of his backpack at his name on your lips.

“Yeah, he seems nice..” he looked past your shoulder at the boy that must have been a year older then him. But he was much larger then he was..more muscular and a few inches taller.

“It’s hard to be in a new place, trust me I know that.” You paused for a second and he could see you running over your thoughts. Before he could piece together anything you wrapped your arms around him and embraced him.

He was stunned in place as his chest become breathless at being close to you. This was his chance, so he wrapped his arms around you and smiled at how your hair smelled sweet.

“Thank you Percy,” you whispered while still holding so tightly onto him. You cared little about anything else.

“For what?”

“Giving me a friend for as long as I can.” You pulled back from him and stepped away with a embarrassed expression. Before percy could reply, Chiron called your name and you gave him one last look and walked away.

You walked out the cabin beside the centaur with your legs practically dragging.

You felt sick to your stomach while thinking of being back in the house and being stuck there again with no one your age to hang out with. You stared at the ground while waking and you could feel Chirons gaze on you but you didn’t bother looking up.

Deep down you knew you weren’t supposed to be here. It didn’t make sense to you but you blacked out everything before this “camp” and only pieces came back to you. You remember someone training you…you remembered your powers and how to use them. And, you remember the book you had- the only thing of your old life. But not what you are.

“It’s just a silly little story,” you overheard the first night in the big house. “Just let her keep it.” Chiron convinced the god.

Now you got a taste of freedom you didn’t want to go back. You wanted to be with people your own age, you wanted friends. You think i’d go insane to spend another week trapped in that place.

“So,” a new voice creeped up in your ears. You both come to a stop and you find yourself looking up. A new girl. She was beautiful but her harsh glare and muscles set a shiver down your spine. Her eyes looked you up and down causing you to shift uncomfortably.

“She’s finally out of her cage.” Her teeth poked out from her smile and for some reason it reminded you of a shark or a lion…like she hunted pray for fun, and you were her next kill.

“Clarisse, lovely to see you.” The man smiled softly but his voice sounded different like a warning of some sort. “We are just going back, is there anything you need?” You throat goes dry when she starts to step closer to you.

“What is she? No one at camp knows but you guys seem to,” you play with your fingers under her almost threatening gaze. You remember one glare like that…Ares had one.

Not that you ever met him really but there was a dream. You were in a place with thrones around you and people sat amongst them and screamed at each other. Not much did you catch or remember of what was said, almost like you were meant to. But the subject did revolve around you.

“Tell me, what are you?” That’s when things clicked in your mind. Someone had asked that before.

“That’s enough. Go back to your cabin—”

“I’m a heartrender.”

The pair stare at you before moving their wide eyes up. You feel your blood pump faster and a growing confidence and remember who you were. Slowly coming down from high you felt, you notice their gaze wasn’t on you anymore but just above you.

“What?” You asked before taking a glance above you and see something shining bright above you. Stepping back you found yourself confused…no god was your parent, you weren’t a half blood. So why was one claiming you…

Thunder could be heard and rumbled underneath your feet. This couldn’t be right.

“That’s impossible..”

A peacock feather hung above your head in all its glory.

Taglist @maria699669 @gorgeourrific-nerd @alliriseabove @targaryenluvs @theaaeht @dabalyuteeeftia @weepingwitchofthewest @iris1587 @tulipmagnoliaisme @ameliashideout @purplerose291 @poppyflower-22 @riaaavm

[foldingfittedsheets]

So tonight in DnD. I have laughed harder than I have in a very very long time.

As background knowledge, we have an “Oops All Dragons” party. We’re modified young dragons so it’s not a huge advantage but at this point three fourths of the party are dragons.

We get called in to usurp two warlords. The setting is like fantasy mad max desert. One warlord was a warlock, the other a centaur fighter. Our first plan was that our dragons would dye themselves a different color to pretend to be rogue dragons and attack the city. They would take out the warlord. Then our bunnyfolk barbarian was gonna run in and take us down afterward to become the figurehead for the city.

But when we turned up the warlord had a pact with a demon who threatened that if we didn’t throw the fight he’d destroy the town with meteors. We started trying to scope out the magical trigger for the threatened spell. Our cleric-dragon started trying to sense magic.

After swooping all over the town we realized the magic was centered on the warlord. But we didn’t know for sure. And one dragon swooping close was just gonna be a target. So I said, “Hey… this one time my younger siblings loosed their… feces… after a dive”

The resulting hilarity took a while to calm down but finally the DM was like, “You want to try to blind him with your shit?”

Yes. Yes we did. But none of the dragons wanted to be the only one raining shit. It was embarrassing. So we decided that all three of us would try this gambit.

My dragon went, they doused him with a face full of poop but didn’t blind him. The Druid-dragon went next and did similarly well.

But he got the jump on the cleric-dragon, and furious, covered in dragon shit, he cast a fireball at her. Unfortunately for him, she has the ability to steal a spell. So the fireball launched then sling shotted straight back into his face.

There he was. A steaming flaming pile of burning shit. And then she shit on him too.

My dragon managed to dispel the rune circle we’d detected with the gambit, and he fled into the crowd to be torn apart by his oppressed people.

Then we did a WWE style fight with our barbarian and he managed to almost kill our Druid on accident and the dragons fled on schedule.

Success- after a fashion! We usurped the guy and shit all over the town.

There’s a second warlord we need to target. We decide what’s a little identity theft so our cleric posed as a grunt we’d killed previously called “The Haboob Wraith.” A haboob is genuinely a desert sandstorm but it was hilarious regardless.

We roll into town deciding to duplicate our piggyback tactics from the last one on one fight we had. The party was escorted into a champions tent and presented with the finest things before their fight to the death. The finest thing in this case is…. Milk.

We all paused and out of character said, “Did you just say milk?”

“Yeah! Like nice cow milk! It’s rare in the desert!”

I lost my fucking shit that the finest thing on offer was milk. So the Haboob Wraith strode into combat with a stomach full of milk.

The centaur warlord said, "I hope you've prayed to your gods, you're about to meet them."

"The gods pray to ME!" she shouted and went on to slaughter him.

We installed a second puppet warlord and rode off into the sunset, all of us staggered by the utter silliness of the whole session, and said goodnight with many a shit pun.

[alkali1]

Belly Attendant 3: Delivery Pt 1

The next morning you awaken to Naia whimpering and moaning through a strong contraction, her womb quivering and rolling under your fingertips. Her contractions picked up in frequency and intensity over night, and you figure that sometime today she'll have to push out the overgrown centaur foal. "Oh god, my hips are so sore. Maybe I overdid it last night" Naia whines. "Your body was probably telling you to help loosen them up and get things moving." You respond, pressing your hands deep into her plush buttocks to provide soothing counterpressure to her strained pelvis.

You cuddle for hours, keeping her milked, fed, and pleasured, as the contractions slowly dilate her. You pay special attention to her sore pelvis, spending lots of time squeezing her fat birthing hips as she struggles with the pain of them opening up to pass the overdeveloped surrogate foal. With the help of her magical weightbearing harness, you ease her into whatever positions her body urges her to take. A semi-squat on the edge of the bed is perfect for burying your face between her plump thighs and making her gasp and moan in pleasure for an hour. Wiping off your face, you check her dilation again. "15 centimeters. But it still feels like you have a ways to go." Privately you wonder what the absolute maximum diameter is that she can possibly stretch to. Having to go beyond 10 is rare for her, only needed for the absolute largest of her surrogate children, and this foal is large enough to really push her limits.

After laboring all day, it's now early evening. When you sense her energy and willpower flagging you wipe the sweat from her brow and pepper her face with kisses, whispering loving reassurances to her. "Oh God, I feel like I'm about to hit transition." she moans. "Should we get you to the birth chamber?" you ask. "Ooh, not quite yet" she moans, grabbing your hand and pulling it towards her needy cunt. You finger her clit, feeling her thighs squeezing desperately around your arm, while kissing and worshiping her heaving, lopsided belly. She cums hard after only a few minutes, but her moans of pleasure are soon replaced by pain as she feels something deep and low inside her shift. "Get me to the birthing room, now. I need to walk to get this foal positioned right." You hold her arm and arm, helping her balance as she slowly waddles through the temple halls. Each contraction makes her stop and let loose guttural screams of discomfort and pain. She realizes that the baby is malpositioned, and the too-large head is jammed awkwardly against her back. You provide as much counterpressure as you can in the small of her back but it seems to do very little to help with the crushing pain.

"This is the worst back labor I've had since that stubborn half-giant a few years ago. It feels like my spine is going to pop out of alignment."

The contractions get stronger and closer together as her womb attempts to squeeze the awkwardly angled head through her painfully stretched cervix. She's barely able to waddle for 30 seconds between each one before instinctively dropping into a wide squat, clutching desperately at her poor hips while pushing furiously. Even with the harness it's difficult for you to heave her back upright. You finally make to to the chamber when her water bursts dramatically, soaking the tiled floor and your shoes. Without the cushioning bag of fluid the head is able to align well enough with her birth canal for her pushes to start to make progress.

You get her lying down on the room's mattress, on her side with one plump leg hiked up as far as she can, resting in a loop of fabric dangling from the ceiling. You push your arm into her darkly swollen pussy to check her, and feel a cervical lip impeding her progress. You gently, manually stretch her cervix during her pushes, feeling the cannonball-sized head bulging forward millimeters at a time.

Elves have the unique ability for their pelvic ligaments to stretch like rubber, a necessity for a race that carries babies for 36 to 40 months. After two hours of pushing, her hip bones have separated several inches, just barely enough for the foal's human head to start squeezing its way between.

"I can't stretch any more!" she whines, "It's so big!" "You're doing such a great job, honey. I know this is a big one but it's nothing you can't handle."

She pleads for you to help her into the ceiling harness: a device similar to her magical belly support belt. It allows birthing surrogates to be suspended semi-weightlessly with their body supported, to allow for a greater variety of birthing positions. You strap her in and hoist her up so she's lying on top of her belly, which still touches the ground. You help her pull her legs forward to open up her hips. Finally, her desperate, grunting pushes are starting to force the oversized head through her separated hips. Her pussy starts to get puffy and bulgy, a sliver of hair visible deep within her folds. "Oh god I can feel it, it's way too big!" Petting her belly and covering her in tender kisses, you reassure her that it isn't, that she's going to be able to do this. Privately, you're starting to have your doubts. The horse half is going to be wider than the head, will it get stuck in her straining, creaking pelvis? You quickly tap out a magic message to the temple abbot, letting her know that Naia is having a difficult birth, and to remain on standby to provide auxiliary support if needed.

You work soothing oil into her swollen pussy, magically infused to help her stretch beyond her natural capacity. Though it may help her stretch, it does almost nothing to help with the pain of being spread and stretched around a 70 pound centaur. You can tell the burning pain is unbearable for her. She lets out a high pitched shriek of "Noooooooo!" with the push that parts her tender lips around the beginnings of the massive crown.

"Oh my god it burns so bad! Please get me to the pool now!" she cries out. You move the harness over the room's hot-spring fed birthing pool, lowering her in and unstrapping her swollen body from the uncomfortably tight fabric. Kneeling down behind her, you run your finger around the tight rim of her cunt. She's stretched tighter than she has been in months, and the head is still not even at its widest point.

You start to worry that she could tear. With one hand, you brace her perineum, and with the other, you press down on her clit, reassuring her that she's not going to rip, that she just needs a little extra time to stretch. You help coach her through panting away the contractions, fighting the urge to push to let her body work at the pace it needs to. But no extra stretch is forthcoming, even as you hold the head in place for over half an hour. You painstakingly manipulate her achingly tight lips a millimeter at a time, gradually pulling them back around the hard surface of the head, easing it out of her without letting her tear. Finally, with a guttural shriek from Naia, it squirts forward on its own, finally fully crowned. But you both know that the hardest part is still to come: the horse body.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Male Monster Musume: Feeding The Beasts Pt. III

Last Part

“Good Morning, (Y/n). Are you ready to spend the day together?”

As you expected, Centoreo was so much easier. Waking up in a timely matter with a warm cup of tea or coffee. It was relaxing, being able to rely on someone else. Able to serve little biscuits and cucumber slices without burning the house down. It wasn’t too often that you got such a quiet morning for yourself.

“Thanks, Centoreo, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, (Y/n)! As my Master, it’s a given that on my day; we’ll get to relax together.”

Sitting across from each other on the newly installed tatami mats. The morning’s light shining through the window gently warmed your face. It was quiet between you two. A tad too quiet.

Centoreo was still smiling at you. 

Constantly smiling as you began to get nervous.

“Uh so?”

“So what, my Master?”

“....I don’t know…what’ve you been up to?”

He sighed, “Only counting down the hours until my day was here.”

A mirth smile spread across your face as you imagined the sight of Centoreo waiting anxiously by a clock. You took another sip of your drink admiring his stylized room. Coming to realize there’s no clock within the room you turned back to the centaur.

“You don’t have a clock in here.”

“I do not. Back home we centaurs are taught to dictate the time by the sun or better yet to count the hours in a day.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that. That’s pretty hardcore.”

“Thank you, Master!”

“Do you guys also get trained with the sword?”

You missed the way his eyes widened and the way his hands twitched. He tilted his head when he asked his question.  

“Excuse me?”

“Like don’t centaurs get swords? I’m sure you couldn’t bring a real one with you but still.”

Centoreo hesitated, “Some do but aren’t swords considered archaic in today's age?”

Shoot. 

You mentally kicked yourself. In the anime, Cerea was very upfront about her sword replica. Having it on her waist or drawing it the second she felt necessary. It was a big part of her character. But now that you thought about it Centoreo had no such thing, even with the way you both met; chasing criminals and using the sword just wasn’t a part of it. Supposedly that had happened before you even met up with him. So without your prior knowledge, this line of questioning seemed completely out of left field. Your best chance now was to do damage control.

“Uhm yes, but I thought Centaurs preferred a more traditional type of learning and lifestyle. Like the way you chose a master.”

Centoreo seemed to nod as he accepted your lie coverup. Clapping his hands in confirmation.

“I see, how you might have thought that! But you’re not wrong, we do get a myriad of training with different weapons and I do have one.”

“A replica? Neat!”

Centorea dwelled in your excitement,” Would you like to see my sword?”

At that moment the door to Centoreo’s room slams open and in a flurry of blue feathers and a scaly tail, the two other monster transfer students barged in. Both are standing guard in front of you blocking your sight from the centaur. 

“No! There will be no showing any ‘swords’ of yours! Not before mine!”

“Yeah! I want to show my sword too! We’re not going to let you get away with it.”

You could hear his polite chuckles from behind his hand, “Oh so you don’t want (Y/n) to protect themselves?”

“Yes! I mean, wait–”

“Of course not! That’s my job!”

“No you bird brain! He’s talking about some weapon he brought overseas with him.”

“Oh…I already thought your rear-end was enough of a weapon.”

“Pypi!”

The harpy had a nonchalant expression as you scolded him while coughing to hide the snicker that threatened to spread on your face. The lamia immediately began to coil around himself in laughter, making it easy for the red-in-the-face centaur to push most of him out the door. 

With a huff, Centoreo shut his door and locked it. When he turned to you he had an angry blush at the smile you were failing to cover. 

“I’m sorry, Centoreo…but if you’re still willing to show me I’d love to see.”

A small smile spread on his face as he turned back to you. Guiding you to stand over a specific floorboard he revealed a hidden case that robotically raised out of the ground and showed a myriad of weapons…some of which were not all that traditional.

“And this is my 177 Caliber BB Gun Air Pistol…it’s not incredibly new but it’s close enough to what I’m comfortable with.”

“Oh wow….”

“What’s with that face?”

“It’s just that I didn’t think guns counted as traditional weaponry.”

He laughed, “It’s alright, that’s what we’re here for. To learn about each other.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

That was a really good point. The anime made a point to use the laws and societal changes to move the plot. It was mostly about how the girls were fitting into the human world, with their love interest somehow being all-knowing about their idiosyncrasies. Granted there were some exceptions but it wasn’t a major theme to learn in-depth about their cultures. 

You thought that was cool. 

“If you’d like I can teach you how to shoot it.”

“Really?"

"Of course.”

Sooner than you realized it you found yourself in the position of every male protagonist during a pool game. Trying to hyper-focus on the gun you were holding instead of the muscular chest on the back of your head as well as the hands supporting your back. While you could only see the target board you could feel the warmth of his breath as he gave his advice.

“Don’t close your eye, and use the sight to aim. That’s it. You’re doing perfectly my Master.”

This was a lot more than you were expecting.

Crttt Crttt Crttt Crttt

A grating sound broke the moment, thankfully. Bringing both of you to look at the curiously opened door, With only a crack wide enough for furiously yellow-slitted eyes and a fanged set of teeth gritting against each other. Centoreo let out an uncharacteristically long groan before excusing himself out of his room. 

“My Master I’ll return shortly, after I speak with…them.”

“But it’s okay I can talk to him–”

“No no dear it’s fine. Just keep practicing, I’ll be just a moment.”

The Japanese-style door slides shut and you can’t help but expect to hear screaming and sounds of a fight. But there was nothing. After a few minutes had passed you began to feel bored with just shooting the air-gun. Finally putting it down you left his room, poking your head out into the hall and finding no one. Searching around you found the monster boys in the living room with 2 of them sleeping peacefully on the couch. Centoreo was standing over them pulling a blanket over their forms, before turning to you.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, my master.”

“Ah, it’s okay. I’m surprised they’d fall asleep so easily.”

Centoreo shrugged before perking up with an idea.

“(Y/n). I wanted to ask if maybe we could meal prep together. I was hoping we could be…adventurous with the vegetables this time since we usually cater to them.”

“Sure I don’t mind, though I don’t think they’d be too interested in what we make.”

“I have a feeling they’ll sleep through dinner, I convinced them to eat something hearty before they slept.”

You decided not to question the weird timing. 

“Then let’s have fun, shall we?”

“Perfect!”

______________________________________________________________

You both most certainly did. Able to even light a candle or two while you enjoyed the roasted and sauteed veggies you’d both made. As Centoreo predicted they did sleep through dinner, letting you both enjoy a quiet and peaceful evening together. It was hard to be cautious when he was just so sweet. It might have made you soften up a bit when it came to him.

“Centoreo you don’t have to call me master all the time.”

“Then what should call you then?”

“My name or some other nickname. I don’t really care. Milo’s got like a thousand for me.”

“I want you to pick what I’ll call you. Otherwise, I’ll just stick to master. Or your name, both are really important to me.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“It’s a quality of a good knight. Cheers.”

Even as the night began to close you were almost certain he’d abashedly ask you to snuggle in his bed with him. But he politely offered to let you relax offering to watch your phone and clothes while you headed to the bath. It’s become a bit of an issue with Milo and Pypi taking advantage of your unattended clothes. Even though they were asleep you were hesitant to let him. Cerea was still a prominent member of the harem; it wouldn’t be unheard of that he was as dangerously interested in you as Milo and Pypi. But you might have wanted to take advantage of the unattended bath…without the possible intrusion…an opportunity so hard to pass up.

“Okay but don’t do anything weird. I’ll be out in a bit.”

He smiled graciously as though a halo was meant to appear. “Of course, I’m here to help. Enjoy your bath.”

A refreshing bath later and a final cup of tea. You bid Centoreo goodnight as you shut your metal door. 

The schedule worked. The strengthening of your bonds was important to hopefully disassembling and keeping a reign on the alternate versions of the monster girls. This could work if you kept this up, not to mention the later events of the anime. Maybe pushing past their insecurities would be the way to go. 

Things were looking up. 

___________________________________________________________

Blonde strands of hair cascaded over Centoreo’s face as he glared at the messages from the agent. Looking down at the contact he scrolled through the text history, with scrunched brows. He felt disgusted as he glared at the mail he’d intercepted. 

It was an opt-out form.

The letter of allowance is meant to let the host peacefully transfer their guardianship to another. 

He was already burning the added note from the agent jovially informing him of his new promotion. There were other disturbing litigations in cursive but Centoreo deemed it all unworthy of thought. Taking only the main points to heart. 

“Did you really think you have a chance? While I’m here?  Please.”

It was a minor concern, that another tenant was going to arrive. This would be returned to the mailbox. The others could be burned. 

“It’s only a matter of time. Bide your time Centoreo. It will all be worth it then.”

[rainintheevening]

There's nothing Oreius dislikes so much as a liar or a traitor. He's more than a little disgusted with the idea of one of their kings being a traitor, but he's also saddened. He liked Peter instantly, something in his eyes, something strong and brave for a colt his age. But the other king? A traitor?

In all his years as a leader among the centaurs faithful to Aslan, he has often had to be ruthless with his trust. He's been betrayed more than once, by friends, creatures he gave second chances to. He's had to take a stand on 'trust once broken, forever broken'. (He knows that traitors die under a knife.)

Of course he's still going to do what Aslan tells him, of course he's still going to help rescue the boy. But he worries, he's got his guard up, ready for anything from this traitor-boy.

And then just outside the Witch’s camp, Edmund faints dead away, and Oreius does not hesitate to scoop the boy up in his arms, and oh.

He's too light for one thing. Yes, he's human, not colt, but still. He's got gangly arms and legs, he looks like he's growing. He feels like he should weigh more. His face is battered, and Oreius remembers how they found that dwarf with his knife at the boy's throat, and, well... he's very glad they got there when they did.

Oreius carries Edmund gently through the night, until he stirs.

He halts, lays the boy down carefully as soon as he moans, wary of him lashing out, and gestures for the others not to crowd too close.

Edmund surges to his feet, almost falls down again at once, and Oreius catches his shoulder to steady him. "Careful, young one. If you can't walk you will need to ride."

A wild-eyed glance around in the half-moonlight, and the Son of Adam looks up him, up at Oreius, and he's the same height as Oreius's sister-colt when he'd been but a week past born.

"Are you going to kill me too?" Edmund asks, and the quiet despair in his voice cuts Oreius deeper than he would have liked.

"No," Oreius says quietly. "We have come to rescue you. Aslan’s orders."

"But why would He ever want me?" Edmund wavers again, and Oreius wonders when he last ate, or drank. "Is He going to kill me? I don't think I much care if He does though, it's got to be better than her."

That's when Oreius's softening heart decides it's time to give second chances again.

"No, He waits for you," Oreius speaks soft. "His lost one. I know He seeks a way to make it right. To save you."

The Son of Adam stares at him for too long, and doesn't turn away quickly enough for Oreius to miss the tears.

He hates having to break this moment, but the Witch could come after them at any time. "We need to move, you majesty. We will not make you walk, you may ride me."

Oreius gestures to one of the fauns who lifts the Son of Adam up onto the centaur’s back. "Hold onto me," Oreius said over his shoulder, and hands grasp awkwardly at his armour. "I will not let you fall," he adds.

Oreius carries Edmund back to Aslan, and his heart is warm, when he realizes the boy is nodding sleepy against Oreius spine.

Perhaps this traitor can mend, he thinks. I will do all I can to help you, colt and king as you are.

Oreius doesn't like liars, or traitors. But when Aslan breaks the curse, not just for Edmund but for all such beings, he is glad. He is glad to offer second chances again.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What do you think about Hermione? Love her? Hate her? Any thoughts about her being given the time Turner? Because that's what made me dislike her. There's literally no way it makes sense for her to have that other than favouritism from Dumbledore. Because if they were really willing to give out time turners to any smart kid, Barty Crouch Jr. and Tom Riddle should also have gotten time turners.

Okay, there are two parts for this answer. The first part is that I got to defend Hermione on the Time Turner bit because it's not her fault Dumbledore plays favorites.

I'm pretty sure Dumbledore knew Sirius was innocent all along (or at least suspected it) and intended Harry and Hermione to have all the means to help him at their disposal.

“Dumbledore just said — just said we could save more than one innocent life. . . .” And then it hit him. “Hermione, we’re going to save Buckbeak!” “But — how will that help Sirius?” “Dumbledore said — he just told us where the window is — the window of Flitwick’s office! Where they’ve got Sirius locked up! We’ve got to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius! Sirius can escape on Buckbeak — they can escape together!”

(PoA, page 395)

They were still ten feet away from the forest, in plain view of Hagrid’s back door. “One moment, please, Macnair,” came Dumbledore’s voice. “You need to sign too.” The footsteps stopped.

(PoA, page 401)

The back in time Dumbledore, before he sent Harry and Hermione back in time, seems almost too aware of what's going on. Even though he hasn't sent them back in time yet. So, I'm suspicious he had a plan there.

“Where is it?” said the reedy voice of the Committee member. “Where is the beast?” “It was tied here!” said the executioner furiously. “I saw it! Just here!” “How extraordinary,” said Dumbledore. There was a note of amusement in his voice.

(PoA, page 402)

But even if Dumbledore didn't plan Sirius' escape and the Time Turner shenanigans, it's not Hermione's fault Dumbledore wanted her to have a Time Turner. Honestly, it's good she had it for Sirius' sake, but Dumbledore's favoritism isn't on her. I feel it's wrong to blame her for a decision that wasn't hers. It was Dumbledore's and McGonagall's decision to give Hermione a Time Turner and not to other students. We don't even know how common Time Turners are for students (my guess is not at all, and Hermione wasn't supposed to have one, but that's a different post), but it was still a decision completely out of Hermione's hands.

As for the second part, which is my opinion on Hermione:

I like Hermione, she isn't in my top favorite characters, but I do like her. She's interesting, adds contrast to Ron and Harry and I related to her a lot when I was younger.

I hate what the movies did to her. They stripped her of everything that made her interesting and made her this perfect figure who always knew what to do which Hermione just isn't. Hermione tends to panic and stress out in the books often. It's often Harry who comes up with last-minute plans under pressure.

And yes, she's smart, but she isn't always the cleverest or wisest (I'll say Ron has the most common sense in the Trio), and a lot of times she doesn't think her plans through (like with Umbridge, the centaurs, and Gwamp. She didn't plan anything other than not wanting to see Harry in pain). And that's an interesting character flaw for her to have. And she knows this about herself. I mean, she says herself there's more to magic than just reading books.

And book Hermione really loves Harry and Ron and appreciates their cleverness compared to movie Hermione who's just done with both of them and their idiocy constantly. Which is a disservice to the Golden Trio's friendship. All three are really smart in different ways. and the three of them know this (sorta, Harry has really low self-esteem so he doesn't think he's smart).

My biggest grief with Hermione's character in the books was always her complete faith in authority she trusts. Throughout the series, Hermione is the one of the Trio who always speaks up that they should trust Dumbledore and do what Dumbledore says because she respects him. Hermione, once she respects an authority figure, she tends to just have full faith in them and their judgment. And that really got on my nerves sometimes. But again, that's an interesting character flaw that contrasts Harry and Ron and creates an interesting dynamic. It's a character flaw that is an extension of Hermione's loyalty. I think her loyalty is a trait that is often downplayed too, but she is so loyal. Like, once she decides you have her loyalty you could do pretty much anything and she'll try to justify you. She'll make excuses and justifications so people she's loyal to are in the right.

And she does this justification with her own actions too. I like Hermione's ruthlessness that is so often ignored. She:

Set Snape on fire as a 1st year (but, yeah she loves all authority *sarcasm*)

Kept Rita Skeeter in a jar

Marietta Edgcomb (the curse on the DA parchment in general)

Came up with the DA coins and told Harry she got inspiration from the Dark Mark:

Harry looked sideways at Hermione. “You know what these remind me of?” “No, what’s that?” “The Death Eaters’ scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they’ve got to join him.” “Well . . . yes,” said Hermione quietly. “That is where I got the idea . . . but you’ll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members’ skin. . . .”

(OotP, 399)

6. Confounded Cormac McLaggen so Ron would get the Keeper position.

7. Basically everything she did in Deathly Hollows, I'm not listing all of it.

And there are more I'm probably forgetting!

The point is, Hermione is ruthless when she wants to be. She's not to be trifled with.

I think her loyalty, as I mentioned above, is a very distinctive trait of her character. She didn't have friends before Hogwarts (she was probably bullied for being a know-it-all. Like, it shows in her behavior) and she latched onto Harry and Ron and has been incredibly devoted to their friendship since. She's not only devoted to her friends but invested in keeping Harry and Ron as her friends (and each other's freinds).

And she actually is really smart. Yes, book smart, she can memorize books like a pro, but she's also a really good puzzle solver. From the riddle in the obstacle course in 1st year, figuring out the basilisk, finding out Lupin's a werewolf, figuring out Rita's Animagus form, etc... Hermione is really good at organizing information and putting the puzzle pieces together. And that's before I mentioned her magical talent, from brewing Pulyjuice Potion (a complex and advanced potion) in 2nd year in the girls' bathroom to usually being the first in class to get spells right.

Hermione's desire to know everything, as I mentioned in another post, I think is an extension of her desire to belong. She arrives in a new world as a muggleborn, and she takes each and every chance she gets to learn about the Wizarding World. To appear as if she was always there. Because she wants to be a witch so badly she doesn't mind Obliviating her parents and sending them to Australia.

I have more thoughts, but I'm just blabbering...

So, Hermione, while not in my top five, is an interesting and flawed character that I like a lot.

[wynndigogh]

Bring me a dream...

You stand brushing your teeth in an outdated bathroom. 

The light over the vanity appears to be from the sixties and considering the way the bulb flashes and surges every few seconds with a zz-ut-zhut sound, it may be that old as well.

The light it gives off is yellow and dull; however, you aren’t very sure you’d like a bright view of that bathroom anyway.  The tub, sink, and toilet have more rings than the Olympics logo and the faucets are pockmarked with rust.

The tiny mosaic flooring tiles are missing in random spots and the bold floral designed wallpaper, which you are sure at one time contained bright yellows, oranges and greens, is now a faded façade that is barely clinging to the walls.

You roll your eyes and spit the last of the toothpaste foam from your mouth, “Not exactly the Hilton, but a bed is a bed.”

With a sigh you exit the small washroom, opting to leave on the flickering yellow light and close the door just enough to for it to act as a nightlight.  You are single, traveling alone, and unfamiliar dark rooms are intimidating. The sliver of light from the bathroom brings you some small amount of comfort, no matter the poor quality.

You walk stiffly through the small motel room.  After two straight days of driving, with little rest, your body feels like stone.  In your overly caffeinated, yet insanely exhausted, state you are trying to remember exactly why you thought driving from Georgia to your job interview in Oregon would be a good idea.

Ah, yes, Skinwalker Ranch. 

You started watching the spooky series on the History channel months ago and have become obsessed with the thought of other-worldly portals that connect our world to places unknown.  In a misguided a-ha moment you decided to drive, instead of fly, so that you could pass through Gusher, Utah just to be close to the supposed interdimensional portals. 

You know getting on the actual ranch will be a no-go, but you want to be in the town, as close as possible to the actual ranch, just to see if anyone has tales of their own to share of extraordinary happenings in the area.

So, that is how you ended up in this rundown motel pretty much in the middle of nowhere. 

With a sigh, you pull back the old comforter on the bed, noting the dingy sheets with a shutter.  You hesitate for just a moment, contemplating if you should put leggings under your oversized tee shirt, but your tired body encourages you to tough it out.  Reluctantly, you crawl into the bed. 

Since your last coffee was only an hour ago, a desperate attempt to make it to Gusher before your heavy eyelids forced you to stop, you are a little too wired to just drift off to sleep.  So, you pull out the latest creature-feature romance novel that you’ve been reading and turn to your ear-marked page.  You will read until the caffeine-kick wears off.

The small room is quiet except for the faint zz-ut-zhut from the blinking bathroom light. 

In fact, the whole motel is as quiet as a graveyard.  You doubt any of the other rooms have occupants in them.  The parking lot was empty, and the front desk clerk seemed genuinely surprised to be checking someone into the establishment.

You twist to your left side, trying to get the aged lamp beside your bed to illuminate your book’s page.  You need to see the details clearly; the story is just getting spicy. 

The story’s heroine has been fighting a growing attraction to her Centaur field-guide, whom she hired to lead her through a dangerous forest.  A recent Trogg attack has the suppressed protagonist clinging to the Centaur’s broad equine back as he races her to safety.  The author is detailing the baritone sound of his huffs of exertion, the heated moisture coating his muscles, and how the heroine is enjoying the bouncing rhythmic friction of the chaotic ride just a little too much.

You subconsciously swallow and rub your stacked legs together out of need.  You feel a slight ache in your nether region followed by the tell-tale sign of slick starting to gather at your entrance.  You shift your position, and the bedsprings protest with a squeak and a hiss.

You flip the page in your book, and you are halfway through the first sentence at the top of the page when the thought finally registers in your tired mind, did the bed just hiss?

You lower your paperback book to scan the bed and the dimly lit room.  The fossil-age lamp beside your bed and the sliver of yellow bathroom light illuminates the area around the bed decently enough but they do little to chase away the deep shadows in the far corners of the room. 

Oh, how you hate the dark.  Ever since you were a child, you always felt like the darkness itself was watching.  Watching and waiting. 

The longer you look at the shadows of the room, the more your skin wants to crawl with goosebumps.  You know it’s silly and that it is probably just your anxiety of being alone in an unknown space, but that same feeling of being watched surfaces in the back of your mind.

However, after a moment of observation, nothing seems amiss.  With a shiver and a shake, you turn your attention back to your book.

By the middle of the page, the heroine is reaching her peak bouncing up and down on the Centaur’s back.  You are fully invested in her ride, fantasizing about riding astride the strong creature yourself.  As your mind wanders, your body reacts to the imagery.  Your nipples harden under your nightshirt and your internal temperature peaks causing you to sweat.  You throw off your covers and start to fan yourself with your book, when you hear a muted in-take of breath, like a soft gasp.

In shock and fear, you bolt into a sitting position, “Who’s there?”, you call out in panic.

Your eyes and ears strain for clues.  The only movement and sound coming from the flickering bathroom light. 

Seconds tick by, counted off by the zz-ut-zhut of the old light bulb. 

The stillness growing into an uneasy stalemate.

You shift nervously on the bed.  Preparing, waiting.  Yet, nothing happens. 

Slowly, your racing heart begins to ease.  The muscles around your eyes begin to relax as your body adjusts to burning through the last of your caffeine-high just now. 

As your eyelids grow a bit heavy, a yawn surfaces.  Your face contorts in the yawn, your eyelids shielding most of your vision.  That’s when you see it, a flash of light deep in one of the room’s shadows. 

No, that isn’t right.  It wasn’t a light, there were two.  You saw two flashes of light, almost like the blink of dual fireflies, in the corner across from you.

You quickly stifle the yawn, blinking back the reflexive tears from your eyes, and stare hard at the space.  Only, the lights don’t reappear. 

Was it your imagination?  Is your fatigued brain experiencing hallucinations? 

You focus hard on the corner, and you see something…at least, you think you do.

Is that…a shadow? 

For a moment it’s there and then, with the next blink of your eyes, it’s gone again.  Was something there?

You strain to see.  Your eyes sting with dryness and feel gritty, even as tears from your yawn leak from the corners.  You squeeze your eyes shut repeatedly, trying to lubricate them.  Surely, you’ll be able to blink away the fog that seems to be forming on your pupils, obscuring your vision.  However, no matter how many times you try, your eyes refuse to focus.  You use the heel of your free hand to rub one orbital, in a pitiful attempt to literally wipe away the opaque quality of your vision.

Deep in the corner, the shadow flickers into existence and two glowing orbs reappear.  The orbs aren’t the luminous bottoms of bugs, they are two glowing eyes staring straight at you.

For just a moment, shorter than a gasp, your heart stops.  Pausing in stillness, preparing for the surge. 

Then, with the quickness of a lightning strike, the adrenaline jolts through your system.  Your heartrate spiking, sending blood to your muscles, preparing you for fight and flight.

You instinctually shriek and fling the book in your hand at the tall form in the darkness while simultaneously rolling off the far side of the bed with a resounding thud.

“Tsk, tsk, is that any way to treat a coveted possession?”

The voice that you hear from your hiding spot beside the bed is masculine.  It has an elegant cadence with an accent you can’t place.  It sounds otherworldly, almost ethereal, and yet hollow, like it’s muffled.  The sound of a male voice inside the room with you triggers the third fear response, freeze. 

You are utterly frozen in place on the grimy carpet, your mind racing.  Who is it?  How did he get in?  What does he want?  The sound of soft footsteps interrupts the chaos storming through your mind.  The footfalls are coming closer. 

Over the lip of the mattress, you see a dark hooded figure leisurely making his way around the bed.  You just stare with wide eyes as he comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, stares down at you, and tilts his head to the side inquisitively. 

Is it panic or shock that has your back glued to the floor, your body unable to move, or is it awe?  

The man, no – that isn’t right, it can’t be right. 

The being standing over you has swirling, glowing eyes.  You watch as the color of those luminous orbs shift and twirl in tones of blue, white, violet, and gold.  They are oddly mesmerizing and unnerving at the same time.  Just as your mind starts to get those in their depths, he breaks eye contact, and you watch those shimmering rings of light trace a line down your body, lingering with interest on the peaks of your nightshirt and the exposed swatch of your lacy underwear.

After a long pause at your lacy covered apex, those shining eyes blaze white and lift to make eye contact with you, “My lady, I do believe you are in need of my assistance”.  His eloquent, ethereal voice placing emphasis on the word ‘need’. 

The bedside lamp casts enough light to reveal his face beneath the hood. His eyes aren’t just floating orbs, they are pupils set in a pair of elongated eyes, framed high and tight by steep cheek bones.  His skin, a deep velvety blue with sparkling specks that catch and reflect the light, resembling a starry night sky.  You can only see a small portion of skin around his eyes, and you understand why his voice sounds muffled, he’s wearing a mask over the lower half of his face.

You hear screaming.  It takes you a moment to realize the sound is coming from yourself.  Your voice sounds so far away, like you are having an out-of-body type of experience.

The creature…being…man, whatever he is, raises his finger to his masked mouth and issues a command, “Shhhhhhhh”.  

A glimmering tendril of some type of floating substance, ribbons out from his hand, wafting over you, and stealing your panic.  Like a drug, your body starts to feel heavy and your voice stalls in your throat.

“Allow me to help you”, his foreign accent drawls out from behind his mask.  The shapes of his swirling eyes pinching thin, in what could be a cheeky grin, as he reaches down and takes your delicate hand in his indigo colored one, pulling you to your feet, your body just obeying.

Standing toe to toe it is apparent that this being is tall, at least 6’4” because your petite frame is only reaching the top of his chest. 

You are staring up into those hypnotic eyes when you feel him grip your chin.  His fingers are tipped with dark claws, and he is careful not to stab them into the tender flesh of your face.

“Are you hurt?”, he questions behind his barrier, “Maybe I should check, eh?”

His long eyes turning cheshire-shaped from another impish grin.  You are feeling too dazed to protest when his free hand glides over your shoulders, down one of your sides, and pauses on your hip, gripping into the amp flesh.

“Who-what are you”, your words come out slow and groggy.

“Hmmmm, I am called many things by your kind, faerie, demon, Sonnaya Tuchka, Ole Lukøje, Pesochnyy chelovek, we call ourselves Zeez; however, my favorite is your tongue, what you called me when you were youngling.”

The creature pauses staring at you; your transfixed dreamy stare telling him that you were not processing his words as quickly as he is speaking.  He watches patiently as the information clicks into place in your mind, your eyes widening ever so slightly with the realization that you two have met before.

“You, my desert flower, called me The Sandman.  But, if you wish, you may call me by given name Der.”

Der’s face loses its brash flirtatiousness and takes on a more somber look, his eyes phasing more blue, as he releases your chin to run his outside of forefinger down the side of your cheek.  The action doesn’t feel intrusive or offensive, it feels more familiar…sad.

Your gaze swipes lazily across his face as your mind tries to fight through the haze clouding it.  You take in the colors and reflecting light of his skin, those enthralling eyes, and then your sight slides down to his covering.

“Why do you wear a mask?”

You watch the tall being’s shoulders shake with a huffing laugh, “Always the curious one.  You asked me the same thing when you were much smaller.” 

He lifted a claw tapping the hard mask, the sound telling you it is made of some type of hardened leather or shell of some kind, “This is the burden of my kind, if we wish to remain culturally acceptable and welcomed in our world.”

Your forehead draws together in confusion. 

Der’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he continues, “My kind’s verbalizations can be very persuasive without a filter to cushion its affects.  The other species of my world grew tired of losing partners to my kind’s talented tongues.”, he finishes with a wink.

Ah, his words are as beguiling and seductive as his eyes and the mask acts as his muzzle.  Interesting.

Maybe it’s the fact that you were nose deep in a creature-feature smut book just prior to his arrival, or the fact that you haven’t been laid in longer than you’d like to admit, but your mind betrays you.  An intrusive thought pops up out of nowhere, and your inner voice wonders just how tantalizing a sexual experience with this Zeez would be.

You feel Der’s glowing eyes on your face and, almost as if he reads your mind, the swirling vortexes of his pupils surge from a golden hue to bright white.  You watch the glowing whirlpools circle into ever deeper depths, pulling you under with their currents.

One moment you are standing in a dingey motel room with this otherworldly creature, the next you are sinking in a sea of sand.  The particles rush up your body as you sink further into the abyss.  Your nightshirt is lifted from your body and pulled away by the grit’s undertow. 

Down you slide through the bottleneck of the sandy spiral, landing carefully on a bed of dark mist.  The hooded Zeez astride above you, smiling like a cat who ate the canary, behind his thick face mask, at the sight of your topless form on display for him.

“I have waited a long time for you to ask this of me”, Der purrs in his ethereal accent.  His indigo hand reaches up and detaches the muzzle from his lower face, revealing the remainder of his deep velvet skin and a wide fanged smile framed by a delectable set of dark blue lips.

Feeling self-conscience and exposed under his blazing glare, and his smile that is barely hiding some vicious looking teeth, your arms crisscross over your breasts in a protective manner.

“I-I thought you couldn’t remove the muzzle.”

Der opens his mouth, and a tongue of sand licks the tip of one fang, "Ah, but we are not in my world, my little desert flower, we are in your inner world.  Welcome to your dreamland.”

Without his face mask filtering his essence, the full force of the Zeez’s influence slides over you making you feel heady and drunk with euphoria.  The effect steals the air right out of your lungs, causing beads of sweat to pebble across your skin, your muscles to twitch for release, and your back to arch from the cool dark mist.  With just two short sentences, his words alone have you teetering on the precipice of an orgasm. 

An unguarded moan slips past your lips causing him to chuckle.  The sound of his chuckle, much like that of sand flowing through a wooden cylinder ‘rain-stick’, is its own form of a soothing aphrodisiac.

He leans close and whispers into your ear, as your eyes flutter in ecstasy, “Hold on, my flower, I’ve waited too long for this opportunity to pluck you.”

The inner walls of your pussy twitch in rhythm to his vocal cadence.  To keep from crying out you bite hard into your bottom lip, breaking and bruising the delicate skin.

“Tsk, tsk, is that any way to treat a coveted possession?”, he growls at you in his thick accent. 

You squirm as the slick between your legs becomes so abundant that it is pushing forward, up around your clit, “You-you, sa-said that about my-my book”, you stutter as your mind’s focus splits between talking and the throbbing of the delicate nub in your apex.

Der literally purrs.  His body vibrating above yours, tickling your exposed skin, he’s so close to your ear you can feel his lips brushing the shell with each word, “I was never talking about the book, Love.”

His purring, his lips caressing your ear, along with his declaration pushes you over the edge.  Your inner walls clinch in release.  Your hands forget their mission to guard your modesty and reach out fisting his hood cowl as your body shivers in release.

Der sighs in slight disappointment.  “Next time I will need to keep the mask on until we are further along, you are delightfully sensitive.”, he chides with a salacious grin.

Your release subsides and he slides your hands from his cowl.  As you lay cool in the swirl black mist of your own dreamland, the Zeez releases the clips of his hood cloak, shedding the heavy covering and exposing a torso that you were not expecting. 

Instead of a swath of blue, speckled skin, you are shocked to see short sleek indigo fur coating his neck, the backs of his muscled arms, across his stout shoulders, and down his strong back.  The inner portions of his torso, his chiseled chest, and washboard stomach, sport that starry skin that matches his face.  A face that, now you can see, has a pair of long pointed ears on each side of its head.

Farther behind him a new astonishment swishes through the air, catching you off guard and causing you to jerk in surprise.  A long thin tail with a furry tuft at the end whips back and forth in anticipation.

You are in a state of shock and awe, staring mesmerized at the unique being above you.

“What are you?”, is what slips out of your mouth without going through your internal filter.

That same raspy chuckle of his, slides over your skin like a caress, “I am a Zeez.”

Seeing the lack of recognition, or satisfaction, on your face from his answer, he pauses a moment to rethink his approach.

“I guess your kind would most closely associate my species with your mythical Sphinxes or Manicores. We are timeless creatures with no natural end.  We originate from a cold dark desert in my world”, you watch his eyes dim a deeper hue of blue than you have noticed previously, “but that area is no longer ours.  We now live among tribes and clans of many.”

His long tail gives a sharp whip, creating a snapping sound and breaking his reverie.  Der’s eyes shift back into their golden, white tones as he stares down at you.  His fanged grin grows wide, and his purr returns tenfold.

Suddenly, you feel like a cornered mouse.  Plump and ripe for the devouring.

“You smell delicious”, he rasps out above his vibrations.

TO BE CONTINUED if you want(because it is time for me to catch some Zeez 😘)….

@thelaundrybitch @leoandraphssoulmate @kokosworld95

Author Note: There are three points to know about this story.

1. You may be surprised to learn that Der (and his species) are a MINOR character in my main book series that I'm trying to finish. I wanted a way to expand and explain more about Zeez and this story was born.

2. The book that Der's human is reading in this story will be a vehicle that I will use to introduce other MINOR characters/species from my books as well. So, yes, you will get the read the Centaur's story too, which will feature many of my own creature creations.

3. There is SOOOO much more to Der and his human's story. I am happy to tell it if anyone is interested. The amount of detail and I have created for all the characters still amazing me. (I have no life LOL).

Eh, let's throw a 4th point in here. Der's species was born from an a scene in an actual dream I had. It may not come across as well here in this story, but in further expansions of the story, it explains that humans can only see Zeez when they are tired or sleepy.

Hence the phrase...."catching Z's".

[stitchpunk1]

YO GUESS WHOS HERE TO TALK ABOUT HAZBIN FANKID OCS BITCHES!

Yeah Ive been wanting to do this for a bit but been super fucking lazy. Got some other fandom ones too I wanna talk about but what with Hazbins first season ending wanna talk about mine with a few tweaks I've done plus one I forgot to add in the last one. I will put this one under spoilers sense the eps just came out and now I have to change shit around till season two for a few of them.

First I have Lucy(used to be Mara and cliche name I know but i like it). She is Charlie and Vaggies kid and named after her grandpa(who spoilers her fucking ROTTEN). Kinda got a design in my head for her that goes with a lamb/goat theme because she is half demon and half angel. Shes got charlies blond hair but more in Vaggies short style and its slightly curly. Shes also got the little hooves, sheep ears and eyes are that horizontal goat type. Like before she is still an absolute artist and loves doing bigger art installations around hell. She ends up dating Husks daughter Heather when they get older.

Second we have Isabella who is by blood Angel and Alastors daughter but her other dad is Husk and sister is Heather. Still got the same design for her that shes a bit more centaur deer like. Shes got the ears(and tail because I'm not giving that headcanon up) of Alastor but with Angels color scheme and fur and kinda a mix of spider claws/hooves(trying to picture her like head/hair in my mind has been a BITCH trying to not just think of it as a carbon copy of Angel). Recently she has become absolutely fucking unhinged as a child in discussions with Musekicker. She is 100% a cannibal and loves to take bites out of people out of pure curiosity of how they taste(leading to many many child leashes that she usually manages to chew her way out of). I like to think that she becomes popular on the hell version of tiktok with cottagecore vibes with a mix of her cannibalism. Dunno why but I like to think that if Alastor sheds his antlers she collects them and makes them into headbands she wears(also uses them to stab people).When older she ends up dating Moxxie and Millies daughter Mable.

Heather is just Huskys by blood and a one night stand but after becoming a couple with Angle and Alastor they become her parents too and Isabella her sister. Every time I think of her design all I can picture is something like Sawyer from Cats Dont Dance. Shes mostly white with a bit of her dads dark grey. Her face all around is just a pure resting bitch face even if she isnt mad or in a bad mood("its literally just my face" is something she has to say a lot). Her biggest secret is how much she LOVES to sing especially musicals and wants to be a stage performer but she thinks she could never make it. She does start to try out in school or any local theater productions thanks to Lucys encouragement. I like to think that after quitting Mammon that even Fizz sometimes does shows for fun and he kinda mentors her after seeing her talent.

Two more to go! Vea is Val and Voxs little accident that they just decide to keep around. She looks mostly like a moth demon but more bluish and sometimes has a little bit of electricity that goes between her antenna. Shes pretty powerful as she can sometimes match Voxs powers if he say fucks around and locks electronics or tv channels. She ends up not exactly running away from home but just kind of wandering away as her parents pay her little to no mind. She ends up at the hotel and kinda taken in by everyone after they learn her story. She ends up becoming the hotels electrician and is fucking terrified of Niffty.

Lastly is one I forgot on my last post who I am not sure what to do with her after the last episode. Her name is Pia and she is Pen and Arackniss kid. Body type she looks mostly like Niss with a little snake tail but she can go full naga like with extra arms/legs when she wants. She has a hood/hair like Pen and is insanely venomous(took me like ten tries to fucking spell that right) do to being half snake/spider. If Pen is in heaven whenever these kids are around she is raised by Niss who stays around the hotel more to take care of her/keep her from his father(who you know is a fucking prick). When he isnt around Angel takes care of his niece. Shes mostly quiet and keeps to herself but she loves weapons of all kinds, being an absolutely crack shot with most firearms.

[christian-oc-tournament]

Please vote based on the picture AND the description!

DeathScreen [System Collapse @chrystallink]

DeathScreen (formerly known as Oz) is an absolute troll who takes delight in messing with people and spooking them. Not only can he reprogram or corrupt any device within seconds, he can jump directly into cyberspace and pull people in with him. Once there, he has total control of the cyberscape, and often puts being through various simulations for his own amusement. Combine all that, and he quickly becomes a real menace in the cyberpunk atmosphere of the Hub.

Doc [Myth @kazeharuhime]

Otherwise known as the infamous Eustin Rickard, Doc once worked under the king of Bronzenore as a medical researcher. However, one day his research led him towards something closer to alchemy. He began journeying to remote locations and collecting mythical ingredients. Water from a mysterious spring, leaves from an ancient tree in a deep wood, fruit from a tree on a high mountain, and more. At last he found just the right ratio of them all and concocted the Myth serum, capable of transforming a human and giving them any variety of fantastical abilities, for a cost. His first subject was his assistant, who, while she didn't change her appearance much, gained the power of plant manipulation. The cost, however, was that she aged each time she used this ability. The serum had unpredictable results, both in gain and cost, varying from person to person. In trying to fix these negative side effects, Doc then created an even more potent serum, one that produced flashier results--giving people more animal-like appearances, sometimes that of mythical animals, accompanied with strange or heightened abilities. A frog boy, a panther youth, a phoenix woman, a faerie girl, centaurs and mermen. Though some costs went away, or became slower, they still remained. Degradation of mental capabilities, loss of sanity, negative physical side effects of ability use. Again Doc tried to fix this and the results became even more impossible: a girl made of water and a woman made of glass. In the midst of all this, the Doctor absconded with his research and subjects into the woods. Many of his subjects were young children when they came to him. There in the woods, he formed many of them into loyal subjects while their mental and physical capabilities remained. Others, especially those that came after the Doctor had established his little group in a cave in the woods, were harder to convince and took the form of prisoners. And there he is to this day, still luring unsuspecting travelers into the woods with his subjects and using his serums on them to create more what came to be called the Myths.

[aliciavance4228]

Sometimes Ovid gives us nothing (*ahem* Medusa *ahem*), sometimes he gives us everything.

Apparently Chiron had a daughter (whose name differs from one source to another) who is... quite interesting and fascinating at the same time, yet I haven't seen anyone talking about her. Hyginus mentions three different myth versions of her story:

Pseudo-Hyginus, Astronomica 2. 18 (trans. Grant) (Roman mythographer C2nd A.D.) :

"Euripides [Greek playwright C5th B.C.] in his Melanippe, says that Melanippe, daughter of Chiron the Centaurus (Centaur), was once called Thetis. Brought up on Mount Helicon, a girl especially fond of hunting, she was wooed by Aeolus, son of Hellen, and grandson of Jove [Zeus], and conceived a child by him. When her time drew near, she fled into the forest, so that her father, who supposed her a virgin, might not see that she had given birth to a grandchild. And so when her father was looking for her, she is said to have begged the power of the gods not to let her father see her in childbirth. After the child was born, by the will of the gods she was changed into a mare which was placed among the stars.

Some say that she was a prophetess, and because she used to reveal the plans of the gods to men, she was changed into a mare.

Callimachus [Greek poet C3rd B.C.] says that because she ceased hunting and worshipping Diana [Artemis], Diana changed her into the shape we have mentioned. For the reason above, too, she is said to be out of sight of the Centaurus, who come say is Chiron, and to show only half her body, since she didn't want her sex to be known."

The second one isn't eleborated, and is presented here more like a "Did you know that...?"

Then there is this passage from the Metamorphoses:

Ovid, Metamorphoses 2. 636 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) :

"One day the Centaurus' [Kheiron's (Chiron's)] daughter came, her auburn hair falling upon her shoulders, whom the Nympha Chariclo once had borne upon the bank beside a flowing river, and had named Ocyroe (Swift-Flowing). The girl was not content to know her father's art: she prophesied fate's dark secrets. In the mystic mood of prophecy, when hidden in her heart the heavenly fervour glowed, she fixed her eyes upon the child [i.e. Asklepios (Asclepius), who was then in the care of Kheiron]. ‘Grow strong, dear boy,’ she said ‘Healer of the world. Often men shall owe health and life, and yours shall be the right to win again departed souls, and, though you dare this once in heaven's despite, Jove's [Zeus'] bolt will thwart that gift a second time. You, now divine, shall be a lifeless corpse, and from a corpse become divine again, and twice you shall renew your destiny [i.e. he was deified following his death through the intercession of Apollon]. You too, dear father [Kheiron], you, immortal now and destined by your birthright to live on through all eternity, will long to die when you are tortured by the serpent's blood [poisoned by an arrow coated with Hydra's blood], that agonizing poison in your wounds; and, saved from immortality, the gods shall put you in death's power, and the three goddesses (Deae Triplices) [i.e. the Moirai] shall unloose your threads of fate.’

More prophecies remained, but then she sighed, sighed deeply, and as tears rolled down her cheeks she cried, ‘Fate forestalls me! I'm forbidden to tell you more. My power of speech is stopped. My arts--oh! never worth so much!--have brought Heaven's wrath upon me. Would I'd never known the future! Surely now my human shape is stolen away; the food I like is grass; I feel the urge to frisk in open fields. I'm changing to a mare--a family shape--but why the whole of me? When plainly half my father's human?’

As she spoke, her last protests were almost meaningless, her words were all confused, sounds that seemed neither words nor whinnies, more like mimicking a mare. Soon she was whinnying clearly, and her arms walked on the grass, and then her fingers joined, and their five nails were bound in a light hoof of undivided horn; her mouth and neck increased in size; her trailing dress became a tail; the hair that wandered on her neck fell as a mane down on the right-hand side; and so her voice and shape alike were new, and that weird change gave her a new name too [i.e. Hippe meaning mare]. Philyreius [Kheiron], the centaur half-divine, invoked, weeping, the lord of Delphi, but in vain. Apollo had no power to countermand great Jove's [Zeus'] decrees and, had he had the power, he was not there."

This fragment is genuinely great for different reasons:

Here her name is Ocyrrhoe, which means Swift-Flowing. Meanwhile Melanippe literally means Black-Mare, and it's supposed to foreshadow her fate. But in this version her parents gave her a beautiful name.

We have a small description of her too (auburn hair).

In the previous fragment we do not get too much about her personality (outside of the fact that she loves hunting, which is a nice detail because her father was good at hunting too), not to mention that in the first version mentioned by Hyginus she seems to fall into the classic "Girl gets pregnant outside marriage then tries to hide her pregnancy from her parents." scenario. Here she's a goddamn prophetess.

Not only that she's a prophetess, but she knew about everyone's fate, including hers. She knew that Asclepcius will start rescuing people back to life, that Zeus will kill him and that he will be brought back to life as a god. She knew that Chiron will be killed by one of Heracles' venomous arrows. She knew that she will be eventually turned into a mare for revealing all these things, yet she continued to speak the truth anyway.

The scene where she's turned into a mare was beautifully written. It almost reminds me of that one disturbing scene from Pinocchio where one of his friends is turned into a donkey.

We have Chiron mourning his daughter and begging Apollo to bring her back to her human form. In the version where Melanippe is hiding from her father as he's searching for her we don't know wheter he would punish her after finding out about her child, or if he's just genuinely concerned about her. Here he's portrayed as a loving father.

Honestly the fact that now both Ocyrrhoe and Chiron are constellations is comforting, somehow. I'm wondering how a scene of them two reuniting in the night sky would look like.

[keepmycandleburning]

And then the second thing I was going to post about last night was the idea of a writer 'punishing' their characters. You've seen it surely. Like the idea that Umbridge being attacked by centaurs was her punishment for being too girly (and furthermore that this is a statement from Rowling that unlikable women deserve to be raped and the reader is supposed to sympathize) (many examples this is common). This idea about HP is most typically about the author 'treating' women who don't properly conform to her standards a certain way: like Lavender Brown was attacked by Greyback as narrative punishment for being too feminine (This whole Twitter thread is a gold mine for unimaginable takes. I don't understand how SO many people believe that characters' actions are an expression of the writer's beliefs. It really makes me wonder if I am somehow wrong).

Can you 'punish' your fictional character? Is making something bad happen to an unlikable character punishing them? What if the POV character is glad the bad thing happened? What if the POV character is imperfect, or even straight up wrong? Can you treat a fictional character improperly? As with my post last night, the answer is technically yes, there can be problems with writing, but I just don't see it in these particular situations or in this type of fiction. For example some conservative Christian could write about a woman having premarital sex and then her life falls apart but then she saves herself by finding God and it's clearly meant to be a pretty straightforward message, and it lines up with the writer's irl beliefs, and they use to it to push their irl narrative, etc, and I'd say sure that character is being punished. Or conversely a writer can definitely punish an abusive character. So yeah you CAN punish a character. But how do you know when this is what's happening, and why do so many people apply this way more liberally than I do? What if someone were to think I was punishing one of my characters, and what if they thought it was for an immoral reason? What if I were to make a bad thing happen to one character, and someone thought I was saying 'I think this bad thing should happen to every real person who resembles this character'? Or on the other hand, must a writer punish their immoral characters?

This is extremely niche, but what about the criticisms of Rita Skeeter's appearance being masculine? Is this communicating that Rowling thinks masculine women are evil? If so, how do you know? Can you only queer-code 'good characters'? Surely not. So how would one avoid being interpreted that way? Making multiple varied characters w whatever trait definitely helps, but do you have to? How much do you have to proactively plan for people to misunderstand?

Does Harry having a certain thought mean that's Rowling's thought (Is Harry making fun of SPEW Rowling expressing her real belief? How do you know?)? Does Harry having a thought mean that's 'meant to be' the readers' thought? Are plot elements all Rowling's morals, and what she thinks is good and right? What about world-building elements, like how people will say that Rowling made all the women housewives (+ married young) because she's sexist? Why would an author simply designing their fictional world in a certain way mean they think it's good? Are they then obligated to have their narrative condemn the negative aspects of their world, or can the reader decide that for themselves upon observing it?

Overall I think most of these questions of mine come down to that 1. I think a story's narrative typically comes from its POV character, while other people seem to think a story's narrative comes from its writer's beliefs, and 2. that I think the reader can think for themselves and typically draw the intended conclusion, while other people criticize when the message isn't spelled out on the page (look at this lol. SURELY Azkaban was a commentary on the justice system. Why does the fact that Harry doesn't really sit there and ponder it that much mean the message can't come through clearly to the reader—surely it does!)

Feel free to actually answer these questions, not because I will follow any of the rules, I won't necessarily, but you know just to discuss the reasons why something is going to get interpreted in these ways

[thenamesblurrito]

here's an assortment of guys, some SNAP counterparts to AutoAca characters by @stonecrusherproductions, for part of an art trade

this isn't Hot Shot's first time off Caminus. he's gone on a few trips to Velocitron to see the races and even stopped by Devisiun once to visit family, but he's never been to Cybertron before! he's more interested in exploring the streets, hanging out with friends like Lightbright, or snacking on JaAm than completing homework, but he can usually speed through it at the last second. the JAAT is the perfect school in his mind, giving him extracurricular opportunities like sports so he can burn off some of his high energy. it's certainly a relief to his roommates Aileron, Stardrive, Quickstrike, and Maxima when he's no longer bouncing off the walls!

Lightbright is so excited, she's never left Caminus before, and oh isn't Cybertron lovely? what a wonderful school she gets to attend! and what delightful people she's gotten to befriend, like Sparkstalker! most of her roommates are lovely, but even she gets irritated by Sentinel sometimes. she's also fascinated by the heroes running around, and sometimes she and Hot Shot will procrastinate their work just to watch the supernatural drama unfolding. the only thing she's disappointed by is the lack of easy access to bodies of water, as she grew up near one of Caminus's seas and often took a relaxing swim in her submersible hovercraft alt mode

it's only a matter of time before Glyph tries camping out in the JAAT library again, despite how often Alpha Trion has chased her off before. her home in Polyhex never had this much information freely available to someone like her! when she first passed the exams, she agonized over whether she should attend the JAAT or elect to take part in an exchange program to a colony planet like her friends Lancer and Greenlight, but she's glad of her decision now. there's so much to learn here! it's easier to stick with data than meet new people thanks to her shyness around strangers. she'll even avoid her roommates Quickslinger, Sunder, Vortex, and Sceptre, but she thinks she can count fellow student Tap-Out as a friend now, probably?

Side Burn doesn't even remember taking the exams, but somebody told him he passed, so here he is! and wow, what a cool Academy this place is! it gets him a front row seat to awesome hero beatdowns and brawls, what's not to love? his grades have been, uh, bad, but that's fine, the counselor says he probably has some mental thing that makes it hard to focus, so it can't be his fault. he's too busy ogling all his gorgeous scarlet classmates to care about whatever the teachers are saying, no matter the fact they're offput by his juvenile antics and sometimes the odd look of his prosthetic left optic. while coming all the way from the Overdrive Compact in Rodion might be a bit disconcerting to most, to him it's just another place to rise and grind

(Lightbright has a tail but she's not a beastformer! tails are somewhat normal for mecha like four arms or a centaur body, i just realized i've forgotten to give them to anybody except beastformers... so uh. i'll try to remember in the future oops)

[tempestclerics]

this train heist (module by @r-n-w, my second time ever DMing for those following along at home) is going great:

- three PCs and a horse have stacked themselves under a coat to pretend to be a centaur. they are passing a Shetland pony off as their collective cousin by draping it in worms on a string

- the “one last job, I’m supposed to be retired” dwarf learned one of his many adoptive granddaughters also got recruited for this job and has both shown half the party her baby pictures and also had to hold her back from trying to go assassinate her ex who she definitely is still in love/psychosexual obsessive lesbianism with. for like the twentieth time.

- warlock “called their dad” to do recon and contacted a worm on a string coat wearing minor trickster god. you know, his dad

- the ex accountant turned fighter fully slid a knife through the bars of her former coconspirator (and the sheriff’s prisoner)’s cell by distracting the deputy with a flying bison

- the Shetland pony quacks btw

- changeling gunslinger transformed into a shorter version of the warlock and when he tried to change back his heterochromia got flipped

- capybaran fighter drank a complimentary cocktail invented by the saloon car attendant called the Baleful Polymorph and grew fantasy Texas longhorn cattle horns

- oh, and the sheriff is about to throw down w them in the most crowded train car. nbd

[ace-and-sleepdeprived]

haha.. guess who’s spent too much time scrolling through the monster falls tag since spooky month’s coming up and now has brainrot for a twisters monster au, couldn’t be me-

here’s what kind of monsters i’d think the cast would be, but yall can leave suggestions too if you want ofc

kate’s a leoninetaur - a centaur with the lower half of a lion instead of a horse, along with lion ears and a lion nose. she just gives me lioness vibes with her whole arc of isolating herself n’ such, and also because i wanted to give her paws, teehee.

tyler’s a minotaur hybrid - basically he doesn’t have a wholeass bull head but he has horns, bull ears, hooved feet, and a tail along with fur on his back, chest, legs and arms. as for the type of bull he’s based off of- i liked the shape of an ankole’s horns [obviously his aren’t as ridiculously big] and their coat pattern, so i chose them for the inspiration.

javi i struggled with a lot, but ultimately i think he'd be a phoenix hybrid - representative of him essentially being severely changed or reborn after the deaths of the tornado tamers, and him being metaphorically being reborn after leaving storm par. he's got wings, finger talons, pyrokinesis, and the ability to completely burn himself and regenerate anew. i also thought it'd be funny since he canonically loves hot cheetos.

boone is a werefox! more specifically, a black fox. while he looks mostly human when not shifted he does have fox ears, a bushy tail, and fur on his arms, chest, back and legs. foxes are known as playful tricksters, which i think perfectly fits boone. i also imagine that he's able to make fox noises so i can just picture him screeching at tyler and ty just being like "WHAT DO YOU WANT"

lily is a gorgon! i thought it'd be silly to imagine her long braids as a bunch of snakes [whomst she loves very much]. obviously because of the whole 'turning-people-to-stone-by-just looking-at-them,' lily usually has to wear sunglasses or a blindfold to ensure not having any accidental stone turnings and the only person lily can look at without any kind of coverings is dani. i imagine her snakes to be rainbow boas [bc they're shiny and they remind me of her].

speaking of dani, she's a gargoyle! she's got wings, horns and claws, and of course grey skin that turns to complete stone when she's exposed to too much sunlight. she's the polar opposite of the broody gothic stereotype placed on gargoyles for obvious reasons, and she's the one who's currently teaching javi how to properly fly since he never really learned.

the last wrangler on the list, dexter would likely be a dragon hybrid. think about it, dex is widely recognized as a sort of dad figure to the wranglers, and dragons like to hoard treasure, so it'd make since for a dragon dexter to consider the wranglers his hoard. although he's pretty laid back by dragon standards, don't think for a second that he wouldn't get protective if someone tried to threaten any of the wranglers. he does have a full dragon form, although he doesn't use it very often and prefers to simply stay in a mostly human form with wings, a tail, claws and horns.

cathy is a leoninetaur as well, although her animal half is actually that of a liger's -a lion and a tiger hybrid. kate only ended up being a full blooded leoninetaur due to her dad being a full blooded lion variant. nevertheless, she's a protective mama cat and nobody dares to fuck with her.

finally, i [unfortunately] have to talk about scott, and i definitely think he's a naga. snakes are known to be deceptive and manipulative, which definitely fits him. it's also funny trying to imagine him squashing himself awkwardly into a car with a bigass tail. as for what kind of snake he'd be, an asp viper fits him. [they look mean. scott is mean, so it fits.]