#antler envy

[mischieviem]

Hannibal and Will as Hazbin characters (feat. Alastor) because the brain worms

[beastsovrevelation]

I kept wondering why would Natalie be the Antler Queen's favorite, if Lottie's the most connected... Then, I remembered.

Lottie's the oracle of a God.

Natalie's the champion of a God.

[ari-continues-to-exist]

Y’know what fuck it here’s a closeup of my pfp. It’s old art and I updated the design to this because i literally came up w it on the spot.

[cringeartisthebestart]

I've got hair envy

[yanderecrazysie]

For the reader rejecting her soulmate by hiding the fact that they're soulmates drabble, can we get that with Gojo Satoru?

Coming from clan of sorcerers and being one of the most promising heirs, reader was hoping that her soulmate was just a regular human being so that she could have a reason to abandon the Jujutsu world and live a normal life. But unfortunately for her, her wishes were granted backwards. So backwards that she got someone from a prominent clan who also happened to be the strongest sorcerer known to man. Not wanting to deal what fate has given her, she hid her true mark made up a fake one and informed her clan she's leaving to keep her "soulmate" safe. They were disappointed but accepted none the less, and just like that she left for a normal life.

Despite thinking she avoided fate, what she doesn't know is that a simple faking of a mark does not sever a soulmates' connection. Especially when fate has forcibly involved her with someone like Gojo.

I love this and I love you for coming up with it. NGL I was influenced by the amazing @envy-of-the-apple and the INCREDIBLE Gojo fics they've made. Don't get your hopes up for this story, it's not nearly as good as theirs LOL

Title: I Don’t Want Love

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, swearing, violence, implied murder

“If I leave before you

And I walk out alone

Keep your hands to yourself

When you follow me home

I don't want love

I don't want love”

-From “I Don’t Want Love” by The Antlers

You would turn eighteen at exactly 1 am, on the dot. You had set up a mirror on your bed, aimed straight at your upper arms. 

12 seconds to go…

You wondered which arm it would appear on. That isn’t what really mattered, of course.

7 seconds…

You wondered if you could tell if the person was average or ordinary by just the symbol alone.

3…

2…

1…

The silence in your room suffocated you. Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach.

It looked like a hand with the index and middle finger twisted together. You knew that symbol. You’d seen it every damn day.

Gojo Satoru. Your soulmate was Gojo Satoru.

The weight of your fate crushed you. This was even worse than the outcome you had feared the most. You had prayed for an ordinary person, someone who could whisk you away from this world of curses and responsibilities. You just wanted someone who could offer you the normal life you so desperately craved.

Instead, fate had bound you to the most powerful sorcerer alive, a man whose very existence was a magnet for danger and chaos. A man who would never, ever live an ordinary life.

“No fucking way…” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head frantically as though you could just simply deny what was seared into your right shoulder. You couldn’t accept this. You wouldn’t accept this.

You knew what you had to do. Your clan was skilled in concealment techniques and, with a bit of effort, you covered the mark on your right shoulder, and created a false mark on your left. It was a simple sun, unremarkable in every way. The perfect lie you could craft to fool your family, the world, and maybe even yourself.

The symbol could belong to anyone. Anyone but Gojo Satoru, who had been showing off his mark since his 18th birthday last year.

When the next morning came, your parents’ faces fell at the sight of the ordinary sun on your left shoulder.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d get a powerful sorcerer,” your mother had never sounded more disappointed, “Someone like that nice Satoru boy.” You hid a wince.

Your father crossed his arms, “Are you sure you want to leave our world behind for some ordinary man?”

You shrugged, acting like the decision was out of your hands. “I can’t drag an ordinary person who can’t even see curses into our world,” you replied.

Your parents agreed and, without much more resistance, you headed out to a world where everyone was oblivious to the existence of curses. 

A world you had always wanted to be a part of.

—-----------------------------------------------------

1 am on the dot for Gojo Satoru was like waking up in a bath filled with ice cubes. He shot out of his bed, panting and ready to fight whatever curse had found its way into his room. Then, he felt a warmth spreading over his soulmate’s mark and he relaxed, a smile playing across his face.

His soulmate had reached her 18th birthday!

Gojo’s smile widened as he pulled up his sleeve and studied the mark on his arm, the intertwined fingers that must match yours. For months, he had anticipated this moment- the day his soulmate would finally know of their connection!

Then, a strange, muted feeling. As if all of the warmth had been sucked out of him and his senses had been dulled. His smile sank into a frown.

His soulmate was attempting to hide their bond.

He was no stranger to concealment techniques- he was a sorcerer of unparalleled strength. But why would his beloved soulmate try to hide her mark?

It bothered him, but also piqued his curiosity. You must know who he was (everyone did), so why were you trying to hide from him?

Gojo’s frown deepened as the muted sensations got stronger. His soulmate was actively hiding from him. He couldn’t help but wonder, irritation spiking, why you would go to such lengths.

This wasn’t some simple concealment- you were rejecting the bond itself. And how dare you? He was the strongest sorcerer alive, you should be goddamned proud to be his soulmate!

He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He’d wait until the morning and find out whose birthday it was. Then, he’d approach you and figure out what you were playing at.

—------------------------------------------------------

One month had passed since your birthday, and you had already gotten yourself a job as a receptionist at a law firm. Your parents’ money would buy you an apartment for a few months, but you’d be expected to take care of yourself after that.

One of the lawyers, a tall, handsome man named Akira, was always stopping by your desk, flirting casually with you. You encouraged it full-heartedly. He was handsome, kind, intelligent and best of all…

He was normal.

Akira smiled as he stopped by your desk for the third time that day, “So, I was wondering-”

Briiiiing

“Sorry, hold that thought,” you winked up at him, picking up the desk phone, “Thank you for calling Hashimoto Law Firm, my name is (Y/n), how may I assist you today?”

There was no response, except for heavy breathing. Unnerved, you tried again, “Thank you for calling, how may I assist you?”

More heavy breathing followed and you gave it one last shot, “If you are speaking, I’m unable to hear you. Please call back again if you are in need of our services.”

You hung up, heart pounding for a reason you couldn’t place. Your right shoulder began to burn and your heart just about stopped altogether.

“What’s the matter?” Akira asked, concern in his voice.

You straightened up, avoiding his gaze, “Just a prank call.”

Akira took the answer with a nod, still looking concerned for you, “Don’t take prank calls too seriously. It’s usually just a kid on the other line.”

You swallowed thickly- you had a feeling you knew exactly who was on the other line.

Akira looked up at the clock, “Ah, it’s time to clock out for the day.” You followed his gaze and your stomach twisted unpleasantly.

“Will you walk me home?” you blurted out.

Akira’s eyebrow raised, “Did that prank call spook you that badly?”

“I’m worried it may be my ex,” you lied, “And if he knows where I work, he could be waiting outside for me.”

Akira smiled and offered you his hand, “No ex-boyfriend will get anywhere near you if I have anything to do with it.”

You smiled back.

The walk to your apartment had your heart pounding in your chest and your hands shaking. Akira’s larger, warmer hand slipped into yours and you squeezed it for reassurance.

You were nearly to your apartment complex when Akira whispered, “Someone’s following us.”

You realized there were not two but three pairs of footsteps walking down this street. You didn’t need to look back to know who it was- the burning on your right shoulder told you all you needed to know.

“You keep going, I’ll tell him off,” Akira said.

You wanted to tell him to stay with you, to not risk his life over you. You wanted to tell him that the person he was going to face was infinitely stronger than him.

But you were selfish.

As soon as Akira turned around, you broke into a run. You heard the man make a confused sound, as though he had tried to punch air (or, more likely, infinity) and then a bloodcurdling scream cut off by the pained, guttural noise of someone being punched so hard that their organs were being ruptured.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad, maybe that was your imagination running wild, but you didn’t turn around to see if you were right. Each time you heard that fleshy sound of a fist caving in someone’s chest, you just ran faster.

As soon as you had reached your apartment, you bolted the apartment door shut, grabbed your suitcase, and began stuffing things inside with trembling hands. 

Akira was most likely dead and all you could think about was how you had to change jobs and move right away. Were you heartless?

Maybe. But your soulmate mark wasn’t burning anymore and that was all that mattered.

—----------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you arrived at the law firm, ready to quit. You walked inside and found your boss already waiting for you. “Have you seen Akira? He was meant to be here an hour ago?”

“I haven’t,” you murmured, “Look, I have to quit-”

The door opened behind you and you spun around, hoping it was Akira, safe and sound. Instead, you were met with the sight you wanted to see least.

A tall man with white hair and a blindfold around his eyes. Gojo Satoru in the flesh.

“Oh, Mr. Gojo! Yes, you must be! Ah, why don’t you take that thing off your face?” your boss was quick to welcome the man, “Take a seat, (Y/n), you can take notes for us since Akira’s slept in.”

You remained standing, frozen in place as Gojo walked by you. Your soulmate was scalding hot, burning your skin so hotly that you let out a small hiss of pain.

“I’ll keep this on, if you don’t mind,” Gojo said, his voice carefree, “Now, about what we talked about yesterday…”

You began to inch towards the door.

“(Y/n), please take notes,” your boss said sternly. You jumped at the sharp tone of voice and found yourself helplessly obeying.

I need to quit. I need to leave!

Your thoughts didn’t match your actions. All you could do was hope that Gojo didn’t feel anything on his soulmate mark.

“So, Mr. Gojo, I understand you wanted to start a legal case about securing your soulmate?” your boss asked.

All of the blood drained from your face.

“Yes,” you couldn’t see Gojo’s stunning blue eyes but you knew they were looking directly at you, “You see, she’s a shy one. But, legally, I own her since she’s my soulmate. And she owns me, of course, too, but she’s not the one filing for an arranged marriage here.”

The two men shared a laugh as you began to feel faint. Unsteadily, you wobbled for a moment, before you collapsed to the floor.

“(Y/n)?” your boss stood up, surprised, “Should I call for medical attention?”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Gojo said, reaching out for you with a vicious grin.

“You see, I know just what she needs.”

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!human!reader, leviathan’s envy, sensory deprivation ( blindfolding ), mentions / suggestions of mindbreak, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day thirty-one ( we did it !!! ) [ leviathan + sensory deprivation ( blindfolding ) ]

“Leviathan,” your voice is soft and needy, and your hands reach blindly for him. you could hear his breathing, feel the furious heat of it against your neck, tickling your earlobe, setting all of your hairs on end. “— let me see you. Please.” you choked the plea out, coupled with a stuttering breath. he was so beautiful, you could only imagine how sinful he would look right now, his tight, lean form drenched in sparkling diamonds of sweat. howlite eyes heavily lidded, glowing with desire, and his cherry-stained cheeks fanned by thick, fluttering blonde lashes.

but, there was an obstruction. satin obsidian, a necktie, bandaged around your eyes, keeping your vision dark and abysmal. if you didn’t gaze upon his perfection while he ruined you, you thought you might be driven to madness.

“Leviathan…”

a soft, pleased grunt accompanied by a gust of hot breath fills your ear. “I might get jealous.” he whispered to you. it was half a threat, but there was an inkling of excitement to his words. as if teasing his envy would thrill him, too. “If you see how beautiful I look while I fuck you. Or… If you see other things that only my eyes are meant to see… the way your back winds like a serpent, hips pushing back to take my cock in,” Leviathan lets out a heavy breath, one gloved hand grasping the flare of your hip and pulling you into his rutting. you cry out, feeling his cock feel you to the hilt. your mouth hangs open, strangled pleas dying on your breathless lips, and he moans again. “The way you drool and babble, just for me. Each and every goosebump that raises on your skin as I touch—“ the digits left unveiled by the leather glove are warm to the touch, and gently rub your skin, massaging the beads of your own perspiration into it. “These things that are only meant for me to witness. I don’t even want you to see how I can make you writhe with lust.”

your hands fumble towards him again, over your head. behind you. trying to grasp his horns. you needed something to hold on to, to squeeze. and you knew his horns were extra sensitive the moment his cock slid into you. “F—feels good..!” you gurgle, swatting haplessly towards where you pictured his horns jut upwards towards the sky. you anticipated feeling the antlers against your finger pads, but your desperate grappling is met with nothing but air.

was he angling his head away, keeping his horns just out of your grip?

“You want to please me more.” he mutters, and it his rumbling baritone is laced with a faint amusement. “To make me cry out and cum so quickly. Is it because you can’t handle me? Is my lovemaking too delicious for you? Does my cock make you so weak and desperate?”

a flustered nod, and a helpless babble of his name. it’s enough to curb his desire for praise for the very small moment. your fingers curl, expecting to do so around air, but there’s a faint jingle. cool metal tickles your knuckles, and you realized that you’ve taken the dainty, silver chain connecting his horns in one, weak fist. “N—need… t-this—“ it’s almost nonsensical, blurting out words that are mere pieces of a complete thought that’s been fucked out of you. “Nee—eed you!”

“You’re enjoying yourself immensely. It feels so good, yes? To take my cock deep and hard, push your limits. I’m being so generous to you, pouring so much pleasure- euphoria, into your sensitive, human body that you can hardly contain it all.” Leviathan sighs, nipping at the edge of the blindfold with his sharp canines, tugging ever so slightly, as if teasing that he might take it off. “Your feeble, mortal psyche might break if I’m too magnanimous. How troublesome it is to be delicate with you, when what I really want is to decimate you completely. Ah, I’m jealous that you can be broken so beautifully.”

“T—the blindfold…” you mewl again, leaning back against his deep, slow thrusting. it feels so good that you can only slump against his chest and hang on to the chain. your jaw hangs slack, tongue dangling against your chin. “Please, Leviathan!”

but you hear a soft clicking, his tongue against his teeth as both of his hands now envelop you— careening upwards to encase your breasts against his palms. he squeezes, thumbs and forefingers pinching your sensitive nipples until you let out a pathetic squeak. “Stay in the dark…” he demands, low and sultry, his tongue slithering out to trace his name over your neck and up into your ear, where he huffs, “I’ll get jealous if you witness this glorious destruction with me.”

[aemondloverr]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐩𝐭. 𝐕

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔 • 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 • 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 <- sign yourself up!!

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: I shall say NOTHING, lest I spoil the story 🤐

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: (unfortunately) just fluff, sad and tipsy but VERY jealous Cregan, and you know the routine by now, bratty Jace. But he’ll fix his attitude soon enough.

𝐰𝐜: 𝟒.𝟗𝐤

𝐀/𝐍: I’m sorry I was gone so long y’all 😓 updates will be kind of slow until the school year ends because I have AP exams coming up and things like that. I need to be locked in rn

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐩:

"So... How was your hunt?" You ask, to shift the conversation away from you. You need a moment to slow your heart and compose yourself before you start stumbling over your words at his proximity.

"Quite large. Five wlk, a boar, and two does, all in one day. It was an excellent hunt."

"Do you think yours is the largest?" you already know, something else of his is definately large

Cregan scoffs, his confidence unshaken by the question as he responds without hesitation.

"I know it is. No one else will have a kill as impressive as mine, I can assure you of that.

"Well you'd better hope I think so."

The guests find their seats and settle in for an evening of celebration and merriment. The air is filled with the buzz of conversation and the sound of laughter.

"Bring out the hunters game!"

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

The doors to the great hall swing open once more, and the commotion of applause and chatter begin to grow louder. Servants step forth, carrying trays upon trays, laden with venison and boar, the meat sizzling and smelling quite appetizing. On other trays, the heads of the game are laid out, antlers displayed prominently upon a separate table for all to see. As they approach the stairs of the high table, they stop to present them to you.

You clap and the crowd follows suit, applause and cheers filling the air as they all express their approval and admiration. The men from the hunting party, including Cregan, all sit up a bit straighter, egos growing from the praise as they wait for the verdict.

“Hunters, you’ve all done me a great honor, but only one of you will get to dance…”

One by one, you eliminate platter after platter of the lesser sizes of game. Each Hunter sits on the edge of their seat, wondering if they’ll be the next to be eliminated. The servants nod, understanding your command. They move forward, removing the large and impressive stag’s head from the table and carrying it away.

Out of 30, only and an elk remain, and the amount of moose meat is a considerably large amount.

“Who is the hunter of the moose and who is the hunter of the elk?” You call out.

The hunters all look at each other, sizing up the competition and silently wondering who will win. Some of them glance at Cregan, their eyes filled with envy and a hint of jealousy. Cregan himself, however, does not look nervous or concerned.

One of the hunters finally speaks up, his voice loud and clear.

"The moose is mine, my lady. And the elk is Lord Stark’s.”

“Well moose hunter. Congratulations.”

The hunter's face lights up with pride and joy, a wide grin spreading across his face. He nods in gratitude, his eyes filled with appreciation for your choice. The rest of the hall claps and cheers, congratulating him and his impressive kill.

Cregan, on the other hand, looks at you with a mix of surprise and disappointment. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but the look in his eyes is unmistakable.

Though moose are significantly larger, this moose was on the smaller side but had about the same amount of meat as the large elk did. The only thing different was the

“The antlers are magnificent. Have them removed and displayed above my mantel in my chambers please.”

The servants nod and move to obey your command, carefully removing the impressive set of antlers from the moose and carrying them away. The hunter watches, a satisfied smile on his face, clearly pleased to have his kill displayed in such a prestigious place as your own chambers

Cregan continues to look at you with frustration, his eyes fixed on you as if trying to understand why you chose the younger hunter over him. He must only be 18, a bit older than Jace.

“What is your name…?” You ask the young man.

The young hunter bows his head respectfully, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he realizes he hasn’t yet introduced himself.

"My name is Owen, my lady," he replies, his voice soft and humble.

“Owen who.”

"Owen Cerwyn, my lady," he says, his blush deepening slightly as he continues to stand before you. The other hunters also watch you, each of them no doubt wondering why you didn’t choose them.

“Have the antlers of the elk displayed below the moose antlers” you command once again to the staff.

Ouch. That must sting.

The servants once again nod in understanding, quickly moving to obey your command. The antlers from the elk are quickly removed and brought to the hearth of your chambers, where they are placed below the antlers from the moose, creating an impressive and eye-catching display.

“We shall share a dance after the feasting; for your magnificent hunting!”

His face lights up, a wide smile spreading across his face. He bows deeply, his eyes filled with gratitude and joy.

“Thank you, my Princess. It would be an honor to dance with you.”

Owen nods, his excitement and happiness almost palpable. The other hunters watch, some with jealousy and frustration, and others with respect, as Owen is granted the honor of dancing with you. Cregan, in particular, can’t keep the hint of annoyance from his eyes as he glances from you to the boy.

“Shall we, everyone?” You announce to the lords and ladies. “Let us feast!”

The crowd of nobles and guests cheer and clap, their excitement building as the anticipation grows for the feast that is sure to follow. Servants flood in from the kitchen with platters of food. The guests' eyes widen with delight at the sight and smell of the various dishes. Roasted meats, fresh breads, colorful salads, and steaming stews all adorn the tables. The scent of spices and herbs fills the air, making the mouths of those present water in anticipation.

The guests quickly begin to serve themselves, loading up their plates with food and settling into their seats to eat. Conversation and laughter fill the air as the feast truly begins.

Goblets are already being refilled with wine and ale for those who desire it. The atmosphere is joyous and cheerful, everyone enjoying themselves amidst the abundance of food and drink. Except for one person.

You take a bit of venison, bread and vegetables off of the platters on the table and your cup is filled with wine.

Looking to Jace to check if he’s fixed his attitude, he notices your gaze and looks back at you, his eyes curious.

“See. It’s not so bad.”

Jace rolls his eyes but can't keep a small smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. He glances at the food on your plate, then looks at his own plate, which is piled high with roasted meats and bread. He sighs before responding. "It's... not awful, I suppose." He’s holding back a smile and you can tell.

“Not awful?? Look at you with your plate piled high!”

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Well... I may have gotten a bit carried away," he admits.

You then turn to Cregan who’s still stunned by his loss. He turns his gaze to you as you address him. He tries to keep a neutral expression on his face, but the hint of sadness in his eyes does not escape your notice. He nods in acknowledgement, waiting for you to speak.

“What about you? How do you think it tastes?”

Cregan looks at his own plate for a moment, which is just as piled high with food as Jace's. He hesitates for a moment before answering, as if debating how honest he should be.

"It's..." he pauses, taking a bite of a piece of meat before continuing. "It's satisfactory, I suppose."

“Good..” you chuckle awkwardly and nod, a small, slightly strained smile on your face.

As you look around the hall, you see the guests enjoying their food, laughing and chatting amongst themselves as they eat. Some of them seem to be already feeling the effects of the ale, their faces flushed and their laughter getting a little louder and more rowdy as time goes on.

Servants continue to move around the tables, refilling goblets and clearing away empty platters and plates, ensuring that the feast continues smoothly.

Meanwhile, Cregan begins to have more ale himself, more than he should. He grabs his goblet and takes a long, deep drink from it, emptying the contents before setting it back down on the table with a thud. He looks like he's trying to drown his disappointment and frustration, eyes fixed on his empty cup as if willing it to refill itself with more alcohol.

You reach out and take a sip of your own wine. You can feel the tingling of the alcohol start to spread through your body, a pleasant, buzzing sensation that’s is a welcome distraction from the tension and awkwardness of the situation with Cregan.

*****

Soon after, it’s time for the dancing, your favorite part of every feast.

As the guests finish up their meals, a murmur of excitement starts to spread through the hall, and they move to clear the space in the center of the room.

You stand once again and stop at the top of the steps. Owen, who had been chatting with some of the other hunters at their table, notices you waiting and quickly makes his way over, bowing respectfully before you.

You take Owen's extended hand, and as soon as your fingers touch, the soft, melodic notes of a traditional Northern dance begin to fill the hall.

Other guests join in, dancing together. Those who aren't dancing clap along to the beat of the music, the sound of their applause adding to the energy and atmosphere of the room.

You hold onto Owens shoulder and he takes your hand and guides you through the dance, his other hand resting firmly around your waist.

“You’re quite the dancer, my Lord” He smiles embarrassingly instead of confidently now, a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“You think so…?” He questions

“Aye. I do think so”

Owen is quick to look away now, avoiding eye contact with you so as to not turn even more red than he already is.

Cregan, watching from the sidelines, takes another swig from his goblet, his eyes fixed on you and Owen as you dance together. The muscles in his jaw clench slightly, and it's obvious that he's struggling to keep his jealousy and disappointment hidden as he watches you with another man.

It should’ve been him.

You and Owen laugh as you continue to dance, the enjoyment of the moment contagious as the music reaches its peak. You can see the other guests smiling and clapping, clearly impressed and entertained by your performance together on the dance floor. It's a moment of levity and lightheartedness, a brief respite from the tension and politics of the kingdom.

He holds you closer, his grip on your waist firm and sure. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his breath on your skin. Seeing a princess like you enjoy your time with him makes him a happy man. A very smitten one too.

As the song comes to an end, you and Owen come to a stop, both of you slightly out of breath but smiling widely. The sound of applause fills the air as the guests cheer and clap, their appreciation for your dance evident in their enthusiastic response. Owen lets go of your waist, but he still keeps his hand gently wrapped around yours.

He bows before you once again,then helps you up the stairs.

“How did I do?”

Owen looks at you, a satisfied smile on his face. "You were amazing," he says, his eyes filled with genuine admiration and appreciation. "You moved with such grace and elegance, as if you were born to dance. I've never had a more beautiful dance partner."

He bends down to press a soft, gentlemanly kiss on the back of your hand, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightens up again.

You’re caught off guard by his bold gesture and your cheeks warm. “Have a nice rest of your evening, Lord Cerwyn.”

Owen bows once more, a smile still on his face. "Thank you, Princess," he says, his eyes fixed on you for a moment longer before he turns to join the dance.

While the other guests get up to participate in the line dances, you decide to sit back and watch, clapping along with the music as the guests dance in the middle of the room. Some move with surprising rhythm, seemingly well-versed in the steps of the dance. Others are a bit more clumsy, more chaotic and uncoordinated, but their enjoyment and enthusiasm are infectious nonetheless.

Jace doesn’t seem to care all that much for Owen. He’s just glad to see you with someone who isn’t Cregan. Cregan on the other hand, had been watching the entire interaction, and is clearly seething with jealousy and anger. His fingers gripping his goblet tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

At some point, he can't take it any longer. Owen, making eyes with you from across the room while he dances in the circle. You, seeming to like it. He pushes his chair back with a loud scrape against the floor, the sound cutting through the noise of the feast like a knife. He stands up abruptly.

He raises his arm, signaling for the music to stop and for the guests to quiet down. The room falls silent, and all eyes turn towards Cregan, waiting to hear what he has to say.

"Lords and ladies," he says, his gaze scanning the room as he addresses the guests. "The evening has grown late, and it's time to bring the feast to a close."

As Cregan finishes speaking, murmurs of disappointment and slight confusion ripple through the crowd. However, you quickly step in to ease the awkwardness. “Thank you all for joining me but as Lord Stark has said, it is indeed quite late, and I think it's time for us all to retire for the night..."

You knew he’d get upset, but ending the feast? That was unexpected. At most you thought he’d leave.

The guests nod in agreement to your words, some of them still clearly disappointed that the feast is coming to an end, but most seem to understand. They begin to murmur their goodbyes and thanks, some still lingering for a moment at their tables while others make their way towards the doors.

“Jace, you should probably get to bed. I’ll be up soon, okay?”

Jace yawns and nods in agreement. "You're right, I am feeling quite tired," he says, getting up from his chair and heading towards the great keep.

You rise from your seat at the high table, and as you make your way towards the doors, the guests bow and curtsy to you, their voices blending into a chorus of "Good night, my Lady.” And “Goodnight, Princess.” You continue to smile graciously at them, acknowledging their farewells and polite gestures as you and Jace exit the hall and make your way out.

Cregan remains behind, still stewing in his emotions. He's a bit unsteady on his feet due to the amount of ale he's consumed. He stumbles out of the hall after you, his steps unsteady and his mind a tangle of thoughts and feelings. The ale he's consumed has numbed his better judgment and loosened his inhibitions, making him more impulsive than usual. He follows you down the dimly lit corridors and outside, his eyes fixed on your retreating figure as he struggles to keep up with your pace.

“You're tipsy. Clearly.” you call out behind you “You should go to sleep…”

Cregan is a few feet behind you, and you can hear the unevenness in his voice as he responds. "I'm not that tipsy," he retorts, his tone slightly defiant. Despite the slur in his words, he stumbles forward a few more clumsy steps as he tries to catch up to you.

“You’ve had too much to drink. Go. Home.”

"I'm fine," Cregan insists, his voice a bit petulant. He tries to take another step forward, but his leg catches on something and he almost loses his balance, only catching himself at the last moment by grabbing onto a nearby wall. Despite this, he pushes on, still determined to keep following you.

You walk towards the Godswood, and Cregan follows closely behind, still stumbling and hiccuping as he tries to keep pace with you. The cool air of the night seems to do nothing to sober him up, and his steps become more and more uncertain the closer you get to the Godswood.

"Wait," he calls out, voice a low and hoarse

You hear Cregan call out to you, but you keep walking, as you approach the entrance. Behind you, Cregan's footsteps become more rushed and urgent, the alcohol in his system spurring him on despite the rational part of his mind telling him to stop.

“Please…wait-”

You slow down your pace, and within seconds, Cregan is right behind you, the heat emanating from his body almost tangible as he closes the gap between you both. He's breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He reaches out and grabs your arm, his grip desperate as he tries to turn you around to face him.

“What do you want so badly? Why are you following me??” You face him and speak, trying your best not to yell in his face.

How could he do what he did to you and still seemingly be worried about you? It doesn’t make sense.

"Why did you dance with Owen...?"

“Because I said I would dance with whoever hunted the largest game.”

Cregan's eyes narrow at your response, his jaw clenching as a scowl darkens his features. His grip on your wrist tightens even further.

"But why didn't you dance with me?" he spits out, his words edged with jealousy. He draws another step closer, his breath coming in ragged puffs smelling heavily of ale.

Cregan, unlike most men, isn’t the kind of person who becomes violent when intoxicated. Instead, his emotions are unfiltered, his words more honest and open than usual. As he looks at you through his glassy, bloodshot eyes, there's a rawness to his expression, a vulnerability that he might never show sober.

“Lord Fucking Owen…” he spits out the name like its poison. “With his perfect hair and stupid fancy clothes.” He mimics a simpering expression, clearly mocking him. “And you were smiling up at him like he hung the fucking moon…”

He takes another step closer to you, closing the gap between you so that you're almost touching him. His grip on your wrist loosens slightly, his fingers now barely touching your skin as if he's struggling to keep himself from reaching out and touching you more.

"Why didn't you choose me...?"

“The moose was larger Cregan.”

"So it's all about the moose?" he spits out. "You would have danced with me if my kill was bigger than his? Was mine not good enough for you?"

“It was great. That is why I’m displaying it, but it wasn’t large enough to win. Those were the rules. If you wanted me to dance with you so badly, you should’ve offered.”

Cregan huffs, his expression turning sulky and almost childlike as his feelings of jealousy and hurt take over. He grumbles under his breath, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, his grip still firm.

"Why should I have asked you?" he mutters, his voice petulant and a bit whiny. "You clearly would have said no."

“Well…” He’s kinda right. You probably would’ve dismissed his advances, trying to keep your feelings for him at bay.

"See? You would have said no..."

He pulls you closer, his fingers gripping your wrist more tightly, his eyes searching your face as if he's trying to read your thoughts.

"Maybe l'd have considered if you did..." you say , but that’s just a lie to make him feel better.

Cregan scoffs, clearly not believing your words, his sense of rejection and frustration making him irritable and stubborn. He crosses his arms, his expression turning sullen and pouty. "Sure you would," he mutters, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

As he continues to brood, a question seems to pop into his mind, one that you’d dismissed and argued with him about that morning before going to wintertown.

"Why did you even offer yourself up at breakfast, anyway?" he mutters.

“Are we seriously going to have the conversation again? It was exciting for your people and I didn’t see any objections. You'll keep your kitchen's store of meat full for quite some time.”

"I don't care if we have more meat," he mutters, his voice low and rough. "I care about you giving yourself as a prize to another man."

Your heart warms a bit, knowing how much he cares “You act as if I offered marriage.”

Cregan's expression turns even darker, his jealousy and possessiveness spiking at your words. He glares at you.

"You might as well have offered marriage with the way he held you like you were his… And what gives you the right to make decisions about my kitchen's stores, hm? You're a guest here, not the lady of Winterfell."

"Would you stop raising your voice-“

"Don't tell me what to do. I'll raise my voice if I damn well please. You don't get to come here and order me around."

You pull your arm away from him and continue walking, Cregan's frustration mounts. He follows after you, his footsteps heavy and a bit unsteady, his alcohol-addled mind fueling his irritation and making it difficult to rein in his emotions

"You’re throwing a tantrum like a child. You don't get to tell me what is and isn't ladylike. This is tradition. Don't get upset because I didn't dance with you."

Cregan scoffs at your words, reaching out to grab your arm again, gripping it tightly in his large hand as he pulls you to a stop.

"I'll tell you what’s ladylike," he snaps, his voice low and rough. "You're a princess, not a piece of cattle to be traded off to the highest bidder."

“Oh please. You wouldn’t know what’s good for me if your life depended on it.”

"Oh really? And you're the expert on what's good for you, are you?" he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're so damn stubborn and infuriating sometimes. You never listen to anyone, do you? Do you have any idea how many men out there would’ve gladly taken advantage of your offer? Of you?”

His mouth twists into a sneer as his irritation gets the better of him, and he mutters under his breath.

“Lady like…don’t make me laugh” he scoffs, voice low with words intended to bait and provoke you.

Despite this, you don’t fall for it, instead opting for silence instead.

"You know, it'd be easier if you hated me outright…”

You almost freeze at what he said, surprised by his sudden shift in tone, from defensive and rude to apologetic and regretful. You didn’t hate him. Just what he did. But he didn’t know that.

He rubbed his forehead wearily, as if trying to massage away his thoughts. "Half the time I think you despise me, the other half... fuck, I don't know."

He waits for a few more seconds but you don’t say anything.

“Would you at least answer me? …You know, most women would talk back. Or hit me. Or-“

A slap. Right across his cheek. The slap snapped his head to the side and his face registered shock for a brief moment but he didn't move otherwise. It stung painfully and jolted him out of his drunken haze.

The only thing you could think as you stood there is that he deserved it.

"Just talk to me. Stop acting like a child and talk to me!" he yells

You explode at his hypocrisy. You’re the one acting like a child? How could he say that when he was drunkenly and desperately following you around like he’s a lost dog.

“You really want me to talk? Fine.” You jab a finger at his chest. “How about we talk about the way you're acting like everything is okay?? You act like you never left. You think I forgot??”

"I know you didn't forget it! Every glance, every cold shoulder - you've been fuckin' throwing it in my face since you got here!" He runs a hand through his hair, struggling to explain himself.

“I don’t know what you wanted me to do - come crawling back, covered in fucking apologies and flowers? Is that what you fucking wanted?"

“YES! IS THAT SO HARD??”

Your chest heaved with ragged breaths as you stared up at him. For a long moment, he said nothing, just stood there. Then, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, he spoke.

"I was sorry, okay? I am sorry, that I left, sorry I let you down, sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. But I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m here…" His voice cracked, the dam of his emotions breaking.

“Just stop-”

"Don't," he pleaded, his voice hoarse and vulnerable as he took a step closer. "Stop treating me like I'm some stranger. I fucked up, alright? I fucked up and I know it." His hands moved as if to reach for you, but dropped again.

"What do you want from me? Blood?" His voice dropped to a nearly breaking whisper "Fucking hell, what does a man have to do to earn forgiveness?"

“I’m the one who came back! I’m the one who came to see you, on my mother’s orders. So don’t say that you’re here. If you were, you would’ve come to see me. You never came back...”

"And you hate me for it…" he says quietly, the realization dawning like a cold, hard truth. He turned away, running a hand through his hair again. His shoulders slumped, "You fucking hate me, don’t you.”

Now you’re tearing up. You wanted to tell him. Tell him you didn’t hate him. Tell him that you still loved him. You turn away from his face so that you don’t cry.

“You promised me…” you start. The look in your eyes - betrayal, heartbreak, anger - all directed at him.

Cregan sees the tears you’re trying so hard to hide, the way your eyes shimmer in the moonlight. It tears something inside him. "Please don't cry..." he begs.

He stares at you, really stares, and suddenly he's seeing himself through your eyes - a selfish, cruel bastard who broke a thousand promises.

Your throat starts to burn from trying not to cry. It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to think. It’s hard to not to look at him.

Cregan tries to wipe away your tears but when you push him away gently. His hand falls back to his side like a dead weight. He just stands there, staring at you, seeing the distance between you grow and hating himself for causing it.

A single tear escapes down his cheek, then another. Before he knows it, he's crying openly.

“I'm sorry..." his words come out rough and broken, cutting through the cold silence but it’s only thing he has to offer you right now. "I'm so sorry…"

You finally speak, still trying not to cry, but your voice trembles anyways. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything. Eight summers you spent with me and it was all a waste of my time. After that, another five spent just waiting, hoping you'd come back. Hoping you’d write me… But I meant nothing to you...”

His eyes flash with anger at her words, not at you, but at himself, because he knows you’re right. Eight summers of laughter, of shared secrets, of almost-kisses under trees, and he threw it all away. "You did-”

“No I didn’t-”

“Every single moment of those summers, every smile you gave me, every time you trusted me with your heart - it meant everything to me." His voice breaks slightly.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "You think I wanted this? To destroy what we had, to see you look at me like I'm a stranger?"

“You are a stranger.”

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

IM SORRY I ABANDONED YALL😔 AND IM SORRY FOR LEAVING YOU ON A CLIFF HANGER. ITS EVIL I KNOWWW. You know I love yall tho so leave a comment pretty pleaseeee - ★

P.S if you’re wondering why you signed up for the taglist but aren’t getting tagged, it’s probably because you put “yes”/“no” for the answer OR you spelled your tag wrong. Feel free to resubmit if that is the case!

Taglist: @beebeechaos @iv-vee @aemondwhoresworld @6ternal @obscure-beauty @cregansfourthwife @msmarvelknight @kingdomzeldaquest @littlebirdgot @squidscottjeans @jellybeanstacey0519 @r-3dlips @fakem0net @shiggynuggiez @deemee3 @melsunshine @lipgloss05 @cherryheairt @lovevouuu @darlingcharlis-blog @pearldaisy @allexlacazette @onlybells1 @valardohaerisss @itsaslaminak @qtmoonies @fromsaltandsea @duckduckgoos

[lani-heart]

|| ENHYPEN SERIES – 7 TALES MASTERLIST ||

genre(s) -> hybrid au, non-idol au, university au paring(s) -> ehyphen ( individually ) x reader(s) warning(s) -> angst, violence, crimes, bullying, drinking, etc.

abstract -> what can go wrong in a world of hybrids?

-> uploading will start May 18 //Schedule tbd -> taglist open !!

RIKI NISHIMURA || SPOILED & MISBEHAVED

abstract -> Freshman in college and put to socialize with the other kids from wealthy families. y/n and Riki Nishimura being childhood friends and hybrid / master weren’t anything like other owners. Instead, Riki misbehaves and is rude when around others wanting his owner for himself. Getting her in trouble a few too many times had got him worried that he’d be replaced like her father had warned him. So instead of waiting to be replaced… There's a new etiquette class available at the same school as his owner. How convenient… now was that gonna guarantee him a spot by her side forever?

COMPLETE -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || “perfect hybrid” CHAPTER TWO || etiquette CHAPTER THREE || misunderstandings  CHAPTER FOUR || fake relationship CHAPTER FIVE || for you

JAEYUN SIM || EVERYTHING FORBIDDEN

abstract -> Seeing how Riki is treated, Jake, jealous and tired, runs away from the adoption center. Only to save a girl from the predatory men on the streets of Seoul. Not knowing he’s a hybrid, they both have the time of their lives… while he pretends to be human. How scandalous… the daughter of a wealthy known CEO to be caught with a stray hybrid?

COMPLETE -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || outcasts CHAPTER TWO || luxury CHAPTER THREE || abandonment CHAPTER FOUR || forbidden CHAPTER FIVE || anything

PARK JONG-SEONG || NEVER ENOUGH

abstract -> Haechan always liked to interfere where he didn’t belong. Making a scholarship student take a hybrid and making a bet she’ll regret wasn’t on this year's calendar. Especially with how mean and rude he was… no way he was the well-behaved and sought-after hybrid the rich kids wanted. But… was sweet and caring, at the end of the day, however, he wouldn’t turn his life from riches to rags… right?

COMPLETE -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || temporary CHAPTER TWO || scholarship  CHAPTER THREE || mean CHAPTER FOUR || insecurities CHAPTER FIVE || forever

KIM SUNOO || WON'T YOU BE MY MUSE ?

abstract -> The principal's spoiled daughter returns from her trip to China only to find that her artist's block hasn't gotten any better. Who knew a cute and innocent fox would fix that? However… she swore never to own a hybrid so she could only admire him from afar as his owner turned out to be everything Sunoo hated. Even through that hatred and pain… she still saw him worthy enough to be her muse. 

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || artist block CHAPTER TWO || exhibition CHAPTER THREE || envy CHAPTER FOUR || disappointed CHAPTER FIVE || muse

LEE HEESEUNG || DYSPHORIC BEAUTY

abstract -> Never adopted… I mean who would want to adopt a hybrid with big antlers on his head? It was a shame that such a pretty face had such an ugly thing growing out of his head. Would you want to adopt him? Even after he tried to cut them off risking his life in the process? Even after your parent's threats?

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || ugly CHAPTER TWO || doe eyes CHAPTER THREE || antlers CHAPTER FOUR || empty CHAPTER FIVE || pretty

PARK SUNGHOON || GRACE OF AN AMNESIAC

abstract -> The figure skater hybrid was sought after being sold for millions… but he met his match to take care of a clumsy woman. He was famous after all why should he have to take care of an idiotic woman like you who forgets to look both ways when crossing the street? Especially when you’ll end up forgetting him… all over again? 

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || spring CHAPTER TWO || lies CHAPTER THREE || hate CHAPTER FOUR || truth CHAPTER FIVE || winter

YANG JUGWON || ESCAPE ARTIST

abstract -> Daughter of two renowned lawyers who just busted a case on the black mart hybrid traffickers damned their daughter with a hybrid. They thought it was a good thing to have someone to go home to after a long day… well that wasn’t true when he tried to run away every day. Until… one day she decided to not go find him.

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || service CHAPTER TWO || escape CHAPTER THREE || law CHAPTER FOUR || riot CHAPTER FIVE || liberty

if you would like to be on the taglist please send an ask or comment under this post. If you message me there might be a chance I don't see if and if you ask on another post such as in one of the chapters it'll be hard to keep up with.

taglist -> @ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr @starzniiky @kibs-and-bits @b3tt7boop @in-somnias-world @lol6posts @xiaodrrrr @jihyogfremade @b-a-nshee-blog @mimisamisasa @katsukis1wife @eggomi @thunderous-wolf @tinyteezer @lilactangerine @starfallia @sousydive @bearseulgs @rooomeo @challien @sukisvr @engeneheree

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[monstermag]

Looking for something to do while waiting on the Winter Edition of M❤️NSTER? Try the Demons of December monthly challenge! Our weekly schedule is broken into naughty and nice weeks! Post your art or writing to show off these wintery demon! Don’t forget to used the hashtag #demonsofdecember24 ! Plaintext list below the cut:

Week One:

1 Lust

2 Gluttony

3 Greed

4 Sloth

5 Wrath

6 Envy

7 Pride

Week Two:

8 Antlers

9 Fur

10 Claws

11 Fangs

12 Tentacles

13 Spores

14 Tails

Week Three:

15 Mari Lwyd

16 Tiefling

17 Fallen Angel

18 Krampus

19 Succu/incubus

20 Familiar

21 Lilith

Week Four:

22 Cabin

23 Spice

24 Frozen

25 Candle

26 Letter

27 Sweater

28 Bells

Week Five:

29 Possession

30 Warlock

31 Hell

[thelordz]

I have theory about sinner's appearances in hazbin hotel, you how they say that when the sinners die they got more animal features?

But then there's also characters like Carmilla who don't have any animal features (I'm aware of the fallen angel theory) but she's not the only one.

I think that's whatever animal appearances a sinner has is based on the main sin that they were sent down for, matches the sin's appearance.

(Pride)Lucifer- humans

(Wrath)Satan- bovidae animals (animals with horns/antlers)

(Gluttony)Beelzebub- dogs or cats

(Greed)Mammon- creepy crawlies

(Lust)Asmodeus- birds

(Envy)Leviathan- reptiles and sea creatures

(Sloth)Belphagor- Donkeys?

The reason why I this it's not so clear is because sinners usually commit more than one sin. Here's an example

Valentino is a Moth, so it may mean he's here for greed but he is covered hearts as in lust symbols.

[the-golden-comet]

✨OC Origins Name Tag Game✨

Thank you for the tag, @katenewmanwrites , @willtheweaver , @mysticstarlightduck , @the-letterbox-archives , @lychhiker-writes , and @kaylinalexanderbooks ! And thank you for both the tag AND the game, @pixies-love-envy ! Though, I think people will be disappointed to hear most of these are just my brain saying, “Yeah I like how that sounds”

I want to know how you came up with your original character’s names and personalities. Are they based on people in your real life? Are they straight from your brain? Are they a mix of several people?

Speaking of….

Peter Hart

So obviously “Hart” and “Heart” having a double meaning, but a “hart” is also the name of a male deer in England, and I see Peter as a handsome young buck. A leader of his pack, looks gentle enough, but will absolutely gore you with his antlers if you get too close.

And the name Peter? Brain said: “What’s a good name that Benjamin can yell in a British accent? Peter. That’ll do.” Also lots of pirates with names consisting of “Pete” (though Peter hates this nickname)

Benjamin Bartholomew

(If anyone is named Benjamin Matthias Bartholomew, I apologize in advance for what I’m about to say)

I basically asked my brain: “Pick the most pompous, pretentious, princely sounding name you can think of.” And this is what it came up with. Also his initials are BB, and he is, indeed, BB ✨

Ali

“Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves” from Scheherazade’s 1001 Nights.

Noah

The Story of Noah’s Ark (his eyes are olive-colored)

Tenshi

Japanese for “Angel”. Bro’s name is literally Angel.

Tyrell (Tyr)

Named after Tyr the Norse God of War, Heroic Endeavor, and Justice. Also “Tyrell” means “stubborn,” and he ABSOLUTELY is.

Tagging (no pressure): @fortunatetragedy (curious about Sullivan, Royston, and Khalid Abandonado), @autism-purgatory , @alinacapellabooks , @gioiaalbanoart , @wyked-ao3 , @drchenquill , @lychhiker-writes , @honeybewrites , @deanwax , @sunglasses-in-the-bentley , @jev-urisk ,+open tag! ✨

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Alastor Redesign! (5/7)

For as much as I hate his guys hair. God that bob. It really is iconic.

Anyway it’s Mr. Hazbin Hotel himself! He’s been growing on me a lot recently (my version, hes boring in the show im so sorry alastor fans)

I think most of my follow have seen my Alastor design so this post may be a bit shorter than the others; still I hope you like seeing him full body

I’ve always thought this guy looked nothing like a deer so I have attempted to fix that. Not sure if it looks the best but you can tell he’s a deer! Alastor is also biomechanical so he has a few technological pieces of his body like his mouth and antlers that are meant to look like those tiny radio tower thingies.

The scar and stitching around his neck is from a fight with Vox. Alastor isn’t able to just design and replace body parts so he has a decent chunk of scars under the suit. I placed it on the neck for vulnerability sake, and also like how you mount deer heads on the wall, I wanted to be like that a little.

For his colours, I did focus a bit on wrath and greed, but his dumb magic stuff is still green to represent envy. Also red and yellow are meant to evoke feelings of hunger and I thought that would be fun because he eats deer and all that :)

The microphone staff Vivzie gave him was stupid so I gave him one more inspired by the 1930’s. The red crescent and gold barings are meant to look like a blood moon and the sun a little bit, I thought that was cool.

Most of his interesting bits are through character interactions rather than how he looks in my opinion, but I think he still looks pretty spiffy. He’s funny, absolutely hate him though! 🥃

[peachykneesjellybees]

taishauna so dear to me. them being set up in the pilot episode for the audience to think of them as the initiators of the cult/cannibalism as they’re shown to be willing to ‘sacrifice’ allie for the betterment of the team (meanwhile the two antler queens are opposed to the idea) and to an extent … taishauna do introduce the violence (tai breaking allie’s leg, later on shauna committing the first act of cannibalism) but they then contradict their actions bc those first acts are not violence for violence sake. tai ambitious and determined who holds everyone to high standards and herself to impossibly higher ones, who thought she was doing what was best for the team, pushes allie to a breaking point. shauna consuming jackie’s ear out of love, out of desperation, to keep her best friend near.

taishauna, the stubborn skeptics who can’t help but bow to the wilderness. taissa chanting to keep shauna safe, shauna who burns with envy at not being chosen as the leader. taissa and shauna who both want to take charge, who both yearn for a control that’s never in their reach.

taissa whose hauntings started long before the wilderness, shauna who can’t help but be haunted by her dead best friend

taissa and shauna fighting at the party, taissa and shauna only meeting in secrecy as adults, taissa and shauna opposing each other in every which way but are always still at each others side, still sworn by love and by duty to project each other

taishauna come back to my screen

[euripidestrousers]

Microfic idea: how about one of them gets drunk and the other one has to put them to bed? 😁

Lemme just pick myself up off the floor - one of my favourite writers in this fandom gave me a prompt!!

And it's a good one too. Writing this little snippet was so much fun, thank you!

****

“I don't need an escort.”

“Of course not.”

“I was just having a good bloody time. If Lily didn't want to go to bed then-”

“Then you would have stayed up all night drinking with James, yes, I'm aware”, Remus smiles to himself as he adjusts his grip on Sirius’ arm slung over his shoulders. He forgets how heavy he is. Sirius always holds himself with such lofty grace that it's easy to forget he's rather solid - something Remus is frequently reacquainted with when Sirius rolls on top of him during the night. But watching Sirius and James singing cheerfully (and terribly) at each other as they danced around the fire tonight, made it easy to believe that Sirius weighed less than a feather.

“Too right”, Sirius growls, leaning heavily on Remus and ignoring the strained grunt that escapes, “We've earned it haven't we?”

Remus gets an unwelcome flash of a battlefield, the bridge where the Order had a standoff against Death Eaters meaning to sink the bridge and all the muggles on it before the Order had swept them away. It cost them a few of their own that day. Loss has become a constant companion, lying in bed between them every morning. 

Sirius had insisted James’ birthday be celebrated a week later. The hard line of his clenched jaw and hollow eyes had betrayed a motive other than celebration - a night to live again, defiantly, openly in the face of all the odds. A resistance worthy of Sirius Black and James Potter. And live they did tonight. 

“Yes, I think we've earned it a few times over”, Remus replies softly. 

Sirius grunts and Remus can feel him slipping into the dark, the melancholy which he succumbs to so easily without James’ brash voice and quick laughter. Remus used to feel a tinge of envy - he could share this man's bed but his soul is already shared between him and James. But Remus understands it now, has long come to terms with it. Who couldn't love James Potter with all their heart?

He pulls himself out of his musings, forcing some lightness into his tone, “What did you put in the fire? That smoke set me off laughing like I haven't done since Prongs walked into that tree antlers first.”

Sirius brightens a little, swaying rather than dragging his feet. “A little something for the nerves, my dear.” Sirius suddenly grins boastfully, “Haven't heard you sing since sixth year-”

“And not again for another few years I think”, Remus chuckles, pulling Sirius closer as he stumbles, both to steady him and to leech some of his endless warmth. It's supposed to be Spring but it's unusually cold, a chill blowing in from the coast and biting at the tips of his ears. Remus barely resists slipping a hand under Sirius’ shirt where he knows there's an endless source of heat. 

They've reached the front steps of their little town house and Remus concentrates on steadying himself to guide Sirius up the steps. 

Sirius is blissfully unaware of Remus’ struggles, his breath hot in Remus’ ear as he mumbles, “Moony, always such a gentleman. Insisting on walking me home-”

“We live together-”

“Gonna put me to bed?” Sirius grins lecherously, the effect ruined a little by the slurring, “Tuck me in? Big, bad, scary wolf you are.” He snorts rudely and Remus would be offended, except the fact that Sirius finds his lycanthropy being a source of irony rather than fear has become reassuring.

Remus shakes his head, about to tell him that he'd bet money on Sirius passing out as soon as his head hits the pillow, but then Sirius throws his head back and starts belting out a warbled but recognisable song, “Ooh, love, ooh, lover boy. What're you doing tonight? Hey, boy-”

“Shh, Sirius-”

“Set my alarm, turn on my charm-”

“Turn it back off-”

“That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy”, Sirius throws his arm out as he makes a meal of the last word and Remus loses his balance, falling against Sirius and pinning him to the front door. Sirius’ laughter is warm against his cheek, his body burning beneath Remus’ hands, and he can't help but laugh with him, full of light and love. He feels it. The reason Sirius insisted on tonight being a night of laughter and celebration. He feels the spark of life thrumming in his veins, a renewed vigour for being alive. 

They stumble through the front door and Remus stops Sirius from swaying towards the shelf full of liquor - “Come on, have a nightcap”, “Bed. Now, Padfoot” - and successfully guides him towards the bedroom. Sirius is still humming the tune to the Queen song as he collapses onto the bed, leaving Remus to pull off his boots. 

When he starts unbuttoning Sirius’ belt, Sirius grins up at the ceiling, singing softly, “Say the word and your wish is my command-”

“I should be so lucky”, Remus mutters fondly, “Come on. Pants off.”

“Fancy a-”

“You are about to fall asleep”, Remus chides even as he admires the hard lines of Sirius’ shoulders and chest as he pulls off his jacket and shirt.

Sirius flops back on the bed in just his underwear and a content smile on his handsome face. Remus undresses himself to the peaceful tune Sirius hums, then crawls into bed next to him, nudging him to move over. 

“There's a hangover potion on your bedside”, Remus murmurs, closing his eyes. 

The bed dips and then he's squashed under a burning, heavy weight pinning him to the bed. He smiles, wrapping his arms around the dead weight, brushing black wavy locks off his face. 

“R'gonna win.”

“Hmm?” Remus hums in question, already thinking about what to make for breakfast in the morning. He pulls himself back to the present to listen to Sirius’ drunk mumbling.

“We're gonna win”, Sirius mumbles in the quiet, where the only other noise is the pipes groaning behind the walls, “This war.”

Remus hesitates, his heartbeat thudding in his ears and liquor swirling in his stomach.

“Of course we are”, he finally agrees softly with more conviction than he feels.

“You paused”, Sirius grunts, “Don't do that.”

Remus swallows, eyes wide and staring at the shadows on the ceiling. 

“Go to sleep”, he murmurs. 

It's a long time before he feels Sirius’ sleep twitches, signalling him falling into a deep sleep, and it's longer still before sleep creeps into the edges of Remus’ vision, held at bay by doubt and fear and the sense that if he closes his eyes, what he has will slip between his fingers.

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Misc. vs Faunus Misc.

Penny: *Curtsy's* Is there any particular reason you were built like that?

Firefly!faunus Penny: *Unfurling Floating Array* Father had personal reasons, though the one he gave the Miliary was to excuse any Eccentricities.

Penny: That sounds rather discriminatory.

Penny: It is.

~~~~~

Penny: *Flaring Wings* I am sorry you did not get to experience Life as an organic person for very long.

Penny: *Summoning Swords* I appreciate your condolences. I hope you live your life to the fullest.

Penny: I will. Thank you.

~~~~~

Oscar: *Extends Long Memory* How does it feel when the Velvet comes off your Antlers?

Deer!faunus Oscar: *Rubbing the base of his antlers* A little pinchy, But mostly I just have to make sure no blood get in my eyes. Or on others.

Oscar: I take it the bandages look bad?

~~~~~

Oscar: *Pulls Long Memory from his antlers* I envy you. I can't wear normal shirts most of the year, only button ups.

Oscar: *Fixing belts* Yeah, that sounds annoying.

Oscar: You don't know the half of it.

~~~~~

Emerald: *Twirls Thieve's respite* So ... I'm guessing you have sticky fingers as well?

Octopus!Faunus Emerald: *Flicks tentacle out of face* Hardy Har har. Do you ask all the pretty girls that?

Emerald: Am I like this with everyone?

~~~~~

Emerald: *Holding jewelry in Tentacles, inspecting it* How's your Mercury doing.

Emerald: *Repeatedly Folding and Unfolding Thieve's respite* He's getting his own legs to stand- dear gods I've been infected.

Emerald: Yeesh. Sounds like you're one foot in the grave- Oh fuck I'm infected to!

~~~~~

Neo: *Draws Hush, Signing* Now what have we here? A fish out of Water?

Lionfish!Faunus Neo: *Flares Spines, Signing* You think you can Handle me? I'm a hazardous Gem.

Neo: Not unless you're all cut up~

~~~~~

Neo: *Coating Hush in Venom* We don't need to fight. I have enough Venom for both of us.

Neo: *Bows, tipping Roman's hat* Venom? Such poor form. Do you even know the Thrill of a fight, or do you curl up and let things stomp on you till they die?

Neo: Okay, now it's personal.

~~~~~

Coco: *Cracks neck* Lookin' good Girlie.

Spider!Faunus Coco: *Adjusts Sunglasses* I don't need all my eyes to see the Gorgeous demon ahead of me.

Coco: Aw, You make me Blush.

~~~~~

Coco: *Peeks over Glasses* I'm Gonna *Hic* Wreck yer face!

Coco: *Aims Gianduja* Are you Drunk?!?!

Coco: Oh, I shouldn't have had Coffee before this ...

[hoboblaidd]

Untangling my thoughts on the Evanuris

So much of what we know of the evanuris is from Dalish myths. The old tales are allegory that has evolved over millennia, like our own stories of myths and legends. But I do think there's an element of truth buried in each story, because why else would Felassan weave parables of the Dread Wolf to Briala if they were just random stories he knew to be false?

Solas is helpful here. He pointedly comments on Falon'din, Andruil, and Mythal, and we get more from him in the Veilguard clips about Ghilan'nain. There are Veilguard spoilers in here under Ghilan'nain and Elgar’nan specifically, so tread with caution.

The evanuris come in pairs that loosely correspond to demons and spirits. They're also close analogues to Greek mythology. This is another long post that is more my rambling theories than good, concrete facts.

Justice and Vengeance

Elgar'nan, all-father and god of vengeance. His stories are ones of conquest and rage. He was depicted as stern, with narrowed eyes and "an open, snarling mouth." He wielded a fire that burned as hot as he did. He may not immediately look as terrifyingly monstrous as Ghilan'nain, but I think that's deceptive. My money’s on him being the most difficult enemy. I think that gif of true Fen’harel attacking a dragon is him vs Elgar’nan, which is terrifying bc the Wolf is the size of a high dragon and he is absolutely dwarfed by the dragon he’s attacking. Elgar’nan’s symbol may be a dragon, and his vallaslin is stark veins that spread over the elf's entire face, and in the second iteration, quite literally covers half of the slave's face in his own mark.

Mythal, all-mother, protector, and embodiment of justice. She's a tough one, because we have conflicting information from the legends and in our meeting with her. Solas tells us she was the best of the evanuris. That is likely true, but it's an incredibly low bar. She enacted justice with a more levelhead than Elgar'nan and could mediate disputes among the gods, but she also bound her supplicants and stole their individuality to be meshed into the many. Maybe she did repent, to a point, and free her slaves. Her symbol is a dragon, full or as a winged woman, and her vallaslin is a more elegant version of Elgar'nan's, depicting branches or lyrium veins snaking across the slave's face.

Mythal-Flemeth is more vengeance than justice. She connives and manipulates, all with a seething anger underneath. She may love her daughter, to an extent, but her treatment of Morrigan is awful and abusive. I believe her claim that "no soul may be forced on the unwilling," but I don't buy for a second that she's benevolent.

Envy and Ambition

Andruil, goddess of the hunt - or sacrifice. She's a bit harder to separate from her legends, but she is not painted as kind or just. She forged weapons, she hunted beasts and her own people. Her shrine in the Dales had an altar at its heart, which has bad implications if she is a goddess of sacrifice. She lusted for better and more challenging hunts. She descended into the Abyss to hunt Forgotten Ones, and brought "plague to her lands and howled things meant to be forgotten." That certainly sounds like the Blight. That last hunt drove her mad, and Mythal challenged her and stole her knowledge of how to find "the Void." She also has a strange, predatory relationship with Ghilan'nain and Fen'harel. She stalks them not to kill, but to ensnare. That lore piece with her capturing the Dread Wolf is particularly disturbing and I hate/love it. Her messengers are the owl, and her vallaslin is stark lines around twisted antlers or branches.

Ghilan'nain, mother of the halla. Is there any god whose true nature is as obscured by Dalish legend? They paint her as a gentle soul beloved by the beasts she created. She may have been once (you who were the most sensitive of us), but even prior to her ascension, her ambition to create more drove her to the gods. It doesn't seem like she hesitated at all to slaughter her own creatures in her ambition to godhood. That clip of her talking to Solas looks to be pre-ascension, or at least, pre-total apotheosis. Her gruesome laboratory in Horror of Hormack shows her true colors, and we now know she's intricately connected to the Blight. Her appearance is as horrific - it's like she kept adding more and more to herself in her drive to create. Her symbol is a hart, or halla, and her vallaslin is a delicate symbol of antlers.

Fear and Despair

Falon'din, friend of the dead. He's been made out to be a benevolent god who guides people to the afterlife. Solas has a different tale. Falon'din craved adulation above all else, and waged brutal wars to gain more worshippers. "The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans." Mythal intervened only when her own people were threatened. The remaining gods fought Falon'din in his own temple and subdued him. This is just theory, but I think the "friend of the dead" might've come from the fact that elves would either bow, and be guided to adore him, or butchered. His symbol is the owl, and his vallaslin looks like blood vessels covering his slave's face.

Dirthamen, keeper of secrets. I'm drawing more on my own theories here, so take it all with a grain of salt. The Dalish say he gave the elves "the gift of knowledge and...loyalty and faith in family." Maybe he was the propaganda arm of the evanuris. That he dealt in secrets reinforces that - he could be analogous to a secret police, stamping out or punishing any perceived resistance. His lost temple is a bathed in despair - despondency, sorrow, torment, misery. His followers butchered and scattered the remains of his high priest and, tormented by the horror they endured, they manifested as despair. His vallaslin is not connected to nature like the others' appear, but jagged lines.

The Dalish legends and academic theories are odd in how they refer to Falon'din and Dirthamen. One is shadow, one is reflection, both of each other. They theorize they were "twin souls" rather than blood kin. It's an interesting question without a whole lot of information to go on, save for the Dalish stories of them always finding each other.

The June and Sylaise Problem

June, god of the craft. We have very little to go on with June, other than that he's a stand in for Hephaestus. The Dalish describe him as inscrutable and clever. He taught elves to make tools, and crafted weapons for Andruil or to hunt her "gifts." He apparently appears the least among the elven pantheon in ruins and legends. An Orlesian scholar theorizes that June's role may have changed over time, eventually settling on craft. What his true personality was like is entirely unknown. I think it's a safe bet to assume that he and Sylaise were not as benevolent as the myths paint them to be. Regardless, his vallaslin is pretty cool. And I'll admit a bias to liking him because of theshirallen's portrayal. That tugged my heart past reason.

Sylaise, the Hearthkeeper. We have just as little real insight on Sylaise. In the legends, she taught the elves herbology and healing. Interestingly, the power she gave them included the ability to channel raw Fade essence into a "Grand Sonallium", a sphere in the air intended as a gift to June. We don't know what a Sonallium is. It's said that thousands of elves had to create it, which reminds me of the story of Elgar'nan using thousands of slaves to build his likeness in the Deep Roads. Idk if there's a connection, but I doubt it's a benevolent one. It's suggested that Sylaise was a rival to the other gods, but so was Falon'din at a time. Her vallaslin looks like snakelike plants. It is also cool.

They’re all monsters, so at this point with June and Sylaise, we’re probably just waiting for confirmation.