#beauty isn’t what we make it out to be and it certainly isn’t tied to body or gender

[queseresere]

Suppose I’ll post this, because it’s pride month.

Acrylic on wood, uhhhh gonna hazard aprox 60x90 cm, haven’t actually measured it. Took me about 50 hours, that’s for damn sure.

Closer crop for the key details!

[puppetwoman17]

I wonder what the batfam's reactions would be if the joker escapes wherever they sent him to, finds Tim on patrol and was like "Long time no see JJ," and then going on about how he should come home with him back to arkham and he'll help him "recover" and are trying to get to Tim's location as fast as they can while listening in on comms?

This was actually a scenario I thought of the day I found out about JJ. I feel like after what happened, Tim would do the opposite of what Jason would and has done. Instead of going to find the Joker, he would stay as far away from him or even his goons as possible. It would be like the third Robin and the Joker had no history, nothing to tie them together(which probably made Jason angry at some point).

So when he breaks out of Arkham(AGAIN, jesus), Tim, Babs, and Bruce don’t waste a minute before bringing up that Tim has another case he has to work on that is of the “upmost importance”. It’s actually just a 12 year old homicide cold case that he solved a month ago but no one has to know that. Jim knows to sweep that under the rug when RR comes by with the same exact evidence he came with a month ago.

But Lady Luck has never been on Tim’s side. The rest of the bats quickly lose track of the Joker. Babs manages to find him, but by that point, it’s too late.

Joker finds him. And he recognizes him. Underneath the new name, costume, and styled hair, Joker finds his “son”.

As you can imagine, he’s over the moon. But he’s also just as angry.

“Junior! You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t send out an email. What’s a pop got to do to get their son to notice them?”

“I’m not your son.”

“Not with that hair you’re not. Your skin’s not how I left it at all! And what happened to that beautiful smile of yours? Did the bat ruin that too?”

Tim doesn’t take jabs about his smile well. This is why. And it gets under his skin that even after using so much foundation and concealer, the Joker can still see the remnants of smile lines along his cheeks.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Junior. You know papa doesn’t like being ignored.“

“You’re not my dad.”

“Ha! Who is then? Certainly not the old bat. Anyhow, this isn’t about him. It’s been so long, kiddo. Why don’t we stop by the old warehouse and have a chat. Maybe even pick up Mama while we’re at it.”

“Harley would rather die than go with you, and I’m not following you anywhere. Batman already has your location.”

That brushes the smile off the freak’s face. The expression he has on now is sickly reminiscent of how he was when he, Tim, and Harley played family years ago. It’s not a look he gives to other people. No one else has seen it, so they might think Tim a liar. But he can’t deny the parental disappointment in the man’s eyes.

“I know they don’t know.”

Now that. That really gets to him.

“None of your business.”

“It it, but you’re welcome to deny it. I believe it’s just the old bat, the beat up cop, and Ms. Gordon, correct? Not even the first Robin! Ha! I wonder what the second bird would think. Not to mention the girls! Oh! And we can’t forget about little old Signal.”

Tim doesn’t need him to tell him. He’s gone over the scenario so many times it drives him mad. What each of them would say. What he could do to make them think differently. What he would have to do if they found out. Where he could run to. It never gets easier.

Joker is trying to scare him. That’s the only conclusion he definitively has. And aside from his general psychotic tendencies, he genuinely believes he and Tim are family.

By the time Batman arrives with the GCPD, the Joker is tied and ready for extraction. But the villain’s smile is no less fear-inducing.

“You know I’m right, my boy,” he says as he’s take into the back of a truck.

“They’ll never look at you the same way again.”

It’s only when everything is over that Tim takes the time to look over his gear that he finds his mistake. One that the Joker knew about. One that he exploited.

When he shut off the comms, he didn’t shut them off. In his delirium over his past, instead of closing them off, he muted them. While he couldn’t hear any of their chatter, they definitely heard his. And he didn’t send Babs his acceptance to shut his comms off, something she couldn’t do without express permission.

So when he unmuted the comms, you can only imagine what he heard.

[odetojupiter]

what if i told you that thea’s raven number - 14 - is an unlucky number because, translated, it sounds similar to ‘must die’/‘will certainly die’ in cantonese, and ‘is dead’/‘will be dead’ in mandarin.

‘her number was 14 for reasons’ - nora sakavic, aftg extra content

what if i suggested that tetsuji gave her that number specifically because he considered a black woman dominating his own sport a threat not only to himself but to his perfect court. not only is tetsuji’s misogyny pretty clear, but we all know the other ravens were killing themselves trying to be given the next perfect court number, but that was never gonna happen because even though the perfect court was actually full of the best players, it was never actually about championing the best players, it was about ownership. so what if i said that tetsuji hated that thea was as good as she was without having any ties to himself, outside of signing on to the college team he coaches. he felt undermined because he couldn’t fully credit himself for her skill, and so he gave her the 14 - on the surface, it’s an achievement to get so close to single digits for the ravens BUT it comes with a hidden threat. you will die if you go too far.

and then what if i suggested that nora also chose 14 because of the way the fandom reacted to thea. i have no idea whether she’d already picked out the number before the series was published but i don’t think it’s mentioned in the original series ?? so i mean…

yes, i’ve seen the list of issues people have with thea but what’s crazy to me is that we know literally nothing about her bar the few tidbits nora mentioned in the extra content, and the few scenes we have in the series. and i know there was probably a full backstory written for her that we never got to see bc of all the hate nora got purely for introducing her, and the subsequent reactions to literally everything we’re told about thea just makes me think that nobody actually learned anything about how people’s trauma can drastically influence how they perceive the world and how they react to things including the abuse of other people - cough. andrew and aaron cough. - her reactions to things are bound to be built off her experiences and she was literally in a cult which would completely rewire her world view so like (even what we’re told in the EC, we don’t meet her until her fifth year of edgar allan so she’s five years deep into this shit guys, and you know tetsuji was physically and mentally abusive to all the ravens u have to know that by now)—-

but anyway this post isn’t supposed to be a defence or a critique of her i just find the number 14 aligns with the way people speak about her as though she’s done something bad enough to deserve death threats, so i just hope you realise when u perpetuate that shit it’s like ur tattooing that 14 right on her face.

oh to add to that, in japanese culture the number fourteen represents imperfection, but specifically beauty found in things that are imperfect. if i say that’s a way of saying no thea isn’t perfect but that doesn’t mean she deserves to die ? what then?

bc no she’s not a perfect person and ill be the first to admit i hated that scene in tsc with jean, but are you really telling me that’s the worst thing an aftg character has ever done?? why is she being branded as the worst when she was literally in the series for like 3 pages?

and do u know what, the fact that she, post graduation, still wears her 14 is 1) a sign of pride that she really is one of the best and 2) a reminder that she is not dead yet, despite the efforts of tetsuji and the literal fandom

[receival]

warrior of darkness starters.

the following is a collection of sentence starters from shadowbringers, the third expansion of square enix's final fantasy 14. part 1.

sounds like tedious work. but not as tedious as waiting around, i suppose.

look how many people there are!

well, if it isn’t the hero of the hour.

stay with me. focus on my voice.

oh, do not look at me so.

we did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still - still it came to this.

your time has not yet come.

something vague … yet urgent … calls me to action once more.

every face in this city i know. yours i do not.

pray forgive my less-than-cordial welcome.

come with me. i will answer whatever questions you have when we are somewhere more private.

do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?

i can only beg your forgiveness - matters here forced my hand.

you don’t have that whiff of indolence about you like some folk i’ve met.

we can speak here without fear of being overheard.

what say you? have i earned your trust for the moment, at least?

are you there, my friend?

now, a full and frank discussion in the privacy of my study would seem to be in order …

i’m going to guess you’re new to our fair city?

i see you’re no stranger to honest labor.

should you find yourself confused by the local language or customs, i’ll be here to answer your questions.

i understand it was something of a chore, but ‘twas necessary that you grasp these things before we proceed.

… i am not familiar with that name. is there something i should know?

mayhap we can revisit that mystery another time.

considering the ... circumstances of our meeting, you would be forgiven for doubting my version of events.

i promise i will not rest until i have found a way to help you return home.

you came from beyond, didn’t you? you came from beyond the rift!

what a brave and reckless and marvelous thing you did.

after careful consideration, i have decided to grant you my assistance.

make a pact with me, and the fun can begin.

pray rest and recuperate, and we shall reconvene anon.

we are denied the comforting blanket of night, but may peaceful dreams attend you nonetheless.

i am a shade, cursed to do naught but drift.

this world is beyond saving - like those who try to save it.

do me a favor. be careful out there. this world has had its fill of heroes.

me? i was more worried about you.

i thought i’d lost you.

i may be a stranger to this world, but i will not stand idly by and let innocent people be slaughtered.

what say you, old friend? hungry for another adventure?

thank you again. you saved my life.

there’s naught to be had here but cobwebs and memories.

just look at it … can you imagine a more beautiful city?

disapprove ...? it frustrates me, certainly. that is only part of it, though. the whole situation makes me uneasy.

however unjust this system seems to me, if these people claim to be content with their lot, it is hardly my place to criticize their choices.

i am not so naive as to think there is some miraculous solution to all of this.

there has to be a better way.

'tis fortunate that you arrive when you did, (name).

… is there something i can do for you, friend?

someone must have been eavesdropping on our conversation.

no one here gives a damn about me.

i’m giving you a chance, nothing more. what comes of it is entirely up to you.

i do not regret my decision ... yet i will admit that a part of me wonders if it was for the best.

i thought for certain i was dead.

redemption is beyond us.

‘tis good to see you back. you were taking so long i began to worry something had happened.

what then is a man of mercy to do, but offer the sinner another way to show his contrition?

what in the blazes did you do? they have the entire city looking for you!

i am sorry, (name). there are more important matters to which i must attend.

pray press me no further. i am leaving.

the outrage i witnessed must not go unanswered.

thank you, my friend ... for staying at my side through this whole sordid endeavor.

… (name)? it feels like an age since i last saw you!

i had it under control!

i knew you’d turn up sooner or later, but i had been hoping for sooner.

they either perish … or are warped into mindless abominations.

that’s an exaggeration! and i don’t sound like that, either!

i’ve no doubts she deserves all the admiration she gets. just as you do.

what, and twiddle my thumbs while you work yourself to death?

sooner or later, every single one of them will turn.

i feel just as helpless as before. no matter how hard i fight, it's never enough.

you needn’t have gone through the trouble.

in a place like this, you learn to take what moments of happiness you can get.

it’s never easy, ending a life you’ve cared for.

without a body, we can’t even give her a proper burial.

you weren’t hurt at all, were you?

hurt? there wasn’t even a fight. i was too late. too slow …

you can’t blame yourself for things beyond your control.

forgive me, (name). i couldn’t stay there a moment longer.

(name)? you’ve gone pale …

… i’m fine. we should keep moving.

we were too slow to save them …

there are … things which we can ill afford to lose.

forgive me. i fear the events of the day may have taken their toll.

how quickly you have justified my faith in you.

would you be so kind as to conceal your involvement in this endeavor for the time being?

i expect to be told the whole truth of it one day.

please. i wish to be left alone for awhile.

i promise to find you later, when i feel myself again.

sleep well, (name). i hope untroubled dreams find you.

these are my "private" quarters …

it’s when you charge ahead trying to save someone else that you end up losing those you love.

not that you need telling. i’ll bet you've lost plenty. but i wonder ... what will it cost you this time?

i don't remember when it was that i learned regret wasn’t worth the bother.

you get numb to it all over the years. the lost comrades, the broken promises, the abandoned principles - just more nagging burdens to ignore.

stay your weapon. i am not your enemy.

they tracked me down, and conscripted me to their cause.

i have more questions, but now is not the time.

you are come at a good time. as you may have heard, we have something of a quandary on our hands.

‘twas inevitable they would come knocking. the only question was how soon.

the world is dead, and writhe as we might, like maggots in its rotting corse, it will not be reborn.

i waste my breath. you have made your stance clear.

am i imagining things, or did he just stare straight at us?

while i am grateful for your support, my lord - i cannot in good conscience put your people in harm’s way.

there is, however, much to say, and precious little time in which to say it.

might i trouble you for a word, (name)? outside?

(name)! what brings you here?

i do not wish to show our hand unless absolutely necessary.

so long as hope burns in our hearts, we will fight on regardless.

there may come a day when all hope seems lost. but even should the rest of the world give in to despair - we shall not.

trust you to spoil the moment!

yes? what do you require of me?

there you are, (name)! mayhap you could lend me a hand!

you certainly took your time.

let’s rejoin the others and quit this place.

all this trouble because of me … i’m so sorry …

save your apologies until after we’ve escaped.

it’s quiet. too quiet.

you will regret coming here.

it is for your own protection.

you are made of sterner stuff than the rest. but will it be enough?

as if i didn’t have enough on my hands already …

mayhap there is another way. one which does not require bloodshed.

we should be safe enough here.

it’s good to see you again, my friend. i don't know about you, but it feels like years since last we met.

this is not the sort of place one visits on a whim.

you really have outdone yourself this time.

i’m sorry. thank you for saving me.

why can’t i remember?

we are now, i am sorry to say, entirely at their mercy.

[sanjoongie]

Sex and Embers and Frost

A ~Cotton Tails and Simmering Fires~ Series

ღAuthor's Note: this is an idea that was cooked up between @starlitmark and me. I was very excited to breath life into the opening of this world with these alt/emo/goth/punk hybrid dragon boyos. Hopefully you love them just as much as mia and i do😭

ღPairing: Dragon hybrid! Hwa x Bunny Hybrid! reader (f) x Dragon hybrid! San ღGenre: smut with no plot ღAu: hybrid au, strangers to lovers ღWord Count: 3,921 ღWarnings: oral (f receiving), temperature play, hair pulling, biting, hints to predator/prey play, breast play, squirting, cum eating, size kink, penetrative sex without barrier, double penetration, anal sex (f receiving), dacryphilia, hints towards mxm, degradation kink, creampie, overstimulation, mfm orgasm(s) ღRated: 18+ MDNI ღSummary: when your bunny friends drag you to an Gothic club and didn't tell you, so you dressed up in your typical preppy fit, not expecting to catch the eyes of two hybrid dragons ღMasterlist ღNext Chapter ღDedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland, @flurrys-creativity​ &@songmingisthighs thank you for all beta-ing.

When they first meet~

Your blue eyes scanned the beauty that was the club that your friends had dragged you to. The Gothic arches were gorgeous  and the cross-eyed gargoyles added to the aesthetic but… you picked at your skirt and winced. You were dressed in your typical pink and white, that offset your white ears and blue eyes, being a bunny hybrid, but it was making you stick out like a sore thumb in this goth club.

Unfortunately, because you had taken the time to observe your surroundings, you had wound up separated from your friends. This gave the perfect opportunity, however, for two very interested dragon hybrids to, for lack of a better term, to pounce on you.

A hand descended on your shoulder and you jumped in the air in surprise. You had been so hyper focused on the architecture that your sense of your surroundings had been dulled and you had been caught unaware. 

A low, male chuckle sounded from behind you. “You look a little lost there, Hops. This isn’t your typical crowd is it?”

Your eyes widened at the man who had turned you around. His jelly-pink lips had a ring piercing, and it was safe to say, that wasn’t the only thing that stood out about the man. There were scales along his hairline, near his temple and scattered along his cheekbones, that were a shiny, deep purple. And his eyes were silver and slit like a lizard--your brain screamed to you that he was a dragon hybrid and most certainly a predator animal.

You shook your head and attempted to stand a little straighter. "I'm actually here with my fluffle--"

"Fluffle," he echoed you, "Cute."

You teetered on your heels uncertainly. "I think I'll--"

"Oh, you're not leaving us, are you, Hops?" Another man came to lean over the first dragon hybrid’s shoulder, hand hooked on the other’s broad shoulder. His long hair was tied up halfway, with strands framing his face and the lower half still left hanging. His scaling was black but iridescent and his slitted eyes were an electric blue. “I just got here.”

The purple hybrid’s chin set stubbornly at the black hybrid joining. “I got this, Seonghwa,” He said flatly.

Seonghwa put the hand that was on the purple hybrid’s shoulder on his head and ruffled his hair. “What’s wrong, San? Don’t feel like sharing tonight?”

Your eyes darted from one man to the other, trying to keep an eye on the predators in front of you. Your heart was beating out of your chest. But when your tongue came out to nervously lick your lips, both dragon hybrids narrowed their eyes on the motion. Your tongue froze at the corner of your mouth, an instinct to remain still when such a moment occurred.

San went back to frowning, “Hwa!”

Seonghwa smirked confidently. “Why don’t we leave it up to her, hmm?” Seonghwa circumvented San and was now standing in front of you. His size was underlined by the fact that he had to tip your chin to get you to make eye contact with him. You could feel your ears going flat. “How about it, Hops? Let’s go back to our lair and you can decide who you prefer the most.”

You were trembling and your stomach was curling and before your better judgment could kick in--you slowly nodded your head. “Please,” You whimpered.

Both dragon hybrids smirked and you shuddered in Seonghwa’s grasp. “Perfect,” He said happily, “Let’s go.”

Your mind was a whirl and the traveling between the club to their apartment was inconsequential compared to the position you were in right now.  Your tiny body was sat between San’s legs. He was currently peppering kisses from the slope of your shoulder up your neck and back again. He had discovered it was an erogenous area for you and wouldn’t leave it alone once he did. His ringed hands were holding your thighs apart, firmly so, because Seonghwa was kneeling between both your legs. 

“Stop squirming, Hops,” San growled, “Or I’m going to fuck you before Seonghwa can prep you fully.”

Seonghwa made eye contact with San from below, “That’s hot.”

“Shut up, Hwa,” San snapped with no real heat behind it.

“Be a good bunny for me, hmm?” Seonghwa said while his eyes were on your core where your panties still covered it, “I want all your cute noises. Don’t deny me them, okay?”

You were nodding. You had no idea what Seonghwa had in store for you but you did know that you loved the way San’s hands felt holding your thighs apart and those plush lips on your skin. 

Seonghwa’s hands almost held your leg reverently as his eyes rolled up to meet yours and his lips touched your skin. One minute he was leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin there and the next you watched a curl of mist leave his mouth. You frowned, because you could have sworn it was similar to a breath you would exhale in the dead of winter and then you were distracted by a flash of silver--was that a ball from a tongue piercing? You squealed as cold metal touched your skin.

San's fingers dug into your thighs, holding you even wider. "Something wrong, little bunny?" The next time his lips touched your neck, his lip ring felt abnormally warm, almost hot and you yelped.

"Wh-what's going on?" You couldn't help but stutter.

"We're dragons," San said simply, "You're okay with a little magic in your foreplay, right?"

"Yes," You said in a tiny voice that was completely full of anticipation for what this night would give you.

Seonghwa's tongue is out in full force, as he uses one long lick to go from the inside of your knee to your hip bone. The cold gives you goosebumps, but much to your embarrassment, it also made your tail begin to twitch, waiting for that coldness to meet your throbbing, hot mess of a cunt.

San chuckled lowly in your ear. "Hops, your tail is twitching. Is he making you feel that good?" You whimpered in response, your tail only moving more frequently. San moaned into your ear, gripping your earlobe between his teeth before letting go. "He hasn't even kissed your tiny pussy yet. You're such an easy bun, huh Hops?"

Seonghwa's shoulders quake in silent laughter but still he moved his head to hover over your mound. Those slitted eyes narrowed to near slivers, the electric blue iris being more prominent and terrifying you. That was the same look a predator gives its prey before striking the final blow. Your heart beat out of your chest again but you also felt some wetness leak further onto your underwear. Your body didn't know what it wanted: flight or fuck.

The cold ball of Seonghwa's tongue piercing played with your clit through your underwear and your back bowed in response. Your hands descended onto Seonghwa's head and one of your hands became a fist to grab Seonghwa's ponytail. You yanked on it hard, almost as if you wanted to pull his tongue away from you. In contrast, your body rolled into his licks. You could feel the cold breath of Seonghwa's coming to life between your thighs and you shivered at the threat. 

San bit into your shoulder and you could feel his sharp canines making indents into the soft skin there. "You're driving me wild, Hops. You smell so fucking good, like a damn sugar cookie."

"D-don't eat me," You pleaded from the animal side of your brain, only aware that a dragon hybrid had put his meat-ripping teeth into you.

Seonghwa's dry chuckles could be heard from in between your legs, no longer silent this time. "The irony," he said with a crooked smile on his face before he pushed aside your panties so he could have full access to your dripping cunt. "Wonder if she tastes like a sugar cookie too?"

You yelped and gasped at the same time because simultaneously as Seonghwa thrusted his long tongue inside of your hole, San let his lip ring turn momentarily burning hot. "Careful, Hops, or I might find that more appealing than our current activities."

"S-san," You mumbled his name, even though your eyes were on Seonghwa with his eyes closed, tongue fucking your cunt.

"This is what I'm talking about," San growled. "You stutter my name like that and I'm going to want to play Chase the Bunny."

His tongue swiped at your skin and finally let go of your legs. Seonghwa's leather jacket fell to the crook of his elbows as he braced your legs open instead. He took on your weight like it was nothing. San's previous occupied hands began to massage your breasts through your tight shirt. "Been wanting to play with these nipples all night."

Seonghwa's tongue had begun to curl inside of you, reaching a spot that was dangerous. Your eyebrows furrowed. "No wait, don't--I'll--"

Your body began to shake and you cried out as you squirted all over Seonghwa's face. It was pure good luck that Seonghwa already had his eyes closed but that didn't stop him from opening his mouth, accepting your wetness.

San's hand became slack against your breasts as his mouth dropped and he laughed in disbelief. "Did you just make her squirt?"

Your body was like a ragdoll against San's body when Seonghwa finally opened his eyes. He wiped his face with his hand, looking quite pleased with himself. "Fuck, Hops, that was hot."

You are whining in embarrassment but you still can't move. "I'm sorry."

San's light laughter peppered the air. "She's sorry, Hwa."

Seonghwa stood up, tweaking the end of your ear. "Don't be embarrassed, little bun, you just gave me the highest honor."

San unceremoniously shoved your body off him and you collapsed into Seonghwa's arms. San quickly began to unbutton his pants, the chains that connected from belt loop to back pocket twinkling merrily. "I'm so fucking hard, I thought I was going to come in my pants with her fucking tail playing with me."

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at San. "New kink unlocked?"

San mockingly sneered at Seonghwa, showing another peek of his sharp canines. "Shut up."

Your skirt was already high up on your hips and your panties pulled out of the way but that wasn't enough for San. He easily ripped your underwear from your body with an impatient snarl. "This tiny puss is mine."

The air is filled with the smell of sex and faintly of embers and frost.  "Right, Hops?" San asked.

You looked up to Seonghwa, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. Unless you're saying your cunt belongs to me already. Then I won before San even got to prove himself. Kinda sad, don't you think?"

You gulped and swallowed but there was no moisture there. Your voice sounded tiny even to yourself but you somehow managed to say, "My tiny puss is yours… Sannie."

"Well, that's it, I'm fucked," San announced. 

With that, San pushed into your pussy, firmly and without pause until he was fully seated inside you. He was panting behind you. "Bet I'm so fucking huge inside of you, the way your cunt is clenching me, Jesus, you're tight." San slithered a hand from your hip to your stomach and pressed down, causing you to moan. "Fuck, I can feel my dick imprint, jesus, Hops."

Seonghwa petted your hair and ears. "You are a tiny thing. We could spit roast you right now and you would have no issues, would you?"

"B-both of you?" You squeaked. "At the same time?"

Seonghwa tipped his head to the side. "You can do it, right? You're a sweet little bunny that would give her all to us, right? A sweet little slutty bun who would take everything she got given, even if it drove her to tears. You'd cry big fat tears to be stuffed by both of us, wouldn't you, Hops?"

"You're not talking about my mouth anymore, are you?" You whimpered in realization.

Seonghwa smiled so sweetly even though he was thinking the filthiest thoughts. "Such a smart girl, Hops."

He tipped your head and rewarded you with a deep kiss, his lips still wet from when you had squirted all over his face. His lips and tongue took over your senses until it was all you could focus on. You didn't realize you were whimpering into his mouth until he started to chuckle and released you. "Forgot San was inside of you, didn't you."

You gasped. "S-san, I--"

San simply chuckled evilly behind you. You did not get to see the dirty look San sent Seonghwa. San had not, not truely, realized what he was getting into, letting Seonghwa challenge him. "I'm going to fuck you so good, that's the only name that's going to be falling from your lips."

"Unless," Seonghwa stared down San, "Hops agrees to being double stuffed."

"You can get her cute little mouth, I get this!" San snarled as he pulled back and then thrusted harshly into you. Your breath caught in the back of your throat at the pressure. 

Seonghwa's gentle hands pulled at your sensitive ear, pinching the bottom and making you yelp. His other hand quickly chucked your chin and his thumb slipped against your bottom lip. "And as lovely as that would be," Seonghwa agreed, on the surface at least, "I think that Hops would be better equipped to take us both at the same time. Then she can truly decide who she will choose at the end of the night."

San mercilessly pounded into you, making you grab fistfuls of Seonghwa’s sleeveless shirt, your tongue swirling around Seonghwa’s thumb that was still in your mouth. "This tiny bunny pussy is mine," San snarled.

Your head bobbed, humming in agreement. Seonghwa, however, was unsatisfied with the current predicament. "San," he growled.

San let out a loud, frustrated noise but halted the slapping of skin on skin. You breathed heavily and whined at the loss of the pleasure between your legs. San patted your hip, in an attempt to reassure you. "Don't worry, Hops, I'll fill you up, we just have to do a quick position change."

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows. "Let me slip inside of her. I bet she's so fucking wet, her slickness alone could prep her for me to fuck her puckered hole."

"Am I your fucking fluffer?" San snarled, "Should I put my mouth around you instead and make sure you're ready for her?"

A shiver traveled from the soles of your feet, throughout your body, making your tail flutter and your ears flip-flop. A slow, sure smile pulled at Seonghwa's lips. "Oh, does our bunny like the idea of my cock slipping between San’s plush lips?"

You could feel your face heating up. "You're both really hot."

"Oh, Hops," San sighed, "Fine. Slip inside of her. You won't have a hard time, she's probably loose now from taking my thick cock. Just hurry up!"

San pulled out of you and Seonghwa turned you to face San. He smoothed an appreciative hand down your spine and then pushed inside of you. "Oh fuck this bunny pussy!" Seonghwa exclaimed.

San chucked your chin and guided your head to his pelvis. You licked your lips at the sight of more scaling along San's hips and what amounted to a true treasure trail from his belly button to his cock. "Pretty," You couldn't help but coo, reaching out to trace the purple scales.

"Am I pretty to you, Hops?" San said in a low, soft voice. "Wanna touch? Wanna lick? Go on. I'll give you a tip. The skin along our scales is very sensitive."

You held San’s twitching cock out of the way so that your rough tongue could glide along the soft scales and skin. San watched with hooded eyes and his muscles jerked as it made its way along the treasure trail, to meet at the base of his cock. Just as you were about to lick your way up San’s shaft when Seonghwa grabbed a handful of your tail, making you yelp and cry out. "Okay, I take back my teasing from before. Her tail twitching against your cock is hot."

"Are you done yet?" San growled, once again no longer being the center of your world.

"My dick is drenching, Hops," Seonghwa observed as he pulled out of you. "Gonna fuck you full of dragon cock, huh? You ready to be double stuffed? You better give us those big fat tears you promised."

"I'm ready," you said in a shaky voice.

San held you in a reverse of the position you three had started in. His hands were under your knees as he sunk into you, face to face, and feet off the ground. He bit into his lower lip, tongue playing with his lip ring as he bottomed out again. Then Seonghwa approached from behind, nails digging into your hip bones as he pushed into your other hole. You were whimpering and moaning the entire time, taking both of their thick, long cocks. Once they were both bottomed out inside of you, you tossed your head back to rest against Seonghwa's shoulder.

"How do you feel, Hops?" Seonghwa asked.

"I'm so full," You whined.

"You like it though," San teased, a smirk playing with his lips, "I can feel you clenching down on me so hard. I'm surprised you didn't come from both of us entering you. You're such an easy lay."

"M-move?" You managed to ask, one ear flicking backward to listen to Seonghwa, while the other focused on San.

They did so without further ado, and you could only let out pitiful cries as they fucked you in both holes. You swore you were going to burst but also the pleasure was immeasurable, coursing along every damn nerve you possessed. When one pulled out, the other one pushed in, and it was a never-ending roller-coaster of rapture between your legs. The only thing your animal brain could focus on was the smell of strawberry jam coming from behind you and a sea breeze from behind you. Were those Seonghwa and San’s personal scents? They smelled heavenly.

"Poor Hops," San laughed, "You look so fucked out right now? Is your tiny little brain full of white noise right now? Getting fucked so good by a couple a dragon dicks, huh? I can barely understand how a tiny puss and ass like yours is taking us but I guess that just speaks volumes on how greedy you are for us. Taking us so fucking well, aren’t you Hops?”

That’s when the tears began. They welled up in your eyes and then started to slowly run down your cheek and dripped from your jaw to your bosom, only to make a trail down the valley of your breasts. You just felt a lot of things. You felt safe, you felt adored, you felt full and you felt sexy. It was just a lot and so the tears came easily. Your bottom lip trembled and you pouted as you said, “I’m taking you so well.”

“Aw, Hops, you look so fucking cute, crying for us,” San cooed mockingly.

“I can’t believe how well she’s taking my cock in her ass,” Seonghwa said in reverence again, “Damn, Hops, you really were built to be a little toy for a couple of dragon hybrids, huh?”

You can barely reply between the alternate thrusting, unsure if you’re getting better pleasure from the thick cock in your pussy or the long cock in your ass. “So. Fucking. Good.”

“Oh shit, I’m gonna come,” San cried out, his thrusts starting to become erratic but somehow hitting deeper inside of you. 

“M-me t-t-too,” You whimpered, feeling the curl in your stomach ready to snap.

“Gonna take all of me, Hops? Gonne let me fill you up with dragon cum, right? I bet you get a little bump from all the fucking cum I’m going to unload on you, oh fuck--!” San thrusted deep inside of you, holding himself there and grunted as his cock shot his load into you. He throbbed and twitched and continued to unload and even when he pulled his heavy cock out of you, there was still more shooting out. 

You would have been fascinated yourself if not for the fact that you were twitching and whining and convulsing from your own orgasm. Your pussy wouldn’t stop fluttering around him and it was like echoes of your pleasure continued to radiate from your lower half. It was both pleasing and exhausting and you were pretty sure you had never come harder in your entire life than in that moment. However, you still had another hole and dick to worry about.

“Now for the real show to start,” Seonghaa said, tucking his tongue between his lips.

“Are you kidding me?” San said with disbelief. “Like you could out do that performance.” He promptly dropped his head to your shoulder to relax.

You started to whimper, feeling a bit overstimulated. You shook your head desperately, your ears softly hitting your cheeks. “No. It’s too much. Too much!”

“Oh, come on, Hops,” Seonghwa grunted, “You can come for us again, can’t you? Gonna fill this ass with my cum. You want to be filled with both of us right? Come for me again, sweet bun.”

“Hhhhnnnnn,” You started to cry out as you felt another climax burst over you, this from Seonghwa fucking you up the ass.

You started to cry again, the pleasure being above and beyond everything you had experienced. With San out of you now, you had no choice but to focus on how your ass was taking every thrust of Seonghwa’s, pushing into it like you couldn't get enough of his cock. 

“See, I knew you could do it, Hops. You’re such a sweet little slutty bunny, just for us, right?”

“Just for you,” You repeated tiredly.

Seonghwa let out a desperate cry himself, fucking your ass as his climax tore through him. He unloaded into you too, and you whimpered at how fucking dirty this entire endeavor was. But it felt so fucking good, you didn’t have any regrets.

But the original question still floated in your mind: who would you choose after this?

"I chose you both," You said with a hoarse voice, sounding barely alive.

"Sorry, Hops, I can't hear you with my cum leaking out of your tiny hole, you wanna repeat that?" San muttered, his head still against your shoulder, words muffled but still just as mean.

"I choose you both!" You shout with a rough voice. "I can't pick. I want you both."

You bounce against Seonghwa's chest as he laughed behind you. "Bet you didn't see that coming, huh, San?"

"I hate you, Seonghwa," San grumbled. He raised his head and kissed your quaking nose. "Fine, Hops. You get to have the both of us."

"Just like that?" You wondered.

"Well, hardly," Seonghwa corrected you. "Your body is ours now. Don't you know how dragons are with treasure? We're greedy sonsabitches. Once you're a part of our hoard, you never leave."

"What he means is, your sweet little body is ours now, Hops. To do with what we want, when we want. And you know the best part?" San leaned forward to push aside your hair so he could directly speak into your flickering ear. "There's more of us."

This time it's Seonghwa's turn to finally narrow his eyes at San. "Really, you're going to bring the rest of them into this?"

San shrugged. "You started it."

"I'll end it, you hatchling," Seonghwa threatened.

San stuck his tongue out childishly at Seonghwa and you giggled when the purple hybrid called the black dragon Grandpa.

ღNext Chapter

Tagging: @hijirikaww @toxicccred @starillusion13 @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @a-soft-hornytiny

[broomsick]

Sharing a bit of UPG: underrated, lesser known aspects of some of the Gods!

Hi, people! We’ve got some beautiful rain over here, today, and it’ll soon be warm enough for me to plant my garden! How’s everybody doing? Today, I want to write up a fun and laid back post to share with you all a few of my UPG’s concerning some of the norse Gods and their lesser known aspects! Since my posts are often focused on historical practices and beliefs, I thought it’d be fun for me to write a bit about my personal experiences, for today. Without further ado, let me get into it!

A while ago, I was blessed with the opportunity to talk to a fellow pagan about my thoughts on Eir and my experiences with her! I thought to myself some of you might be interested in hearing about this, since I have posted a few prayers to Eir in the past, but I have not gotten into too much detail concerning my worship of her. The reason for this is that since she is a deity whom we unfortunately don’t know much about, I found it quite difficult coming up with a clear, personalized Eir worship. Hence, my work with her ended up being very casual. Some could say, a bit messy! But I do my best! What I mean by “messy” is that I don’t hold specific events in her honor, but I pray to her quite regularly, for good health and the like.

Now, I mostly want to address one aspect of Eir that’s less spoken of, but which I share with other followers: her ties with intellectuality, scholarly practices and the like. She’s often regarded as a Valkyrie, and as such, it’s possible to associate her with Óðinn, making her ties with knowledge all the more prominent. In my experience, praying to her for help with studies is not unheard of, and it’s certainly not a bad idea! The study of medicine is quite complex, and to master such a skill requires much reflection, especially considering that Eir was primarily worshipped during an era when proper medicinal care was harder to access and all the more necessary. Which is why, in my opinion, associating Eir with anything related to research, studies and the like isn’t too much of a reach!

As a Goddess of medicine and health, amongst other things, she’s often described as kindly and compassionate, even gentle. However, though she is very kind, of course, my experience with her is a bit different! In the sense that, she can have quite a serious aura about her. When it comes to medicine, she takes things quite seriously. So when you pray to her for help with healing and the like, she’s kind of like a fussing mother who tells you to take better care of yourself while she’s making you her homemade remedy!

The next deity I’ll be touching on is Njörðr! Lots of historical evidence, as well as little details I have noticed along my spiritual journey have led me to associate him strongly with leadership, and even fatherhood/parenthood. Many of the people I’ve met and who worked closely with him told me his presence felt fatherly and noble, and I have also experienced this feeling, during the few times when I strongly connected with him. While he generally isn’t viewed as some sort of “King of the sea”, especially not when compared to Ægir and his large hall and opulent feasts, I still tend to associate Njörðr with leadership. For one, due to Yngvi-Freyr’s ties to the concept and the many parallels that can be drawn between these two deities. However, a small, seemingly insignificant detail has also made me to see him as a leader figure. It is the fact that he is more often than not depicted holding an oar! The oar is a symbol of the sea, of course, but there’s something else I came to think of. I was reflecting on this once, during adoration, and thought to myself: “He carries the oar because he isn’t one who stands at the prow and gives out orders, he is one who rows along with the other men.” He accompanies us and leads by showing example! Of course, this is just one of my personal interpretations of the symbol of the oar in Njörðr depictions, and there can be many possible explanations to the presence of this symbol. This interpretation is quite emotional and subjective indeed, but it feels right to me, especially given how a handful of other Njörðr followers have shared this thought with me!

Next on my list is kindly Frigg! Something I find to be very unfortunate is that many pagan sources will boil down her domain to one singular concept: family. Sure, she can indeed be associated with marriage, pregnancy, children and the like. But reducing this Goddess to just these things, for the simple reason that she’s a female figure, and the wife of Óðinn is quite crude (I would even say misogynistic, depending on the context) in my eyes. She is a complex deity whose domains of influence are wide, in my experience. For example, one of her aspects that’s quite prominent in the myths is her ties with divination, fate and prophecy. It’s even said that she knows the fate of all but won’t reveal it, and that she’s adept at the divinatory arts. The extreme resemblance between her character and that of Freyja, which has led many scholars to believe they might have been the same deity at some point in time, has made me draw parallels between the two and eventually associate both with magic, or seiðr. I have asked for Frigg to help me improve my tarot and rune casting skills, in the past, and each time, she has delivered! In that sense, she can be viewed as a patron for those who practice witchcraft, divination or other magical arts. 

Eir art

[molinaskies]

I Love You - Come With Me

46k words

There’s no “me,” anymore. In a way, there’s only “Sonic the Hedgehog,” and that hedgehog, somehow, isn’t me.

I keep telling myself that I’m zipping around the world with Amy because she needed a break and she wanted to get away from a desk and that all of this is for her, but is that entirely true? I guess it’s a symbiotic situation–-it’s not like I’m not enjoying myself–-but she needed this more than me… Right?

What if when Sonic asks Amy to go with him on an adventure, she says yes? They’ve always been inseparable kindred spirits, but what exactly makes their bond so unique, and where do they make each other stronger?

This is my Sonamy Thesis. This is that story.

I Love You - Come With Me: FF.net

I Love You - Come With Me: AO3

Surprise! I made cover art! Hehe ✨

Two years ago, I wrote I Love You - Come With Me as the cap to my “Summer of Sonic,” where I’ve revisited and fallen back in love with this franchise, this relationship, and these characters, as individuals. I feel like I’ve really grown to understand the nuance of SONIC, the kid and the franchise. This, to me, is my Sonamy and Sonic Thesis - THIS is why these characters are poetry in motion, and THIS is why Sonic is a beautiful character.

This is technically set in the IDW universe, but I don’t find that information all that important to the story. There aren’t any major spoilers, no IDW exclusive characters come up beyond brief mentions, and you don’t need to be caught up over there for any part of this to make sense. Some minor plot points and locations are referenced, but most of the locations are original. “Inspired” might be a better word than “set.”

I’m touched to say that my work has impacted so, so many of you ♥️ you all have giving me an fun, kind space to share in the thing I love the most, so thank you all for being you!

Chapter One - “I Love You” - Below

“I love you, Sawn.”

In front of her small suburban home in Central City, Amy’s lips curl into a small, shy smile. The rays of the setting sun illuminate her face, showcasing the soft blush that tints her cheeks. Her right hand fiddles with the gold bracelet adorning her left wrist, and while she’s certainly trying to fight it, she slowly shifts her weight from one heel to the other. I might not’ve noticed if the fabric of her dress didn’t flow with her movements.

Amy, despite her affectionate streak, doesn’t say those words often. She doesn’t need to say them because she knows that I know how she feels.

I just wish I knew what to say back.

I know what my response is, but something about saying it makes my throat clamp shut, my quills stand on end, and my mind shut down.

So, I stand here, tongue-tied and flustered, staring into those sparkling jade eyes—eyes that haven’t sparkled in months.

Whenever we’ve seen each other recently, which has become increasingly rare over the better part of a year, she either hasn’t slept in days or is in the middle of something: paperwork, preparing for an outreach mission, a well-deserved power nap on the Restoration lobby sofa—something. Whenever I want to check on her, the headquarters in Emeraldville is always my first and only stop. I haven’t seen her outside of the building in weeks.

Today, though, she found me in Tails’ workshop—she just walked right in and called my name. I all but jumped out of bed and down the stairs because I thought something was wrong. But no—she just winked, said she has some free time, and told me to walk her home.

All the way, she’s been her bubbly, witty, silly self, again. It’s been a long time since this much of her attention’s been on nothing but me. It’s intimidating. It’s… nice.

“Then, come with me,” I say. With half-lidded eyes and a smile that doesn’t quite radiate the warmth I feel inside, I extend a hand to her. “Let’s follow the wind and see where we go.”

Amy’s wide eyes dart between my face and my open hand. She takes the smallest step and extends her hand, but just when her fingers graze mine, she rips them and her gaze away.

“I… I don’t know,” she whispers. My smile falters, but I keep my hand outstretched. More to herself than anyone, Amy continues. “I can’t leave if I’m needed here.”

My face softens at her admission. Selfless to a fault.

“Well, how’s Jewel settling under the Restoration crown?” I ask. Amy snorts to herself.

“Like a natural,” she says. “She’s a better lead organizer than I was.”

“Does the Restoration need any extra hands?” I ask.

“Well, no.” Amy pauses. “We’ve gotten a new wave of volunteers.”

“And how are the Rabbits doing?”

“…Cream and Vanilla are fine.” Amy glances away, biting back her smile.

“Then, you’ve clearly worked your magic here,” I whisper as I close the gap between us and take her hand in mine. “Come with me, Ame. Take some time to yourself and come with me.”

Amy’s gaze meets mine again, and I can’t look away as she intertwines our fingers.

“Okay.”

[enbylestat]

Audrey Tallmadge/Benjamin Tallmadge's wedding night

Content Warnings: U.SFW, and explicit. (don't like: don't read!)

Chapter 39 - My Joy

Read the full story here.

The night of June 20th, 1790 

Audrey did not know what to make of it, the idea that anyone could see past her faults or their own and lover inspite of them was something of a thing she still has to comprehend somewhat. Eventually, when the guests leave a small party nothing extravagant, contrary to Audrey’s previous tastes… playing it safer rather than seeking out scandal. Even so, they rather excitedly go up to bed together. “It is our wedding night Ben,” Audrey observed. “What do you want to do to me, or vice-versa?” Benjamin laughed genuine amusement on his face for the first time since she first met him. Slowly, the scars from the war were healing… slowly. 

“Everything,” Tallmadge said a bit coyly. “But for now… let us start with what we know… on your back, if my wife, will let me pleasure her.” 

My wife. It still didn’t sound real to Audrey, even so, she did as instructed. With well-trained by now, hands, Tallmadge undid her laces and removed everything save for her chemise and stockings. Then he looked at Audrey expectantly. She’d stripped for him before, but, whilst the one who made her still walks Audrey isn’t sure she feels comfortable removing those pretty stockings often. She settled for the in-between, stripping her chemise and letting down her hair but not removing her stockings. 

“Your turn,” Audrey murmured. 

Tallmadge giddily did as he was told, leaving his coat on the floor and unbuttoning his waistcoat. Audrey finds it tantalizing simply watching. Eventually, Audrey can no longer be patient and she helps undo his cravat. “I want you to tie me to the bed,” Audrey suggested. “And… make me cry out for you.” 

Benjamin smirked rather like he knew something she didn’t, perhaps he did. 

“As my wife insists,” Talmadge conceded. So, climbing on the bed, Audrey let him tie her up. It is rare she gives this much control to anyone, but… she trusts Benjamin, her husband.  Eagerly Benjamin’s admittedly now much less virginal hands slipped down her dainty figure finding it’s way to the desperate heat between her legs. One finger… Audrey gasped. So, naturally he added another. 

“Fuck my fingers, if it pleases you,” Benjamin said with ease. Audrey did as instructed moving desperately against his fingers. If she weren’t tied up she would pull Benjamin in for a kiss but instead he just pressed his body closer. Then she kissed him, between breathless whimpering. 

Then, he stroked himself. It is not hard to experience arousal, not when looking at one as fair and brave and beautiful as Audrey. 

With ease, Benjamin slid himself in and he held her in the small of her back, so as to prevent��too much of a scene being made.

“There,” Tallmadge breathed in Audrey’s ear. “My beautiful wife.” Audrey’s eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned. Tallmadge leaned down for another kiss. Then, he steadily, not in haste, never in haste, began to take her, prioritizing Audrey foremost but not leaving himself too desperately needy either. 

By the time the steady lovemaking is caught up in breathless moans and shared kisses, it is all a blur of white and pleasure ringing in their heads. No going back now, not there was before, but there certainly is not now.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Mori (Bungou Stray Dogs) with a beautiful daughter who gets kidnapped by an enemy group who's leader wants to marry her because of her powerful ability and good looks?

“Do you honestly think this will work?” You ask in a dull tone to your would-be kidnapper. Sitting on the ground with your hands behind your back. “This isn’t some medieval children’s story. You can’t just kidnap me and expect me to marry you.”

The man sucked on his teeth. Another disgusting quality and habit of his, which was why you would never marry him. Besides the kidnapping. “Still as stubborn as ever. But that only makes me want you more. Your steadfastness is something I admire! Not something I want to take away from you.”

“Just my freedom.” You quip before moving your hands to try and loosen the ropes again. “You really should let me go.”

“Not until the priest gets here and we’re married!”

You sigh. “No priest is going to marry two people, one of whom is tied up, unless he’s a very bad priest.” The disgusting smirk on the man’s face told you that he was a bad priest. “Why do you want to marry me anyway?”

“Why?? Because I’m in love with you!” An odd thing to say for two people who had only ever met a handful of times and spoken to one another even less. “Your beauty! Your ability! Your confidence! I love it all! With you by my side, nothing will stop us! My organization will topple that even of the Port Mafia! Assuming we don’t inherit what remains from your father.”

You sigh again. ‘Of course’. It wasn’t about you. It was just about your looks and your ability again. Or worse yet your father. People only ever seemed to see you as a means to an end. Except those ‘bad people’ in the Port Mafia that treated you like actual family.

You weren’t naïve. You knew that they weren’t good people. But that also didn’t necessarily make them bad. Especially when it came to one of their own.

“You really should have let me go….”

The man seemed confused by your remark, but then gained a look of terror when the back wall of his terrible little bad guy hideout was ripped off. The crumbled piece of wall float in the air before they rain down on your kidnapper and his men like hail. Kicking up a horrible amount of dust and other debris before it finally settled. “Are you alright [Y/N]-sama?!”

You cough a few times due to the dust, but still nod at Chuuya. “Yes. I’m fine.” The young man rushed over and untied your hands. Helping you to your feet. “How did you find me so quickly?”

“The boss told us where to find you. Apparently he has your phone tracked.”

“Of course he does.” You make a mental note to get a new one. “Is he with you?”

“He…thought it would be best if he stayed back at headquarters. He didn’t trust himself to not take things too far, where you’re concerned.”

“He’s probably right.” If your father was here, you’d be here all night while he tortured the kidnappers for their crimes. Again, not bad people but not good people either.

“Please let me escort you back to headquarters [Y/N]-sama.” Chuuya interjected. “The boss is eager for you to get home safe. And I’m sure he’ll want to make sure you’re looked over by a doctor.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” You tell Chuuya as you head in the direction you assume the car was in. “They didn’t actually hurt me. Just annoyed me more than anything. I couldn’t have gotten out on my own in a bit you know.” As you reach the care and grab the handle, you pause and ask, “was he really that worried about me?”

“I’ve never seen him so upset, [Y/N]-sama.”

You smile a little to yourself and then get in the car. Chuuya gets in the front with the driver, leaving the full back to yourself. ‘Harrowing’ wasn’t really the word you would call this evening, but it was certainly stressful. Your father might not be a good man, but he did love you clearly. Once you were home he would be sure to cry all over you when you got through the door. You smiled a little as you try to get yourself ready for that.

[anxso]

@ygoc-week day 5 is swap, so let’s swap to talking about another OC for a bit!

YU-GI-OH! DM — ISABELLA “IZZ” ROOKE

Oh Izz. Izz baby. My girl :3c She's the main character of a DM alternate fic called Soul Release, named after a card that's very important to her. She survived a tragic pileup that killed her entire family. Unbeknownst to her, this event tied her to a freshly-born reincarnation of Anubis named Rin in this verse.

This version of DM also includes a faction of worshippers of Apophis because of the existence of The Prophet of Apophis, a strong leader and manipulator… as cult leaders tend to be.

Aigami/Diva also appears earlier in this story rather than being a post-canon aspect; we get a Kisara reincarnation named Sapha, a German TCG champion; and Battle City gets a top 16 on the blimp with these three OCs especially mixing things up via their being chosen by the Wickeds.

I say “chosen,” but both Yami Bakura/Zorc and Rin/Anubis work together to create them to oppose the Egyptian gods. Yami B and Rin have a… working relationship, very much rooted in “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” They both strive for the pharaoh’s downfall. Rin chooses Avatar for herself while Yami B takes Wicked Dreadroot. Then Prophet blows up the museum, catching Yami B in the blast, and steals it for himself. Rin gives Eraser to Izz because she sees Izz as a puppet Rin can coerce to do her bidding anytime, including opposing the pharaoh.

Izz moves to Yugi and co’s school. She’s fairly distant from everyone in her life because of the tragedy, but they are kind to her and she is kind in turn. She wins local tournaments and tops regionals because, in order to hide from grief, she fixates on Duel Monsters deckbuilding and ratios and meta etc. This is enough to earn her a Duelist Kingdom invite. Overall, she’s an anxious mess who needs a hug and isn’t sure how to properly interact with other people anymore. She feels like a cataclysm waiting to happen again and again.

Now the elephant in the room! You see her with the Pyramid of Light. Rin approaches Izz after her first regional win. Izz is weak at the knees for beautiful women (and men—everyone is a bi disaster, remember?). Rin explains she hosted the tournament and forgot about a particular prize. She compliments Izz’s dueling and gifts her the Pyramid of Light, saying she’d like to get to know her better. Izz is flabbergasted and accepts the Pyramid, asking only what it is. Rin only describes it as valuable jewelry and recommends Izz keep it on her person.

The iridescent swirls in the pyramid’s sky blue are mesmerizing to Izz, and staring at it provides an indescribable comfort… and focal point to keep her grounded/stop her out of body experiences such that she does indeed wear it constantly

This has an unintended side effect

See, Izz wears a necklace (in the artwork, matches Dark Magician Girl’s pendant) that just so happens to contain the ancient and slumbering spirit of Mana. Being so close to the dark energy of the Pyramid of Light stirs her, and she becomes Izz’s ghost like companion similar to the pharaoh and Yugi. Mana is always trying to be a positive influence on Izz where Rin is like the devil on her shoulder. Izz often makes mistakes and trusts the wrong people, hurting her friendships with the gang and repairing them again.

Her using Wicked Dreadroot however… that one will certainly be difficult to come back from.

And as for pairings, I’m undecided and going so many directions! I would probably have to write it all out.

(but my heart says fellow orphan Seto Kaiba if Izz can ever look away from all the other gorgeous gorgeous guys and gals) (Rin can’t stop rizzing her up) (y’all just WAIT until she meets Ishizu)

I’m just a writer! Artist credit in first image and rest are picrew

[chungledown-bimothy]

Nothing Will Be Fair Going Forward

my piece for @acocfictionzine, beta'ed by the incredible @secret-third-abernant-sister <3

Word Count: 2814

Summary: The war is over. Now the hard part begins. (A triptych of pre-canon Amethar and Caramelinda.)

Also on AO3

Y.o.B. 1195

Amethar paused and took a deep breath. I hope this isn’t some king shit. I’m not ready.  I’m not cut out for this.

He swung open the rock candy door to the king’s study, a cavernous room lined with more books than even Lazuli could have read in a dozen lifetimes. Sitting behind the massive desk in the center of the room was his father, King Jadain. An old, frail-looking man of lime hard candy, he seemed almost comically too small- there was easily room for two more people on either side of him before the space would even begin to feel full. 

As Amethar closed the door behind him, Jadain stopped fidgeting with his hands and looked up. “Ah, good, you’re here. Please, Amethar, have a seat.” He waited for Amethar to sit before he continued, “Now that the war is over, it’s time we talk about what happens next for you and Candia.”

Amethar’s jaw dropped, incredulous. “Rococoa’s funeral was last week! It’s too soon for all this!”

Jadain sighed. “Unfortunately, it isn’t. I am old, and the losses of your sisters and mother have taken a hefty toll on me. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have, so we need to have this conversation now. I know that you don’t want the crown, that you never wanted it, but the fact is that you will be King. The issue at hand is who will be Queen.” The image of a beautiful woman in the Dairy Isles flashed through Amethar’s mind. 

“You may be old, but I’m young! I’ve got plenty of time to fin-” he cleared his throat, remembering Rococoa’s words when she found out about Catherine. “To figure that out.”

“Amethar, you know better than anyone else how hard the war was on Candia. I will admit, I made a mistake in delaying our involvement, causing Duke Jawbreaker’s rebellion that’s showing no signs of stopping. In order for Candia to recover, we need to be united. We can’t afford a civil war, certainly not right now.”

“Yeah, and what does that have to do with me getting married?”

“The only one of your sisters who was wed was Lazuli. Do you know why she married Duchess Caramelinda of House Meringue?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they loved each other.”

A soft, sad smile crossed Jadain’s face. “They did love each other, but that’s not why they got married. We, as royals, are privileged in many, many ways. We are afforded freedoms and opportunities that most other people simply do not have. Marrying for love is not one of those freedoms. One of the strongest political tools is strategic marriages.”

“Yeah, I remember Rococoa saying something like that once.” He tilted his head and furrowed his brow. “Dad, you know I’m not the smartest guy; you’ve gotta spell it out for me. What are you getting at?”

“Meringue is not a large duchy, but it is in a very strategically valuable location. House Meringue is loyal to House Rocks, of course, but there are those within it who agree with Duke Jawbreaker. Having the backing of the crown would do much to silence the dissidents, and ensuring that with a more formal arrangement would make it effectively impossible for my brother to move on Castle Candy.”

“By ‘formal arrangement' you mean…” Amethar’s stomach tied itself in knots as pieces started falling into place. “Me marrying her? Lazuli’s wife?”

The king nodded. “Correct. This will have to happen rather quickly; the longer we wait, the longer my brother has to act.”

“No!” Amethar jumped to his feet, one hand instinctively reaching for Payment Day- even in his own castle, it was never out of reach. “You can’t be serious. Didn’t Citrina go on and on at their wedding about the holiness and sanctity of their love? This is disrespectful to all three of them!”

Jadain slammed his hands on the desk and stood as well, suddenly commanding the room more than should be possible for a man his size. “Amethar, this is not up for debate! The time of you being able to do whatever you please is over. It ended with the lives of your sisters. You will marry the Duchess. You will do your duty to Candia as its king. I do not doubt that you have it in you to be a great king, but first you must grow up!” He took a deep breath, and much of the fight in him dissipated.

“I am sorry that I was not more forceful in ensuring that you were prepared to rule should the unthinkable happen. But I wasn’t, and nothing can change that. So now it’s up to you. You can either rise to the occasion or let Candia fall to ruin and make it so every death since the war began, including your sisters’, was in vain. Do you understand, now, that this is not a conversation, but an order?”

Amethar bowed his head, shaken by Jadain’s all too rare display of strength. “Yes, father,” he mumbled.

“Good. Now go; the Duchess should have arrived by now, and the two of you have much to discuss.”

“Yes, father.” Without looking up, Amethar bowed slightly, turned, and left the room. 

As soon as the door slammed shut, Jadain collapsed onto his chair and clutched his chest, even smaller than he was mere minutes earlier. I’m sorry it had to come to this, my son. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more time. 

Amethar was not surprised to see Sir Theobald Gumbar waiting for him in the hall. He started walking down the hall to the grand entrance without hesitation or a word. 

As expected, Theo rushed after him, quickly catching up. “Your Highness, good morning. Duchess Caramelinda has arrived. If I may be so bold, what’s going on?”

“We are to be married.” Theo stopped dead in his tracks.

“I’m sorry, ‘we’ who? You can’t mean you and the Duchess, right?” he called. The prince didn’t break his stride or acknowledge the questions in any way, leaving him stunned in place, alone in the hall.

Far too quickly for his liking, Amethar reached the entrance hall. A million thoughts were racing through his head as he walked, but the one he kept coming back to was I’m sorry, Laz. You know I don’t want to do this.

When he got there, a footman informed him that she had indeed arrived and was waiting in a nearby sitting room. He nodded and entered without a word.

Upon his entrance, Duchess Caramelinda of House Meringue rose to greet him with a hint of a smile, the picture of poise, beauty, and manners. He bowed no more or less than befitted her station.

“Your Highness, it is lovely to see you again,” she said after a brief but tense moment of silence.

“You as well, Your Grace. We have a lot to talk about; do you want to do that here, or should we take a walk?” 

“A walk sounds lovely.” She glided across the room and took his offered arm.

A few minutes of small talk later, they came upon the royal gardens, a massive sprawl of trees and flowers around labyrinthine hedges twenty feet tall. 

Caramelinda hesitated ever so slightly when Amethar started leading her into the hedges. Amethar immediately noticed and stopped. Confused, he looked at her, before realizing what had given her pause.

“Oh, no, Your Grace, I promise, I have no intention of compromising you. It’s just delicate stuff we need to talk about, and I thought it’d be better to do so with some privacy.”

She looked up at him, and her shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. “Very well, then. Lead on.”

Once they rounded the first corner, Amethar spoke again, this time without breaking his stride. “I assume you’re aware of the… arrangement?”

“If you’re referring to our engagement, yes, of course.” 

“Obviously, what you and Lazuli had was beautiful and special. The last thing I want to do is disrespect that, you, or her memory. But I was thinking maybe we could be friends?” Caramelinda stopped walking and took her hand off of his arm.

“I will do my duty to Candia as its queen and yours. With all due respect, Your Highness, I cannot offer you anything beyond that. I appreciate the thought and the effort, but this is just politics, nothing more.” Her tone was placid, so he was taken aback when he turned to her and saw a mask of steely determination.

His brow furrowed, and his hands started fidgeting at his sides. “Oh, um, okay. Yeah, cool, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. Now, shall we discuss wedding plans? This should be done sooner, rather than later.”

“Uh… I, uh… I’m not good with all that stuff. I feel like I’d just get in the way. Do you wanna just have it be the way you want?”

Caramelinda sighed, the path of her future life quickly taking shape before her eyes. “Very well. I will handle the planning. Given the recency of Rococoa’s death, a large event would seem in poor taste, I believe. The political optics of a united, thriving Candia can be satisfied with a historic coronation when the time comes.

That said, I assume there are a couple of…” she hesitated, searching for the phrase he’d use, “‘war buddies’ of yours you’d like to have in attendance, perhaps you’d like to send invitations to them?”

Amethar looked down. “I can’t write,” he muttered.

“What was that? I couldn’t understand you.”

He looked at her and threw his hands up, as if in surrender. “I can’t write, okay? Or read.”

Caramelinda’s eyes widened. “What do you mean you can’t read or write? How is that even possible for someone of your station?”

“I dunno, it was hard, and there were always people around who could do that stuff for me. It didn’t seem all that important,” he shrugged.

“I cannot believe this. I was married to the most brilliant person in all-” she was cut off when Amethar stepped into her space, eyes blazing and standing at his full height, a foot and a half taller than her.

“I’m not Laz! I will never be Laz!” He shouted, and she flinched but immediately regained her perfect posture. “You loved her. I did, too. Both of us wish she was still here, but she’s not. This is going to be hard enough as it is- if you expect me to be anything like her, that’s just gonna make things worse.” 

She stepped back and nodded slowly. “You’re right, and I apologize.” Her voice shook slightly, strengthening as she continued talking. “Things are what they are, and there’s no point in dwelling on the past. I will handle the wedding details. Think about who you’d like to invite, and we’ll discuss that later.”

He relaxed his posture. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Caramelinda, please. We are to be married, after all.”

“Of course. And you should call me Amethar.”

Neither of their smiles reached their eyes.

17th Harvestdusk 1196

“It’s time, Your Grace.”

Caramelinda thanked the servant and looked herself over in the mirror one last time. She couldn’t help but compare what she saw to how she looked on the happiest day of her life, when she stood in the same place and wore the same color some years before. She looked different now. More tired, mostly. There was certainly no trace of the love and light that had been so present in her eyes that day, and the brilliance of the pure white dress mocked her and the decisions she’d made, betraying the love of her life for patriotic duty. Time to go. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into the chapel.

Candia had no shortage of beautiful architecture, but the Cathedral of Saint Citrina was the most impressive of them all. Its intricately carved multicolor spires reaching two hundred feet into the air were rivaled only by its massive stained sugar-glass windows depicting Bulbian saints and iconography, including Saint Citrina herself. The early afternoon light threw a kaleidoscope of colors across the floor in a cruel mockery of confetti.

Seeing Amethar standing there at the altar next to the officiant, Chancellor Lapin Cadbury, she briefly understood the envious looks her friends had tried to hide when she told them about the engagement. As incompatible as they were, she had to admit he certainly looked the part of the dashing young prince and war hero. There are certainly worse men I could have to sire an heir with.

Then that moment passed, and as she walked down the aisle, the emptiness of the cathedral felt suffocating. The only other people in attendance were the king, Amethar’s right hand man Sir Theobald, and his best friend and advisor Lord Calroy of House Cruller.

She arrived at the altar, and Chancellor Cadbury indicated for them both to kneel before he began the ceremony, addressing Amethar.

“Most illustrious Prince, is it your will to fulfill the treaty of marriage concluded by your father, the King of Candia, and the parents of the Duchess of Meringue, and, as the Bulb has dispensed with this marriage, to take the Duchess who is here present for your lawful wife?”

She kept her head bowed, so she couldn’t see the look on Amethar’s face as he audibly gulped before responding, “I will.”

She felt, rather than saw, the chancellor turn to face her. She slowly raised her head, still not looking at Amethar. “Most illustrious Duchess, is it your will to fulfill the treaty of marriage concluded by the King of Candia and your parents and, as the Bulb has dispensed with this marriage, to take the Prince who is here present for your lawful husband?”

“I will.” 

The rest of the ceremony and small but still elaborate wedding dinner was a blur; the only thing Caramelinda remembered was how bitter the wedding cake tasted.

20 Highbright 1197

The midwife handed Amethar a swaddled, crying bundle of black licorice as Caramelinda screamed in pain again. “Take her, Your Majesty. Bulb willing, the second child will be here very soon.”

“Oh, uh, y- yeah. Of course.” He tucked her into the crook of his elbow as he’d been taught and looked down at her, bouncing and rocking her oh so gently. She was small enough that she could practically fit in his hand, but her cries were so loud. “Good set of lungs. You’re gonna be a troublemaker, aren’t you? I can’t wait to teach you all the shenanigans your aunts and I got into growing up.” She quieted down right as Caramelinda shouted with one final push, and then the room was silent. 

Three, four, five tense seconds passed. 

Amethar had stopped moving, so Jet started crying again. A heartbeat after she did, the red licorice baby in Caramelinda’s arms cried as well, and everyone started breathing again. 

He walked over to the bed and sat down next to Caramelinda, putting his free arm around her shoulders. “You did so well. They’re beautiful.” She sighed and leaned into his shoulder, exhausted.

“That they are. What should we name them? I quite like the name Ruby. She’s certainly more precious than any gem.”

He looked at the child in her arms and smiled. “Yeah, Ruby, I like that. And how about Jet?”

She looked at their two beautiful daughters and smiled as well. “Jet and Ruby. They’re perfect.”

“Yeah, they are. Here, let me take Ruby. You just went through hell and should get some sleep.” She nodded and helped get Ruby settled in his arm.

“Thank you, Amethar. As hard as things can be, at least we did this right. Our beautiful girls.” At least, he was pretty sure that’s what she said as she fell asleep.

He gently stood up and started walking to the nursery a bit further into the queen’s quarters. Once he got there, he took a seat in the rocking chair and let himself cry, equal parts love for his daughters and grief for his sisters. “Your aunts would have loved you both so much. They’d spoil you rotten if they were here,” he whispered, “so I’m gonna have to do it for them.” Time lost all meaning as he sat there, watching his daughters sleep. “I’m sure you’ll grow up and be able to take care of yourselves, but no matter what, I’ll protect you. I couldn’t be there for my sisters, but I will be there for you. I love you so much.” Jet stirred a little bit. “That’s right, I’m talking to you, Jet. No one's ever gonna hurt you or your sister. Not while I’m around.” I’ll burn the world to the ground if anyone lays a hand on you.

[lotusthewriter]

I could even learn how to love (like you)

Fandom: The Owl House

Rating: G

Relationships: Hunter/Luz (romantic)

Characters: Hunter, Luz Noceda; MINOR - Waffles, Flapjack

Summary: “Luz,” Hunter stares at her, receiving confusion in response. “Your… Your palisman…”

She doesn’t look hurt.

Instead, the human girl smiles.

“It’s okay, Hunter,” Luz reassures him. “It’s what we wanted.”

Word count: 1.275

AO3

Tears.

He senses tears.

Grief.

When Hunter opens his eyes again, he sees the two most important things in his life. One of them being Flapjack. And the other…

Where the tears come from.

“Hunter?” Brown eyes look into his magenta soul.

Grunting, he manages to sit with someone else’s help, only for Luz to wrap her arms around his neck, without hurting nor engulfing him.

“I’m so sorry,” she hiccups, “I sh-should have–”

Hunter knows what she’s going to say.

So, he hugs her back.

He’s the one who hugs the tightest.

“No,” Hunter whispers, voice broken. “None of this is your fault.”

She cries silently, not wanting anyone else to hear.

Only him.

As they hug each other closer…

Hunter’s chest feels weird.

Alive.

He realizes.

And pulls away.

“Luz,” Hunter stares at her, receiving confusion in response. “Your… Your palisman…”

She doesn’t look hurt.

Instead, the human girl smiles.

“It’s okay, Hunter,” Luz reassures him. “It’s what we wanted.”

He shakes his head.

He wants to remove his heart and give it back to Luz.

Hunter knows how much she wanted a palisman. He saw how long she waited for it to hatch. Only for him to take her life goals, her hopes and dreams away.

It’s not fair.

He’s about to say all of this, but Luz’s smile falls in regret, and she walks away from the group. Then, the others question her helping Belos meet the Collector, and she tells everyone else the truth.

The palisman is never brought up again.

Hunter himself doesn’t because it’s not the focus anymore.

But deep inside…

He knows he can’t ignore it.

And he will do something about it.

--

“When can I open my eyes?”

“Just wait a little longer!”

“Ugh, it’s taking forever,” Luz exaggerates, then giggles. “Come ooooon, I’m excited!”

“I promise you I’m almost done, please shut up so I don’t mess it up.”

“Gee, fine.”

Luz swings her legs back and forth as she sits on a wooden chair, knowing that waiting is not her strongest suit. Hunter, though, has been very insistent on this surprise, and from what her friends told her, he’s been working day and night to make it perfect. They say nothing else about what exactly he’s been doing.

Regardless, for his sake, Luz waits. She certainly doesn’t want to ruin the surprise.

“Are your eyes still closed?” Hunter asks from afar.

“Yes.”

“Good. Don’t peek.”

Luz snorts at his seriousness. “Alright.”

There are slow steps coming in her direction, until she senses someone kneeling down in front of her.

“Now, open your hands.”

“Okay.” Luz raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t peek,” Hunter insists.

“I woooon’t.”

He gives her…

Something small.

Something…

Feathery?

“Come on, is this Flapjack?” Luz assumes. Not that she’s disappointed.

But Hunter isn’t the one who answers.

“... Waffles?”

It’s a chirp.

Luz gasps.

She opens her eyes, already filled with tears, as she holds the most beautiful blue jay she has ever seen.

“Oh my god,” Luz sobs, “Hunter, she’s… she’s perfect.”

In the meantime, Hunter is smiling at the crying girl the whole time, the smile as beautiful as the palisman.

“Thanks,” he says, “she’s my first work.”

Luz gasps in enthusiasm. “Y-You’re carving palismen?”

“Yeah. I think I got the gist of it, don’t you think?”

She laughs wetly. “Yeah, you’re really good.”

He blushes, the sight so precious. Every little thing about him is beautiful, from the magenta eyes to the tooth gap to the scars. She also likes his new haircut, which looks a lot like Darius’, as it’s tied in a bun. Even then, it’s very much Hunter since some rebel curls manage to come out.

“Seriously, Luz,” the boy sighs, “thank you.”

“For what?”

His hands cup hers.

“For bringing me to the light.”

At this point, she’s a crying mess. Luz sobs louder, happily, and launches herself towards Hunter, the two of them falling backwards. Obviously, Flapjack and Waffles fly above them unharmed, and they bond well regardless of the short time they’ve known one another.

Although she should probably apologize for hurting Hunter, he hugs Luz so lovingly that he really doesn’t care. She laughs and cries at the same time, and she’ll never know what she’s done to deserve him.

Eventually, Luz is looking at him, her lying on top of him, while Hunter still smiles like an idiot. She stares back, laughing softly, having wet his poor shirt with tears. They gaze deep into each other’s eyes, so much to say, and yet never said.

Luz feels his heartbeats.

And her smile falls.

“What?” Hunter asks, concerned.

She stands up, looking away.

“You didn’t…” She gulps. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Luz…”

Now, her tears are of guilt.

She thought she’d be over it, now that Belos is finally gone, but it feels like he’s the one getting through her head and making her feel awful things, reminding her of every horrible thing she’s done.

Luz hears another chirp.

Waffles lands on her shoulder to show support.

“Luz,” Hunter steps closer. “I didn’t do this because I owe you one. It’s because you always wanted a palisman. A companion. Someone to be with you, to understand you better than anyone else. And you deserve someone like that in your life.”

When she looks back, his arms are open, showing that he’s not going to harm her or hate her – that nothing in the world could ever make him hate her.

Luz takes another step towards him, now they’re closer than ever, but they don’t hug again. At least not yet.

“That’s your deepest wish, isn’t it?” Hunter’s voice is quiet, yet it brings her good shivers inside. “To be understood?”

She knows she doesn’t need to answer. He already knows.

Still, Luz nods.

“Then you’re allowed that,” Hunter reassures her. Slightly bigger, bare hands gently caress her arms, calming her down.

Luz opens her mouth, trying so hard to speak, and yet failing many times.

“I-It’s not that I don’t love Waffles, I love her so much,” she says, smiling at her new palisman which returns the gesture in the bird way. “It’s just…”

She looks at anything but Hunter, only to settle for his chest.

“I love…”

Luz is too scared to finish the sentence.

But…

Should she be?

Hunter slowly cups her face towards him.

“I know,” he whispers even lower, even though it’s just the two of them and their palismen. His gaze is loving, contemplative, like he’d do anything to protect her from the horrors of the world and the horrors within her that nobody sees.

Just that… is an answer.

They don’t need to say anything else.

Slowly, Luz approaches.

And…

She kisses his scarred cheek.

She doesn’t want to pressure him.

Hunter responds by kissing her small scar.

… then her cheek.

Mostly, her tears, like they’re scars, too.

He’s so gentle…

Eventually, Hunter is smiling at her, in a way no one has ever.

He says nothing.

And he doesn’t have to.

Luz hides herself in his chest, having been afraid and guilty of getting in touch with it since she saved his life.

Hunter hugs her again, protectively, and Luz internally swoons at the height difference. She hates to admit that she’s still the cheesy romantic, but well, that’s Luz Noceda for you. Her mom and her friends love her the way she is, and so does Hunter.

She knows through his heartbeat.

It beats, beats, beats.

It beats for her.

It beats at the same rate as hers.

Luz knows now.

It’s okay.

It’s okay. She deserves it.

[evolutionsvoid]

Rainforests are absolutely incredible ecosystems, as they are packed to bursting with strange and beautiful species, but that benefit can get a bit frustrating sometimes. No denying that I love every trip I take to one of these habitats, as I always see something new, but the sheer amount of flora and fauna within them can be quite daunting. How do I pick what I am going to study? How do I keep myself focused on just a single species? And also, most importantly, how do I even find the thing I want to research?! Forests can make tracking difficult enough as it is, but a rainforest has so many layers and so much life high above in the branches that it feels almost impossible to enter one of these places with a single goal in mind. If I am visiting a rainforest, it is almost better to go in with an open agenda and just see what shows up during your research. Because if you go in with the idea that you just want to find and research a single species, then it is almost guaranteed that you will never find it. One reason for that is because the environment is huge and filled with trees, plants and mist. Another (and the big one I have a hard time with) is that a whole lot of life lives up in the trees where it is hard to reach. Perhaps for a gralatar or furceros this wouldn't be so hard, but a simple dryad like me cannot easily scale these massive trees and comfortably navigate the labyrinth of branches above. I have tried some expeditions up above, with the help of some local gralatars, but these didn't really work out that well (for me). I won't lie, I was kinda terrified the whole time. Walking and climbing across all those branches while also keeping an eye out for other creatures was nerve wracking. Eventually I just settled on a large stationary tree stand for me to hide in and look out from. Whatever came into view was good enough for me! So while I sat around tied to a tree with spider silk, I did get some good sightings of the arbocellus, who were much more in their element then me!

Since they climb high above in the rainforest canopy, most ground walkers see very little of the arbocellus. But what little they do glimpse is certainly enough to leave an impression! The flurry of tendrils as they grapple for a branch, and the piercing gaze of a single cyclopean eye. Another common name for them is the Jungle Eye, as they are described as tentacled eyeballs that hang above in the canopy. I can't imagine what it must have been like for the first person to encounter one. To look up into the trees one day and see a massive eye staring down at you! I bet they thought some tropical giant was spying on them or something! Even when we know the truth about them, the random encounters still throw you off guard. I remember during my watches when I caught a glimpse of one passing through the branches, and I must admit I had a momentary freakout! Even with the knowledge that it wasn't a real eye, I was still caught off guard!

Though stories give the idea of large eyes with tendrils haunting the canopy, it isn't fully the truth. It turns out, that the huge eyes they see aren't actually real eyes, they are just back patterns that look like them. The arbocellus is actually an echinoderm, more specifically related to sea stars and brittle stars. Their actual eyes are way smaller and are both found on the tips of their limbs and ringing the mouth in the center. The arbocellus possesses six flexible limbs to help it live up in the canopy. Four of these arms are long and thin, designed to reach for and wrap around branches as they climb and swing. The end segments of these tentacles have blunt spikes on them, which are meant to help secure its grip on wet branches. The other two are much shorter and bulkier, with their tube feet at the end modified to act more like graspers. These thick arms are for grabbing and holding, which is good for seizing food and carrying it along as they navigate the canopy. In the middle of it all is their mouth, ringed with sharp serrated teeth that can crack and cleave! Hidden within its gullet is a long "tongue," which unfurls to reach into its food and suck out the tasty bits! Though it acts like a tongue, the current belief is that it is some modified portion of their stomach, made long and tube-like to slip through shell and husk to feed. With long tentacles and a vicious looking maw like that, most people would be quick to assume that it is a nasty predator. Beware the vicious crawling eye, as it drops down upon its prey to crack open the skull and suck out your brains! Oh, the countless headless corpses left behind from such horrid beasts! Aw, I am just kidding! Arbocellus is mainly a fruit eater! Those grabbing arms pluck fruits from the branches and the powerful teeth gnaw through rind and shell. Once a hole is made, the tongue slithers in and releases digestive juices. The inner flesh breaks down into a soup, which is then slurped up by the tongue. It should be noted, though, that while the arbocellus primarily eats fruit, it does like to supplement its diet with some meat. However, the only ones who need to worry about them are egg-laying species, as that same feeding strategy works well against egg shells. Parents must keep a close watch over their nests, or else an arbocellus is sure to swing in and steal an egg or two. That is when those grabber arms shine, as they seize a stolen prize and cling to it desperately as the treestar flees the wrath of the parents. Thankfully, the arbocellus is able to withstand a great deal of punishment. Their skin is very tough and thick, making it hard to pierce and wound. Predators need a strong bite or really sharp claws to do any damage. With their arboreal nature, they prefer the flight method when faced with a threat, fleeing to the branches and losing their pursuer in the tangled canopy above. If cornered, those spiny tendrils can give a good lashing, and can also choke someone out if they get wrapped around a throat. Even if the predator can get a bite in, the arbocellus isn't too worried about losing a limb. In fact, they prefer that attackers just take an arm and leave them be, as their regenerative abilities allow them to easily grow back lost appendages! This leads to sightings of arbocellus with missing limbs or even stubby ones that haven' fully regrown. You will see that they get along just fine with an arm or two less! I feel like now would be a good time to mention the eye pattern on their back. Like I said, it isn't a real functioning eye, it just really looks like one. It is currently believed to be a false eye to startle attackers or make it difficult for predators to determine where to strike from. As far as we know, that is all that it does. It does not have any special powers or magical abilities tied to it. There is no curses created by it or evil eyes cast from its gaze. It just looks like an eye, that's it. Of course, you can probably tell that there is a whole lot of superstition around this species, what with the giant eye. Some folk believe them to be the watchers of the jungle, the all seeing eyes of the gods. Others claim that the gaze of these climbing eyes is evil and they place curses upon those they stare at. That is why some folk wear specific hats or headgear when they go into the rainforest, to protect them from the evil gaze of the arbocellus. As a result, the piercing eye of the arbocellus shows up a lot in paintings, carvings and decoration, with their role being good or evil depending on the culture. I have seen some warriors brandishing shields with the eye pattern painted upon them, meant to scare their foes in battle. In other places, I have seen the skinned husks of the arbocellus hanging above doors with spikes driven through the "eye." This is meant to blind the evil and keep those within safe from the cursed gaze. Piercing the eye is how one prevents a curse from being placed upon them if they catch an arbocellus staring at them, so this species winds up getting a lot of darts or spears in the back. Thankfully, their thick skin and regenerative abilities keep these wounds from being lethal, but you can easily see how this species has grown fearful of locals. I guess these attempts to ward off evil have somehow worked out, as the cursed gaze has fled higher up into the safety of the canopy. Now the people live happily without fear of evil eyes and the arbocellus lives happily without getting stabbed in the back a whole lot.             Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian

--------------------------------------------------

“Arbocellus”

With limbs like that, why not take to the trees?

[little-peril-stories]

The Prince of Thieves: As Good as Gold, and Better: Part II

Contains: annoying children; annoying men; social pressure to kiss under the mistletoe

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Word count: 4000 || Approx reading time: 17 mins

Easier to understand if you've read Are You Nobody, Too?

As Good as Gold, and Better: Part II

Teaser: I can feel a gaze burning into my back, but when I turn, Henry is distracted, talking to one of his idiot friends. Sure I’m going to find Colette watching me from over her book, I glance to the corner. It’s not a stare of deep, coffee-coloured brown that’s on me, though, but a hazel-eyed one instead.

Bree

The deal is thus: one more round of preparatory Christmas baking to keep our patrons well-fed and smiling on Christmas Day, and then I am permitted to join the hullabaloo out on the floor, where everyone is busy decorating the tree Will, Jamie, Geoff, and Allan brought inside. (Well, if the way they barrelled through the door is to be believed, the former three did the hauling of the actual tree, and Allan was the one who ended up carrying all their stuff, including Will’s coat that he oh-so-wisely doffed despite the cold wind and the snow.)

I make it out of the kitchen to see Stella loudly warning the children staying at the inn that no one is to put any candles on the tree branches, and just because the fancy trees owned by rich families and royalty bear gleaming, brightly lit flames does not mean that she has to do the same. How would we all like it, she barks, if the entire inn caught fire and we were all thrown out in the snow for our own safety in the dead of night?

Even Celeste doesn’t try to stem Stella’s tirade; none of us, as it turns out, wants to burn to death on Christmas Eve, and no one puts up a fight on the matter.

“Ah, here’s Lucy now,” Celeste says, waving me over. “These lovely little lads and lasses are going to make us some beautiful ornaments to hang upon the tree. Isn’t that right, children?” She points to the table, now strewn with all the coloured paper, scissors, needles and thread, and other decorating paraphernalia.

An excitable chorus of agreement swells around us, making me smile until Celeste finishes, “And Miss Lucy’s here to keep an eye on you and help you, all right?”

Across the room, Victoria, who’s obviously listening, presses her hand to her mouth in genuine pity as mine drops open.

“How wonderful,” I manage to say. The first barrage of little hands is already tugging at my skirt.

Celeste smiles sympathetically—not quite sympathetically enough to take over the task herself, though, of course. I suppose someone does need to ensure things are running smoothly around the inn and she is perhaps a bit old to be minding little ones…but still.

“I’ll be around if you need me,” she says, which does not offer me much comfort. “Don’t let the really young ones touch the scissors or the needles.”

“You’re responsible for wiping their tears and cleaning up the blood if you do,” Stella says, whizzing past with a broom and disappearing again.

Great.

As I’m about to let myself fall into self-pity looking at the crowd of children—every single one vying for my attention—and wonder where all their parents are, I notice that a blue-eyed gaze is watching me from across the room.

“What?” I mouth impatiently. I don’t have time for Henry’s nonsense on a good day—certainly not when I’m going to spend the next two hours stringing dried apples and popcorn into garlands, or folding paper into stars and flowers while being shrieked at by a horde of children.

Instead of trying to answer through all the chaos, he just holds something up into the air.

Oh, he’s lucky I’m not anywhere close to him right now, because I am holding a very sharp pair of scissors and he ought to be very, very grateful I can’t drive them right into his hand.

Dangling from his hand: a bouquet of greenery tied in a red ribbon. Soft green leaves, thin stalks, and brilliant, round berries as white as the snow that coats the ground outside.

“Absolutely not,” I shout across the room, forgetting myself, and he flashes me that asshole grin of his. “Get it out of here!”

Colette, who is pretending to read Dickens while she coolly observes the pandemonium from the corner where she’s sitting with the others, notices me yelling and follows my gaze to Henry Bailey and his goddamn sprigs of mistletoe. Her eyebrows move upwards.

Unfortunately, the bombardment of, “Miss Lucy! Miss Lucy!” grows to be too much then, and now I have to actually be grateful to be surrounded by all the little Christmas goblins who need to me to do everything for them, because as long as I’m being climbed on by five-year-olds, Henry can’t get anywhere near me with his stupid plant or his stupid mouth.

“All right,” I say, clapping my hands in a weak attempt to look like I know how to command the attention of children. “Shall we begin?”

I can feel a gaze burning into my back, but when I turn, Henry is distracted, talking to one of his idiot friends. Sure I’m going to find Colette watching me from over her book, I glance to the corner. It’s not a stare of deep, coffee-coloured brown that’s on me, though, but a hazel-eyed one instead.

 One kid ends up on the floor and makes me yelp when she crawls right under my skirt, between my legs, all rosy-cheeked and giggling.

“Right! No, thank you!” I tug her to her feet and catch Victoria leaning against the wall, giggling helplessly at my plight. She’s supposed to be untangling the existing garlands, I think, and she’s got part of one hanging over her shoulder, but apparently my suffering is an endless well of amusement. Maybe this was her duty last year, before I was hired, and she is sympathetic but relieved to be free of it. Maybe this is some sort of rite of passage I need to survive. Somehow.

I take the little girl by the hand and guide her to the table. “What about a star?” I ask her uncertainly. “Does that sound fun?”

She gives some sort of incoherent babbling in response and reaches for the coloured paper and a pencil. With her attention on that, I can move on to the next squealing child.

There are a few older kids, thank goodness, that I pass some of the duties to, getting them to cut paper snowflakes and stars for the younger ones while I thread needles and fold paper into roses. Well…try to.

“Hey. Let us help.”

It’s so loud in here, I almost miss it. Maybe I did miss the first few times they said it, because Colette just elbows her way in and sits down, directing Will to do the same on the other side of me.

“Let me fold,” she says, not-at-all-subtly biting back a laugh and taking my sorry attempt at paper foliage right out of my hands. “You do the other stuff.”

Well. If she wants to suffer through that, I’m not going to take the opportunity away from her. I’ll happily relinquish that responsibility.

“I can do this,” Will says, picking up one of the threaded needles. He must be able to read the question in my raised eyebrows, because he says, “Hey! It’s not that hard. And I can sew. Sort of. Now. Kind of.”

Next to me, Colette snorts.

“It’s not real sewing, anyway, though, is it?” He’s going a little red, but the look on his face is earnest.

I pluck the needle from his hand. “I think I have a better idea.”

I’ll take care of making the garlands with the “help” of some of the little ones. He can be the one to lift them up and stand them on chairs sturdily enough that they don’t fall and break their necks or knock over anything that might shatter while they add their decorations to the tree.

“Brave,” Colette murmurs once we’ve set him doing that, “but pretty smart.”

“Brave?” I repeat, wincing. How is this needle so dull? This is the eighth time I’ve accidentally stabbed myself trying to string popcorn.

She nods toward Will. “Well, smart to have him do that so you don’t have to do all the heavy lifting.”

She grins conspiratorially, and I can’t help but match it. “Was it that obvious?”

“No. I just know you’re clever. Like me.” She laughs. “And brave to trust him with—well, with anything.”

My answer slips out so fast, I’ve said it before I’ve even thought it through. The words just fall out. “Of course I trust him. I trust him with my—”

The needle bites into my finger again, and I stop, hissing and checking for blood.

Still smiling, she concentrates on her folding and twisting and doesn’t give an answer.

For a few minutes, anyway.

“And Goldilocks?” She nods across the room, and I peer out through the chaos, trying to find who she means. “You trust him?”

It takes me a moment to realize who she’s talking about: a grinning, loud-mouthed figure who’s got Stella’s glare on him as well as mine and Colette’s.

Goldilocks. She’s calling Henry Goldilocks. I almost fall off my chair, giggling and silently resolving to bring the name into our next practice session to see what he says.

“Oh, he’s harmless,” I tell her when I can speak again. “I mean, he’s shameless. A ridiculous flirt.”

“You don’t say,” she says drily.

I bite my lip. Sounds like he’s tried at least a little to get her attention, too, albeit unsuccessfully. “Yeah. He’s an idiot. But he knows it, at least. And he’s all right when you get to know him. Just…irritating.”

“Are you actually friends with him?” she asks, incredulous.

“I suppose so,” I say, thinking of a bruise I’ve got on my hip from our last morning session that I still need to pay him back for.

“So you trust him, too.”

Trust him? I must, considering all the times I’ve put my bodily well-being in his hands. “Well, I suppose I trust him enough.” I shoot a dirty look his way, though, at the reminder of what new instrument of annoyance he’s brought into the inn. “I wasn’t expecting the mistletoe, though.”

“Want me to set him straight for you?”

A funny thing happens deep behind my ribcage at her words. “No…no, I can handle him. I promise.” At this, I almost want to cry, although I expect it would look strange to see me weeping into a bowl of dried oranges and popcorn just because she offered to get Henry to lay off and quit bothering me. Because maybe Colette, even just a bit, sort of cares. “But I appreciate it. Really.”

“Just say the word,” she says, leaning over a paper carnation. “He looks like he’d be fun to smack around if he stepped out of line.”

“He is,” I joke back without thinking.

Colette’s head snaps back up.

“I mean…” Shit. “You know. Telling him to back off. And stuff.”

I don’t know why I’m keeping the lessons a secret from her. I’m pretty sure she knows how to fight. She probably wouldn’t think it strange. But I find my gaze pulled to another figure in the room, all freckles and flailing elbows and big grins, and I have to wonder what he’d think if she went and told him. Not that it matters, of course. It doesn’t. But still. I wonder. Just a little.

Colette gives me a look that says she knows very well what it looks like when people are keeping secrets, but she doesn’t press the matter.

After a cursory look at the little ones to make sure no one has a sharp tool who shouldn’t have one, and no one’s crying, fighting, or making more of a mess than expected, I put my attention back on Will. I didn’t really know what I was doing when I told him to help the children put their ornaments on the tree, but he’s doing a splendid job, so much that I almost want to let my hands fall still so I can keep watching him. He’s got this great silly smile on his face every time he kneels down to talk to one of them, and even though they’re so much smaller, none of them seem the slightest bit frightened. One of the little girls—of course, it’s the one with personal space issues, the one who crawled under my legs earlier—even leaps into his arms out of sheer excitement to put her messily drawn star as high upon the tree as she can reach.

As she stretches her arm and hangs it near the top, Will looks over here too, and I’m caught staring.

Stupidly, I wave at him, not sure what else to do since it’s too late to look away, and he grins, holding my gaze with those sparkling eyes for a few extra moments before he has to bring the girl back down to the ground.

“You all right?” Colette asks lightly, and I realize one of my hands has come to rest over my heart, which is pounding in a most unseemly and ridiculous way.

“Yes,” I say quickly, reaching for another slice of dried orange. “I’m just getting tired. It’s been a busy day.”

She gives me that look again.

“I didn’t know Will liked kids,” I say.

She glances over at him, a little smile on her lips. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s nothing but a big kid himself.”

And to be fair, he seems to be having the time of his life, bouncing around and making them “fly” a little when they ask for it and laughing at the same silly things they all find amusing. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she says, and she winks.

I don’t expect there will be any Christmas gifts under that tree for me tomorrow, but, even so, it sure feels like I’ve got something else, something that can’t be wrapped up in a box and ribbon. Something I didn’t have before.

And like mulled wine, warm and comforting and steeped in spices that taste like home, gratitude spills over me—for smiles and company and maybe, just maybe, newly forged friendship.

***

The other three have been hiding out in the corner for through most of the decorating, but when it comes time to crown the tree with the star, Stella takes one look around the room and lands a stare on Geoff. “You. Get over here.”

There’s only a split second of him staring back at her in surprise, and then, at the sound of Colette bursting into laughter, and at the unbudging resolution in Stella’s voice, he rises and crosses the room.

“Wow,” says one of the children, practically bug-eyed. “He’s tall.”

“I know,” Celeste says with a laugh. “That’s why we need him.”

The little girl from before, who seems to have finally found her harried-looking mother, bursts away and darts toward Geoff. “Can I do it? Please? Please? Please?”

Geoff stands helplessly, clearly not knowing what to do while she dances around him, pleading to be the one to put the star on the top of the tree. A glance at Will shows that he’s almost toppled to the floor, shaking with silent laughter, and another at Jamie shows that he has his arms crossed and is merely watching with a smile. He doesn’t notice me staring, but gives Geoff an encouraging nod.

“That okay?” Geoff asks the girl’s mother, voice low but uncertain, almost nervous.

She looks him up and down, obviously wary of his gruffness and his ridiculous height, but the daughter is clinging to his hands now, jumping up and down, and the mother has no choice but to say, “Well, all right then. If you’ll—um—if you’ll be careful.”

The girl squeals with delight as Celeste hands her the star and Geoff lifts her into the air, no step-ladder needed.

“Perfect,” Celeste says when the star is glinting atop the tree, and after Geoff has taken a moment to straighten it from the slightly drunken posture it was left in by the girl. Even Stella looks genuinely happy. She doesn’t bat Celeste’s hands away when they come to rest upon her—one on her shoulder, the other with fingers entwined with hers.

I peek back at the others, curious to see their reactions to the loveliness of the tree they chose, adorned and glittering. Will’s grinning, although for some reason he glances a few times at the clock; Jamie looks content; Allan is distracted by tending to someone’s kid who got a pine needle stick under his fingernail; Geoff is trying to slink back to Jamie’s side without being noticed; and Colette’s given up her reading ruse entirely, now openly watching Stella and Celeste with undisguised interest. It’s clear from how she’s always watching everything that goes on around here that her old habits from being IA’s information-gatherer are taking their sweet time to fade away.

“Hey, Miss Lucy.”

And, of course, now there’s this voice interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes, Mr. Bailey? What can I do for you?” Turning around brings me face to face with his red waistcoat, and I tilt my head up to frown at him, suspicious. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” he asked, all innocence.

“You know what.” I cross my arms. “Your damn mistletoe.”

“What damn mistletoe?”

“Henry.”

He flashes me that stupid, stupid grin. “You mean this?”

All around us, the older kids burst into cries, giggles, and oohs when he pulls it from behind his back and dangles it over my head. The younger ones don’t seem to know what it means, but buoyed by the infuriating enthusiasm of their older siblings, they join in on the excited squalling.

“We had a deal,” I say, trying to keep smiling for the sake of these goddamn children and no one else.

“Ah, yeah. We did. I recall.” But he’s still smirking. “This, though. It’s a Christmas tradition! Nothing more. And you don’t want to spit in the face of tradition, do you?”

“I hate you,” I say through gritted teeth.

He laughs, damn him. “No, you don’t.”

The kids are all shrieking now, like they’ve never seen mistletoe before, which cannot possibly be true. With my face burning, I step a little closer, aiming for his foot with mine. He dodges at the last second.

“You gotta try a little harder than that,” he says with a wink.

“Is that a challenge?”

I can’t control the way my eyes peer back, just for a second. It’s Colette who catches my eye; she has somehow commandeered Geoff away from Jamie, but she’s not looking at him while she talks. Like everyone else in this stupid inn, she’s watching Henry taunt me with those stupid fucking berries over my head.

With a sigh, I step forward and plant the most chaste kiss I can possibly manage on Henry’s cheek, this time landing a stomp on his toes.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” I hiss in his ear.

Even though I’m sure his foot hurts, his eyes are still sparkling. “Darling, I’m counting on it.”

No one notices me trampling his toes or whispering threats, of course; the kids are all too busy losing their minds, along with someone else. Throwing his head back, laughing his ass off, Henry lets out a victorious whoop, then kisses me in matching chasteness on my cheek, and it’s only because he doesn’t try to steal a real kiss that I don’t sock him right in the stomach and show off all he’s taught me in front of everyone.

My heart’s pounding, I realize when he pulls away, but it has nothing to do with Henry’s lips against my cheek.

Victoria, looking sulkier than she did before, tries to nudge through the crowd, and I grab her hand. “Hey! Look!” I cry dramatically. “Mistletoe!”

And I switch places with her, so she’s now standing with Henry instead of me, and she’s giving me a look of pure joy, all sullenness instantly banished, and Henry’s rolling his eyes but also seeming to say, Well, may as well, and he kisses her, too, making her squeal and eliciting a round of cheers from his friends.

“Merry Christmas, you annoying bastard,” I say, quietly enough that no one can hear me—it wouldn’t do to scandalize the children, after all—but maybe, with any luck, he’ll read my lips and get the hint.

I glance at the corner, where Colette is clutching Geoff’s arm and suppressing a laugh with her lips squeezed together. Jamie’s stone faced. Allan looks confused.

Will is gone.

***

I don’t think my feet have ever hurt so much. This is the thought that keeps repeating in my head as I stumble upstairs to mine and Victoria’s room. Actually, it’s just my room tonight, because after she finished work, she departed to spend the night with her family so she can wake up with them on Christmas morning. I asked her once why she lives here with Stella and Celeste if her family’s not that far away, and she just said they lived too far out of town that the journey every day wouldn’t have been worthwhile. I figured I’d just take her word for it, but if I had a choice between living with Stella and not, well…

I’m almost up the stairs when a familiar voice breaks through the quiet.

“Will, are you even listening?”

Seems that when he disappeared earlier, he just came straight back up here.

“Mmm hmm,” he responds, or that’s what it sounds like, anyway. It’s quiet, almost inaudible, and unmistakably the voice of a man who is not listening at all.

Another voice. Jamie’s. Faintly concerned and quieter than Colette’s. “I guess none of us are getting any sleep tonight, huh?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Will mumbles back. “It’s not finished.”

“Looks finished.” That one’s Geoff, all rumble and thinly disguised amusement.

“Well, it’s not.”

Eavesdropping is wrong, but my curiosity burns a little. Well, a lot. Not finished what? Is “it” the reason he ran off, away from the mistletoe and the tree and the Henry Bailey debacle? Did he even see any of that?

Not that I care, of course.

“I still think you should listen,” says Colette. “I’m going to keep going now.”

“Okay,” he grumbles. “Hurry up, then.”

A soft grunt and the faintest thud make me wonder if she didn’t throw a pillow right at his head.

“‘And yet I should have dearly liked, I own,’” Colette reads after Will’s cursing has died down, “‘to have touched her lips; to have questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest licence of a child, and yet to have been man enough to know its value.’”

There’s a moment of silence as she pauses, a silence that seems to contain every possible emotion, breathless and urgent, as it rolls through the air.

Then…

“You’re a goddamn busybody, Colette.” It’s not Will who tells her off, even though he was the one whose attention was being requested; it’s Jamie. “I know what you’re—”

But someone’s laughing—no, more than one person. At least two. Colette, for sure, and if my ears don’t deceive me, Geoff.

“What are you so worked up about? I’m just reading. It’s right here! Look.” I can only assume she’s pointing to her page. “He didn’t hear a damn word, anyway.”

And it certainly seems like it; there’s not even a hint of a reaction from Will, except for, “The hell is so funny?”

“If it’s worth anything,” Allan’s voice says, “I’m not sure I’m comprehending, either.”

Colette says, “Oh, you’re both hopeless. Never let it be said that I didn’t at least try,” and then she’s back to reading A Christmas Carol and there’s nothing interesting left to listen in on except for Dickens’ beautiful prose.

I back away from their door, guilt already swarming all over me about the eavesdropping but warring with the strangest feeling, fuzzy and muddled to say the least, that there were two people meant to hear that passage, and while one of them did not, the other, quite possibly, heard it loud and clear as the tolling bells of midnight, heralding the arrival of Christmas Day.

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[jeannereames]

Hello Dr.Reames,

In your novels and lots of other popular works, Philip is usually depicted with dark hair and dark eyes. I wonder if it is a modern creation or it has been recorded in historical source? By the way, do you know the usual hair color of ancient Macedonians? Is it different from some of the southern Greek states, like Athens? Because Alexander is always depicted as blond. I wonder if this is common in Macedonia. Thank You!

As I noted at the bottom of my prior post about Philippos’s thoughts on Alexandros in Dancing with the Lion (which may have generated this question?), we don’t actually know what Philippos’ coloring WAS. No ancient evidence says. We’re told he was apparently very good-looking in his youth, but that’s about it, other than his wounds/scars.

This brings me to your larger question, the usual hair color of Macedonians…we don’t know that either.

And that raises the most interesting fact of all:

Interest in hair- and eye-color was just not that important in antiquity. What I call “driver’s license descriptions” are mostly absent. There might be some reasons for that:

First, most people from ___ area all had the same eye- and hair-color. Remember, lighter shades are mostly a feature of select populations and great divergence a factor of colonial and immigrant activity. If everybody you know has brown hair and eyes…why would you bother saying as much when describing them? Descriptions focus on points of difference.

In Greece, there was some variation, maybe. I’ve mentioned before that red-blond was considered especially beautiful, so Aphrodite was a strawberry blonde, as was Helen of Sparta/Troy. Because it was unusual. Some populations were considered fairer (maybe not fairly…pun intended). Whether Spartans really were fairer or it’s a generalization from Helen is a good question. Athenians were supposedly darker due to Pelasgian (indigenous people) ties…why Hephaistion is dark-haired and quite olive-skinned in the novel. But from pottery—which is largely Athenian, later—it would appear that most people had dark hair. I do remember seeing a teen boy depicted on red-figure pottery with obviously light (probably blond) hair, but it stood out to me, and was almost certainly meant to.

There is some implication the Macedonians were fairer, and the images in mosaics from Pella might bear that out. We see a lot of blondies/redheads. But is that reflecting real people or ideals? Wall paintings show brunettes, too. Supposedly Thracians were known for having more redheads, but is that true or a stereotype?

The plain fact is…the ancient Greeks don’t tend to highlight hair color (or eye color). Maybe that’s because most people had brown hair and eyes, so why mention it? Or maybe hair- and eye-color just wasn’t that important to them.

Descriptions of Alexander himself are exemplar: he’s described as “ruddy-fair”…of COMPLEXION. He walked fast, spoke fast, had a bent neck, a rough voice, and wavy hair and anastole, but no mention of his eye- or hair-COLOR. Apelles is faulted by Plutarch for making him “too dark”…of COMPLEXION. That’s led to a popular perception of Alexander as a blondie, which isn’t unrealistic. And, again, the few probable depictions of him that show coloring show him as a strawberry blond/redhead…except for the Pompei Mosaic, which is supposed to be based on an Apelles painting (maybe). But there are some other Romanizing aspects to it, so his coloring may have been tampered with too (Apelles or no Apelles).

In fiction, Olympias is almost always depicted as having black or red hair…usually as a factor of her “witchy” nature. That’s always annoyed the hell out of me. So as ATG was (likely) blond or red-haired, I chose to make her also a blondie in Dancing with the Lion. I have Alexandros look a lot like his mother on purpose, including coloring and height (or lack of it).

But truth is, we don’t know what color hair (or eyes) she had. Or that Philip had. I chose to make Philippos dark-haired (and eyed) mostly to underscore that Alexandros doesn’t (obviously) look like his father, although he does in less obvious ways. By contrast, my Kleopatra has the dark coloring, but otherwise, she and her brother resemble each other more than a bit. Genetics are fun.

[canary0]

May 16 – Dracula 2023

Written in the margins of a book

My god, what’s happening here? I want to accept the evidence of my eyes and ears, but how can I? I may already have lost my mind. If I am still sane, I feel like I’m on the edge just knowing that, of all the horrors that hide in the shadows of this castle, the Count is the least dangerous. It’s at his whim that I’m safe, and only while I’m useful. I have to keep breathing deeply as I write this to try and cool my head – if my emotions get the better of me, I really will go mad. I always wondered what Shakespeare meant when he had Hamlet say,

“My tablets! quick, my tablets!

‘Tis meet that I put it down.”

As of right now, I feel like I’ve lost it or like my brain is going to collapsed in on itself. Putting it all down helps – maybe make it easier to accept the reality of what I’ve seen.

The Count’s warning about sleeping elsewhere was scary; now it’s terrifying. This whole situation strikes me as having been a win-win for him. If I had followed his warning, I would have stayed exactly where he wanted me. If I did what I did and wandered, I would find the door (that I doubt was left unlocked on accident now), and have an incident that would make me afraid to disobey in the future.

I truly am, now knowing what lies in the dark. I’ll enter everything accurately, as before. It helps a little.

Once I was finished typing, I shut down my computer, packed it away in its bag. I felt sleepy, and I took some pleasure in the small act of defiance in flaunting his rule. Looking out into the wide expanse past the windows was soothing, and my eyelids were getting heavy. Who knows if I would have even made it back to those gloomy rooms I shared with the Count’s presence, and the claustrophobic feeling it created. I wanted to rest here, in these soft, comfortable rooms where ladies had long ago had spent time singing, heartsick as they waited for men to return from the wars that raged through this land over the course of history. The dust honestly couldn’t have mattered less to me in the moment, as I slipped my laptop bag under the couch and slipped the thumb drive into my pocket. I laid down and sleep must have overtaken me quickly. I thought so, anyway, but looking back on it, it all feels extremely real, and I can’t believe I was asleep – at least not fully.

At some point, I realized I wasn’t alone, even though the room hadn’t changed. I could even see my footprints in the moonlight. Opposite me were three young woman who certainly looked what I imagined noble ladies might. I thought I must have been asleep, since despite the moonlight being right on them, they didn’t cast a shadow. They came close and seemed to just study me for a long time before whispering together. Two of them resembled the Count – high, aquiline noses, and large, dark eyes that the yellowish moonlight seemed to cast as red. The other was beautiful, with wavy blonde hair, and blue eyes that were so eerily pale they couldn’t help but draw the eye. There was something strangely familiar about her face, like I had seen her before, and it filled me with fear, but I couldn’t tell you the source of that fear. They all had those bright red lips with teeth that stood out in brilliant white against them. I felt a combination of a bizarre longing and fear, some part of me hoping they would kiss me with those red lips. I hate writing that down – I don’t want to cause Mina pain with it. I need to record the truth here, though. To make sure everything is accurate and that my story isn’t changing in my own head.

They whispered together, then they all laughed – it was silvery and musical, yet something was hard about it. It didn’t sound like any sound a human would make. It sounded more like the sound of a glass armonica. The blonde shook her head, seeming bashful.

“Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to begin,” said one of the other two.

“He is young and strong; there are kisses for us all,” said the said the second.

I lay quiet and still, in anticipation. She leaned over until I could feel her breath upon me. It was sweet, but there was something wrong about the sweetness, like the sickly sweet of rot, or perfume covering the scent of blood.

I could see through my eyelashes, thought I was afraid to open my eyes any more than that. She was bent over me, seeming to want to savor the moment, and actually… I’ve seen people lick their lips before, but this looked more like an animal licking its chops right between a meal than that. The moon seemed to highlight her mouth, the red tongue passing over the bright, sharp teeth and red lips. Like a wolf, a wild thought came to mind. Like the wolves surrounding the carriage. Elegant predators about to take down prey that was helpless to stop them. I was frozen then, too.

I could feel her approaching my neck, the lips land, and then the hard press of sharp teeth indenting but not piercing. Yet. I waited with my heart pounding in my ears.

Suddenly, there was another presence, an unmistakable one, as if he had simply appeared in the room without the necessity of crossing space or going through doors. He grabbed the back of the woman’s neck and pulled her back with effortless strength. Her face contorted and reddened with rage, teeth chomping wildly with it. The image of a wolf only seemed to sharpen in my mind. The Count made her look meek as a lamb, though, and as weak as one in comparison. His eyes were blazing with fury so deeply they seemed to glow bright red in the darkness. His face seemed carved of pure white marble, pale white and marked with hard lines. He threw the blonde woman, then made the same sweeping gesture to the other two that he had made to the wolves. When he spoke, his low whisper cut through the air like a razor.

“How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you’ll have to deal with me,” he snapped.

“You yourself never loved; you never love!” If I thought their laughter was hard before, I was still unprepared for this. It rang out, inhuman, soulless. It was cynical and bitter. The Count turned and seemed to study my face, as well.

After a moment, he whispered, “Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done.”

“Are we to have nothing to-night?” The woman who spoke, pointed to a bag on the floor that wriggled a little and moved as if something alive were within. They opened it, and I heard a sharp intake of breath, and what I could only hope wasn’t the wail of a child. I can’t think of what else it could have been, though, and just writing that makes me feel ill. They vanished, though, and the bag with them. They seemed to fade into the moonlight, their silhouettes visible in it briefly outside before they disappeared. It was too much – I finally passed out.

I woke in my own bed – the Count had to have carried me. Nothing matched the habits I have of when I go to sleep. The solar charger wasn’t set in the window. My clothes were folded up and set aside oddly. It’s circumstantial evidence at best, though. So, naturally, since my laptop wasn’t immediately on hand, I got dressed and went to go look for hard evidence. Searching my rooms didn’t turn it up. I looked everywhere and then, with great hesitation, left to go find that room again.

The door is now so thoroughly jammed into the frame that it’s impossible to open. I could see splinters around the edge where it’s actually pushed into the stone. My laptop must be in there, and if it is, then I really did go in there. What I experienced at least partially took place.

Now my laptop is gone, too. Everything I might have used to contact someone if I got out of here is gone. My phone is destroyed. My laptop is locked away. My only comfort is that it should be hidden well enough, and even if it isn’t, he can’t get into it. Document security is important, so it had password and biometric locks. Maybe he’ll get frustrated and throw it off the cliff. I feel I could only be so lucky at this point. What I’ve already written is with me still, at least, which is a comfort.

So here I am, writing in the margins of a book from the library because it’s the only paper I have access to. The old train timetables, at least, leave quite a bit of room for this. It’s not huge, so I’ll keep it on my person, lest that get taken from me, too.

(A/N: It struck me that there’s no way Jon would wait until May 18th to go looking for his computer. That shit’s important, and it’s his last lifeline. It’s saying something that the best he feels he can hopeful at this point is that it gets dashed on the rocks.

It feels like the plot is slowly starting to step apart from the original.

Hell yeah, back on schedule, baby.)