#fleece tunnels

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Stalking Through The Underbrush[*]

Naga!Eris x reader

a/n: it’s October, of course there’s going to be at least one monsterfcking fic <3

synopsis: you’re used to cohabiting with the magical creatures of the forest, but when a naga snatches you from your morning walk and drags you down into his nest, claiming to be your mate, you have more than a few outraged questions to ask. Ones you hadn’t expected for him to show you the answers to.

warnings: teratophilia; dubcon; smut; naga!Eris; mentioned somnophilia; double penetration; overstimulation; cum play; brief fingering; oral (f receiving); secretion of an aphrodisiac

word count: 12,129

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Autumn frost has already begun crisping the chalky red-orange leaves, ensconcing peeling bark and decaying plants in millions of tiny shimmering diamonds that glitter in the early morning light. 

Hot, misty breath curls from Eris’ nostrils, exhaling in tendrils that billow above the rolling fog floating up from the river. His claws glitter in the watery sunlight, spritzed with heavy condensation and dew drops that have fallen from the tall grass blades that brush his furred underbelly. It’s a temporary discomfort but one he has to undergo if he wants to keep track of his little mate. 

It’s already late autumn and he has yet to approach you. If he doesn’t secure you soon, you might very well be snatched up by another creature like him, one equally in need of a warm, supple body to keep heat throughout winter. To bring food back to and to curl up against, to wrap around your comparatively slight figure and tuck himself into your scent. 

He’s found the perfect cave for them, inlaid with three of the thickly lined fleeces he’d dragged out of your open window one summer night—they don’t hold your smell as strongly as they had at first and it’s making him anxious to take you. The cave itself is near enough to the river to gather water, while remaining deep enough in the rock that any creature that might try to follow in after you will surely die from traversing the winding tunnel systems. Also deep enough to retain any heat started in the centre of the main cave. He’s certain you’ll love it once you’re there. 

As for now, he can hear your boots crushing through the frozen leaves, crisping and crunching with each step you take. He lowers closer to the ground as he prowls forward, tracking you through the forest, creeping along adjacent to your path, searching for the perfect moment to take you back to the nest he’s prepared. 

Then he can have you all to himself. Explore the appealing sweep of your hips, the softness of your thighs and calves, the delicate skin wrapping your waist. Eris’ teeth glitter in the light as his tongue wet his lips and nose, saliva releasing through his mouth at the thought of having you nesting beside him, at long last freed from those awful clothes he knows scratch at your body. You’ll look so pretty and full once he’s done with you. 

He’ll take you today. On your way to the river. Then he’ll have his mate secured for winter. 

————

You don’t sense any eyes on you as you make your way to the river first thing in the morning. It’s quiet and the air is pleasantly crisp though there’s a definite chill that’s already beginning bite at your throat and nostrils. 

The empty bucket on your arm bumps into your hip again and you attempt to shift it so it won’t be knocking into your leg with every step. It’s tiring doing this every morning. Making the walk down to the river. If you lived closer you wouldn’t have this problem but you’re stranded enough as it is out in the woods all by yourself. Besides, you can’t afford to move, and there aren’t even any homes nearby. You’d have to either build it yourself of scrape together the small fortune it would take to have one built for you. Which is never going to happen. So for now you’ll continue with the long morning walks. 

You don’t even see him prowling forward from the undergrowth. 

He’s completely undetectable to your senses, swiftly bounding up behind you and sliding his lower canines through the bodice of your dress. One moment you’re walking on your own, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the bucket; the next you’ve been suspended in the air, bucket clattering to the floor and rolling thrice across the ground while the waist of your bodice tightens around your body and the creature that’s lifted you begins proudly padding back into the woods. 

Your feet swing frantically as you kick, palms shakily trying to bat at the large creature that’s effortlessly hauling you through the forest, removing you further and further from the path. 

“Put me down!” You exclaim, trying to swat at his great body, but he’s carrying you by the backing of your dress and it’s impossible to reach him. You’re entirely unsure what to do—you’ve met the creatures of these woods plenty of times before, and they’ve never given you any trouble. At most a small pack of sprites might stop by your house until dawn arrived, but then they’d be on their way and might even have left you something on the kitchen table in thanks. 

But a beast this large? 

You’ve only seen them in the distance—heard about their kind grazing on the grassy fields atop the mountain sides during summer, then going into hibernation during the cold months. 

Your stomach drops when you spot the cave opening he’s bringing you to, frantically swinging back and forth in attempt to possibly tear the fabric, allowing you to drop to the floor and run away but—the fabric holds. You try kicking and squirming, try waving your arms, try yelling at him to let you go but you don’t even know if this one is one that can speak your language. 

It’s only once you’re deep inside the tunnel system—so turned around you’re certain you’d become well and truly lost if you attempted to venture out—that he sets you down on- “These are mine!” 

Sure enough you recognise the three fleeces you’d bought to prepare for winter that had gone missing months ago—he’d been behind that? He’s taken them from your home? When you’d been asleep? He’d been inside your house while you’d been sleeping? 

On faintly trembling legs you get to your feet and turn, only to find he’s shifted. 

From what you’d seen on the way over he’d been some sort of large, quadrupedal beast, but now… 

You swallow, taking some subconscious steps back. “You’re a naga.” 

His tail coils tight beneath him, arms folding over his chest, his long, fiery hair hanging soft and silky over broad, dark-spotted shoulders. You have to crane your neck to look up at him even at the distance you are from one another. His pupils flicker, a serpentine tongue flickering out once causing you to retreat a few more sudden steps. 

His eyes drop to your feet, a low hissing noise releasing from his chest, then he’s slithering forward and you yelp, trying to scramble further back but one of his large, clawed hands has wrapped around your ankle and you topple backward as it’s pulled out from underneath you. The fleece cushions your fall but you still try and kick as the naga looms over your, claws lightly scratching at the exposed skin of your calves, your dress pooling around your thighs on the floor. 

“Get off me!” You demand, a prominent edge of terror in your voice, afraid that if you squirm too much you’ll cut yourself on his claws. “Let me go!”

Slitted pupils flick upwards to meet your eyes and you feel like he’s pinning you to the ground with that look alone, never mind his grip tightening on your leg. Gods, he’s about to bite you and drain the blood from your body. Or sink his fangs into your throat to secrete a paralysing venom into your bloodstream so he can unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. But instead the claws sink back into his fingers. “Take your boots off.” 

You freeze, having not expected the creature to speak. 

The naga watches you silently then his fingers begin working, deftly untying the strings of your boots until you’re free and bare-footed, pale socks peeled from your delicate feet, carefully discarded in a heap with your shoes. But instead of releasing your leg his eyes seem to wander, skimming up your shin to the underside of your thigh. You squirm when you realise he can probably see your underwear. 

“What are you- let me go…!” You put as much command into your voice as you can manage but there’s a distinct wobble. You’ve heard animals can sense fear—a mythical creature like him can probably tell every thought that passes through your mind without even trying. Oh Gods. 

“What are you-… What do you want from me? You should let me go.” You try to pull your leg from his hold but it’s useless, even when you use your other foot to try and push him off he keeps his grip firm. “You… Take me back. I need to go back to my home. Show me out.” 

His tongue flickers out again and you realise it’s forked like a snake’s. You shrink away. 

The naga follows after you and the blood drains from your features as he reaches for you. Your eyes squeeze shut, bracing for claws, heart pounding. But his fingers slide through your hair, palm settling against your cheek followed by the silky tickle of hair and the cool exhale of breath ghosting your throat. 

You peek your eyes open to find him much closer, staring at you intently. He’s slithered forward, his human-looking torso looming over you, where his tail connects to his hips settled between your legs. “I… Let me go,” you whisper, “please.” But he shakes his head, hair tickling your collar bones. Your lower lip wobbles. “What are you…what are you going to do with me?” 

His tongue flickers out over his lips, then his gaze trails over you, his fingers trailing up the outside of your thigh, bringing the hem of your dress with him until the fabric pools around your hips. He doesn’t stop there. Fingers graze the band of your underwear, skimming upward until they meet the ripped bodice of your dress. 

You whimper, trying to squirm away but he’s placed himself between your legs. You can hardly see him in the darkness of the caves, the damp, cloying cold of the subterranean cavern. A shiver runs up your spine, skin littered in goosebumps. 

The naga’s touch pauses. “You’re cold.” 

You stare at him. Shivering in the cold and dark, able to only just make out his shape and the spots of his skin. The luminescent amber of his eyes that makes him look like a nightmare. You nod your head. 

A fire flickers to life in the middle of the cave and light flares along the walls. The warmth is almost immediate, heat beginning to roll from the crackling fire and your lips part in surprise and awe. You hadn’t realised they possessed elemental magic. 

The naga’s fingers graze your collar bones, snapping your attention back to him. “You’re still cold.” 

“It’ll-… It’ll take a while…” You reply, unsure how to take him in. He doesn’t look as terrifying in the light as he had in the dark. Though he’s still terrifying. Just less so now that he isn’t a pair of glowing irises. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” you push, forcing the terror from your voice trying to keep yourself strong. The naga’s tongue flickers again but remains silent, waiting for you to speak it looks like. Your throat rolls. You incline your chin. “What are you…going to do with me?” 

Both his hands fall to your hips, effortlessly suspending himself over you as he helps the fabric of your dress glide further up your hips to be out of the way. “You’re staying with me throughout winter,” he answers. You shriek when his claws slide out again, slipping beneath the front of the bodice and slice upward, shredding the rest of the dress. Your arms slap over your chest, trying to wriggle further away from him, back still padded by the thickly lined fleece, muffling the hard abrasion of the rock enough to be surprisingly comfortable. 

“You can’t just- What? You can’t just take me to…into your hibernation!” You try to scramble away but the hold he has on your hips keeps you from going anywhere anyway. 

“You’re my mate. You’re staying with me throughout winter. At least.” 

“This is the first I’m hearing of it!” 

The naga pauses, his amber eyes glancing away for a second of…guilt? But then he looks back to you, his hold having lessened. “I didn’t want to frighten you.” 

“You didn’t want to… Are you-? Are you mad?” 

His amber eyes narrow. “You don’t like it?” 

“These are mine.” You snap, gesturing to the fleeces. “You stole them from me.” 

“So you’d be comfortable. The rock would have been hard on your bones and skin otherwise.” His brows narrow in displeasure, tongue flickering. “I can get rid of them and keep you on the bare floor if you’d prefer?” 

“I’d prefer to be taken back to the path you took me from.” 

“No.” 

“No?” You splutter. “What do you mean ‘no’?” 

“You’re my mate,” he repeats, a displeased drawl appearing. “You’re staying with me throughout hibernation.” 

“I don’t want to.” You further fold your arms. “Take me back.” 

“You struggle during winter,” he points out, snatching your attention. “You struggle to keep yourself warm, to find food, to keep your life going during the winter. I can keep you warm, and keep you fed, and you can bring anything you like down here. It’s for you.” 

“I don’t even know your name. I’m not-”

“Eris.” 

You blink, pausing. “What?” 

“My name. It’s Eris.” 

“Oh.” Your hold on your clothes lessens, relaxed somewhat. “I didn’t think you had names.” You wince when a scowl works its way between his brows. “I didn’t think you were so impolite.”

It’s your turn to scowl. “So take me back.” 

“I can’t just exchange my mate for another one.” 

“You can’t just take me from my home.” 

“You’re not that far away,” he counters, “and you’ll be safe here.” His amber eyes glint, one edge of his narrow lips curving. “And you won’t have to worry about anyone peeping through your windows, either.” 

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing with wild heat, the fire suddenly beginning to feel like it’s putting out too much warmth. “You-…” You’re speechless. 

“You shouldn’t leave your windows wide open at night.” He muses, tail swishing behind him. “Especially not when you’re completely bare. Anyone could have seen.” 

“You were watching me?” You exclaim, outrage and…something else fuelling the heat in your cheeks. But his tongue flickers again, hold tightening on your hips, leaning closer, “you do have a wonderful figure.”

Your mouth pops open, then your hand is flying through the air, aiming to smack him hard across the jaw but he catches it easily. Pushing himself closer. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re lovely.” 

Why are his words having an effect on you? Why is there a warmth in your chest? It’s probably the fire. It’s definitely the fire. It has to be the fire. No way he’s seducing you. 

You turn your head to the side. “You’re just saying that.” 

It’s the opening he’s looking for, one he knew you’d give him at some point. 

His fingers curl around your dress and the next moment he’s pulled it clean from your body, leaving you only in the underwear that’s hugging your hips. 

A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, eyes going wide as you try to hide your breasts but his large palms have already loosely wrapped around your wrists, holding them down into the thick fleece. You flush deeply, squirming beneath him, embarrassed at how much of you he can now see. How bare you are beneath him. “Let me go…! You- You’re a-…” 

“Mhmm?” 

The flush deepens at his low drawl, the heat creeping southward from where it had gathered in your chest, delicately spreading to your lower stomach…your abdomen…your thighs… “Let go of me, Eris.” The naga’s pupils momentarily expand and for a moment he looks so frighteningly human you subtly lift your chin from the fleece. 

You hardly notice the questioning look in his eyes as he approaches until his lips are tentatively pressed against your own. 

You don’t immediately recoil.

You don’t recoil at all. 

His mouth is soft. Elegant and narrow, lips hiding the piercing tip of his fangs. It’s nothing like kissing another human, his tongue is thin and quick, flickering against the seam of your mouth. Rougher than the velvety wash of another human’s, leaning more on the abrasive side. So you can feel as he flickers against your lips, your own tongue, flicking to stroke the roof of your mouth and swipe along the inside of your teeth. 

The naga slithers closer, one powerful arm sliding beneath the arch of your spine, free hand cupping the side of your head, fingers long and large enough to wrap around two thirds of the circumference of your skull. Glittering jade scales are surprisingly smooth beneath the bare skin of your calves, legs mindlessly snaring around the thick trunk of his tail, coiling further down, his rattle hissing with what you have to assume is pleasure. 

It’s only when you feel the hot, heavy weight of something curved and thick against your naked stomach that you pull away. Though you know what it is before you even look, it’s still a surprise to see the deep jade of his cock, transitioning to pale skin and flushed at the tip, looking somewhat larger at his base and-

Your eyes widen when Eris shifts his body and you spot the second one he has. Just as flushed but longer…thicker…fatter at the base, like the skin is flaring, or swelling. 

You’re speechless, mouth opening and closing as you stare down his well-muscled chest. 

Why does he have two? Is it usual for nagas to have two? Do naga females have two…? Are you supposed to take both of them? Does he know you can’t?

“Eris…Eris what- Why-”

“You didn’t know my kind has two?” Your gaze shoots upwards, staring wide-eyed at him. “I can’t…” But you trail off, eyes growing even wider if possible as your mouth pops open. Eris eyes your lips with interest. “Is this…? This is what you want a mate for?” 

It’s Eris’ turn to blink his surprise. “It is the end of mating season,” he replies dryly. “Have you never noticed the increase in my kind around early and late spring?” 

“You’re not expecting me to…”

His lips curve. “Why not?” 

“Because you’re a…and I’m a…” You shake your head. “No. You’re taking me back up to the surface and you’re going to leave me alone. You can’t just…remove me from my home.” 

“You can bring it all down here. You can keep your yarn in that nook there.” He nods to a crook in the cavern wall that looks strangely like a shelf. “And you can bring your bedding to lay next to the fleeces. Your clothes too, if you must.” 

“No. I have no reason to stay down here,” you repeat, holding your ground, uncomfortably aware of how your nipples are beginning to peak in the cold. How his eyes have also noted that change in your body. “You’re the only one this would benefit. Overall this would be a loss for me—all you can offer is mild warmth throughout winter but you can’t offer me open air and sunny skies. Nor enough money to buy a home I’d like.” 

“I can offer a safe home, warm meals, all the comfort you could want,” Eris replies, and you squirm when his body pushes slightly closer, his hands holding your hips in place. “As well as having a mate.” 

“The mate part only benefits you,” you repeat, huffing faintly. “You can’t just take me from my home. I don’t care if you think I’m your mate—I’m not interested. And are you listening to me?” 

His amber eyes have gone glazed, no longer locked with your own. Heat warms your cheeks beneath that intense look—you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Pressure changes between your legs, then you feel something forming on your lower belly. You try to shift underneath him and his tongue flicks out, making a hissing sound. Looking lower, your mouth pops open when you spot the creamy liquid that’s dripped down from the tip of his lower cock, pooling on your belly. 

“You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and you inhale heavily as his hips shift, dragging his cock down your centre, able to feel the small ridges from his scales scraping over your clit. “I’ve been waiting so long for you.”

“Eris…” You flush, hands sliding down your body to try and grip at his wrists to free yourself from his hold. “Let me go…” His pupils dilate, and then he’s leaning even closer to you. If you took a deep inhale your breasts would brush his chest. His focus lies entirely on you as he inclines your hips upward from the fleece, slowly rocking you against him. “You want to know what it feels like, don’t you?” 

You inhale sharply, staring at him, toes curling as you wrap your legs closer around the broad trunk of his tail—for stability. “I- What? Know what what feels like?” You’re breathless even to your own ears. The fire burning too hot. Your pulse spiking too high. 

“One round,” Eris growls, lowering himself to your throat, serpentine tongue flickering up the length of your neck, so much rougher than a human one. His hips shift once more, each scale scraping between your legs, hypersensitive to touch. “Let me show you.”

You flush, tilting your head to one side in attempts to squirm away but it only allows more space for him to place himself, razor-sharp incisors dragging themselves over your soft skin. He’s so much larger than you, so much stronger. His tail alone is probably six times your height…maybe seven, and his torso is lined with muscle, muscle that allows him the flexibility and lithe movements of a great snake. It’s probably the hot grip he has on your body, on your hips, that’s making you curious; probably the enticing drag of his heavy cock between your legs that’s making you sweat; probably the intense look in his golden amber eyes that has undeniable arousal gathering along your spine. 

With his head dipped to your throat he looks almost like he’s bowing and a heady pleasure rises to your mind, as though you might have some kind of control over a creature as large and as terrifying as this one. One who could surely overpower you effortlessly, tangling you in his tail and pulling you apart how he likes. He has no reason to ask for your willingness. And yet you want to give it to him. Want to know what it’s like, to lie with a naga. 

Teeth tuck into your lower lip and your throat rolls as the decision is finalised. “One round,” you whisper, arousal making your voice tremble—are you really getting to do this? Eris groans heavily, pulling back from your body to slide the retractible point on his claw down over your abdomen, catching beneath the fabric still clinging to your hips. It sounds like scissors snipping through cloth as he neatly cuts the remaining clothing from your body, his pupils blowing wide as he lays eyes on you. Your hands find his wrists, enough human fear still within you to think. “Be gentle,” you request, shifting beneath him on the fleece, heart pounding wildly in your chest.  

Eris squeezes your waist once in reply, then he’s running the flushed and leaking tip of his cock up and down your centre, mixing arousal with every movement. There’s a lot, even at this stage. Eris pushes himself closer between your legs, his hands moving so his thumbs can dig into the meat of your thighs to hold them apart and you know that even if you tried you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself free. He’s got you completely at his mercy. 

You inhale as the head of his cock presses between your thighs, large and hot, that pearly liquid still leaking onto you and you ache to feel him slide in. An ache that only he can fix, one so acute you aren’t sure how you made it this long without pushing yourself open for him and clambering on top of his hips, seating yourself where you belong. “Eris…” 

Amber eyes pierce into you and your grip on reality dissipates as he slips inside, stuffing your cunt full in one slow, deep stroke. 

Your spine arcs, toes curling as you stretch around him, able to feel every smooth, jade scale of his base as it enters, his cock nestled away inside of you. Something slips out from his tip. Hot and wet. How much of that liquid is already inside of you? Dripping from the slit in his head? 

“Have you ever lain with another creature before?” Eris asks. Are you supposed to be able to respond right now? With the pressure he’s putting between your legs? 

You manage a shake of your head, and glittering teeth flash in a lazy grin. “You’re going to enjoy it,” he whispers, pride and pure arrogance dripping from his tone. “I’ll make sure you’re begging for more after. That you’re crying for pleasure. As desperate for me as I am for you.” 

“You don’t-…” Your spine arcs, eyes sliding shut as your brows knit together, feeling as a wave of his arousal is released inside of you, the liquid releasing more thickly now and you wonder in the back of your mind if lubricant is primarily released by the males rather than the females of his species. What were you trying to say? 

“I don’t…?” 

You can hear the mirth in his voice, that lazy drawl and picture that smug glint in his eyes. “You look fine,” you manage to pant out, chest rising and falling rapidly, wishing you had the energy to shift your hips but the thought of the pleasure alone has your muscles turning slack, thighs trembling as this massive, serpentine creatures keeps you held to the ground. “You aren’t…why…? …I’m a mess, and you’re…” 

“I’m?” You can picture the teasing smirk on his mouth. A moan slips from your lips in place of words and a flush of embarrassment spreads through your chest, fingers moving to soften your noise. 

“I’ll make you moan louder if you try to muffle them,” Eris drawls, his low chuckle razor sharp and honed. “Would you like me to start?” 

“We haven’t-… Haven’t we already…?” His cock drags out of you and you whimper at the emptiness, missing the pleasurable scrape of his scales against your wet inner walls, the hot weight of his second cock resting heavily over your abdomen, leaking more fluid, occasionally pushing at your clit when his hips are tight to your own. Your hands scramble, searching for him in a daze, and he laughs. 

The moan you release when he slides in to the hilt is loud and wanton, a heady pleasure dizzying your mind. You can feel him again, that delicious stretch, probably pushing up through the skin of your abdomen. Looking down, you whimper at the cum pooling on your stomach—would it taste good? 

“Aren’t you a lucky human?” Eris whispers, closing in on your throat as he rocks into you. You’re thankful for his gentle pace, taking care not to hurt you even if you’re beginning to want him to hit harder. You can’t imagine anything hurting anymore, not the buck of his hips, nor the scrape of his teeth, nor the pressure of being entirely full, finding a way to fit both of them inside of… “How many of your kind get to experience this kind of lay, do you think? A few dozen, across the world? And you’re getting to be one of them, too. Aren’t you lucky?” 

Your toes curl as his thrusts speed, his hips rolling so his cock begins rubbing up against a spot inside of you that makes you want to move with him. A biological instinct urging you to lift your hips to meet him. You try to shoot him a glare for his mockery but you can hardly manage to keep your gaze straight. Panting fills the air, the blissed out, needful expression that had been consuming Eris’ features now transferred to you and you have to wonder if his mind has somehow become clearer now his want is being satiated, compared with you own human mind that only grows foggier and dumber with every ounce of pleasure he pours into you. 

You squeal when a peak of pleasure pulses through your body, an overwhelming high that makes your thighs tremble, crying out and making noises you didn’t know you could—that you’d ever be so caught up in your own feelings that you wouldn’t care for how embarrassing they would be. There’s hot liquid inside of you, spilling into parts so deep it feels like he’s inside your stomach. 

He doesn’t stop, cock still dragging in and out of your sensitive heat and your legs tremble, shaking with every thrust as perspiration gathers along your skin. “Eris…” you pant, fingers shakily trying to pry his own from your hips. “You-…you said one round…” Tears gather in your eyes, cunt fluttering wildly as he keeps stuffing you full, head tipping back into the fleece as the flames burn hotter in the cave, feeling like you’re trapped beneath glass during a hot summer’s day. 

“Done already?” Eris drawls, teasing mirth lacing his tone. “You haven’t even taken the second one, let alone the first. Is your etiquette so poor?” 

“I-…” You’re struggling to speak, fingers partially locked around his wrists, needing something to cling onto. “You… You said one round! We… Stop…” 

“Stop?” He says it like he’s never heard the word before. “Why would I stop? I can tell you’re enjoying it.” 

“It’s too much!” You’re going to fall apart if he puts any more pleasure into your body. Breaking past your threshold and obliterating it entirely. “I can’t… I can’t do anymore…” 

Eris laughs, the deep rumbling noise reverberating through the caves, echoing of the rock walls. “You can,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that makes your hairs stand on end. His hands squeeze your hips, then you’re being hauled upward and tossed onto your hands and knees. His hips pull back, then he slams himself in to the hilt, and you’re so full you think cum might start dripping from your mouth. When does he stop releasing it? How much longer until he reaches his own high? You can’t take much more of this… 

Your mouth falls open as his grip on your hips tightens and he begins pounding into you. Pounds and pounds of muscle all working together to snap his hips to your own. 

That creamy liquid begins dripping down your thighs and into the fleece, more spilling onto your back, leaking from his second cock and trickling down to his base before being stuffed inside of you again. 

“For someone who said they can’t take anymore, you’re doing remarkably well,” Eris muses, sounding completely at ease despite the hunger and heat that’s plying you apart. Are you going to come again? 

One of his large hands leaves your hip, curving around your waist to slip between your thighs and tears push from your eyes as the rough pad of his finger finds your clit. Moans grow louder, being shoved from your lungs with every snap of his powerful body. It feels so good, so overwhelmingly good and yet you feel like you’re about to fall apart, like you might collapse any second now and melt into the ground. 

You try to swallow but your throat is dry, your arms trembling beneath the strain of holding yourself up, and he’s still going, showing no signs of fatigue or of wavering. How long is it going to take for him to come?

The circles on your clit grow tighter and meaner, and you almost feel like he’s teasing you, speeding up the oscillations then slowing almost to a stop entirely, giving you calculated bursts of pleasure as his cock drives in and out of you, all while his second is resting heavy against your lower back. Your mouth drops open as he speeds the circles again and another high flushes through your body, making your skin sizzle and tingle, cunt fluttering again while he remains unhurried above you. 

You can’t help it—your arms give out, upper body flopping into the fleece as your cheek pushes against the soft padding. 

Behind you Eris chuckles, like you’ve done something endearing. “Tired already?” 

His thrusts begin to slow, and your breaths pant out into the ground. You whimper when you feel cum beginning to slide down the slope of your spine, squirming at the strange feeling, how hot it still is. You try to push yourself up but the hand between your legs removes itself, instead splaying his palm across your back, keeping you pinned to the make-shift bed while his cock remains full inside of you. 

“What- what are you doing?” You can still hardly speak, despite the break he’s allowing you. You make an uncomfortable noise when he spreads the liquid across your back, lungs sharply pulling in air with surprise and…the smallest bit of arousal. Is it a territorial thing? Marking? You hope not. “Eris,” you whimper, trying to shift beneath his hold but he’s got you pinned. “Eris- What are you doing? Oh-” His palm has slipped beneath you, both hands now running up over your stomach, slicked with his release. 

“My kind lives long,” he murmurs, your breath hitching when his palms cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing across your nipples, still slick with that hot, creamy liquid. “But despite that, offspring are rare. We have our mating season, and breeding frenzies, and we’re still a dwindling species.” You moan as his hands roam your body, palming your breasts in a way that has warmth unspooling in your lower belly. When he pulls away you nearly whine but manage to keep control of yourself. When he pulls out however, you couldn’t care less how needful or humiliating the sounds are you’re releasing—you need him to be inside of you again. 

When he lays you on your back your thighs are already open, legs parted and ready for him again despite how sensitive you still are, cunt tingling with pleasure, clit puffy and swollen from attention. He wraps one hand around your leg, lifting it easily from the ground as he digs his thumbs into the meat of your thigh, continuing to slather your body in release. You tighten around nothing, palms lifting from the fleece to cup your sensitive breasts, lightly swiping your thumbs across the slicked peaks, shivering from pleasure. You’ve never known yourself to be so sensitive. 

“Most of my kind has to survive on those aids alone,” he continues, and you whimper as his hands keep working your body, rubbing through sore spots and pulling taut muscle apart to release the built up tension that’s already gathered in your comparatively small frame. “My bloodline, however,” Eris says, an amused lilt in his voice that has your ears pricking, heat fluttering in your lower tummy as he leans closer, his long, silky hair tickling your collar bones, fangs glittering in the firelight. “We get a little something extra. To help keep us going.” 

Your brows furrow, barely following him. Too busy thinking about what his cock will feel like when it’s inside you again. Because there’s no way he’s leaving you without giving you more. You won’t be able to manage. “What is it?” 

Elegant, narrow lips curve at their edges, pressing himself between your legs so you can feel the hot weight of his cock over your centre, resting against your clit. “An aphrodisiac.” 

Your eyes blink wide open, staring at him. “A what?” 

Eris smirks, hips pulling back and your thighs fall open of their own accord. You squirm, breaths becoming heavier as the head of his cock catches on your clit, dragging down through your centre, coming to a pause between your thighs before nudging once at your entrance. “You tricked me!” You accuse, half-heartedly attempting to squirm away but you want him again so badly. To think of all that release coating your body, skin absorbing those arousing properties so you’re conditioned to want him…should you find that repulsive? Are you supposed to dislike that? You can’t think straight anymore. 

Eris smirks, and your stomach flips, legs subconsciously opening wider. “Would you like me to stop?” He asks, allowing his fingers to splay across the top of your thigh, ticklishly tracing in circular patterns. “I will if you ask me to.” But I don’t think you can, goes unspoken. 

“You said just one round…” you pant, not quite denying you want more but evading his question. Do you want him to stop? If he stops now does that mean you’ll never get this again? Eris’ smirk broadens to a grin and your hips incline from the fleece, trying to push him even a little deeper but he pulls away. “Shall I stop?” He repeats, amber eyes glinting knowingly. “I can return you to your home, if that’s what you’d like? It’s what you’ve been asking for all this time, after all.” 

This time, you do glare at him: a simmering look that you hope he feels the burn of. 

“You want me to ask you for it? Is that what you want?” You’re pleased with the snappiness of your voice. Eris’ eyes gleam with hunger, snaking closer, the head of his cock almost slipping inside of you and it’s a feat of pure spite that keeps you from bucking your hips to get him deeper, fighting off the aphrodisiac that’s already sunk its claws so deep. You incline your chin, desire bubbling away in the pit of your tummy, so desperate for him to stuff you full again. “Make me.” 

Eris’ pupils nearly swallow his irises with hunger, then a deep-throated laugh is rolling from his chest, breathless and lined with strain. His serpentine tongue flickers out once before he’s pulling back, enough for you to desperately bite down on a whine. “Alright,” he muses, rough-voiced, “if that’s what you want. I can do that.” 

You yelp in surprise when he twists you around, so you’re now spread out on top of him, thighs straddling his powerful serpentine body. 

A heady rush of pleasure goes straight to your cunt, finding the view of being seated atop such a terrifying creature a power trip all on its own. He’s massive. Probably eight times your height, from head to tail. 

Eris holds you atop him, and there’s the teasing press of him between your thighs, his tip just nudging at your entrance. “It’s only going to get worse for you,” Eris reminds with a cocky smirk, keeping you suspended just out of reach of what you need, perched on the very tip of his cock, the second, thicker one lying flat against his stomach, a definite swell at his base. He’s not allowing you to feel even an ounce of relief. What have you gotten yourself into? You’d thought asking him to make you would result in Eris pounding you into the bedspread, but instead it seems you’ve started a challenge you have no chance of winning. How are you supposed to outlast him? 

As if he can read your mind he grins. “I can’t imagine how you’ll cope once the symptoms start presenting. Heightened sensitivity; influx of arousal fluid; increase in temperature…” He laughs, eyes glinting. “You’ll be begging me to fit both into your poor cunt, if you aren’t too careful.” His lips curve and his tail rattles, tongue flickering out in that menacing way of his. Eris’ eyes darken, grip tightening, voice softening to a whisper as he croons, “If you ask sweetly enough, I might even give you a break when you pass out.”

 

Hot flame scorches your cheeks, palms weakly attempting to scramble at his fingers, plying them from your hips but it’s a hopeless task. As if to flaunt his power his tail rattles somewhere behind you, serpentine tongue flickering teasingly over his charmingly narrow lips. Sensual, and soft. Fangs flashing in the firelight.

Arousal drips down onto his cock, slowly drooling down the length of him to mix with the leaking cum that’s already gathered at his base. 

You gasp as his tail begins slithering around your middle, coiling once around your hips, snaking up your waist, tightening gently until he’s slid himself thrice around your torso. The rattle snickers before you and you don’t even attempt to pull his tail from your body—you have no hope of overpowering him. And yet it’s arousing, the flush squeeze of his tail to your waist, perched so teasingly atop his cock, his hips poised to drive up into you the moment you give in. Ask for it. Beg for him. 

Is it the aphrodisiac making you think like this? It must be. 

But now you can’t comprehend the idea of ever not wanting him, and logic is lost. 

Heat gathers between your legs—hot, liquid heat that drools like syrup down the inside of your thighs. His tongue flickers again and in that moment you’re convinced that if he had legs he might crawl to drag his tongue over your sex. The thought flies away as swiftly as it’s delivered and embarrassment shudders down your spine from the obscenity. Is it still getting hotter in here? 

Eris’ lips curve in a coy smirk, oozing arrogant self-satisfaction as he watches you begin to unravel, squeezed atop his cock, the tip barely inside. Amber eyes glitter and he removes his hands from your hips, resting them beneath his head while his tail keeps you suspended above, straddling his hips. “You look like you want something.” 

His tail rattles and you open your mouth to argue but then the tip is tentatively prodding between your thighs, rubbing leisurely over the intimate part. Your mouth pops open. Thighs tensing. Toes curling. Insides fluttering. 

His lips curve. “Like that?” 

Eris’ tail rattles, and your vision blurs as sensitive reverberations are pressed onto your clit. Rapid, heavy pulses that have your finger pads digging into the impenetrable scales of his tale, a deep jade at his top and a creamy, cotton pale on his underbelly. 

“Please…” It’s not even a whisper. Less than a breath. 

He hears it. Of course he hears it. But he pretends not to, arching a brow with a smug gleam in his eyes. “What was that?” 

His tail rattles again, and he lowers you a little further onto his cock, his tip nestling just inside of you but keeping the steep head of himself from slipping in any further. You flush, trying to squirm your way into having more but his tail shifts around you and suddenly you can’t even swirl your hips. You release a gasp of frustration. “You can’t do that,” you huff, pulse spiking. “That’s unfair.” 

“Unfair is having to play these games with you just so you’ll be happy about sitting on my cock,” Eris counters in a half-amused drawl. You can’t make out the other half, but it’s something edged. Something fraying. 

You try to turn your nose up at him, weakly attempting to fold your arms over your chest, forearms resting atop the uppermost coil of his tail. “You’re the only one insisting on playing these games.” Eris arches a brow, smirking “Do you wish I wasn’t?” 

Yes. But you can’t tell him that. His smile widens as if he knows and his tail rattles as if in reward. You try to swallow your moan but the tightness of your throat only makes the sound whinier, more needy and sultry. Humiliation flutters in your lower belly and Eris grins. “Can’t you imagine how good it’ll feel? Remember how I stretched you out? Remember how you felt coming with me inside of you?” His tail rattles, tongue flickering, and you’re dangerously near the edge again. “Maybe you need some encouragement.” 

His tail convulses around you as it shifts, parts compressing and expanding as the length of his tail from its last coil to his tip grows longer until it can comfortably slide between your legs, teasingly shifting suddenly so he’s coiled only once around your waist but keeping your ankles apart, the end of his tail allowed to rub over your centre, his rattle scraping your clit. Your legs are shaking, shuddering, a wild heat burning beneath your skin as he holds you apart for him to see, the firelight making it so nothing is hidden from him and you can imagine how your cunt must be glistening with the orange glow of the flames. 

Eris smirks, more liquid leaking onto his stomach. “You should really see yourself,” he says, pushing himself up from the fleece. He’s keeping you suspended high enough that now he’s propping himself upright he’s at eye-level with your cunt. His tongue flickers again, and he laughs lowly at your response. The attempted tilt of your hips. “I won’t make you beg for this,” Eris muses, and you have a curse waiting on your tongue but you’re brought that little bit closer and his palms wrap over the tops of your thighs, holding you like you’re an exceptionally large goblet he’s drinking deeply from. One he must use both hands to drink from. 

Your eyes roll, lids fluttering. His tongue is wet but rough, teasingly light and frustratingly playful in its licks. Zipping and flickering at your clit before his lips close around your heat, sealing you inside the humidity of his mouth, forcing you to endure the tauntingly pleasurable stimulation. And it feels so good. The intimacy and sensitivity of having such a clean part of him on…well…between your legs. Willingly applying himself, sinfully enraptured, eyes slid shut as he tastes you. 

Freedom from observation gives you a fabricated sense of safety and the tension melts from your body, relaxing back into his tail, legs practically falling open for him as your head tips back, ready and accepting, prepared to feel the glistening high barrel through your body, pulsing through your thighs and abdomen, dripping onto his tongue. 

You tighten, and he stops. 

A frustrated cry slips from your lips. “Eris!” 

He smirks. “Ask me.” 

A noise between a groan and a whimper escapes your lungs. You don’t want to ask him. But can you really last any longer? You were so close, like a word on the tip of your tongue, it was right there. You avert your eyes, refusing to look at him. He’s too handsome to look at head on. Your throat rolls. “Please…” You lick your lips. “I want… I want another round.” 

His grin broadens into something that could never be mistaken for human, and his fangs catch in the firelight as the rough of his tongue drags slowly, intentionally over your clit, keeping his eyes on yours. Your toes curl and your hips buck, trying for more friction. “It took you long enough,” Eris grins, flickering his tongue teasingly over your clit as you’re swiftly being brought back to that high. “You’re the one who-” But you gasp as his tongue snakes inside of you, rough and surprisingly strong and it pushes upwards. 

You squirm at the unfamiliar sensation, trying to wriggle away from him but he laughs onto your cunt. When his tongue retracts to return to your clit it’s coated in slick, gleaming arousal, and you feel thick liquid drip down from your entrance. His tail guides your legs over his shoulders, hands wrapping around your hips as he tilts your body to drink from you properly. 

The orgasm blows through your body, heat glistening and pulsing through your thighs as white-hot pleasure sparks. His mouth is entirely sealed over your cunt and he times the small convulsions of his tail to the fluttering of your cunt, making it feel like the high truly is passing throughout your entire body. 

Your skin is slick again, a lasting mix of his release and a fresh sheen of perspiration, chest heaving as Eris’ mouth soothes over your sensitive cunt, clit turned puffy and sore from all the attention. You flinch as he drags his tongue over it again, suckling and tugging with his teeth, your vision blurring and your feet kick. “Eris! Stop, I can’t-” Your breath hitches as his suction increases, stretching out the last drops of your orgasm, feeling the pulses slowly begin to fade into that hazy buzz beneath your skin.

It’s a effort to swallow, compromising precious breaths with the shift. 

Eris chuckles lowly, amber eyes like molten gold in the firelight. “So quickly?” 

You flush, heat gathering beneath your cheeks as you try to look away. It’s not like you could help it. It seems to only further his amusement, tail lightening around your waist and a sigh of relief slips from your lungs as he guides you back from his mouth, allowing you to rest your palms on his abdomen, thighs straddling his hips. You’ll be thankful to bask in the warm heat of the fire for a bit, let the tension and pleasure again seep from your muscles. 

But Eris isn’t even considering allowing you a rest. After all, you’ve only just started. And he still hasn’t reached completion. 

A moan slips from your lips when you feel the head of his cock nudge at your entrance. You can do nothing to protest as he slips you down his length, so wet there isn’t an ounce of resistance. Not even as he stuffs you full, so you’re sat tight to his lap. Now all you want is to buck your hips. 

Seeing your mouth open, Eris presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, your words swiftly failing as your head hangs, too exhausted to hold yourself up anymore. “Feeling tired?” He croons, but there’s heat in his voice. You manage to lift your head to look at him but your eyes instead trail down his body, over his chest, his stomach, his abdomen, until you see where your bodies are joined. You tighten around him once and become abruptly aware of how deep he can go. How full he’s made you. 

Trying to clear your throat but failing, you avert your eyes. “Why haven’t you…?”

Eris smirks. “Why haven’t I…?” 

“Found…completion.” Eris scoffs, but strangely you don’t feel scorned. Maybe it’s something to do with the tender circles he’s putting into your hip with one hand. Skimming across the bare expanse. “You haven’t let me enjoy you long enough to find my pleasure,” he drawls, both hands now at your hips, tail rattling somewhere behind you. You blink. “But isn’t the whole point of this that you…?” 

His brow quirks and you flush. “I will,” he muses, “eventually.” 

“Eventually,” you echo. “How long?”

Eris considers. “At the rate you’re going…” He pauses. “Maybe three days?” 

“Three days!” You stare at him, mortified. You can’t do this for three days, and tell him as much. Eris cocks his head in mock sympathy. “Well, we could always keep going,” he muses, eyes gleaming. “You’re who I’m waiting on.” 

“Because I just-!” Frustration simmers beneath your flesh. You can’t keep going when you’re so sensitive. You need time for a break to cool off. You aren’t like him. “Fine,” you mumble, pushing a decisiveness into your voice that you don’t feel. You swallow. “Just keep going until you…find what you want.” You look to the shadows cast on the floor and wall, seeing how you’re joined together with his long tail coiling behind you. “It seems unfair that you should get nothing out of this…” 

“Believe me, I’m getting plenty out of this.” As if to emphasise, a fresh spill of release is pushed from the slit in his heat, hot enough you shudder as it slips down your thighs. A question passes through your mind. “Can you control that?” Eris raises a brow. “Can you control that?” You nod to his cocks, the cum leaking to his base, “The amount coming out?” He nods, and the liquid stops. Your brows furrow, “Why do you…? Oh.” The aphrodisiac. Right. 

“Anymore questions?” Eris grins wickedly. “I’d be happy to show you more answers.” You shake your head hurriedly, trying to press your fingers to his abdomen to keep the trembles away. Hopefully it won’t be too much. “You can start.” 

The smile Eris gives you is softer than any other he’s offered thus far, and you sit back onto him, letting your weight pull you down. “I’ll be gentle,” he reminds, and you flush. Unsure whether the warmth comes from embarrassment or appreciation. But then his lips curve themselves into a familiar tilt, “For as long as you want me to be.” 

You have half a mind to land a pat to his stomach to exhibit your annoyance but his large palms have wrapped themselves around your hips and an ungodly whimper slips from your lips as he lifts you to the top of his cock and drops you back down. Your eyes flutter, vision stuttering as he hits deep, pushing up cozily to a spongey part that’s soft and sensitive. Your mouth won’t work, tongue lolling just over your teeth, not out enough to brush your lower lip but more relaxed than dignified. 

Eris’ hips work, starting off gradual to re-accustom you to the slow, deep strokes he gives. His tail rattles and a shiver works its way briskly up your spine. He fills you up so well. 

“Feeling good?” Eris asks, and you manage a vague nod, trying to keep yourself balanced as he lifts you up and down. Trying your best to move with him, though he doesn’t need the help. He can move you just fine on his own, and has proved. 

“Come on,” he drawls, “you can do better than that.” 

“I…” You’re breathless. “Like…it…”

“Ready for a little more?” 

“More?” You manage, sounding dismayed. More?

Eris’ hips buck sharply and you cry out from the pleasure, mouth popping open as a gasp splits the quiet of the air. He raises a brow, “You like that a lot, don’t you?” Words form in your mind but don’t reach your lips, tongue feeling numb and far off. “Alright…let’s go a little harder.” Eris’ grip tightens on your hips, muscles flexing along his stomach and forearms and your stomach lurches as the speed increases, his hips bucking up to meet you as he slams you down. 

You babble from surprise, the pads of your fingers scrambling across his chest as you search for some kind of stability. He smirks then his tail once again wraps you in his powerful warmth, keeping you steady as you’re bucked forcefully enough to almost convince you he’s trying to kick you off. Your toes curl and your vision blurs as you feel the tightening of a third orgasm approaching. A whimper slips from your lips—maybe you shouldn’t have said you’d be fine without a break. He’s already reduced you to a babbling mess and it’s been a little more than a minute. 

A small dose of relief is afforded to you when you think you pick out a faint pink colouring his cheeks. But that could just be the flame. You hope it’s colour though. Hope he’s actually getting a little breathless. But it still looks like you’re going to reach your high first. 

“A little harder?” Eris asks, and this time you can tell it’s affecting him. His pupils are dilated and there’s more of a sheen on his chest, a jitteriness to the scales wrapped around your middle. You don’t even think as you nod your head, the pleasure leaving logical thoughts behind. Eager to experience his high of pleasure.  

Before you know it he’s flipped you over, back once again pressed into the fleece allowing him to target spots specifically, holding you down as his hips drive into you and you think you might scream. Breaths rapidly pant from your mouth, chest heaving as he keeps pounding you into the ground. The orgasm swells out of nowhere and you clamp your hands over your mouth to keep your noises muted, a part of you remembering your dignity. 

No sooner than your palm has lifted toward your mouth his hands have shackled your wrists and slammed them to the floor, hips bucking upwards as his amber eyes pierce down into you in warning, his earlier words passing through your mind. I’ll make you moan louder if you try to muffle them.

The third orgasm is overwhelming. More intense than the first and second ones combined and worse than making you moan louder, or making you scream or beg, he rips your voice away entirely. 

Your body tightens, strict stitches of pleasure knotting your muscles and binding you into a beautiful arched bow, drawn back to its full stretch before being released, tension sizzling throughout your body as your ties snap. Tears drip down into your hair and he doesn’t stop—continuing like you’d agreed. You can’t even swallow, struggling to breathe as liquid pleasure floods your lungs, like laughing so hard you become breathless except it’s heat and silver tingles and pure heaven that’s filling your body.

When his pace begins to slow you can’t help but look at him strangely. You’d told him it was okay—and it still is. You want more. You want it to last longer. Want him to put more into you. Until you can’t speak, breathe, moan, sob, or stare. 

“What?” You manage breathlessly, “What are you doing?” 

“That desperate for me?” He drawls, but there’s obvious strain in his jaw. “That hungry?”

“Keep going,” you breathe, arching into him, breasts pushing fully against his hard chest. “Don’t stop.” 

“It’ll feel better soon,” he promises, and you gasp a sob as he begins pulling away from you. His fingers replace the emptiness he’s left but it doesn’t compare and you writhe as they stroke and rub up against that spongey part. “Be good,” Eris chides in a whisper, hot breath ghosting your collar bones, making your nipples harden. “Behave and it’ll feel even better.” 

You can’t imagine him doing anything other than what had originally gotten you tossed into overstimulation ever getting you there again. He should keep fucking you like that. Why stop? 

Breath chokes in your throat as his fingers slide out, coated in thick slick, sliding further down between your thighs. He circles the tight ring of muscle once before slowly working his middle finger inside. 

You jerk, squirming on the fleece at the foreign feeling, wild heat flushing your features as you gasp and scold him repeatedly but he simply hushes you with that look of his. A mix of lust and comfort. Strangely reassuring. It doesn’t detract from the humiliation you feel when both his fingers slide in, slowly, so slowly and gently pushing and prodding further inside, steadily working you open with tentative touches. 

When his fingers withdraw, you breathe a sigh of relief. One that swiftly vanishes when you feel the head of the cock that had just been fucking you dumb push closer between your legs. You look at him, alarmed, but Eris leans down and pushes his mouth over your lips. His tongue flickers out, hot and rough and you moan at the sensation. The abrasive drag as he tastes the inside of your mouth. So pleasing you hardly notice as he lines his second cock up with your entrance, slicking himself up with his free hand as he prepares himself. 

Your arms wrap up over his shoulders, pulling him close enough that fiery red hair tickles your chest, pooling along the line of your collar bones, tickling your cheeks. 

Eris’ hips push forward gently and you arc up into him, Eris bowing over your body as his arm slips beneath the arch of your spine, holding you together as his mouth grazes your throat. The pressure is unimaginable; incomparable. So, full. You can’t even buck your hips. Can’t even shift them. This is what he needs? You guess it makes sense, in some distant part of your mind. If he has two, he’d want stimulation for both. 

“Can you-?” You gasp, unable to speak. “I want… Stop holding it back…” Eris raises from your neck to look down at you, brushing away strands of hair that have been stickily suctioned to your temple and forehead, sweat turning your skin silky. “I want to feel it…” You pant. Eris gets the message well enough, and moans begin dripping from your mouth as liquid begins once more leaking out inside of you. 

“I need you to open a bit more,” Eris whispers, so close you could kiss him again. Instead you stare up at him blankly—open up more? 

“Eris I can’t,” you plead, looking at him beseechingly. But he smiles, pressing another kiss to your mouth, tongue flicking across your nipped-at lower lip. “You can,” he assures, and breath is physically pushed from your lungs as his hands slide beneath the divots of your knees, taking care not to move too swiftly as he lifts your legs to your chest so his torso is cradled between your calves. The position creates just enough room, and you recall the swollen flare at his base like a knot, breath stopping entirely as you feel it slip in. 

You cry out from the pleasure, babbling hotly against his pretty, narrow lips, his serpentine tongue flickering as if he might drink your noises straight from your mouth. “Eris…” you whimper, “I- I can’t. I can’t.” 

“You’re already there,” he whispers. 

Heat pushes up from your flesh, seeping out as droplets of perspiration slide down the length of your spine, rolling along the curve of your breasts to drip down the side of your ribs, dampness gathered beneath the bend of your knees. Surely more at the nape of your neck, trickling back into your hair from your temples. 

Eris rolls you back over and you nearly slump on top of him. Would have, if it wasn’t for his tail coiling once more around your torso. He’s given you some time to adjust but the stretch is still… Your body aches just thinking about it. You can’t help the tears of relief that fall from your lashes that there’s no stinging from the pressure. Just gentle, firm heat. Nothing poking or prodding, just slowly filling you up as far as your body can take, and no further. Pushing your limits while taking exceptional care not to hurt them. Treasured. 

“Ready for movement?” Eris asks, looking up at you with darkened eyes that swirl with arousal, heavy clouds of smokey lust billowing behind his amber irises, pupils blown out wide. Could you deny him even without an aphrodisiac stripping you of sense? You can’t imagine it. 

You nod your head. 

With infinite care, he raises you from straddling his hips, far enough it’s just his head inside each hole, then supporting your weight as you come back down. On the first few goes you lean into his touch, letting him guide you safely. But once you become adjusted to the size, and the stretch, and the pressure, you become steady enough to make your own moves. 

Your hips circle once of their own accord, and Eris’ head tips back into the fleece from pleasure. A low, husky groan resounds off the cave walls, sparkling with humidity, and your insides flutter. Is that from you? Is it you making him do that? Heady power goes straight to your head, repeating the action to find out what he’ll do—if it’s as fun watching him come undone as he seemed to find it watching you fall apart. 

A strained moan breathes from his chest, hungry and needful and energy refills your body. You need him to crumble. 

“Eris?” You whisper, running your fingertips up over the muscles of his stomach, “Is this good?” You flex those inner muscles around him as you swirl your hips and his eyes slide shut, thumbs circling over the skin of your waist. “Should I do more?” You ask, bucking slightly as you begin sliding up and down. Your hands rise higher, running over his chest before dragging back down, the point of your nails lightly scraping over his stomach. 

Eris groans and his palms tremble where they’re wrapped around your hips, keeping a tight hold of you as you rock back and forth. “Are you finally feeling good now?” You murmur, half in a haze of pleasure, your head in the clouds. “Stop…saying things like that.” Comes his strained reply, low and rough in his throat. “Why?” You whisper, moving with more effort, wanting desperately to bring him more pleasure. “I want you to feel good… You still haven’t-”

Amber eyes pierce into you as the end of his tail bands around your jaws, silencing your words. You peer down at his tail, whimpering as you watch him, making sounds that before you would have been too embarrassed to make. “I don’t want to… I’m going to be gentle with you.” 

There’s resolve in his voice that needs breaking.

You make a small noise in your throat of discomfort and his tail releases you, but instead you lean forward and allow your tongue to loll over your lower lip as you take a slow lick up his rattle. 

Eris’ eyes widen, fingers shaking on your hips as his chest rapidly rises and falls, unable to look away. You explore the shape of him, tracing your tongue around the tip experimentally, liking the feel of having something to do with your mouth. Preoccupying your tongue. You whimper, and Eris tentatively slides the rattle forward, pushing past your lips. Heat tingles through your body and you aren’t sure if he’s even getting any stimulation from this or whether he’s just transfixed by the sight. 

With a final circle of your tongue you pull away, licking your lips. “I don’t want gentle anymore.” You press a wet kiss to the end of his tail. “I want you to cum.” 

Eris’ hands put bruises into your hips and you’re able to feel the influx of hot liquid inside of you. Excitement bubbles away in your abdomen. It all feels good and you can’t help but want more. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he bites out, tail writhing behind you, sending shadows scrambling across the walls. You nod. It’s enough for him, because the next thing you know he’s raising you from his hips, lifting you into the air so only the head of his cocks remain inside of you, sticky strands of slick webbing between your bodies and then he’s bringing his hips up to meet yours. 

The breath is knocked from your body, sound rendered useless. Toes curl, thighs spasm, mouth opens. Fingers scrambling for purchase. 

Now he’s keeping you aloft in the air, no longer sliding you up and down but pounding you from beneath. You lose track of how long it goes on for, unable to move as he keeps you still through that grip on your hips. Every buck hits a spot, every thrust has your clit brushing his abdomen, every subtle roll he adds makes you want to cry. Tears spill down your cheeks—it feels so good but it’s so much to take. And he’s muttering under his breath, words so fast you struggle to hear unless you pay attention. Mine, and perfect. Curses interrupted by moans. Breathless praises and sounds that seem almost pleading. 

You gasp as hot cum pours into your body, flooding you as it begins pumping out down your thighs, unable to contain all of it. With every fresh wave your sensitivity is heightened, and when his right thumb lowers between your thighs to press on your clit and pull upwards you spiral. 

The world tips and your view is spotted through with strange colours, dots of iridescence dance and it’s all you can do to remain present. 

You’ve never felt like this before. 

His name screams from your lungs, time after time after time, every slam of his hips making it spill again and again. Even through the haze of pleasure you know it lasts longer than it should. His powerful body slicked in sweat and muscles flexing in his stomach, the perspiration on his chest making it obvious with each heaving breath he takes down. He keeps going, his touch unrelenting. 

By the time Eris’ orgasm has seemingly faded his hands are trembling, tail barely strong enough to lift from the ground, completely and utterly spent. With nothing to hold you upright any longer you flop forward onto his chest, uncaring for the mess. His skin is feverishly hot but you suppose so is your own. 

The fire is still crackling in the centre of the cave but no longer bothers you. Now you’ve flopped forward there’s nothing keeping his lengths inside of you save for the knot still stuffed in your cunt, plugging you up as best it can to keep his cum nestled inside. A single amber eye slides open, enough to gaze down at where you’ve tucked yourself against him. “Are you…okay…?” He asks, still gathering his breath. You nod your head, not wishing to speak just yet. 

A smile curves his mouth. “I didn’t think you’d be able to take it so well,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to stroke hair from your sweat-slicked forehead. “I thought I was prepared to wait weeks until you’d be ready to go long enough…” His expression shifts, something like concern filling his gaze. “Are you certain…you’re okay?” 

“I’ve never felt so good,” you croak. 

It’s insufficient to say so. Nothing in your life compares to the highs of tonight, the adrenaline rush of lying with a creature like him. Learning the different way he fucks. 

You curl tighter into his body, nosing at his skin. Shimmying high enough up his body that you can run your tongue up a part of his neck, tasting sweat in your mouth. So distinctly him. 

Eris shudders underneath you, a final few ounces of cum squeezed from his tip into your cunt, held inside by his knot. 

With surprisingly tender hands he rubs soothingly up and down your sides, both of you exhausted. A small part of you is proud that even he needs a break—one he hadn’t expected to take. If you’d had more energy you would have gloated about it, but with the way he’s holding you, you can’t be bothered. The promise of care and warmth is too alluring. 

You shift your hips and his knot nudges a sensitive part inside of you, making you tighten around him. Eris tenses beneath you before releasing a shuddering exhale. “How long is that going to last?” You mumble sleepily, curiosity the only thing keeping you awake. Eris sighs, and you whine when he rolls his hips tentatively. “Relax,” he encourages, “it’ll go down in a couple of hours.” 

Your brows furrow. “A few hours?” You repeat, but your cheek is smushed against his chest and your eyes have fallen shut. “I’ll explain more later,” Eris shushes, stroking the crown of your head, “when you’re more awake.” 

You can’t argue with that, and frankly don’t want to. There’ll be more to discuss once you wake, but that will be for later. Right now you can hear the deep beat of his heart, your ear pressed close enough to his chest you’re able to feel every beat faintly pulse against your cheek. You never thought you’d come close enough to a naga to hear the tempo of its heart, and yet here you are, happy about it. 

You find yourself anticipating waking, the knot still stuffed in your cunt promising more pleasure, and the warm wrap of his arms around your back promising the home you’ve always secretly wanted. His fingers still awake just enough to be leaving small patterns against your skin, soothing you into sleep with him. 

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna @acoazlove

eris taglist: @feerique

[itsonlydana]

THRANDUIL'S GUIDE TO: LOOSING A JOB / WINNING A HEART | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

You are late for work and sure that your boss will sack you. Instead, Thranduil takes you and his kids to the park, and somehow the day takes a turn for the better.

tags/warnings: modern!AU, nanny!AU, mutual pining; characters: Thranduil, young!Legolas, young!Tauriel; rating: sfw

wordcount: 8,4k

an: sorry sorry sorry for not updating "passenger princess"; please take this as a small apology. I'm posting this after watching 'anyone but you' so know i'm dancing and singing rn

+ general m.list +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

The subway doors shut close with a squeak, mere seconds after you stepped out. They gave you barely any time to think about whether you had everything important with you before the train hissed away again, disappearing into the dark tunnels that twisted like endless labyrinths beneath the city.

Not that you had the time for it; anything forgotten was lost, and you were already far too late to mourn a possibly left-behind lip balm.

Pressing your bag tightly against your side, you joined the stream of people, moving like an army of ants from the platform to the escalators.

It took a while before you could step onto the moving steps – of course, the third grade that had already been on the train when you had rushed in left at the same stop as you.

Screaming, uncontrollable children surrounded you, and you did your best not to make eye contact with any of them, impatiently staring at the approaching exit, the clear sky finding its way through high towering glass buildings.

As a very rude man in sportswear pushed ahead, mumbling swear words that the nanny in you wanted to scold him for, one of the kids stumbled against your legs.

Clammy hands grasped at the coat shielding you from the brisk autumn winds, its numerous inner pockets offering a secure haven for your valuables against the avaricious hands of pickpockets. Gazing downward, you found yourself locking eyes with a boy, his wide blue eyes reminding you that you were so so late...

You gave him an encouraging smile, causing the child to loosen his grip but he didn't let go until you reached the fresh air outside.

Out of habit, you quickly bent down, ignoring the complaints of an elderly lady behind you, and zipped up his bright orange jacket.

It was still early in the morning, the air cold, coloring the tips of noses and cheeks in blushes. Even if you didn't know this child, no parent would be happy to take a day off because of a sick child; especially not here.

Once the boy was properly bundled up, his big smile disappearing behind the fleece of the jacket, you straightened up and made your way through the crowd of people.

Somewhere in your pockets, your phone vibrated now that there was a reception and bombarded you with all the messages that didn't reach you in the last twenty minutes underground.

The sidewalk was bustling, shoulders pushing against shoulders, making it impractical to fish out the phone at the moment; it felt like a time-wasting endeavor, and the chance that you would start crying if anyone snapped at you for slowing down was far too high.

This whole morning left you on the brink of a meltdown, the stress bubbling under the surface, an itch under your skin that didn't want to leave you–

Opting for a brisk walk, you maneuvered through the lively streets of New York, a city of grand dreams that, at the moment, felt a bit out of reach.

Three years ago, following a string of peaceful years growing up in your quiet suburb, one of the Universities you had applied to offered you a full scholarship.

That led to packing up all your possessions, and you transitioned from the comfort of your familiar childhood room to a cramped studio, outweighed by more "cons" than "pros."

You initially went with the expectation of finally fulfilling the big dream, only to realize that living the dream in New York brought problems with them– like an expensive water and electricity bill, unfriendly neighbors that stole the washing machines and dropped your clothes onto the floor, and the inescapable feeling of loneliness amid millions.

After uni, one odd job followed another; "dishwasher in a food truck" and "Christmas-card door-to-door selling with Girl Scouts" were some of the tamer examples.

You did what you had to do, even if that sometimes involved horrendous pay for even more horrific work hours.

Sure, they were definitely experiences , but many of them were the kind that your parents used as a reason to convince you to come back home.

They were right on some level, there were nights you cried sitting alone on the floor of your apartment until the neighbors below you knocked on their ceiling, complaining about the noise, but these evenings were few and far between.

Ever since you got your current job it had reduced to once or twice a month!

It was by far the best on the now 40-line long list of abandoned "experiences." It was flexible, paid more than enough, and you actually looked forward to the days you had to work.

At first, you couldn't believe your eyes when Thranduil Oropherion (the Thranduil Oropherion, multimillionaire and head of the 'Greenleafs Children's Book Publishing' well before hitting thirty, face of the Times on many occasions) contacted you through an unknown babysitter matchmaking site.

Fortunately, the site wasn't so unknown that someone could pretend to be him; otherwise, you wouldn't have engaged in the subsequent chat, where you shared your babysitting experiences with him, and you certainly wouldn't have gone to the first meeting.

It had been in a small café near Central Park, and thankfully not at some fancy Italian place, as your remaining money for the month wouldn't have covered elegant evening wear.

Mr. Oropherion, Thranduil, as he insisted daily, was, unsurprisingly as attractive in person as the press had described.

You had seen pictures, heard of his name, maybe even looked him up once or twice ever since you started babysitting rich kids who had his books lining their shelves without reading them once. They were the kind of children who said "Please" nearly as often as "Thank you."

Close to never.

After being confronted with the beautifully bound books in most of their study rooms, you had googled the Green Leaf emblem, only to have the picture of the hottest man you have ever seen pop off.

The legs that went on for days, the long blonde hair, the warm voice sending chills down your spine as he explained his need for a new sitter- funny how you had no idea what the reason was, but knew exactly how his dark brows had furrowed and raised, how his voice had dropped lower on some words and higher on others.

Easy to say that you wasted no second after he asked you if you still wanted the job (still? To this day it was a mystery what he meant with that, lost in daydreams about his blue eyes and the firm handshake) for you to agree.

One contract signing later, and you were officially the babysitter of the sweetest kids you have ever met.

Legolas and Tauriel not only listened to you, but they even cooperated and never caused trouble when it came to bedtime or leaving the park. They naturally reached for your hand on the street, ate their vegetables obediently, and even when you had to be strict on rare occasions, it never took long for the sulking faces to light up again.

It wasn't just the children that you took a liking to.

The initiate awe of meeting Thranduil turned into a full-blown crush faster than you could have blinked; a sentiment you would only ever confide in your diary.

The prospect of explaining how sad it was to fall in love with your remarkably young boss was not inviting, and you would do your best to avoid those conversations.

Falling in love with someone in a position of authority, who paid you for your services monthly, particularly in a role where you cared for his children, was not an ideal situation.

Nevertheless, you found yourself deeply infatuated with – his looks, charm, smile, and the way he effortlessly made you forget all worries when he returned home, embraced by his children, eager to hear every intricate detail of their day.

And yours.

Falling for him had happened quickly, too quickly to really think about how it could affect your job in the case of an outburst of feelings, whether accidental or intentional.

You saw it as a kind of adventure, like diving into a novel where you could experience the feelings of love without ever wanting to address them.

And sometimes, when there was just the two of you left at the dinner table and he would offer you wine and a smile, you had the impression the conversations turned into teasing and flirting.

It was important for you to keep this job, which is why the fear of getting fired for being late today made your legs move, and you managed to cover the usual fifteen-minute relaxed walk despite the piercing cold air in your nose and lungs in seven minutes.

Eight minutes earlier, and still twenty-three minutes late, you arrived at one of the many towering skyscrapers, with glowing cheeks and sweat drops rolling down your temples.

The doorman in the lobby looked at you with an understandable and sympathetic look through his small glasses before letting you enter the elevator and pressing the button for the Oropherion residence.

The minute it took to reach the 53rd floor - 53, seriously, that's an absurd number of floors - you loosened the red scarf around your neck, finally being able to breathe without it feeling like you swallowed ice, and unbuttoned your coat to fish out your phone.

As soon as the screen lit up, all other messages faded away.

Except for one–

Thranduil O.: I write to inform you that...

Dizziness, not from the height you must be at, but from the thoughts of all the stressful evenings when you had called through stores and sent resumes one after another.

You knew how much your boss valued punctuality; he relied on you to arrive at the agreed-upon time so he could leave for work in peace, and today, you had disappointed him.

He was a nice man, friendly but strict in important matters.

You had witnessed more than once how icy he could become when his driver had picked him up late for reasons within his control, and so far, you were glad not to have experienced that side of him.

Was he late today? What if he had an important meeting or had to sign contracts? What if he could pack up the publishing house because of you? (That this was more than unlikely didn't cross your mind at the moment, but much later)

With trembling hands, you tried to unlock your phone before the elevator reached the penthouse, but you failed several times at entering your password, fingers hitting the wrong numbers, which didn't help your agitated mood.

At the same moment, you finally managed to enter your password correctly and access your messages from the lock screen, the loud ping of the elevator startled you.

Quickly, you slipped your phone into your pocket again and prepared for the worst, like bidding farewell to the sweetest children on earth and the best boss, who would easily hire a new sitter.

The doors opened the same moment a piercing scream echoed through the apartment, high in pitch and undoubtedly Tauriel.

"No no no no"

The worst scenario sprung into your mind, the children left alone and hurt, climbing on expensive furniture, and possibly injured, all because your alarm didn't ring.

As fast as your legs could carry you, you ran into the adjacent living area from where the crying had come. "Tauriel?" you called out; the children should know that you were there now and could help.

But the next words died on your tongue, didn't make it over your panicky opened lips.

The image of an injured Tauriel and an apartment thrown into chaos faded with the last bit of breath in your lungs.

Nowhere were traces of such chaos; nothing was out of place, except for the children's toys, like some dolls and Lego pieces scattered on the oakwood floor.

There were no injuries, no tears, and no abandoned children.

There, on the floor in front of the gray couch, was Thranduil, stretched out on the usually neatly arranged sofa cushions, a screaming Tauriel balanced on his raised hands and a laughing Legolas stretched across his stomach, trying to reach for his sister.

You didn't know what happened to your thoughts.

Why they strayed away from the fact that Thranduil was here, at home, while he should be at work, and that this was surely your last day, and instead clung to the happy family image that you had envied for several months now.

Then Thranduil's gaze fell on you, and your heart stumbled over the smile on his face. The children also looked up, joyfully calling your name, and you waved to them, a forced smile on your lips.

You only had one chance to explain, one chance to save this beloved job before it slipped through your fingers. "I'm so sorry for being late, Thranduil," you started, wrapping your arms around yourself for support. "You probably want a proper apology that can explain all this, but as inexcusable as it is, I overslept. The power went out at my place last night, and my phone couldn't charge, so my alarm didn't ring. I'm really really sorry, and I want to make it up."

You took a deep breath. Tears were swelling in the corners of your eyes, threatening to break out every second, and you struggled to blink them away; your apology was pathetic enough without tears.

Thranduil slowly got up, gently placing the confused-looking Tauriel on the small coffee table and took a few steps towards you, causing your concentration to waver for a moment.

Why wasn't he wearing a suit like usual? Normally, he was already dressed for work every morning. Today, however, he wore black straight-cut trousers and a dark blue knit sweater that was covered in gray couch pillow lint.

He spoke your name softly, much too soft for the conversation that would follow.

Now he would fire you; now you could say goodbye to everyone, and from tomorrow on, you would only be able to admire this beautiful face in newspapers.

"I'll make it up to you, but please don't fire me!"

With an expression of pure horror, Thranduil bridged the meters between you and pulled you into a surprising hug, stifling any sob. His hand lovingly patted your back, stroking in circular motions over your shoulder blades.

"Ada, what's wrong?"

"Legolas, Tauriel," he turned his head, one hand cupping your neck, and spoke in a soft voice, "could you please to go your rooms? Give us a minute, alright?"

Immediately, you wanted to pull away; he was your boss, and he shouldn't send his children away just because you were upset about your own mistakes.

Thranduil didn't let go though; he continued to hold you tightly in his strong arms as if the boundary between your roles in this relationship didn't exist.

"What nonsense led you to think I would fire you?" Thranduil asked after a while.

Slowly lowering his arms, he silently allowed your heart a moment to mourn the warmth of his body, a last moment before he stepped back, and you feared you might never be so close to him again.

Instead, he surprised you by reaching for your hand and leading you over to the couch, stepping around the thrown-around cushions on the carpet.

Waiting for you to sit, he joined you, surprisingly close.

"I did write to you that I have a day off today and would love to spend it with all of you," he said, patting your knee and seeking your downward gaze.

Your already reddened cheeks flushed even more. Perhaps you should have checked your messages right after leaving the subway. Then you wouldn't have embarrassed yourself so much in front of Thranduil, a man whose respect meant more to you than anything else, and especially you wouldn't have caused a scene in front of the children.

"Unfortunately, I didn't see that," you admitted, quietly and ashamed.

The man beside you nodded in understanding, his hand still on your leg.

With each touch, a tingling fire spread from that spot through your entire body, to your rapidly beating heart.

He had been doing this more often lately, guiding you with a hand on your back or brushing over your shoulders when helping you with your coat.

Sometimes, the occasional, slightly longer-than-necessary handshake left your knees weak, and even now, his touch burned through the fabric of your pants, as if a sitcom-worthy handprint might be etched there.

"It happens to the best of us," him excluded of this, the man was never late, never forgot, and worst of all, never broke down crying "-please don't fret over this any longer. Everything is alright."

You nodded, sniffling when he stretched to the coffee table and offered you a tissue, handed over with one of his infuriating smiles.

"Thanks," you dabbed the tissue against your cheeks, trying to wipe away the blush and surely ugly puffiness as well as the tears, "I'm still sorry for-" you pointed to your face, "-all this. This probably wasn't how you wanted your day off to start"

Thranduil tilted his head slightly, long blond hair cascading over his shoulder, which he now nudged against yours. "Hey, we have a rule in this house, y'know? No crying unless it's during a movie, book, or when I cooked"

The laugh you let out sounded more like a snort, which is embarrassing in itself though Thranduil only nudged you again in good humor, "So, if you don't want me to punish you for this utterly inexcusable rulebreaking, then you should quickly smile again"

"Oh no!" you exclaimed, wiping away some more tears, before biting down a smile, "I could not handle watching Frozen 2 again this week"

The Oropherion household was most prestigious with Thranduil representing the largest book publishing company in the country, and his two exemplary children, so of course, punishment for any rulebreaking of this kind was a movie night- movie chosen by the youngest (if she wasn't the one breaking the rules).

"Again?" Thranduil raised his eyebrows, then patted your leg condescendingly, "Have I ever told you how strong you are, my dear?"

Ignoring the stutter your heart makes at the nickname and carefully filing the moment away for later, you shook your head, "You have no idea. I had barely picked them up from school yesterday when Tauriel snitched on Legolas for tripping another boy- he did it as an act of self-defense.. well he defended Aragorn but we do not know that if anyone official calls, and then for that Legolas tripped her and so I spend the evening yet again in the company of Olaf and Anna."

As you recount the eventful first day of the week, you could hear and feel Thranduil snicker, his whole body shaking where it pressed against yours- legs, thighs, shoulders.

"Wow, just.. oh my," Thranduil exhaled, and there laid a fondness in his blue eyes, a softness in the corner of his mouth, that washed away the stern businessman, leaving no room for anyone else but a young father, who soaked up every moment of his kid's lives, scared they were growing up too fast.

"Anyway, I shouldn't just sit around and ramble," you crumpled up the tissue in one hand, using the other to brush away some hair.

Conjuring your best smile, the one reserved for him and only him, you linger for one second on the warmth of his body this close to you, before squaring your shoulders. "Soo, thanks for not firing me, I appreciate it and swear that I'll check my phone in the morning to not cause you this much trouble again"

Thranduil's eyebrows twitched, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't staring at him constantly. "I wouldn't have fired you," he said, honest and completely serious; you shrink together, just like the paper tissue. He continues, voice grave and his eyes focused on you, "Not because of something like that, not because of a little thing you are not responsible for. And even if you were, I think we're long past the point where I'd want to fire you, no matter what"

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape, and you want to ask him what he meant by that or if he meant to say it like he did, but no words come out.

Thranduil takes your speechlessness in, his lashes fluttering softly as he closes his eyes, tipping his head to the side. Another barely noticeable change in his demeanor, this time the hint of a smile, that quickly disappears again.

A call from Tauriel shattered the atmosphere between you, and you pulled yourself together.

"Let's just let it go," Thranduil said, this time his mouth curved into a full smirk.

You glare at him, forcing yourself to stand up. "I hate you"

You didn't, but there was no need to add that since the smile and blush on your face gave that away as much as any words would.

Still smirking at you, Thranduil yelled "Yes, Tauriel, you can come back in" and as soon as he finished the two children you loved so dearly rushed into the living room.

While Legolas immediately spilled over the back of the couch like liquid and rolled face first into the small space between his father and the couch, Tauriel nearly toppled over her own feet racing toward you.

She collided with your legs without slowing down.

Unlike Legolas, who was a spitting image of his father with his bright blue eyes and blond hair, Tauriel had inherited her red hair and freckles from her mother, who was only mentioned by Thranduil, if at all, with a dismissive snort, as if it were part of her name.

However, he had every right to do so.

After all, he did rush into the hospital on Christmas-Eve nine years ago, thinking that from then on, Christmas would have the table decked for four, not two, and he left with two children barely a day old and already burdened with a mother who had lost all interest in them.

She had left the hospital when Thranduil had been asleep, his children close to his chest as he grew from boy to single father in one night.

"What are we going to do today?" Tauriel asked, her hands grabbing the coat you still hadn't shed.

"Well, we could go to the park?" you offered and brushed some of her hair out of her face, "Or do you want to let your Ada decide?"

She pulled a face, twisting her lips in an adorable pout. "Noo, then he will go to a museum and they are soo boooring"

Thranduil cleared his throat, looking thoroughly outraged- as well as one could with his other child climbing over his back and tugging his hair. "Tauriel, I thought you loved our trip to the History Museum!"

There was a pause where Tauriel contemplated what to say, before pulling her lips into a smile and swiping her hand at the air: "Oh, yes, Ada, I really love going to the History Museum with you."

Then, turning to you and rolling her eyes in a matter that was surely an imitation of all the adult chit-chat she had caught and not even close to the behavior of a nine-year-old, she faux-whispered: "Don't fall for my tricks, I just don't want to see him sad"

You weren't even close to fast enough to cover the laugh that bubbled out of your throat with a cough.

"She just goes there because there is a boy in our class that she wants to impress," Legolas piped up, his feet dangling over Thranduil's shoulders while his blonde hair was sticking to his father's back.

"Not true!" Tauriel snapped back.

"SO true, she looooves-"

"Do not!"

"Yes, you do!"

"NO, I do not!"

"You-"

"HEY!" you cut into the back and forth that surely would have ended in punches or more tears, "If anyone says anything there will be no trip to the park, the museum or to wherever you want to go today!"

You fixated the twins with a warning stare that left no room for discussion and it even seemed to shut up Thranduil, who had opened his mouth and now, slowly and looking at you, closed it again.

"Thank you," you crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Now, I don't see beaks or feathers on the both of you so I'll ask you to refrain from squawking and cackling, and Legolas if you want to tease your sister about a boy, should I tell her about-"

"NO!" the boy screamed and immediately, realizing his mistake of speaking out of turn, clapped both hands in front of his mouth, leaving his blue eyes to plead.

Not that you would have said anything; whether it was Aragorn or that boy, Kili, you would never dare to spill the secrets that they whispered to you when you tugged them in.

You nodded once.

It was enough for the boy to relax, slipping onto the couch bare of cushions, and curling his arms around his father's neck.

It was an endearing, yet very exhausting trait of the boy to be unable to stop moving, always climbing things, restlessly skipping around when he was supposed to do his homework.

"Go and put on your boots, coats, and yes- Legolas, even your scarf and hat, and no- Tauriel, you did not forget them in school, I picked them up yesterday and put them into your bag"

There was not much grumbling, well, Tauriel muttered something close to a curse under her breath but at your sharp gaze, she opened her mouth in such a wide smile, baring two rows of teeth, that it looked strained, and Legolas made his protest clear in changing in and out of at least five sweaters before settling on one the same ink-blue as his fathers.

Said father continued to stifle his laughter while you stood in the hallway, waiting until the coat rack was nearly empty and the children had their coats zipped up, their boots tied, their necks covered in scarfs and two pairs of hands had gloves dangling from them.

Said father also came up behind you, when the twins were busy forming plans on what this day would come to, maybe an adventure in the park, or a walk through the aquarium, and you felt his hands brush over your shoulders, as he leaned to whisper in your ear and cause shivers to prickle down your spine despite the warm clothes:

"What a shame that I miss you this assertive most of the time, it looks good on you"

He must have heard the gulp of your throat, must have felt the buckling of your knees, but alas, he said nothing more and the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

It was what he was good at, swiping you off your feet with comments like this and touches like that, leaving you dazed and wondering if you had imagined it all or if that twinkle in his eyes truly was as flirtatious as you thought it to be.

"Okay so, shall we go?"

You caught Thranduil's smirk as he grabbed his coat as well.

His hands were quick to fasten the shiny buttons, working their way up from the bottom in seconds, and as he pulled his long hair out to toss it over his shoulders, the elegant length of his fair neck flashed into view.

Frozen in place, your gaze lingered on the curve of his cheekbones, the pointed ears, and quickly you looked away before he turned his attention from Legolas back to you and might have caught you staring.

It was truly unfair how beautiful he was, wearing the fitted coat, snug at his small waist and highlighting the broad of his shoulders, the midnight blue color being the perfect color for his blonde hair to look like starlight and sunshine all at once.

He drew looks onto him wherever he went and not because of his wealth or business– those were things New Yorkers didn't care about if he passed them on the streets.

He was simply breathtaking, and that he had a daughter skipping over puddles reflecting the clear blue sky and a son babbling while he listened and laughed and answered was more of a magnet than he maybe realized.

In fact, he never seemed to notice the heads turning, the heart eyes that mothers and young women watched him with, and the appreciating nods of handsome men. The ogling and giggling, the sighs and gasps, murmurs and whispers.

Not from strangers but certainly he had the talent to catch the slighted exhale of breath from you whenever you lost yourself in his elegant figure, watching and dreaming as he played with his children or washed the dishes, his back turned to you to examine his muscles straining against the stretch of his shirt.

He teased you for it, lips curving into smiles, eyebrows raising in a wiggle, arms lifting to reveal a sliver of toned stomach.

Even now, as you crossed the street to enter Central Park, the constant pull of Legolas on your right arm left you to slightly tumble into Thranduil, shoulders knocking against shoulder and you glanced up at him to apologize only to find a smirk already tugging on the left corner of his mouth.

The air is still quite chilly, leaving you to lift your nose in the direction of the February sun, albeit a long way from warming you up, it was enough to ease on the frost nipping at your skin.

The children were tugging you into the direction of their favorite playground, hats bouncing at the excited steps that were nearly too fast to hold them back, boots stomping as they made a game of pulling you.

Their happiness was brighter than any sommer light, the teasing from the apartment long forgotten as the roads curved and dew-kissed gras made way for sand and rubber flooring.

They stormed off as soon as Thranduil and you let go of them, scrambling away to conquer the climbing towers and slides and most assuredly end up befriending some if not all of the other kids that are playing under the watchful eyes of parents sitting on the many benches scattered around the place.

Thranduil and you settled onto a weathered bench, positioned directly beneath a skeletal tree that, in a matter of weeks, would burst into bloom, but for now, stood adorned only with bare branches reaching towards the heavens.

Thranduil folded his hands in his lap, starting by delicately pinching at the fingertips of one glove.

With graceful precision, he slipped his slender hand out, exposing his milky skin to the chill, repeating the process with agonizing slowness on the other hand.

The ritual held your undivided attention, captivating you as you watched those slender hands gradually unfasten the first button of his coat.

As if that weren't bad enough, he proceeded to loosen the red scarf wrapped around his neck, a vibrant contrast against the wintry backdrop.

Your mouth felt almost devoid of moisture as you struggled to comprehend.

Huddled deeper into the folds of your own coat, you shot him a reproachful glance. "I don't get how you aren't cold," you muttered, your words punctuated by a shiver.

He made a show of popping another button of his coat. "Tze, how could anyone be cold in this weather?" Thranduil angled his face toward the sun, "I dare say that this is the perfect weather for a long walk"

You scoffed, "Oh, here we go again. I can't wait for you to open up the window later and tell me that the winds are just a slight breeze. It's unfair, you know? Some of us freeze just by looking at you carelessly throwing that scarf away"

Thranduils squinted his eyes, seemingly contemplating whatever was going on his beautiful head and before you could say anything else he had raised his arms and wrapped the scarf around the smaller one you already wore.

Your mouth fell open in surprise, the blood rushing into your cheeks as he busied himself tugging here and there and then had the gall to pull so that you had your mouth full of scarf.

It not only smelled like his perfume but tasted like it as well.

"There, now you are best equipped for this blizzard-like cold!" he chuckled and when you tried to pull the scarf away, he held one of the ends so that it slipped to cover your ears. "Oops, my fault-"

"Thranduil!" was what you wanted to say though the fabric made it sound more like "Franfuil" which made him only laugh louder. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the amusement showing itself in their baby blues.

Thinking that he maybe just did it for a joke, you wanted to free yourself from it.

His cold hands coming to rest upon yours with his long slender fingers covering yours, halted the movement.

"I can't wear your scarf," you said meekly and made another attempt though with not much force.

You wanted to wear his scarf, wanted to sit on this bench with all the other parents passing you and seeing his claim, his scarf wrapped around your neck, but this was another dream, not something that really happened.

He was just joking, wasn't he?

"Tze," Thranduil swatted at the air and clicked his tongue. "Why not? You said it yourself, you are freezing because of me. Let me offer you some warmth and don't tell me this scarf isn't wondrous. The wool is from irish sheeps-"

He continued talking, and you sunk back into the bench, nose buried into the fabric that carried his scent.

The scarf did help, although it wasn't just because of the added expensive layer but because of the hands that had wrapped it as well.

"and thus this scarf is the best way to keep your poor freezing body self. Imagine what the kids would say if they came back and you sat here like an iceberg. We would have to bring hammers to break you out of it," he finished with a satisfied nod to himself and folded on leg over the other, clasping his hands on top of the raised knee. "Now, no more complaining, do we understand each other?"

You nodded obediently.

Thranduil took it in, making sure that you didn't talked back to him, then he turned toward the playground.

You followed his gaze to Legolas and Tauriel hanging on the monkey bars and swinging back and forth.

"Mhm," he hummed and a smirk pulled on his lips, "I really want to say that the cold never bothered me anyway"

At your pained groan, he just laughed joyfully.

Inside your chest, your heart stuttered against your ribcage.

"I can say that this is far better than sitting in the office," Thranduil mused after a while, eyes wandering from his children to you.

He really did look much happier, the cold giving him a healthy blush that reached all the way down his slender throat.

Not that you stared at his Adam's apple and the soft rosé of his skin– your eyes were just drawn to the red lint his scarf had left on his collar.

You tried to lift an eyebrow like he always did but failed miserably. "What? And here I figured that playing all day was only half as much fun as making sure my suit didn't get wrinkled from all the sitting around."

Thranduil scoffed, not in anger but in humor. "I will let you know that I'm not bound to the desk and will walk to get some coffee now and again"

"Oh how adventurous," you teased, nudging your elbow into his side, "Do tell, whatever do they do with this wild man of a boss?"

He laughed at that, and you had to bury your teeth in your lip to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

"Sometimes they take away my pen and force me to listen to whatever offer is going on instead of letting me play tic-tac-toe"

"That's so unfair," you shook your head, the smile now breaking out despite the best effort to retain it, "Maybe I should talk to them because last time I saw your notes you lost every time. Like you are so bad! They should let you practice more"

"You cheeky-" Thranduil stopped himself, the chortling laughter made it impossible to understand anything he would have said anyway.

After a while the laughter subsided, leaving a comfortable silence that you sunk into, letting the whole moment wash over you.

There was laughter all around you, children screaming and yelling, Tauriel and Legolas swinging on the monkey bars as the cold colored their faces nearly as red as the girl's hair.

Somewhere in the distance, the music of the carousel waved over, the melody familiar by now and you dared to tilt your head just enough to the side, to make it look like your gaze was trailing over to the wooden tent instead of trailing the curve of Thranduil's nose, the long lashes resting on his cheek as he bathes in the sun.

As if he felt your eyes on him, he hummed. "Maybe I should cut my hours short," Thranduil's voice was low, but there was a firmness behind the words, a determination that told you he had thought about this longer than his statement let on.

Your heart jumped in your chest.

Grateful that his eyes were still closed so that he couldn't see the shock that played your features, you inhaled deeply, needing the sting of the air in your lungs.

"Oh," you whispered, wanting to follow up with something encouraging but the words just wouldn't come to you.

"Oh," you simply repeated.

The chill of winter settled deep into your bones and you hunched your shoulders, the meaning of his words cutting sharp into the string of affection that you thought connected the two of you.

If he worked less than that meant he wouldn't come home late in the evening, maybe even early enough to pick up his children from school, giving him time to cook for them, go to the playground, and accompany them to Legolas archery lessons and Tauriels dance classes.

If he had all the time do to this, then it would be more than reasonable to let you go.

"Mhm–" Thranduil hummed again, eyes still shut. "The firm doesn't need my input, they can do their best without me hovering around as if I was not just there to listen in to negotiations. This is what I should have done ages ago, direct my attention to the kids instead of book deals that only need my signature."

You nodded, ignoring that he couldn't see it.

"We should get away, the kids haven't had a vacation in forever. I own a house near Greenwood, and the last time I was there there had been a village close enough for the children to make some friends. It would be good for them, don't you think?"

"Yeah– sure," you swallowed hard, trying to force down the stone lodged in your throat.

There, on the tip of your tongue, was a plea, the urge to beg him not to fire you but you would rather let him continue to talk than embarrass yourself again.

"There was a house close by, a family with another single dad and his three kids. If I remember correctly the youngest had been Tauriel and Legolas' age, they could show them around, and Legolas can finally have that damn treehouse he always asks for," Thranduil chuckled and stretched out his legs, the tips of his shoes pointing to the sky, "He asks for one every birthday and I think if he asks me one more time I will find a way to build him that treehouse, even if that means buying a damn tree here in Central Park."

You let out a humorless laugh, more an exhale of air than anything else.

The images Thranduil painted would have been lovely if not for the pain growing inside your chest at every word.

"And we could take a walk through the woods, just you and me."

"What?"

Thranduil's eyes snapped open, blue eyes piercing you like the brightness of the sun over your heads.

For the first time, you saw confusion in them, unsureness, and doubt, and you must have looked just as baffled.

"A walk, to talk, you know? Without the kids sleeping in the other room, without their nosy ears hearing things they shouldn't?" His eyes widened, suddenly he seemed very much uncomfortable with how slouched he sat for he straightened up, "Oh my," he lifted a hand to run it through his hair, tousling it even more, "Oh no, have I overstepped?"

Your gaze remained fixed on him. "You want me to accompany you on this vacation to the woods to 'talk'? Damn, Thranduil, I thought you were on the verge of letting me go!"

"Let you go?!" His cheeks flushed crimson within seconds, a vivid contrast against his fair complexion.

There was an unfamiliarity to the flush, something so new and alien about it that, despite the gravity of the situation, you found yourself momentarily speechless, captivated more by the sight than the words spoken.

"I thought that we could come to an agreement about the arrangements of your employment status"

"My status?"

Nothing that was said made sense, for either one of you, and the comfort grew into frustration that made it impossible to sit still.

"Yes! Were we not on the same page?" Thranduil's voice got louder and you both flinched as a mother with her stroller walked past and threw you an annoyed look. Thranduil leaned closer, dropping into something close to a whisper: "I wanted to ask you out for like a month now, but it felt awkward since it would have required giving you the evening off or compensating you. Neither option seemed like the ideal foundation for a date, in my opinion," he pressed out between his teeth, tipping his head to the side.

"A date?" you felt stupid for parroting his words- again, but how could you not? This conversation had dragged out for far too long to be your imagination, yet you wouldn't believe that this was happening.

"Yes," he was laughing now, kind of desperate if you were honest.

The touch of his knees against yours became a hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand toward him so that he could lay it onto his open palm.

There were sparkles in your stomach, exploding like fireworks at the soft touch of his skin, warmed from the gloves he had worn on the walk.

"I am mad about you, haven't you realized? Have you any idea how I have to hold myself back whenever I come home and see you on the couch with my children, reading stories or singing movies, dancing around the living room in costumes?"

(You blushed deeply at the memory of that evening, Tauriel had convinced you that her fairy wings would fit you better than her, the pink glitter sticking to your clothes as you twirled around the room just when the elevator doors opened and Thranduil stood in the doorway; his tired and exhausted eyes lightening up at the sight of his daughter- or so you thought)

He continued, staring at your hands as he drew circles with the tip of his fingers. "Leaving for work is only easy because you are there to send me off, and working is only durable because I know that when the doors to the apartment open you will be there. It gets harder though, every time I see you cuddling with Legolas or drawing with Tauriel I have to refrain myself-" he stopped to look up, a coy smile on his lips that were suddenly much harder to ignore in their closeness and allure.

"Else, I'd find myself sinking to my knees before you on the couch, bestowing kisses for 'Hello', 'Goodbye', or simply surrendering to the emotions that have stirred within me since the day you entered my life."

"Well, I can tell you no other boss has greeted me like that," you murmured quietly, uncertain of how else to react.

His fingers continued their subtle dance, now entwined with yours. They melded together seamlessly, like a perfect puzzle, as if their natural state had always been intertwined.

Thranduil chuckled softly, his index finger tapping against his knuckle. "One of the reasons I never acted upon it," he admitted, "was the fear of you dialing the Department of Labor for harassment."

"A kiss wouldn't lead to that," you bit down on your lip again, "Fainting on my side, yes, absolutely, and I have never seen a fainted person make a phone call. And what would I say? Hello, my gorgeous boss, who I have a crush on kissed me? Oh, sad old me. could you maybe find a way to compensate me for something I have dreamed about?"

The moment you said what you said, the words slipped out your mouth faster than you could hold them back and loud enough that you could have pretended that you had mumbled something else.

The shock of Thranduil's admission had opened the pandora box of feelings that you had shoved under terms like 'work ethic' and 'inappropriate salivating over your superior' as if that would make it any easier.

"So we are on the same page," Thranduil smiled, his chest heaved in a relief exhale of air. "I'm glad.. oh, so glad. I would have perished if I had been wrong and all those times I asked you to eat with me you thought 'Great, now I have to spend time with him as well.' That would have been... well, rather disheartening."

You choked on another laugh, "No, no, I never thought something even close to that. Most of the time, I was occupied trying not to scream in excitement while figuring out how I could get rid of the glitter or marker on my arms."

He laughed, but his eyes were honest and he held your hand a little bit tighter, "You must know that you are beautiful in every way, especially covered in feathers and gemstones, couch lint, and flour." His head dropped then, his eyes falling to your lips as he took in your smile and the way you struggled to find words.

"I wish I could kiss you right now," he said instead and the regret was audible in his low voice, "But we should figure everything out before I do."

You understood his point, it would be irresponsible to make out - which a kiss would definitely lead to, after all, you were bursting at the seams just thinking about how his lips would taste.

There were the kids, for once, you couldn't know how they would react at seeing the nanny kiss their father without being spoken to first and then, there was the whole thing of him being your boss.

Instead of kissing him, you just nodded. "Of course. Mister Oropherion, I hereby tell you that I plan to resign. It was lovely working for you but this is not where I see myself in a few years."

His face had morphed into the professional that you had met all those months ago in that little restaurant, older yet not by much, less exhausted and happiness in those blue eyes of his that you would spend hours staring into.

Your last name still sounded unfamiliar on his tongue, you had instantly offered your first name for him to use- an order he gladly followed, the only exception being the nicknames you doted on.

"I'll make sure to have the papers ready in the afternoon," Thranduil said in a matter of business, "And there will be a bottle of wine, perhaps? To celebrate?"

You glanced around, making sure that no one was watching before lifting your hands and breathing a soft kiss onto his fingers, relishing the first taste of him.

"I would very much like that"

"Ada!" came the sudden yell of Legolas, and in the blink of an eye the boy ran toward you, coming out of nowhere and the rest of the sentence, whatever Thranduil had wanted to say, never crossed his lips that now spread into a wide smile at the sight of his son.

"Ada, you have to push us on the swings!"

Legolas jumped in front of you, fisting his gloves into your coat and pulling your attention onto him, cheeks all flushed red and blonde hair standing to all sides- he seemed to have lost his hat.

"You can push me and Ada can push Tauriel, and then can we go eat ice cream? There was a boy that said that his mom would buy him ice cream and let him ride the carousel, and–"

Thranduil laughed and raised a hand to smooth down the flyaway strands of hair. "Alright, alright, Las. Lead the way"

The boy immediately turned, tugging you with him at the seam of your coat into the direction of the pair of swings where his sister already waited, her hat lost in the sand as well.

That would be a problem for later, for now, you just followed Legolas and turned your head to see Thranduil catching up to you.

His hand brushed yours as he passed you, his legs much longer than yours and his coat free from the impatient drag of a child.

"Race you!"

There was more laughter echoing over the playground as you and Legolas chased after his father, their blonde hair flying in the wind, sand slipping into your boots, and the red scarf around your neck fluttering.

Later, when the children were asleep in their bed, tugged under their blankets, and exhausted from the day, Thranduil would bring out your contract, ready for your signature of resignation.

He would wait until you sign next to him, the pen just barely lifted from the paper before his lips would capture yours in a soft kiss; his hands resting on your waist as you fall on top of him on the couch.

There would be wine and kisses just as sweet, quiet laughter as to not wake the children, hushed giggles when you would follow him to his bedroom, his hand in yours.

Right now though, you swept up Legolas into your arms and dashed through the sand.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Cult of the Earth in Arms

Camped out in remote mines and fortified wilderness compounds, these zealots toil and train and stockpile for a war that may never come, dreaming of the day they will march to glorious victory over their hated foe.. whoever that happens to be week to week.

The cult has many names and supposed patrons: deposed human kings, exiled gnomish geniuses, scornful aspects of dwarven gods. All of these are mere proxies for the cult’s true master Kurtulmak, a bitter god of warfare and mining who takes the form of a kobold who’s ire manifests as poison that dribbles from both his jaw and tailbarbs. 

Like many gods of wicked war, Kutulmak cares nothing for whatever cause his unwitting cultists call him to, feeding instead off of their resentment, suppressed fear, and ever mounting bloodlust. It doesn’t matter whether they are a paranoid militia prepping for a conflict they will never see, or bitter partisans waging guerrilla war against a populace long since seeking peace, they all feed Kurtulmak’s desire for intractable conflict and indelible resentments. 

The cult of the Earth in Arms tends to operate in isolation, pertaining to self sufficiency while raiding, extorting, or fleecing others for what they need. They entrench themselves in an area, filling it with traps and hidden fortifications, while sinking tunnels deep into the earth in search of resources that can help to fill their arsenals. Iron for blades and armour is obviously prized, but copper and tin for cannons and saltpetre for blasting powder are likewise prime targets. Often they will use captives to work these claims and the foundries they feed, as the cultists often consider drugework below the dignity of born warriors such as themselves. 

Adventure Hooks

An uptick in disappearances puts the party on the trail of a slaving operation, funneling bodies into a band of backwoods cultists working a hidden gem mine. After they’ve cleared the bastards out, the party might have the opportunity to make the operation legitimate if they put in the elbow grease and promise the authorities their due. 

The local lord thought he was very clever, operating a hidden foundry out of the old dwarven ruins to produce weapons and artillery in preparation for a campaign against his liege. As it turns out the reason the ruins were abandoned in the first place was because they sat on top of a magical layline, and all the smelting and quenching has attracted the attention of several rogue elementals.  Now there’s a scattering of earth-hulks marauding through the countryside and a team of mephits who’re flitting about with a cannon in tow. 

After suffering a crushing defeat, the general of the imperial army fell back into the mountains, her forces becoming little more than bandits in ensuing years until her scouts came back with news of drakes nesting in the region. Nearly a generation of arduous training and rearing since her defeat, she’s returned to retake the lands she lost with a flight of lesser dragons at her back.. Lands the party just happens to occupy. 

Artsource

[tylermileslockett]

Theseus #4 (In the Labyrinth)

No sooner had Theseus settled into his princely position, than King Minos of Crete, calls upon Athens for its bloody yearly debt. King Minos son had previously died in the Athenian games, and as an act of revenge, he threatened to invade Athens unless the kingdom sent seven male and seven female youths to Crete to sacrifice for his half-man, half-bull creature within his labyrinth; the Minotaur. Theseus volunteers as one of the youths, determined to stop the beast. King Aegeus tells Theseus if he survives, to switch the ship’s black sail to white upon his return, so his father will know he lives.

Arriving in Crete, King Minos’ daughter, Ariadne, falls for Theseus, and vows to help him if he will marry and bring her to Athens after defeating the beast. Theseus agrees, and Ariadne consults Daedalus, the ingenious inventor of the maze, as to its secrets. She gives Theseus the secrets, and most importantly, a ball of thread, so that he may retrace his steps. That night, Ariadne sneaks Theseus to the entrance, and he enters the dank corridors.

Ariadne is one example of smitten women assisting male Greek heroes on their quests with invaluable clues and tools. The Argonauts, arriving at Colchis to acquire the Golden fleece, were assisted by the princess Medea, who uses magic and ingenuity to help Jason succeed in his labors.

There are many interpretations for the symbolism of Labyrinths in myths. On the surface they show a character on a journey to discover their purpose or destiny through finding the correct path to reach their goal. They’re also symbolic of the stage of the hero’s journey Jospeh Campbell calls the “belly of the whale,” where the hero commits to their metamorphosis, and thus re-emerges from the ordeal, reborn anew. The Labyrinth center could represent a unification with the hero’s inner self, a higher power, or the ultimate challenge, and the tunnel could represent a birth canal.

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[spindle-and-nima]

What would you say are the essentials of a bunny enclosure? I'm trying to get ready to make one for my new apartment

Hello friend!

First and extremely importantly you need space. I strongly encourage a minimum pen size of roughly 3x5 (vet and shelter told me to make sure my pens were no smaller than that size for my rabbits but a bit bigger is good). If your rabbit is not free roam, you can certainly make it bigger (my pen is a 6x6 my rabbits are semi free roam). I use a tall dog playpen to build mine so that or a Z pen will make for easy building. You can get creative with how you block out an area but space is incredibly important.

As for what goes in it:

-litter box of course but what's important is size. Do not get a tiny corner triangle box it's unhealthy for their posture. Opt for a cat litter box that's big enough for your rabbits to sit comfortably in and turn around easily in.

-hay tower or rack. You can either hang a rack (you can literally get a metal rack basket for cheap from Lowe's or home Depot and just stuff hay in it) or a wood tower like what I have. Bunnies must have Timothy Hay available 24/7 in unlimited quantities so this is the way to ensure that. It keeps the hay from getting soiled though I do always add additional hay to the litter box. Keep the hay near the litter box to kinda just keep em poopin in the litter when they want a snack

-hides. You need at least 1 hide per rabbit. I have 4 hides for mine. I like the cute wooden Castle hides bc they are roomy and my bunnies like them a lot but really you can get creative with it. Just absolutely no igloos those are not good for rabbits or their postures (vet and shelter advice). You can do tunnels or cardboard boxes but yea hides are a necessity for rabbits.

-flooring. There's a lot of things you can do for flooring but you definitely want something to prevent your rabbits from soiling your carpet and most rabbits dislike smooth tile or hardwood (slippery on non padded feet). A few things I've seen people do are use pee pads and lay fleece, blankets, towels, or rugs on top which are good options. If you're like me and busy and want easy cleaning and a cute aesthetic, you can use EVA carpeted foam mats. They absorb well without letting urine leak through.

I would NOT advise EVA foam if your rabbits really chew and actually eat everything. while I find these dont give bunnies much leverage for biting, especially destructive ones will find a way and you don't want them eating these. My bungies are luckily not interested in chewing them so they work well. A handful of guest rabbits I've housed did well with them too. Even my more destructive guests didn't manage to bite through it well but I need to put that disclaimer because I'm kind of lucky with my rabbits behaviour.

They look like this and come in many colors:

Pretty good and I like them because they are easy cleanup (wash by hand but you can just pop the soiled square out and replace it with a spare so the pen is immediately freshened up. And you can clean the soiled ones immediately or if you're busy just set it aside to wash when you got the time.) these are not essential ofc you can just use the ol fleece or towel or rug thing. Since you are renting i would really reccomend putting puppy pee pads under whatever you choose to protect the flooring.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Let's Build an AU Poll #3

PREVIOUSLY ON BUILD AN AU~

All our sweet heroine wanted to do was repair a leaky faucet. Instead, she fell down a dark pipe in her basement, taking her from the world she knew. The trip down changed her body from a chunky 3D to a flat 2D sticker.

Now, confronted with a possible threat (Y/N)’s on edge.

~

 “It’s a~ me-”

(Y/N)’s heart raised itself to its crescendo. Its beats overtook the bush rustling as the blood raced in her ears. She couldn’t look away from the leather gloves that pushed aside the foliage.

She leaned back. Her legs tense, but frozen as the leafy tunnel flashed two blue orbs. She swore, it growled as a couple tears fell and her body trembled.

“Alfred!” Cheered the happy face that popped into view.

At the strange man’s bright smile, (Y/N)’s legs gave out. Fear turned to confusion as she processed the view in front of her.

The man, or at least (Y/N) assumed he was an adult with those ‘chibi proportions’, struggled momentarily to remove himself from the bush. Its green, construction paper leaves stuck to his flat surface like stickers. Each twist of his flimsy body revealed that he was double-sided as he plucked off each leaf.

Yet, some parts of Alfred moved like a normal man. His golden hair fluttered as he messed with the burrs. Sapphire eyes, hidden behind round glasses glinted in the sunlight as he looked over himself. His round, gloved hands moved without hindrance as he felt along his jean overalls for more plant matter.

Alfred would have been very handsome. If he was normal.

“-that’s how I found you.” Alfred trained his blue eyes onto (Y/N). “So, what’s your name.”

And apparently, he had been talking all this time.

(Y/N) um’ed as she looked around with reddened eyes. She could feel the smoke that floated off her fried nerves as she weighed her options.

To trust, meant that Alfred would be her defacto hero. He hopefully would rescue her and get her home within an hour. On the other hand, what if he wasn’t as nice as he looked. What if this was all just a ruse? A wolf in sheep’s clothing so to-

(Y/N)’s off-rail train was stopped as Alfred knelt down in front of her. His face contorted with worry as he took her hands in his.

“Dudette, you ok?”

The way he rubbed his thumbs over her hands, felt normal, comforting even. Like she was still in the 3D world. Sitting at home, warped in a fleece blanket on her grey couch.

“I’m o-“ (Y/N)’s voice warbled as tears rose again like hightide. “kay.”

His baby blues softened as he wiped away a single tear that dared to fall.

“Hey~” He cooed. “I’m a hero, you can trust me to help.”

His smile was so warm. Begging her to let him help. With a sigh, (Y/N) answered with her name.

Somehow, the smile rivaled the cartoony sun above as he complimented her name. Repeating it with a happy chirp as he pulled her up from the meadow floor.

“So, wanna tell me how you wound up Merry Meadow?”

A small heat flushed over (Y/N)’s cheeks as she told the blond her story. The embarrassment burned as she detailed the trek into the basement. Her hands fluttered in gestures as she explained the strange pipes and painful transformation.

 At the end of her tale, Alfred stared at (Y/N) for a moment. His blue eyes were blank as he blinked.

She jumped at his sudden grab. His gloved appendages were on hers once more. He dragged her close, his eyes now sparkled with excitement as he lowered his face close.

“YOU’RE AN ALIEN!!”

The sheer volume of his voice rang her eardrums as she flinched backward. Yet, she remained upright from his unrelenting grip.

“WHAT?! No! If anyone’s an alien, it's you!” She accused, ripping her hands out of his grip. Her finger aimed at his face.

Nah-uh. Shook the blond. “You’re not from here, which means it's you.”

Oh. (Y/N)’s finger fell. She guessed he was right. But did that mean she couldn't get home? After all, she was under the assumption that pipe was a one-way trip. Could there really be a way to return home? What if her ‘alien’ status caused her to be hunted and killed? Or worse, become an experiment?

As her fates raced before her eyes, Alfred put a hand on her shoulder. He gave it a simple squeeze, bringing her attention back to him.

“Don’t worry Alien (Y/N).” Alfred said with a laugh and thumbs up. “As the hero of the Toad Kingdom, I’ll get you back to your spaceship.”

Huh? Now, it was (Y/N)’s turn to blink blankly. At what point did she mention a ship? Was this his poor attempt at meta-humor?

Alfred looked to the side and coughed when (Y/N) didn’t react. She swore he muttered something in that cough. Stuffed craow, maybe? Was that a-

“Anyway!” Alfred chirped. “How about you come back with me to my place?”

Once again (Y/N)’s face embraced the inferno as she squeaked. What did he mean by that?!

“Yeah, ya know.” He spoke with an innocent head tilt. “So, you can rest, before we figure out which warp pipe will get you home.”

Ah, that made more sense.

Nodding she gestured to him to lead the way.

~

Despite his chibi portions, Alfred moved fast. It felt even faster to (Y/N) as she tried to take in the meadow around her.

It was weird to take in all the cartoony nature. The over-saturated flowers came in both natural and unnatural colors. The paper grass that crunched under (Y/N)’s bare feet and Alfred’s work boots. The sky was a single shade of blue instead of the ever-changing gradient of blues she was used to.

In the distance, the occasional spiraled tower appeared, but this time they weren’t as scary. Even with their hyper-focused stares, Alfred’s presence lessened their pressure.  

As she noticed her observation created too great a gap, she dashed forward. Nervous that if she let him go too far, she would lose sight of her only salvation.

Not realizing he stopped, (Y/N) ran right into his back. She grunted; her arms scrambled to prevent herself from falling like a piece of paper.

The ‘hero’ said nothing about her plight. Just reached an arm back to steady her.

“Don’t move.”

Her eyes widened at his serious tone. Before she could utter a single question, two beings hopped out of the grass.

They seemed humanish at first with their chibi human proportions. That was it, though. These beings had big, brown, bowel cuts that draped like ugly curtains over ferociously thick eyebrows. Their eyes were dark and angry while each snarled lip was cornered by two large tusks.

 The taller of the two stepped forward. His voice was gruff as he shouted at Alfred.

“ALFRED!! IN THE NAME OF THE KOOPA KING, THIS IS WHERE YOU AND YOUR FRIEND FALL!”

 As the last syllable floated through the air, the duo rushed forward. Their tiny hands balled into fists as they were prepped to punch both (Y/N) and Alfred.

(Y/N) tried to scream that she just met the man. That she didn’t understand what was happening, but it fell on deaf ears. If they had ears.

The short one targeted (Y/N) but before his punch could land, she found herself thrown into the air. In shock, she turned to look downward. Alfred had been the one to throw her away as he dodged his own assailant. With a simple turn on the point of his boot, he was able to land a solid punch. The force flung the enemy back.

As she sailed downwards, she watched in amazement as Alfred then turned to the short one. A blood thirsty grin split his face as he kicked the being. It appeared to fly further than the first as it flew toward it.

Her fluttering fall took her back towards the ground, but before she could make contact Alfred’s strong arms cradled her. He tucked her head under his chin as he turned to address those freaks.

“Tell your king that if he really wants to stop me, he needs to stop sending Goombas!”

At that comment, the ‘goombas’ growled and stood back up. Red streamers seeped from their road rashes as they supported each other. Even from a distance, (Y/N) believed they were ready for round two.

But, a simple challenge stomp from Alfred caused them to pause. When he took a step forward with (Y/N) in his arms, they began to tremble. Another, with the same malicious grin, and the goombas turned and dashed.

As their retreat kicked up a cloud of dirt, Alfred laughed. It was loud and clear like a young lion declaring victory over his territory. (Y/N) still tucked tightly in his arms.

The jovial nature behind it wiped away all traces of blood-thirstiness. Yet, she couldn't forget any of that.

“What the HECK was THAT!?” She squirmed in his arms as Alfred resumed his path home.

“A normal Tuesday.” He responded with a chuckle.

~

It took a bit for Alfred to finally let (Y/N) down. The man had used the excuse of other creatures coming in for kill as a reason to keep her close.

It wasn’t enough to keep her there forever, especially since they had settled into silence. Though, (Y/N) was sure he could tell she had more questions. Alot more that stewed in the back of her mind.

As the arts and crafts sun began to set, Alfred turned back to her. His arm reached around her shoulders as he gestured to a cabin at the hill’s bottom.

“There’s home sweet home, alien dudette.”

“It’s quaint.” She responded. The sight was like an open door, inviting exhaustion to lay heavily upon her flattened bones and brain.

As (Y/N)’s shoulders sagged under Alfred’s grip, he hummed. It’s deep, melody relaxing the stressed woman even more.

“Do you want to me to carry you again?” She didn’t even look at him as she said no. She walked ahead; feet heavy as she was eager to reach her promised rest.

Near feet from the door, Alfred popped up next to her. Somehow having one last burst of energy as he positioned himself in front of her.

“Dudette, I forgot to tell you one thing.”

She cocked an eyebrow at his statement. Silently urged him to get on with it.

“My brother lives with me. And he’s a bit skittish.” Alfred pushed his fingers together in a cutely nervous fashion. “So… would you wait outside while I talk to him.”

Another blank stare, this time created by the numb exhaustion.

“Please?” He added with the sweetest puppy dog eyes.

Instead of the basic ok (Y/N) wanted to give. Annoyance from all the unknows crept into her tone.

“Only if you give me a blanket and pillow first.”

The fun thing about AUs is that they don't have to follow the canon. Though I am 90% sure which nation will be Luigi, I just wanna see what y'all will say.

[revelisms]

There's a child's clammy fingers squeezing the color out of his palm—five little points, soot in the skin; a gunsmith prodigy in a fleece-wrapped girl—and it makes Silco, strangely, think of love.

(Not of the way it devours—that starved hunger reserved for other years, other lifetimes, other men, that makes heat of the rain's chill and claims walls and clothes and teeth alike; builds vessels of longing from one's bones and strips mind-logic to single-syllable beggings, no—

But of the way it aches.)

This girl is like a knife-edge picking through sinew and rot. A jagged point that's found a cavernous maw still-bleeding—one another soul had scraped clean on their way out—and slotted itself in.

(Is he still bleeding?)

Five points: little fingers, little nails, clinging to his palm like a lifeline.

A tiny, monstrous thing. Much the same as he had been.

(Burden to his mother; bastard to his sire. A dredging cog in the tunnels' machine.

A father? Hardly.)

"I didn't—I didn't mean to do it," Jinx hiccups.

(The lab smoldering in ash? Or the knife in his chest?)

He draws in a breath.

Slowly, as though those small, steel-edged bones were made of glass, he loosens the snare of her fingers; squeezes the rough lines of his own around them, instead.

"I know, child," he mutters, smelted glass on his breath.

A three-week setback, dismissed as flippantly as that.

(Does one often make such dismissals, for a daughter?)

Her head nudges into his arm. So heavy, for a body so young. And for all his attempts at tenderness, at a memory he has too long forgotten, she finds a way to bend it towards violence: another little hand, little nails, desperate carvings, shackled to his wrist—as though this girl has only known affection through anger; only known the sting of care when muddled with pain.

A cruel irony.

He knows it as well as he knows the mines' heat.

He sees Vander: hand at his collar, rage on his breath, concern skinned to contempt and fanged teeth-glint growling—

(I've made us a deal—a deal for you—don't'ya understand?—)

He sees this girl's blood-knuckled sister: same fighting spirit, same piston of a fist, same mantle of protection, same spite—

(I never asked you to be my keeper—)

His claws pinch back: devil to devil-spawn. Same damned language of hurt.

The girl winces.

"It's alright," he says, a foreign reflex off his tongue. Not the apology he means; the one he ought to give. His touch eases. "It's alright," he hushes again.

She snuffles in a breath.

Slowly, he shifts: lays his palm against her nape. Bird-thin thing; her hair a nest in need of brushing, her pulse pattering as a rabbit's.

(Had he been this small, once?)

But these bones aren't made of glass. Not the frailty her stature lends her.

No—this child burns like a beacon: a rage that singes off her like a second skin: one he too knows, has already lived, still wields, as this girl wields weaponry like an extension of her soul; as she has reclaimed a title of her own choosing, own redemption; as she stands a wealth of potential none have dared to unleash.

A glimmering pinnacle in a city led to wallow in its own gluttony.

A promise.

(His wrath embodied; his resolution rebirthed.)

A legacy.

(A knife of hope between his ribs.)

A daughter.

His thumb soothes through the thistle of her hair.

"I'll fix this," he says quietly—(this, not you, because she is not an object in need of fixing, has not asked him to piece her back together, has not admitted she sees herself as a weakness rather than a strength, one she may one day learn to embrace)—and turns down to her.

He finds a cosmic implosion in her eyes. Fire and storms. Resilience and determination.

Jinx sniffles. Her fingers uncoil from his sleeve: cling tight again.

"Promise?" she whispers.

He brushes the matted fringe from her soot-grayed cheek. Tucks it lightly behind her ear.

"I promise," he answers her, simply as he can—and means it.

silco and jinx / promises

[mintmillipede]

things i noticed in the good omens 2 opening title sequence part 1

i watched this frame by frame and have had many thoughts. i'll put things which are interpretation or my perspective in purple. feel free to watch along whilst you read if you haven't seen it yet.

also couple of disclaimers which u may feel free to skip: i grew up with chrisitan iconography but am not christian but because of that i know more about that perspective of abrahamic texts so keep that in mind! i'm using guy as a vibe more than a gender but am happy to take criticism on that bc i'm not sure myself yet. also i haven't looked at any other analyses because i want this to be like a fun little puzzle so apologies for overlap/missing things/being wrong. ok enjoy!

ok, scene 1. mountain range, not sure which one but it could be a biblical reference? so possibly judaean mountains but that is a big stretch. aziraphale is coming down from the heavens whilst crowley emerges from a glowing orange crater, which looks a lot like hell especially with the context later in the intro.

they emerge behind a rock into scene 2 into a tunnel and crowley lights a match with his hell powers? this actually interests me because why use a match if you have fire powers? perhaps he's conserving miracles.

scene 3: we don't actually see them emerge from the tunnel, they're seen up ahead later. we start with an animal's skull in the foreground, and i think it's a ram. there's other ram skeletal remains later and there are various rams eating on the hills. from stage right enters: a delivery guy. they've got a delicate package. it's giving me like holy land vibes? idk i grew up christian and it's like christian movie landscape to me.

anyway the delivery guy is trailing behind a figure all in black who is almost camouflaged in the murky landscape. there's also a tree by them which i think is a mustard seed tree!!! there's a parable about it and it's the vibe of starting from small beginnings like the small little mustard seed grows into a tree which birds chill on.

the figure in black is following a couple of steps behind aziraphale and crowley, and they pass a little ram on a rock which has a fleece which reddens. rams were often used as sacrifices in the old testament and probably in other abrahamic texts. not a good omen.

a raven is on a cart with bags which look like they are full of coin. they are having a little snack. this may be about matthew 6:26 where jesus basically says don't worry so much about money look god's feeding the ravens (sometimes translated as birds in general) and they suck (bc they are seen as unclean maybe because they eat carcasses) and you're better than them. it's like god cares for fucking ravens so he's gonna care for you sinners. also they're omens of death. this will be important very shortly.

there's also some real funky looking birds with four legs on the mountain and those were not in the bible (/j idk if they are or not but i couldn't remember them and i feel like i would have). and the paths on the mountains are scrolls, suggesting maybe that the world around them is literally made of scripture.

crowley sets fire to a little bb ram and now they're all on fire it's very mean of him. no i am not colouring that in purple. i think in this context it might be to cleanse the sins of humanity?

scene 4! finally ok immediately wtf aziraphale why are you secretly a lamp??? my bf thinks this is a supernatural show so i looked it up to spite him and there's a bunch of references to lamps in the torah and talmud but bc english-speaking christians can't be bothered to learn hebrew or greek the bible has the most direct reference i could find: 'the spirit of man is the lamp of the lord'

also crowley is a vibe! not sure what gender she's presenting as here but i'm hazarding a guess as femme. blue has a bunch of meanings but none i was sure about, but i saw a bunch of references to the sky. the funky guy behind him does have a human face with a helmet of black hair i think and is carrying something big that i cannot make out. the person in front of them is giving zombie and they are in a graveyard and there's more context later imo for that being accurate.

going stage left, we have another aziraphale and crowley, not in disguise. if i had to guess, these would be muriel and another new ally who are disguised as them to take the heat off of them. i think.

everyday on a gravestone? could be a reference to the song everyday by buddy holly which has been used in promo so far. it's a song about working up the courage to ask someone out... which could signify a development in aziraphale and crowley's relationship but also could signify something coming in the plot relating to heaven/hell. on a gravestone, the song could reference the fast approach of death. could be a combo of these things too. or could be none! i am no oracle. or am i...

at the back, a bucket of pickled herring is being transported by a skrungly little guy. pickled herring does have links to jewish culture but we know there's a pickled herring scene in edinburgh which maybe more suggests scottish fishing culture (not that the two are mutually exclusive of course). the guy travelling alongside the cart with a goth vibe has a shovel suggesting he's a gravedigger.

jane austen! suggests some of her themes popping up in the show but also suggests they're around winchester cathedral, and it does look like they're going into a building but it looks more like a crypt/mausoleum to me. i tried to find more information about a building like this in winchester but i was looking on ecosia and thus found nothing.

here lies the former shell of beelzebub is a canon reason for the change of actors, but here lies adam?!?!??! i know time could have just passed, but it's still mean!!!!! maybe it's a different adam?

scene 5! i think they've entered down a secret passageway in the crypt - you can see some coffins there and i think the masonry fits well enough. we've got some more people following behind the ones who are dressed like azi and crowley. it's a bit too blurry but i've spotted a few who could be aziraphale in disguise as the odd lantern is gone - i think though he is dressed as the gravedigger now as the original gravedigger seems to have changed their garb. a few more could be crowley although crowley's original form with the blue headscarf is still there. the figure in white near the front gives me undead vibes. helmet hair guy is more visible now. we've got someone holding a lantern near the back who is a vibe (could be religious or in some way guiding the souls of the dead). they're followed by a real funky looking guy who i think is wearing a mask??? hard to tell

ok so so so there is so much around them. skeletons and gravestones suggest we're still in a cemetery. if you look on the left, it's the box the delivery guy from the beginning had!!! so many thoughts about this. mentions of a delivery are everywhere. this box is in the recent prime insta post with angel and demon feathers emerging from it. basically this is very very important, so how did it end up here? was the delivery guy buried with this on his body?

we see a web. we'll come back to that!

little feature i like the skull we see has a backbone and a ribcage which is a vibe

scene 6! a lot of ppl too many to talk about in full but def some skeletons. i think religious figures. there's a cool looking punk? too many things so many stimuli. anyway i think this is a crowd of undead people being led into hell to assist on a mission. why just the undead?

they're exiting something that looks like the crypt they came in from, suggesting it's a secret entrance to hell. might this be where hastur met crowley in season 1?

we've got a big wheel which looks like it's used for some kind of pulley contraption imo, but i don't think it would be for the guillotine unless they wanted to adapt the guillotine somehow, perhaps automate it? big stretch

we've got the pyres of files and computers and office chairs. this is a metaphor for capitalism sucking balls.

web! like before. ok so theories perhaps it's a metaphor showing the web of all of the connecting entrances. perhaps it's a big magic hell thing drawing power from everywhere to its centre. perhaps hell listens to people from webs. maybe demons can travel through webs? idk maybe one of these is 25% right. also later we see a spooder so maybe she has laid eggs?

oooh mysterious fire cave. mayb that's where satan is chilling. the inverted pentacle's outside of it. could also be the government of sorts. my boyf thinks it looks like a skeletal face in a witch hat and i think he is festering with lies.

leetle dragon gargoyle!!!! i love her she can do no wrong

i like to think we see the different stages of their headquarters. the castle was the first, the grey building is the current/s1 one, and the blueish lighting is coming from what they're upgrading to. this may also be why there's the pyres of stuff: they're doing a little clear out!

also the crushed metally thing in the foreground... i don't want to say it's the bentley.............. so i will not i refuse to be devastated before the show has even begun

scene 7: we come out of the stairs leading up to the public loos by liberty's london which is right next to soho, the implication being that that's another entrance to hell which is in fact true irl. the old-timey underground logo (probs oxford circus) suggests we're not in present day (so maybe adam is fine! or maybe they're time travelling?) which suggests we're in the blitz (ww2) because of the barrage balloon and the aircrafts. this is also suggested by the old routemaster bus.

ok we're up to 0:33! coffee break meet back in like a day i did not expect this trailer ok i have things to pretend to do

[moondal514]

I read rarepair fics sometimes and so I thought I’d spotlight a few of my faves in the AFTG fandom (I am choosing to define “rarepair” as pairing with under 100 fics tagged with the pairing on ao3 as of this date)

everything you think you know by djhedy/ @djhedy

Matt watched Andrew out of the corner of his eye. He was moving around the small kitchen, purposeful, but slow, like he had all the time in the world. Like he didn’t know Matt felt like he was going to explode at any second.

Andrew pulled out a mixing bowl, and Matt said, “What are ya making?” Andrew’s hand stilled, and Matt quickly shut up and looked away before he heard the bowl hit the counter.

He thrummed his fingers on the counter top, closed his eyes, and said, “Look. What. What do you want me to say?”

Matt Boyd/Andrew Minyard. This is my personal fave AFTG rare-pair so of course this fic has me swooning

i've shed my skin too many times to count by vertigo

When Ichirou Moriyama was born, his mother knew he was something special.

Stuart Hatford/Ichirou Moriyama. Let me tell you I had exactly 0 thoughts about Ichirou Moriyama before I read this fic but now this is the version of him that haunts my personal AFTG canon

Curtain Call by mostly_maudlin/ @mostlymaudlin

If there’s one thing Allison believes, it’s that Kevin Day knows when he’s good at something.

Kevin Day/Allison Reynolds. A dynamic that’s like dynamite perfectly captured by Rory’s impeccable characterization

the light at the end of the tunnel is another tunnel by animediac/ @jaywalkers

The years-long process of ‘getting better’, as his doctor had put it, was not about completely healing, and instead about learning new habits and accepting that his body, his first home, would never be the same – that he would never live in it without fighting it in some way. The best he can hope for is to make it his own.

It’s difficult to love something that doesn’t love you back, but Kevin had spent a childhood living like that.

—

The truth of adulthood: most of it is just learning how to live with things. Kevin's just lucky that at least two of those things are good kissers.

Kevin Day/Katelyn/Aaron Minyard. A brilliant and genius take on Kevin with chronic pain

Warning Signs by puddlejumper99/ @writingpuddle (WIP)

Mary Hatford could kill a man and fleece his corpse without flinching. She knew the family business inside and out. She was born for this life, she had trained for this life, and she wanted it with all of her being.

There was just one teensy little problem.

---

Or: Mary finds out she will not be inheriting the family business, and turns to the wrong person for help.

Mary Hatford/Nathan Wesninski. A fascinating take on Neil’s parents and what exactly they got up to before Neil was born

[gerbiloftriumph]

Lost and Found (ao3):

Grandpa’s story of the goblin caves started out familiarly enough, but as he spoke, the story started to twist and change. New friends, new conversations, and new ways to use old items transformed the tale, and the young king discovered new ways to be brave in the dark tunnels beneath Daventry.

~*~

An attempt to reinsert the cut lines from the subtitle file. Ch2 has a ton of cut content, and a lot of the lost dialogue is grand, but currently the only way to read it is in a contextless, barely legible slurry in the game files. I’m reconstituting it and fluffing it up and out to make it more accessible.

(3/?)

“Oooh, it has been a while since we went adventuring together!” Whisper said, delighted. “What was the last one we did, do you remember? Was it fetching the rare and miraculous golden fleece of Llewdor?”

“That wasn’t actually gold,” Graham said. “The paint flaked off when you touched it.”

“Yes, but the daring deed, that’s what was important! Those acrobatic leaps through those crumbling sun cult ruins, remember? You got all tangled up in those vines.”

“Acorn had to carry me out; I was so stuck,” Graham said.

“You were shooting arrows over his shoulder!”

“Oh, yeah! That was fun.” He paused. “Well, except for the almost getting caught by cultists and dying in a horrible sacrificial ritual part. But other than that!”

“So, what’s this adventure about?”

“Honestly, it doesn’t feel like an adventure,” Graham said. “We’ve all been kidnapped by goblins, and I can’t seem to figure out why.”

“Whisper thinks that’s pretty obvious.” Whisper flicked an armored finger at the crown, which made it ring like a bell.

“Yeah, maybe,” Graham said, grabbing the crown to muffle it, “but I don’t think it’s just a ransom. Why take everyone else, then? This hat’s what’s important, but I can’t figure out why Wente would get dragged into it, or Amaya, or even you.”

“Whisper is incredibly valuable.”

“Okay, sure, but have you ever heard of a goblin wanting money? Maybe if you tell me what you were doing, it’ll help.”

“Doing? Nothing much. Acorn and Whisper were seeking flowers!”

“Knights? Gathering flowers?” Graham smiled.

“Well, someone has to do it!” Whisper agreed. “Here, these!” He fished in his armor and withdrew a little handful of delicate petals. “They’re lovely, aren’t they, nearly as lovely as the lovely Miss Amaya,” he said, handing them to Graham to inspect. “But that’s all we were doing, gathering flowers in the forest. We walked into an ambush, like they were waiting for us, but Whisper is sorry to say he has no additional information than that.”

“Hmm. Nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

 Graham sighed. “Well. Doesn’t matter anyway, not yet. I need a plan to get us out of here first.”

“This might be the only time Whisper’ll say this…but don’t look at me. You’ll have to figure it out.”

“Thanks, Whisper.”

“Oh, whatever happened to your silly squirrel pig?”

“You mean Triumph? He’s in the castle stables, of course.” And wouldn’t Graham love to be up there with him, with his whole face pressed into Triumph’s belly fluff, warm and soft and sweet.

“You never did answer Whisper’s message about a rematch.”

From above, a disapproving voice echoed around the caves: “Whisper.”

“Oh. Acorn.”

The two knights eyed each other, a little coolly, Acorn clinging to the edge of his Jack and the Beanstalk ledge, Whisper leaning so far back he staggered a bit.

“Kidnapped by goblins?” Whisper asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Also."

“We’re not very good knights, are we,” Acorn said, sighing heavily.

“Speak for yourself!” Whisper said, posing.

“What if I got on your shoulders, Whisper?” Graham said. “Like Kyle and Larry. Maybe I could reach that ledge, then, and pull myself up.”

“What good would that do me?” Acorn demanded. “You just want a ride.”

“No! …well, maybe a little bit.”

“You keep looking for something else, Your Majesty,” Acorn grumbled. “Oh, duck.” The duck with the golden paint pecked hard at his helmet. He flapped a hand at it. It fluttered up, then perched back in place on his head.

*~*~*

Graham and Whisper explored the caves together, ducking out of sight when they saw goblins. They were fairly certain that, even though Graham had vague permission to be out so long as he was doing chores, no one else had been granted such freedoms. Once, he kicked Whisper behind a rock and stood in front of him, frantically sweeping with his little broom and dustpan. Whisper started sneezing as soon as the goblins were past, but they managed to avoid capture.

They came across the main prison doors. Graham remembered being pushed through them upon his arrival here, doors that should lead out into the crooked lines of the goblin city, to the weird river and the weirder raft and the sweet fresh air of Daventry beyond. But while they both pushed hard against the levers and shoved at the doors with their combined strength, they couldn’t shift it.

“I need another key,” Graham muttered, tracing the lock. “Every door is locked here.”

“It is a prison, Graham.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” That key had better be accessible somewhere in the prison, or this would be one short escape attempt.

They walked back, fully intending to keep exploring, when they were startled by a goblin with a spear. Graham panicked, springing backward, slamming into Whisper. On some ridiculous instinct, without even thinking, Graham grabbed his cloak and swirled it down over the knight, like he was going to hide him under a tarp—and popped Whisper into his pocket.

The goblin wandered on, apparently not having noticed, while Graham staggered back against the wall, without Whisper in the way to stop him.

“What—I didn’t know it could do that!” He stared at his own cloak. He could sense the weight, could feel the pockets straining, but—

He tipped his cloak, and Whisper poured out, sprawled on the floor. “What?”

“I mean. My mother designed my cloak with extra pockets,” Graham babbled.

“And an extra pocket dimension, too, apparently.”

“She’s a really good seamstress?”

“Magically talented, one might say. Does she order her fabric from the Hobblepots?” Whisper sat up. “Would she take commissions? Imagine the portraits Whisper could fit in there! No, the entourage! My fans could always be with me in person, not just in spirit! Imagine! The fan club will be so excited!”

“What was it like in there?”

“Red.”

“And I’ve just been using it as a blanket,” Graham said, swirling it. “That’s way safer than us walking around in the open! You could totally come with me and not be seen!” He paused. “Oh, but wait, at night. Uh. You can’t stay with me at night.”

“Why not?”

Graham hesitated. “So, I’m probably not supposed to be out here, even to do chores. At night, the goblins do a shakedown to make sure I’m not carrying anything I’m not supposed to be. I think you’d be something I’m not supposed to be carrying.”

“Oh, just a shakedown, Whisper’s sure they wouldn’t notice—”

“No, literally. They grab me and flip me upside down and shake ‘til everything’s fallen out of my pockets.” Graham loosened his bracer and pushed back his sleeve to show off fingerprint shaped bruises. “It’s. Not actually avoidable.”

“…oh.” For once, Graham wished Whisper wasn’t wearing his helmet—he wanted to see the knight’s expression, to see what he was thinking, but this time the mask was properly a mask, keeping Whisper’s thoughts to himself. “Not a long term solution, then.” His voice had that sort of forced cheeriness that made Graham wince.

“We’ll find somewhere safe for you to hide before the day ends,” Graham promised. “But for now. Back in there.” This had potential, this pocket thing, but he had to be careful not to rush in situations and make mistakes that would end up with everyone in a lot worse danger than they’d started in. Especially with the forced shakedowns threatening him every night. For now, he’d take it just as slow and carefully as he’d been. For now.

~*~*~

Graham explored the space by himself for a while, Whisper a comforting weight in his pocket. The knight didn’t seem able to speak to him while he was in there, and Graham thought probably he had fallen asleep. Graham found goblins reenacting old fairytales—the frog prince, the princess and the pea. He was able to procure a little pile of things, from frogs to flies, and managed to get his hands on what was supposed to be weed killer, but was more like weed grower, which he used on Acorn’s broken ladder, though it wouldn’t do much good til the next day.

And then, a familiar face. A face that probably belonged behind bars at the best of times, but which probably didn’t deserve to be down here, nevertheless. “Heeeeey, boy!”

“Merchant?”

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” He reached between the bars and grabbed Graham’s cloak, dragging him closer, squeezing his cheeks with unabashed delight. “Yep, that’s one lanky adventurer, here in the flesh! And with a sparkly new hat! It ain’t a patch on my turban, but hey, still looks nice!” He snatched at the crown and examined the gems inset in it with a practiced eye, picking at them with his thumb to see how loose they were. When they proved solidly placed, he slammed the crown back on Graham’s head. “Can’t hardly believe it, wait til I tell Mr. Fancycakes I’ve got a king shopping my wares. If I ever see him again, ‘course. Either way, Merchant of Miracles can definitely put royal patronage on the front sign now! That’ll be good for business. What business I can get these days, anyway.”

“What are you doing here?” Graham looked around. It was a fairly large cell, well lit and fairly comfortable. But still a cell, with the same heavy wooden bars blocking him from the rest of the villagers. The merchant’s cart was somehow smashed into the same space he was, though even from here Graham could see most of the boxes in it were now rumpled and empty and torn. No goats—unicorns—anywhere to be seen.

“I decided to expand my business ventures, see what new untapped markets there were out there. I mean, holy majeezus, have you seen the addendums and paperwork needed to start a business in Daventry? Ooh, you could build your shop out of ‘em! Down here, restrictions are much less restrictive, you can just set up a pop up stand anywhere!” He knit his fingers together and leaned forward conspiratorially, in a low whisper so no guards could hear. “No, actually, they're super restrictive. I got jumped by goblins ages ago and I’ve been down here ever since. Which has been a real dark mark on my bottom line, let me tell ya. And my bottom, if you know what I mean, since I’ve just been sitting here for ages.

“But!” He brightened, at full volume again: “I’ve got a business to run, even if we never get out of this place. Check the current goods list, m’boy, I’m sure you with your newfound fancy hat can afford my pricing scale.”

“Your pricing scale, right,” Graham scoffed. “Last time, you just flat out stole my money.”

“True, true, and I’m so sorry for all the bad things I did.” He clapped his hands together, with a pleading, innocent expression. “From here on in, I’m going to be an honest merchant, not a swindle in sight. Yep! Once I’m outta here, totally honest.” He leaned back again, casual and unchanged. “Learned my lesson behind bars, all that.”

“Sure.”

“Though,” and he said this totally offhand, nearly under his breath, “maybe I should partner up with one of these goblins. Imagine the roadside pilfering we could doooo—” his voice trailed off at Graham’s glare. “We could start a wheel repair shop! Nothing wrong with that! Daventry sorely needs one of those, to stop people being so sore when their wheels fall off in your potholey roads!”

Graham rolled his eyes. “Can I just see the goods?”

The merchant swept his hand across the countertop before him. “Of course! But it’ll cost ya! I’m here to help you, lad. But I’m not running a charity. Tariff code issues, y’know.”

He had a cure-all potion, chopsticks, and porridge. Graham figured he’d need all of it at one point or another, especially that cure-all potion. Poor Bramble downstairs couldn’t even keep to her feet in her cell, and Wente was running himself ragged pacing with nerves worrying over her. His fingers itched to grab it. “Is this all?”

“My finest! At least, my finest down here, there ain’t much refreshing going on here these days. Let me tell you, when I get out of here, I’m going to procure all the procurables in this place and Mr. Fancycakes will run the test lab. We’re gonna get a whole lot more interesting product. But for now, this is it. Mmmostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Yeah, all right,” the Merchant said in a low voice, “I do have a few more things in the back, but they’re not exactly the sort of things a goblin would approve of, if you get my drift.”

“It wouldn’t be you without a black market,” Graham agreed.

“Keep yer voice down, kid. I’ll show you the good stuff, but you gotta be careful.” He rummaged in his cart, and with a flourish, set a box in front of Graham. He whisked the top off, and, nestled inside…

A bow.

Graham’s heart leapt in his throat. A bow. He glanced hastily behind them, but no one was nearby. A bow, a bow! It didn’t look like it was in great shape, not at all like Achaka’s bow—left at home, he’d never go anywhere without a bow again, not after this—but he thought he could still make something of it. He’d practiced long and hard enough to make just about anything work for him. There was a single arrow with it. Splintery looking, not particularly straight.

Not great craftsmanship at all, but it would be something. Especially with a decent archer behind it. But it was only one shot, and not a very straight one at that. Still. It was something.

He reached out. The merchant slapped his hand away. “Six shiny gold coins.”

“I haven’t got six,” Graham said, shaking his stung hand with surprise.

“Then you haven’t got a bow.”

“But it’ll help us escape!”

“Anything could help you escape, technically, but I need to escape poverty on top of escaping from this cell, kid, and the only way I’m going to do that is by collecting your coins.”

Graham rummaged helplessly in his pockets. “I have this signed portrait from Whisper. Collector’s edition!” He also had Whisper himself, but it was probably best to not start treating his friends like trading cards.

The Merchant leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Oooh, such fancy printing, the stroke work is clearly from a master! Almost certainly that’s blue dye ink drawn from the swamp in Tamir. Numbered edition, even! And is that Serenian Goatshear Parchment, so glossy, so fine! Exquisite, really!” He sat back again.

“Don’t you...want it?”

“I ain’t into the bartering system, boy. Unless you’re bartering gold. Get outta here with that, and come back when you’ve found more cash.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Nothing doing. Six for me, or an empty hand for you.” He swept the box back under his counter, hidden away from prying eyes, and changed the subject easily in case of eavesdroppers: “Did you know that unicorns have teleportation abilities? That’s what makes them so majestic…and so mischievous. They’re mischievestic. Shame you don’t have a unicorn to teleport back to your fancy new house with all them fancy flags on it to get you six shiny gold coins. Meantime, can I interest you in anything else down here?”

There were more immediately pressing issues than a bow, or throttling a merchant, Graham knew, and with a sigh, he shook out a single coin, the only one he’d managed to find so far, tucked out of the way in the shadows, for the cure-all potion to deliver to Bramble downstairs.

“Excellent. And, you know, if you’re ever ready to sell that cape, let me know. I want to make it into a pair of red, illustrious shorts!”

Graham flinched back, disgusted. “I think I’ll keep it for now.”

“Eh, fine, fine. Anyway. As much as I like seeing your face, you might want to see who else is looking for a hero. Lanky heroes are a thing now.”

[myths-of-fantasy]

All it takes is one black lamb to dismantle an empire Ref / Ao3 Link / Next

"Praise be to the Lamb, Conduit of Great Power”

She walked slowly down the stone path, hooves clicking lightly and echoing through the tunnels, bouncing off of the tall ceilings and crumbling walls coated in moss. The chains binding thin wrists behind the small being’s back rattled softly but jarringly with every step. Her face is flecked with scabs, the result of stone-rash falling to the ground and being scraped up in a final bid to flee before her capture.

“Kneel Lamb, last of your kind.”

She turns her gaze upward, staring with the same dark and unreadable expression that the guards had reported she’d held since they’d crossed paths. For a moment, they couldn’t understand it - their best warriors had been sent to capture the lamb, and all had come back scarred, blooded, and weary. Their beast - a large bear of a man - stood before them, down one eye and three fingers on his left palm. How could such a small, feeble beast have been so much trouble? Have caused so much damage?

But looking down upon the lamb, fleece as dark as night and eyes even darker, they think they understand.

The shackles that bound their wrists behind her did not make her look restrained, so much as it made her appear regal, back straight and proper to match the impassive expression on her face. Her eyes slid slowly across the bishops and the loyal few disciples with them, not appearing frightened or angered by their presence. By this point, most of the lambs had screamed and pleaded for mercy, others had scowled and cursed them, others still had attacked, making furious last stands as they smeared the sacrificial stone with the blood of their executioners as well as their own. But this lamb… 

She seemed to find what - or rather, who - she was looking for, eyes fixing on the figure of the guard who’d brought her in. The bear stiffened, ready to begin a defense but the lamb merely tilted its head, then offered a surprisingly respectful bow of her head. Stepping into the center of the sacrificial array, she lowered herself gracefully to her knees with nary a tear in sight.

They bishops exchanged a glance but continued on all the same.

“With this final sacrifice, the prophecy shall be impossible to fulfill…” murmured the squid, watching intently as the lamb was approached.

“The heretic who lies bound below will be condemned to eternal captivity,” agreed the bag-worm.

“And the Old Faith…. Shall be… preserved,” the spider seemed to wheeze, gesturing with one of their pedipalps for the executioner to raise his ax. “Bow your head… last lamb and omen.”

The bear swung the axe, and thus, the fate of the Old was Sealed.

| | | |

Ref / Ao3 Link / Next

[akittyboy]

Another Life (part 5): the end

Sweet Home FF | Hyunsu x Eunhyuk

Hyunsu doesn't understand what's going on, doesn't understand the sick feeling twisting in his gut, the strange thundering of his heart that resonates through his whole body like a shockwave. The monster stirs finally inside of him, dark and smooth, rearing its ugly head. And for a little while Hyunsu doesn't even remember where he is, eyes glazing over.

.

.

Wet snowflakes whirl through the cold air, finding their way inside of the collapsing structure of Green Home apartments. Everyone has already fled the building through the underground tunnel. It's just Hyunsu there, clothes in tatters, body and mind shattered, standing barefoot under the damaged alcove of the first floor entrance, right where the reinforced truck had rammed straight into the building.

Unfazed by the blasts of military fire, igniting with bright flares somewhere far off in the murky distance, Hyunsu stares blankly at Yeongsu's pink fleece scarf wrapped around his arm. It's a gentle reminder to keep himself warm, but he's cold. And alone. Exactly what he's always wished to be; for everyone to just disappear and stop tormenting him.

Even so, he never meant for his intrusive thoughts to become everyone's reality. 

Was it his fault — all of this too? This strange apocalypse? 

After all, so many people have already died as a result of Hyunsu's incompetence. He'd been too late to save Jaeheon and the one to let Uimyeong in. He'd killed Han Dusik with his bare hands. And now, how many more would have to die because of him? Maybe Hyunsu should've jumped off a bridge, just like Kim Dohun edged him to, plunging straight into ice-cold water, letting the harsh streams rip his body apart, before any of this could even begin. If he hadn't been such a coward, maybe then his family would still be alive. If only he hadn't foolishly hoped for something to change; for his cowardly friends to grow a backbone or perhaps his parents to see past their own selfish greed, past their superficial fear of not being able to live up to social norms. If only he could — but he couldn't. 

It's unfair. 

What had he done that was so wrong? Why was he worth less? Why did he have to stay silent and just take it?

Why couldn't he just kill them all?

It that what you want?

Dazed, Hyunsu still manages to catch movement out of the corner of his eye and his messy head turns sluggishly around, shoulders curled inward, legs tense and ready to spring. It's hard to tell what's real and what's merely the demon lurking inside his head when the cacophony of wicked whispers intensify into a surging roar, bleeding straight into his thoughts and clogging everything with KILL! KILL! KILL!

His right hand curls into a tight fist, nails digging into his palm. He can feel his skin bristling and bubbling, splitting apart along the length of his forearm as shards start to push through the scar, an agonizing burn forming at the base of his spine all the while his body fights against the unnatural change. Whether Hyunsu wants it or not, his body is ready to fight, to smash, to throw the impending threat around. 

His teeth ache, so he clenches harder.

But it's just Eunhyuk, dirty jeans and red flannel. A shard of light splinters from the bright military beams outside and skitters with a harsh glint across his glasses, briefly shielding Eunhyuk's eyes from view. As the leader of their ragtag team of residents, reduced to nothing but mere scraps in the span of a few hours, he still manages to stand tall and unyielding like a warrior amongst the surrounding rubble, thin lips pressed into a tight line. 

Keeping his gaze on Hyunsu, Eunhyuk takes a wary step in his direction, all the while yanking on the thin wire connected to his earbuds, ripping both pieces of plastic from his ears when the shrieking signal reaches an unbearable volume, piercing through his brain, warning him about the monster in close vicinity.

And somehow, seeing a familiar face amidst the ruins of their home, no matter how ambiguous their relationship has been, makes Hyunsu's whole world turn on its axis, rewinding everything that's ever happened. The voices stop. His knees buckle as he begins to crash like a deadweight to the ground, but Eunhyuk is there to catch him.

They both stagger to the side as Eunhyuk gathers Hyunsu's gangly limbs into his arms and holds him in a bone-crushing grip; an arm around his crumbling waist and a surprisingly steady hand fisted into his greasy hair. Slightly taller, Hyunsu folds easily around him, putting the full weight of his uncoordinated limbs onto Eunhyuk.

It feels familiar, Hyunsu notes vaguely from within the crook of Eunhyuk's neck. Yet he hasn't been in such close proximity — that didn't entail killing one another — with anyone in weeks, months, maybe even years. Not even his mother hugged him like this. Hyunsu's heart misses a beat at this particular thought, followed by a pang of sharp pain through his chest when a sea of white chrysanthemums flashes through his mind — identical black stripes running across three picture frames.

Thankfully, he doesn't get much time to linger within those awful memories when a powerful explosion shakes whatever's left of Green Home apartments with renewed force. Eunhyuk swiftly ducks his head with a muffled swear word but he doesn't stop clutching tightly at Hyunsu, tugging him even closer with a harsh grip on his neck to keep him safe, Eunhyuk's palm sticky with sweat and grime against Hyunsu's skin. The bearing walls groan alarmingly as more debris rains over them with big chunks of cement blocks and plaster clattering to the ground, peppering their hair with flecks of white, forcing both of them to inhale a mixture of smoke and cement dust that whirls over heir heads in hazy billows. 

Huynsu's chest wheezes with each agonizing breath. He can feel Eunhyuk's ribcage stutter alarmingly as well and it sends a spike of irrational worry through him; Eunhyk is human. He can't die. Not yet. Not like this. Hyunsu grinds his teeth to hold back the ripping wail that suddenly wants to crawl up his throat, and clings only tighter to Eunhyuk instead. 

Maybe if he could just get control over his wing? Then he'd be able to shield them both from death and destruction.

"I repeat, you're all surrounded," an autonomous voice booms from the outside, cruelly invading their space. "Surrender the infected and we will spare your lives!"

A helicopter whirs far too close by the gaping hole in the wall, the loud noise scattering across the ruins of Green Home. A beam of bright light swipes against the bare walls in search of them.

Hyunsu panics, pushed into a corner like some wild animal without an actual choice of his own, his whole body starts to spasm in Eunhyuk's arms. His right arm twitches, flesh ripping apart and knotting back together as he fights the rampaging monster inside of him. It's like a rabid dog, trying to tear itself off its leash, scrambling madly to the front of Hyunsu's mind, set on taking control.

Let me out, the monster demands. Let me out so I can KILL everyone, and then you'll be free... don't you want that?

Don't you want that, Hyunsu?

Hyunsu can't control it when his head snaps back, lips already parted, eyes glazing over into pure darkness.

But then Eunhyuk's low whisper cuts through the chaos inside his head as he traps Hyunsu's trashing body within the circle of his arms.

"You're okay. Everything will be alright," he soothes.

Those words are an obvious lie, yet Hyunsu can't help the gasping breath of air that suddenly finds its way down and then back up again from the very depths of his chest. The tormenting storm settles inside of him. Everything feels suddenly clearer, quieter. And with the decrepit sense of relief come the hot tears, rapidly welling up in his eyes, causing his vision to blur. He can't help it. His sanity is nothing but a thin, silver thread struggling in the wind.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles as he crumbles, voice thick with tears. "I'm sorry."

Eunhyuk is the only one to ever look at him like a real person; someone to depend on rather than an inconvenience, even now, when Hyunsu could so easily hurt him.

Hyunsu squeezes closer with a wet sob, burrowing his damp face even deeper into Eunhyuk's shoulder, hiding from whatever's out there. The military. The monsters. An unknown future. A life without Eunhyuk. Death. His trembling fingers clutch at the stiff, unwashed fabric of Eunhyuk's shirt as he clings to him, finding home in the curve of his neck, breathing in Eunhyuk's comforting scent of sweat and musk and something so purely human, so alive. It sets his insides on fire, pooling like liquid gold in the pit of his stomach... but for what purpose? 

Hyunsu knows that he eventually — soon — now has to leave, give himself up for the sake of this decaying world, to at least save the others. Save Eunhyuk and Eunyu.

He was planning to die anyway, had even set a date for it. With all things considered, he was already a dead man walking. 

Yet, he yearns for someone to save him, to reach a hand out through the dense darkness holding him in its embrace and whisk him away from this nightmare. Even back then, when they held him down and punched and kicked him over and over again during recess, or when they poured dirty mop water over his head in the school bathrooms, he wished that someone would say something — anything. Take his side, see him, make him feel human and not like an abomination, who deserved to be treated like that to repent for whatever unknown crimes he's committed.

And Eunhyuk did. It might not have come from a good place initially but he still took a gamble and placed his life in Hyunsu's hands. He'd seen Hyunsu as an equal, as someone capable enough to trust in times of need, when his own family never even tried.

This belief sparks a strange desire inside of Hyunsu. 

Something vile and shiny crawls in under his skin and stays there, simmering under the surface.

In the end, he pulls away, forlornly watching Eunhyuk's arms fall back to his sides, which causes a puff of dust rise into the air from his clothes. Hyunsu wipes awkwardly at the dampness clouding his eyes with the heel of his hand, making an even worse mess out of his dirty face than before, and then carefully unwinds Yeongsu's scarf from around his right arm. He doesn't want to ruin it, although it's pretty much soiled with blood and dust already.

"I should've given it back," he whispers, voice hoarse, as he presses the soft fabric into Eunhyuk's hand, fingers eerily cold when they brush against Eunhyuk's. It's just a piece of fleece but it feels like something else, something more. 

Eunhyuk stares at him pensively through the cracked lenses of his glasses, but then nods once in understanding while clutching at the pink scarf. The muscles strain around his mouth and his chin quivers faintly as he holds back whatever's eating at him, clawing viciously at his insides, looking for a way out. Eunhyuk's nose stings, warming with an oncoming tickle of blood, but he holds that back too.

And perhaps there are things Eunhyuk could've done better, words he should've said, but none of that matters now. It's the end of both of them anyway. 

"It's not too late," Eunhyuk tries nonetheless, even if he doesn't believe it himself. But what would he be, if he wasn't a master at extracting himself from his personal feelings?

Huysun shakes his head sluggishly in reply, expression already vacant, mind miles away from the present. He has already made up his mind and Eunhyuk's heart sinks, shoulders dropping in disappointment. Maybe he did believe in his own lie, after all.

Hyunsu's eyes are completely black, gleaming like onyx marbles in the dark, when he strides catatonically past Eunhyuk, through the main Green Home entrance and finally steps out into the illuminating snow, where the biting wind instantly tugs and bats at the tattered scraps of his clothes. Where Eunhyuk can hear gun shots being fired.

Retrospectively, it never even occurred to Hyunsu that Eunhyuk wasn't planning on leaving together with the rest of the Green Home survivors.

<< previous part | next part >>

[pbandjesse]

I had a pretty nice day. It was nice that it actually felt like fall but also I was freezing sitting in the pavilion.

I slept fine last night. I had weird dreams about working at markets. Specifically church markets and having to fill out paperwork and it was like slightly stressful. But it wasn't bad sleep. I absolutely hated waking up before the sun was up. It just makes me feel like it's the middle of the night and makes me feel bad. But I tried my best to pep talk myself. I liked my outfit. I felt cute. I knew I was going to get my photo taken today and I didn't love. That my hair wasn't curling but there wasn't much I could do between the market and the shoot so I just did the best I could with what I had.

James was loading up the car as I was finishing getting ready. They made me hashbrowns and I sat at the kitchen island and had those. James went to fill my cup with soda and then the bottle exploded and went all over the kitchen floor. Bizarre. But James cleaned it up and told me not to worry.

We headed to the market. Ann texted us to let us know she was sick and wasn't going to be at the market today. So we would be in charge. At first James was like okay we have a plan. How they could come out and check on things and I could leave early for my photoshoot.

This was all predicated on Jordan being able to watch the desk. He was also training an educator on public tours. But then all of a sudden he called out and it threw everything into a little bit of chaos. Like it was fine but James was very stressed and I hate when they are stressed.

But we handled it. James got me set up and went inside to get the museum ready. It was nice to see everyone. I was very glad I wore my big fleece jacket because it was freezing in the pavilion. It's just a wind tunnel for the harbor. Like the parking lot was fine but as soon as you went under the pavilion it was so cold.

It was also a quiet day. I was very glad I was getting paid to be there because I did not make any sales. I was still positive though. I brought my puff quilt and was able to finish all my rows!! I still want to make more squares to make it larger but it's a functional blanket now and people were asking me questions about it and complimenting it and I was just great. And like I love the puff quilt. Yes it took so much longer (literally twice as long) but I think my next one will also be a puff quilt. Just larger squares. We'll see when that happens.

I also worked on sewing the last teddy bear I had in my basket. So I have 4 bears to finish up now. I wasn't selling anything but people were giving me compliments and asking questions and it was still a really nice day.

The music today was excellent. I wish there were more people to enjoy it. James told me that this band wants to be on the schedule more often next year so that's really nice. It will be nice to have the variety. Plus everyone likes them and clapped after every song.

James did come out to buy baked goods. We got an Oreo cheese cake and a pumpkin cheese cake. James already tried them and said the crust is excellent. The pumpkin one has a gingerbread crust! Fancy.

I had someone drop off their childhood penguin for the teddy bear hospital. She got it at a carnival game on Rehoboth when she was a child. A big responsibility for me to take care of them. I am excited to tackle this project!!

At noon I started planning on packing up. I brought my finished quilt to the car. And by 1215 I was packed up and saying goodbye to everyone. After I put everything in the car I went inside to say goodbye to James.

I watched the desk so they could run to the bathroom. And while I was at the desk I tried to figure out how to get to the spot for the photoshoot. But the address sent me to little Italy which I knew was wrong. So I reached out to the organizer and she gave me the correct location and it was all good.

I absolutely hate parking in the harbor. It's the worst thing ever. It is wildly stressful if you don't just park in a garage. I would end up circling twice and gave up and just parked on the street by the science center. I paid for almost 2 hours which I thought was overkill but I actually used all of it! I would get back to the car with 4 minutes to spare! Wild.

I power walked back to the harbor pavilion. And like it isn't far but it is an about 7 minutes walk. So I had to keep that in mind.

I was a little lost when I got to the pavilion. I had to ask a few people who worked in the shops but I would find them eventually.

And it was fun! They were way behind schedule. So I waited most of an hour. But that was fine. I had excellent conversations with other vendors. I loved seeing what they were making. One girl, about my age, was a painter and had such a beautiful understanding of light in her paintings. She told me that she taught herself how to paint after she had a stroke! Wild. Super impressive. We had a really nice conversation about making art accessible to people and pricing work and making prints and editions. I hope our tables are near each other at the market.

I let the organizer know I had a hard deadline because of the meter. So she moved me up two spaces and I got my pictures taken at 215. The photographer was super nice and made a fuss about my bears. I would hold my bears like babies and tried to just be smiley and sweet. She said I had a cute face. Flattering me!! And then I was done and power waking to the car.

And I made it back right before my meter was up. And I was very excited to go home and eat something. I am proud of myself for not eating out. I have to stop eating out constantly just because waiting to eat is so hard. Like I just want to eat immediately. But I was determined.

I got home and I put water on the stove to boil while I put things away. I made stove top stuffing and a few veggie chicken nuggets. I put the dishes away from the dishwasher while things cooked and then cooled. I thought that the plate I had used was microwave safe but I was wrong and burned my fingers and dropped the plate and it broke in half. I felt very stupid. Like it wasn't a plate I like but still felt dumb to break it.

I put it in the sink because the pieces were still super hot. And went to eat my food.

I ate the entire box of stuffing. This was a delicious mistake. I went upstairs and changed and was so very full. And I laid in bed with sweetp and tried to not feel sick. But I ate to much and this was stupid.

I would end up falling asleep around 5. I slept for an hour and was happy that James was here when I woke up but my stomach was so full and hurt so much. I had James lay with me and push on my stomach and it would help eventually. I am finally, 3 hours later, not feeling so terrible anymore.

Now we are in bed. Watching videos. Sweetp is cuddling with me. I am winding down and thankful that I don't feel so full anymore.

My mom is coming to visit tomorrow!! I am very excited to see her and spend some time with her. I just hope that I am feeling good.

I hope you all have a good day tomorrow. Sleep well. Be safe. And take care of each other. Goodnight!!

[tylermileslockett]

Theseus #4 (In the Labyrinth)

No sooner had Theseus settled into his princely position, than King Minos of Crete, calls upon Athens for its bloody yearly debt. King Minos son had previously died in the Athenian games, and as an act of revenge, he threatened to invade Athens unless the kingdom sent seven male and seven female youths to Crete to sacrifice for his half-man, half-bull creature within his labyrinth; the Minotaur. Theseus volunteers as one of the youths, determined to stop the beast. King Aegeus tells Theseus if he survives, to switch the ship’s black sail to white upon his return, so his father will know he lives.

Arriving in Crete, King Minos’ daughter, Ariadne, falls for Theseus, and vows to help him if he will marry and bring her to Athens after defeating the beast. Theseus agrees, and Ariadne consults Daedalus, the ingenious inventor of the maze, as to its secrets. She gives Theseus the secrets, and most importantly, a ball of thread, so that he may retrace his steps. That night, Ariadne sneaks Theseus to the entrance, and he enters the dank corridors.

Ariadne is one example of smitten women assisting male Greek heroes on their quests with invaluable clues and tools. The Argonauts, arriving at Colchis to acquire the Golden fleece, were assisted by the princess Medea, who uses magic and ingenuity to help Jason succeed in his labors.

There are many interpretations for the symbolism of Labyrinths in myths. On the surface they show a character on a journey to discover their purpose or destiny through finding the correct path to reach their goal. They’re also symbolic of the stage of the hero’s journey Jospeh Campbell calls the “belly of the whale,” where the hero commits to their metamorphosis, and thus re-emerges from the ordeal, reborn anew. The Labyrinth center could represent a unification with the hero’s inner self, a higher power, or the ultimate challenge, and the tunnel could represent a birth canal.

Like this art? It will be in my illustrated book with over 130 other full page illustrations coming in Aug/Sept to kickstarter.  to get unseen free hi-hes art subscribe to my email newsletter

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Thank you for supporting independent artists! 🤘❤️🏛😁

[wizard-news]

We're-Not-Dead edition!

Auxiliary Station Operational

Gamping the Amphibious, temporary head editor.

While our founder and primary headquarters still have not emerged from wherever they went, we here remaining at WIZARD NEWS have finally recuperated from the attack of feral 17th century European nobility.

Dramatic Dog-Duelist Duels Dog

Gamping the Amphibious

A thrilling duel between @greyhound-with-7-wizard-hats and @sewi-li-suwi is ongoing! Our reporters will be on the scene shortly.

What To Do When Your Staff Just Doesn't Cut It.

Cara Carabowditbowdit

We've all been there. There's a big spell you need to do but your staff just isn't enough for the job. And of course nobody wants to get rid of their old staff, that's unthinkable. So what do you do? Here are some suggestions.

Wrap a Golden Fleece around your staff. The natural magically amplifying properties of the Fleece will give you the boost you need.

Call a friend! There's no shame in needing a little assistance sometimes.

Give your staff something to eat! Very old staffs can develop metabolisms and appetites that should be filled. Consult a Virgamancer to see what your staff is craving.

Seventeenth-Century European Nobles on the Prowl

Toast Astly

Over the last few months feral nobility have been stalking the woods and attacking anyone they encounter that they deem "too peasant-ish". They cannot be reasoned with, but they can be distracted with gold or political treatises. Authorities believe that their hive was disturbed by recent events which has caused their recent aggression. It is suggested that civilians do not try to find the hive themselves. If you are going out in the woods, attempt to be ostentatious.

First Annual Worldwide Banjo Competition

Capulet the Sporting

Get your banjos ready folks! The recently established Banjo Guild (A subgroup of the Bardic Collage of Associated Guilds), has announced their First Annual Worldwide Banjo Competition. If you own a banjo at any point during the next two weeks, be prepared for a panel of judges to appear in your home and request you play your best. The winner will be awarded three selected pieces of banjo paraphernalia (in gold of course).

Memory-Erasing Miscreant Spotted!

Gamping the Amphibious

The Lost-Day Thief was spotted as they attempted to do what they do best, that being erase people's memories. We do not know the identity of the thief, however. The victim, Bron Phobos, says that they were woken up from their hypnotic stupor by a loud twang and swearing. They only saw the back of the thief, but they described the thief wearing a pea-coat over a knee-length purple dress and carried a lute. It is theorized that the thief uses the lute as a method for erasing memory, and that the loud twanging was one of the strings breaking.

Vampires and Werewolves are Fighting. Again.

Boring N. D. Vitual

Yes, the ancestral struggle of beast versus fancier beast begins again. In the subterranean tunnels that are the designated battlegrounds we already can hear the sounds of furious struggle. They're very loud.

On Fire Again

Jerry the Jerry-est

The dragon Lord Fire the Flaming has set the eastern and western forest on fire again, endangering wildlife and putting smoke into the air. Fortunately, the noble knight Sir Water the Wettening has taken up her lance once more.