#he’s always been described as having shaggy blonde hair

[aurorasmith419]

I think this is as finished as this one’s getting. If y’all have any suggestions for which character I should draw next let me know

[weaponizedmoth]

"Faeries were always supernaturally beautiful, even if they didn’t look like they’d be. No human flaws mattered when it came to faeries: Double chins, crooked teeth, too thin, too fat, too small, it was no problem. They always seemed absolutely lovely. The only ones who could tell each other’s imperfections were their own kind.

(...)

Cornelius had a thin, oblong face, usually framed by his shaggy, now shoulder length hair, which was sometimes blonde, sometimes black, sometimes red, depending on his whims. His eyes were a dark blue that looked black to the untrained eye, and were topped by well kept blonde eyebrows. And sure, it all looked rather nice—but he was a tad cross-eyed (on the right eye, which you could notice when he looked at you), and he had a smile that was wide,"full of teeth." (...) His smile had been described as cute, especially when he laughed, which made him look like a flower petal—delicate. However, even with all his alleged beauty, Abigail also heard it being described as creepy and off-putting, especially when he was smiling without true emotion. She sided with the latter reports."

My final OC lore dump of the year <3 it took me days to get Neeley looking right and I still don't know if I did it, tbh. I also created a specific font for the Fairy Society Gazette, which will be below the cut. I have no idea why photoshop ate the quality of the text so much when the drawing looks fine, but oh well.

Happy almost new year!

(The font is rather crooked as it was hand drawn using bad hardware and my own handwriting as a base).

[lavalais76]

Sansa’s Hair/Jon Snow

r/asoiaf 2yr agoRyanBarnes13

The Real Honey Colored Hair(Spoilers Extended) 

EXTENDED

Every reader knows the great song, The Bear and The Maiden Fair, and everyone knows all the theories about Dany/Jorah, Jaime/Brienne. But every single theory misses the most important point. What exactly is honey colored hair? Most everyone assumes honey-blond.... it’s easy to remember, it fits the theories easy, and in martins story it is indeed a type, but not the one your supposed to find.

Dany, Jaime are red herrings. The entire song itself is the story of TWOW. The tourney in the Vale, most lords not selling food, the NW and wildlings and Northerners needing to buy food now that Jon has a loan... and yes Jon is the dancing bear. How? He is a figuratively adopted son of Jeor Mormont. He is given the family sword, trained as Mormonts replacement, is chosen LC after Mormonts bird chooses him.... Jon is a bearded bear. All black (NW black), and dark brown, hair and beard....

Who is his three companions? Pyp, Grenn, and Edison Tollet, who has family in the vale. More than likely. So connections, and there is one more, the goat.

Now this one is tinfoil so far, but he is the hooded man in winterfell. The Blackfish. Who disappeared from the story, and has not gone to any loyal holdfasts, cannot go to the Vale.... But has been described as a goat.

Her uncle listened silently, heavy brows shadowing his eyes as his frown grew deeper. Brynden Tully had always known how to listen … to anyone but her father. He was Lord Hoster's brother, younger by five years, but the two of them had been at war as far back as Catelyn could remember. During one of their louder quarrels, when Catelyn was eight, Lord Hoster had called Brynden "the black goat of the Tully flock." Laughing, Brynden had pointed out that the sigil of their house was a leaping trout, so he ought to be a black fish rather than a black goat, and from that day forward he had taken it as his personal emblem. AGOT Catelyn 6

In AFFC Brienne 5, the high road to the Vale is closed by now. Leaving one loyal area, the Neck. Where the last nobles who went south were headed to find Reed, and deliver the verbal orders. Basically he is the reason the Frey’s disappear. His job in Robb’s army was the outriders.

But back to the point, honey isn’t just honey-blond. It’s actually the color least associated with honey colored hair. The darker the honey, the stronger the taste.... and it is shown throughout almost all the books. Darker honey is brown and looks red in the light.

The first time honeyed hair appears, it is a redhead. Yes a redhead. And tyrion knows women and women’s assets, so we should listen.....

Two other girls sat playing at tiles before a leaded glass window. The freckled one wore a chain of blue flowers in her honeyed hair. The other had skin as smooth and black as polished jet, wide dark eyes, small pointed breasts.” ACOK Tyrion 3

Freckles are a common occurrence with redheads... But by the time we get to Tyrion 7 we have read to much and forgot when we get the actual hair color.

Is milord feeling unloved?” Dancy slid into his lap and nibbled at his ear. “I have a cure for that.” Smiling, Tyrion shook his head. “You are too beautiful for words, sweetling, but I’ve grown fond of Alayaya’s remedy.” “You’ve never tried mine. Milord never chooses anyone but ’Yaya. She’s good but I’m better, don’t you want to see?” “Next time, perhaps.” Tyrion had no doubt that Dancy would be a lively handful. She was pug-nosed and bouncy, with freckles and a mane of thick red hair that tumbled down past her waist. But he had Shae waiting for him at the manse.” ACOK Tyrion 7

Funnily enough, she is a combination of Sansa, and Ygritte. Long haired like Sansa, pug nose and bouncy breasts like Ygritte. Ygritte is ACOK Jon 6 for her pug nose, shaggy mop of red hair that is messy, and ASOS Jon 3 for her breasts...

So red heads are honey colored. And associated with blue flowers in their hair, so let’s see some other examples....

A dark young man and a pretty blonde woman were sharing a horn of mead. A pregnant woman stood over a brazier cooking a brace of hens, while a grey-haired man in a tattered cloak of black and red sat crosslegged on a pillow, playing a lute and singing:” ASOS Jon 1.

Val is blonde.

Val looked at him with pale grey eyes. “He always climbed too fast.” She was as fair as he’d remembered, slender, full-breasted, graceful even at rest, with high sharp cheekbones and a thick braid of honey-colored hair that fell to her waist.” ASOS Jon 10

Pale grey eyed, honey-colored hair.....

Val stood beside him, tall and fair. They had crowned her with a simple circlet of dark bronze, yet she looked more regal in bronze than Stannis did in gold. Her eyes were grey and fearless, unflinching. Beneath an ermine cloak, she wore white and gold. Her honey-blond hair had been done up in a thick braid that hung over her right shoulder to her waist. The chill in the air had put color in her cheeks.” ADWD Jon 3 Grey eyed once again. Honey-blond hair.

The light of the half-moon turned Val’s honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. “The air tastes sweet.”” ADWD Jon 8 And in the moonlight honey-blond hair is a pale silver.

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.”

“They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her EYES WERE BLUE, her LONG BRAID THE COLOR OF DARK HONEY, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.” ADWD Jon 11

And here we go, eyes are BLUE, her long braid the color of DARK HONEY..... Jon is not seeing Val... it’s the same thing that happens when he sees Melisandre..... he sees who he lies to himself is Ygritte..... but when does Ygritte have LONG reddish brown hair? Jon knows one female with LONG REDDISH HAIR. Who currently has CHESTNUT HAIR. SANSA.... Martin makes a great distinction between honey in the hair, reddish, dark honey, brown and honey-blond. You are supposed to get sucked into honey-blond and miss the true honey.

But the answer lies with Jon 6, and Ghost himself brushing against Jon, Jon is receiving visions, or glimpses of the future while still conscious. Basically he has become one with ghost already. It first truly started when Jon takes the new recruits to the hearttree to swear their vows. He smells better, sees better....

In the shadow of the Wall, the direwolf brushed up against his fingers. For half a heartbeat the night came alive with a thousand smells, and Jon Snow heard the crackle of the crust breaking on a patch of old snow. Someone was behind him, he realized suddenly. Someone who smelled warm as a summer day. When he turned he saw Ygritte. She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander’s Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon’s heart leapt into his mouth. “Ygritte,” he said. “Lord Snow.” The voice was Melisandre’s. Surprise made him recoil from her. “Lady Melisandre.” He took a step backwards. “I mistook you for someone else.” At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face. Mist rose from her nostrils, and from pale hands naked to the night. “You will freeze your fingers off,” Jon warned.” ADWD JON 6

Once again the night came alive, Jon’s senses are massively increased. He thinks Ygritte because men see what they expect to see. Same with Sansa and her unkiss, her dream thing of Payne coming up the tower stairs. Lady is dead yes, but notice how Martin describes her, Lady’s Shade. A proper noun. Not a common shade.

And as a bonus, in the TWOW Alayne 1 chapter, Harry described his new baby momma like this:

Saffron is very beautiful, tall and slim with big brown eyes and HAIR LIKE HONEY. Alayne raised her head,” more beautiful than me?”

Google Saffron.... it’s a red spice... RED. The most costly spice by weight in the world....

Now here’s Sansa described as her Alayne persona....

And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne.”” AFFC Alayne 1 It’s almost the exact same description. Auburn Sansa is the true honey haired wench. Who loves to dance.

And as we have been shown throughout every book, men do see what they expect to see... especially when one is glamoured..... And to show that really pale blond hair is not true honey,

He doesn’t like Ned. The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured. She had always heard that Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple. And his hair was a pale blond, more ash than honey.” ASOS Arya 8

[arthurian-owls]

Hi! I wanted to ask about your headcanons about human versions of ga'hoole characters; you mentioned Soren with long hair, and I'd like to hear more ^_^

Omg omg okay SO

Soren:

Long auburn hair, pale skin, straight and narrow nose. Dark brown or black eyes, possibly glasses? He wouldn't figure out that he needs them until after he's been at the great tree awhile. This man wears sweater vests and the most torn-up, schmutz-covered jeans you've ever seen. I picture Soren to be tall and lean and deceptively strong.

Gylfie:

Gylfie is our short queen standing around 4'11 with medium-brown skin and dark hair with what I would describe as an "interesting curl pattern" in that some parts are very tightly curled and some parts are more fluffy and loose, which altogether creates a difficult to maintain but very lovely head of hair. In my mind's eye I see it cut just below the shoulders so when it's up in a ponytail it lands just above them. She definitely has freckles, both lighter and darker. She has pale brown eyes that look golden in the right lighting. Gylfie is definitely the most put-together of the Band, but not quite as much as Otulissa. I picture her having a very neat but practical sense of style, and can be found wearing lots of neutrals and heavy-duty materials unless it's a special occasion or she has a day off. Owns many many funky earrings.

Digger:

Digger is probably average height, with deep brown skin and a charmingly crooked nose. His eyes are black and downturned, heavy on the bottom lashes, and he keeps his hair in dreads and those dreads in a ponytail. This man wears flowy, layered clothes, and definitely paints his nails. He's generally just a solid, down-to-earth presence.

Twilight:

Twilight is a large man. Tall, broad shoulders, shaggy hair, pale eyes that feel like they're looking right into your soul. Honestly, I have very few headcanons on what he looks like, but I do like to think he's transmasc. Just for funsies. I also think as he gets older he wears a pair of half-moon glasses for reading. He's covered in scars and spends half his life just totally sunburnt but the guy just exudes a zest for life that is completely unmatched.

Otulissa:

Otulissa is always, entirely and completely, put together. Rarely a hair out of place, rarely an even slightly ruffled appearance- which is why it's so funny to the others when she gets so frazzled in the weather chaw, and so frightening when she's tearing through the halls of the great tree like a woman possessed after Strix Struma's death. Otulissa is tall, with lean muscle and a keen eye. I always imagine her having wavy brown or blonde hair and a button nose that becomes crooked after so many battles. She has a charming gap in her front teeth.

Eglantine:

Eglantine is a redhead and I will die on this hill. Much like Soren, she has a straight and narrow nose and dark eyes, and I honestly picture her wearing lots of gold and pink. She also needs glasses, and I like to think that when she laughs, it's *loud* and *joyful* and extremely infectious. I can see her wearing a ponytail with a big floppy bow in it. I think her style is casual and honestly reminiscent of a cozy 80's mom.

Primrose:

Primrose has straight dark hair and green eyes and wears sweaters and lots of fun jewelery and that's all I have in my brain for her atm 😅

I may come back with more but it's so hot rn that my brain is melting into a puddle of mush haha! Feel free to add on your own headcanons 👀

[not7wu]

Chapter Two: The Rules

Recap: You woke up in BTS' condo and came face to face with Kim Seokjin who tilted your world on its axis, not with his good looks, but by telling you that you are an orphan, an employee of HYBE/Big Hit, and like family to all the boys. That the life you thought you were living was a lie.

You never used to understand how men could think about nothing. Sometimes you’d ask your friend, Garrett, “What are you thinking about?” and he’d immediately reply, “Nothing.” and you couldn’t picture what it would be like to have nothing in your head.    The concept of thinking nothing feels like trying to describe colors to a blind person.  Your own brain is always on, a tangle of spaghetti noodles, intertwined, looped, and disappearing into a mess of tangents.

You’re pretty sure it’d be something like this.  You’re sitting on the balcony, watching cars and people pass by.  You’re not wondering where they’re going, how they’re doing, or what their goals are.  Like the ticking of seconds on a clock, you watch the world continue turning, while you hold yourself in limbo outside it all.  

You haven’t left Jin’s room once.  After a nap, you woke up to find you’re still here.  You didn’t think you could face the other members, especially with a puffy face, and your brain begged for a break from anxiety, so here you are.  Simply existing.  Just a quark that makes up the atom that is Earth in the organism that is the universe.

A knock on the balcony door breaks your meditation.  Jimin stands behind the half-slid door.  “Sorry.  Can I come sit with you?”

Jimin’s hair is dark blonde and fluffy, framing pudgy cheeks.  It should be against the laws of nature that his jawline can be both rounded and sharp.  His plump lips are upturned, eyes slightly crinkled as he steadily holds your gaze.  At least it isn’t all of them at once, you think.  You don't feel any wild emotions emanating from Jimin.  He is calm and collected, and you just know that if you refused, he would take it in stride, no offense taken, and leave you alone. That makes the decision for you.  Plus, maybe you can absorb some of his calm collectedness.  You nod, which earns you the sweetest smile.  You swear the chill up here has warmed with Jimin’s presence alone.  He sits across from you, legs tucked under him, and he enjoys the view, head bobbing to a tune only he can hear.  You’re a little tense, waiting for the questions and well-meaning reassurances, but none come.  You begin to relax, melting back into your seat.  

Your meditation is broken, as is your resolve to think of nothing, but this feels nice.  Sitting here with Jimin is the most peace you’ve had so far.  With Jin, you felt on edge and raw.  The banter had been fun, but he was disconcerting, the knowing look in his eyes dissecting you.  Jimin is paying you no mind, focused on the outside view.  Below, cars line bumper to bumper and throngs of people bustle along.  

“Is it always this chaotic?” you ask.

“Yup.  Wait, did you mean us or down there?”

“Down there.”

“Yup.”

You peek over at Jimin, his fingers tapping an unknown rhythm.  “What would you have said if I meant us?”  

Jimin laughs, his eyes disappearing into adorable crescents.  “Us?  Chaotic?  Have you met Tae?”

“Oh.  Uh, no, I haven’t,” you murmur.  You know what Jimin meant of course.  Kim Taehyung’s idol persona was the poster child for ADHD, but no, you haven’t met the real Taehyung yet.  

“Do you want to?!”  Taehyung shrieks.  He stands in front of the balcony door, arms akimbo, superhero pose, looking off into the distance.  You would be intimidated by his unearthly handsomeness, but his shaggy black hair and boxy smile is a giant flashing marquee reading ‘golden retriever energy’.  

Jimin sighs, exasperated. “Tae, I told you we shouldn’t overwhelm her.”

“But you guys were talking about me.”

“Barely.”

“Too late!” Taehyung exclaims.  He marches over to Jimin and unceremoniously plops down into his lap.  Bestowing a pleased smile upon you, Tae’s eyes assess you in a more serious manner.  “I heard Jin-hyung fucked up.”

“Tae!  Manner-mode!”

“Aww, Jiminie, we don’t need manner-mode in front of Y/N!  She’s family!”  

“She’s never met you before!”

“Sure she has!  She just doesn’t remember!”  You thought you weren’t ready to face anyone, but watching the two bicker is giving you life.  You're in uncharted waters, but somehow, they feel like home.  Jimin and Taehyung break into giggles and your mouth quirks up.

Jimin pokes Tae.  “See.  Chaotic.”

Taehyung whines, “But Jin-hyung really did fuck up.  Right, Y/N?”

No, “ssi”.  Just comfortably Y/N.  They all have been addressing you like this, as if it’s natural, and you didn’t even realize it until now.  This kindles a bit of hope in your heart.  Hope for what, you have no idea, but there it is.  A spark of something.  “Yeah, Tae.  Jin literally explained nothing.”  

Tae throws a smug look at Jimin, who puffs in fond annoyance.  They communicate with eyes in a way that you know is a full blown conversation between people who know every tick of the other.  Tae shrugs, Jimin sinks like he concedes and they both target you with their attention.  

Jimin speaks first.  “Let's start with your head injury and memory loss, and then the Rules.”

“Rules?”

“Nuh-uh-uh.  No skipping ahead,” Tae wags a finger at you.  You roll your eyes and Tae gasps.  “Brat.”

“Takes one to know one,” you counter.  Tae’s grin is delighted and he squeezes Jimin tightly.

“Tae.  Air,” Jimin wheezes.  

“Oh, shush.  You’re fine.  So!  We’re gonna tell it to you straight!  Jin-hyung and Yoongi-hyung always suck at explaining things.  Jin-hyung tries to be tactful.  Yoongi-hyung tries to be profound.  And it’s like, why can’t you just say it and have at it!”

Jimin cuts in, “And Tae likes to tell things straight, but not before going off on a long ass tangent.”

“Manner-mode, my ass.”

“You’re an ass, you ass.”

They are gonna be the death of you.  Amusing as they are, this is getting out of hand.  Jimin and Tae are in their mid-twenties and yet they act like a pair of naughty seven year olds when they’re together, and you can’t even be mad. You clear your throat dramatically.  “Okay, so my head injury?”  

The two pause their argument.  Chastened, Jimin explains, “You’ve always had complex dreams.  We even talked about how you should write and publish them because your dreams are always so vivid and vibrant, which might be why things are so mixed up now.  You see, one day, you were assaulted.  You confronted an ex-employee who turned out to be a sasaeng and they attacked you.  You were in a coma for a week.”  

That’s scary.  With the number of scars on your body, a car accident seemed the most likely scenario, but to have this number of injuries due to someone attacking you.  It seems brutal and excessive.  

Jimin continues, “You woke up, and at first, you were fine and normal...but then you woke up the next day and didn’t recognize us.”  Jimin frowns here.

Tae takes over, “You had created this whole other world in your dreams where you are American.  You have a mom and live with your cousin.  You have a whole life with going to bars with friends, attending music festivals, going on family trips to Minnesota, and yet the only memory you have of us in these dreams is that you like our music.  You and Jo-ssi, Marlena-ssi and Garrett-ssi celebrate us from afar.  You’re just a fan of BTS in your dreams, but in reality, you’re our noona!”  Tae looks like he’s getting worked up and Jimin touches his arm, but Tae shrugs it off, beginning again.  “Eventually, you regained your memories, and for a time, things were okay.”

“But then it happened again,” Jimin says sadly.  “One day you went to bed, and then you woke up and forgot.  This began to happen regularly.  You saw so many doctors and tried many different treatments, but this became a normal occurrence.  So, you came up with a plan.  You came up with the Four Cardinal Rules.”

“Rule one,” Tae recites, “Don’t overload Y/N with information.  She thinks she wants to know everything, but she can’t handle it all at once because of her anxiety.”

“Rule two,” Jimin recites, “No drugs, like drinking.  We aren’t even allowed to give you coffee.”  

Tae nods in concurrence.  “You won’t even take an aspirin when you get your period.”

Jimin smacks him.  “Rude! Why are you talking about that?”

Tae is offended by the smack and begins a dramatic monologue complete with death scene and death rattle.  You aren’t able to fully appreciate the scene unfolding before you because they just told you that you don't drink.  Jin told you that you got drunk here last night.  Another clue in the category of things not adding up.  You try to school your expression to hide your discomfort even though all you have echoing in your head is “He lied. He lied. He lied.”

Jimin has to bestow Tae with the correct amount of appreciation before he is allowed to continue, “Rule three: You can’t leave Korea.”

“Nope,” Tae emphasizes, and even he looks uncharacteristically grave at this rule.  

“We made this rule after you tried to make a life in--where was it?  Wisconnisan?  Wiscanisoon?  You regained your memory three weeks in and freaked out when you were surrounded by strangers.”

“It was nuts!” Tae exclaims, eyes wide.

“And finally, rule four,” Jimin interjects.  “We can’t talk about past versions of you.  I mean, we can talk about the you before all of this memory fiasco stuff, but we aren’t allowed to tell you what memory-fog you has already done because there’s really no point in trying to repeat things.  You decided a long time ago to just live with it as best you can, and part of living is ‘playing the cards you’re dealt with’.”  

Tae scrunches his nose in distaste.  “Yeah, you said that.  Word for word.  I don’t like that rule.  It doesn’t make sense to me.”

Jimin rubs Tae’s back and says, “We have of course broken all of these rules a couple times before.  It’s hard to resist your puppy eyes.  Except rule three.  That one time was insane, believe me.  But so far it seems like all these rules have good reasons to be followed, especially since you came up with them yourself.  So, we’re trying to fulfill your wishes, and well--” Here, Jimin squeezes Tae in a tight hug and Tae swings his legs delightedly. “You’ve always known best, Y/N.”

You’re trying to soak all of this in.  You want to know more about the attack and you also wonder how many past versions of you there are.  How often have you done this that the boys all just so used to helping you---and not even you, you, but a you who is essentially a stranger to them until you regain your memories.

It doesn’t seem like Jimin, Tae, and the rest of them are allowed to tell you all that much, and they’re right.  You need time to digest all the information they give you, so you can’t be digging too deep just yet.  You have to trust that things will unfold as they will until you figure this out.  Still, the feeling that they’re holding back something else won’t leave you.  It could just be rule four that you’re bucking at, but Jin straight up lied to you.  You’ve been quiet for a hot minute, and in the meantime, Jimin and Tae have turned to each other to play thumb wars, patiently waiting for you to absorb all this.  You measure your next words carefully so that they follow the rules, although this question might be pushing it.  “So, how long does it usually take me to remember everything?”

Jimin and Tae immediately stop their game and do their telepathy thing before Jimin concedes to your question and answers, “Honestly, it’s taking you longer and longer to remember, and your time of remembering gets shorter and shorter.”  He shrugs.  “Sorry, Y/N.  I really can’t be more specific without breaking rules.”  

That’s not encouraging.  If all of this is true, what is there to be done?  How are you supposed to live like this??  And how many times do you have to stave off these panic attacks?  You white-knuckle the armrest of your seat to ground yourself, fingers digging into the edge of the varnished wood.  

“That’s enough of that!”  Tae jumps out of Jimin’s lap and hauls him up.  “I need a group hug!”  Jimin giggles and they make a space for you, beckoning for you to join them.  You peel your fingers off the patio chair and stand.  They immediately enclose you.  The perfect Vmin sandwich, cocooned safely in the center.  

Tae murmurs, “Sorry, Y/N.  I lied.  It looked like you really needed a hug so I asked for one.”  

A tear trickles down your cheek.  “That’s okay.  You were right.  I really needed one.”

—

Jimin has done your makeup and Tae picked out your outfit.  You’re amazed because no one would be able to tell how red your nose and eyes are from crying.  Apparently, you’re gonna go shopping after the boys eat breakfast because the three of you had made plans for today days ago and this is the perfect excuse to get your mind off things.  You, Jimin, and Tae walk into the living room to see Hobi, Joon and Jungkook eating breakfast at the dining table.  It looks like Jin made them the same breakfast spread.  Jimin and Tae grab a seat and pile food on their plates.  You sit opposite them next to Joon, facing the window wall.  The sticky notes are all gone.  

They’re all doing their own thing.  Joon is reading a book, kimchi forgotten on a fork clutched in one hand.  Hobi is doing something on his phone while he nibbles on a slice of pork belly.  Jungkook is staring off into space like he’s doing complex math.  Who knows?  Maybe he is.  You definitely are.  In all of time and space, here you are, having breakfast with most of the members of BTS.  Bangtansonyeondan in the flesh.  They’re your best friends and you don't even know how it happened.  You remember being so jealous hearing that Marlena got to touch their hands at a fan sign touch event in the past.  Marlena would die in excitement if she could see you now.

Namjoon finally chomps on his kimchi and notices you.  “Good morning.  What are you three up to today?”  

“Shopping.”  

“Cool.”  He turns his attention back to his book.  You just spoke with best leader, Kim Namjoon.  You always thought given the chance that you’d gush to him about how his music has helped you and inspired you.  You wonder if you should still do that, or if that’d be weird.  Probably weird.  You look up and down the table.  Yoongi isn’t here and neither is Jin.  You knew Jin wouldn’t be here because of his appointment with his brother.  Frankly, you’re both disappointed and relieved not to see him.  Disappointed because he’s your bias, but relieved because of the weird tension between the both of you that you don’t understand yet.  The real Jin was a bit terrifying.

Hobi notices you looking at the empty chairs, as he hands Tae a jar of strawberry jam.  “Yoongi-hyung went to his studio, and Jin-hyung had an appointment with his brother at their restaurant.”  

Ah, Genius Lab and Ossu Seiromushi.  Gotcha.  You wish you could vent and get advice from Marlena and Jo right now.  They’d help you work through your thoughts and feelings.  You look over at Tae and Jimin.  In the time you’ve left them alone, they somehow conjured up a bag of gummy bears and decided to bite the heads and bodies off, exchanging colors to reconnect them into franken-bears.  Are Tae and Jimin your new Marlena and Jo?  Tae finger flicks one of the franken-bears and its plops into Jungkook’s glass of banana milk, which splashes him and Hobi, startling the younger from his “mental math”.  Tae and Jimin both snicker under Hobi’s adult glare.   ...maybe they’re not quite Marlena and Jo, but close enough, you guess.

“Y/N-noona”  You look over at Jungkook who’s shyly trying to get your attention.  Black hair unstyled with guileless doe eyes, idol Jungkook is a menace, but here in this setting, he’s just a kid.  He may be twenty-three, but his smile reads innocent and vulnerable.  

“Yeah, JK?” You smile at him brightly and his smile turns toothy, nose scrunching.  

“Want some fruit?”

“Yes, please.”

Jungkook jumps up to fulfill your wish.  He grabs two nectarines, stuffs one in his pocket, and cuts up the second nectarine, which he then artfully arranges into the shape of a flower with the pit being the center.  He flourishes the plate and sets it in front you.

“Thanks, Kookie.”  Pleased, he squeezes your shoulder and then he’s out the front door, whipping his backpack onto his back.  

What a sweetie.  You dig in, wondering if Jungkook is off to work out, dance practice, or record.  He’s diligent like that, or at least that’s what you think.  Seeing as how you don’t have your ‘true’ memory, all you have as reference to these guys are dream memories.  Let's see.  Hobi likes to be clean.  He laughs a lot, but he can also be severe, with a fine line between fun and professionalism.  He’s our hope, our sunshine.  Hobi catches you looking at him and gives you a derpy smile, making cute aegyo sounds before turning to look back at his phone.  His hair is a bouncy caramel brown and his skin is enviously flawless and dewy.

Next to you is Namjoon.  He’s much taller and broader in person than you expected.    Namjoon is smart, if a bit clumsy.  He’s the leader, but he’s actually a maknae, the middle child between the dongsaengs and the hyungs.  Namjoon’s blonde hair isn’t brushed yet, his brows furrowed and teeth clenched, riveted by his book.

And there’s also one other thing about Namjoon that you remember.

“Namjoon-oppa.  Tae and Jimin were telling me about the rules,” you say to him.  

Namjoon is distracted, engrossed in his book.  Offhandedly, he says, “Oh, the rules?  They told you the six rules.  Yup, those are important to know.”

Bingo.

The table erupts in yelling and groans and protests as Jimin, Tae, and Hobi pounce on Namjoon for revealing what he shouldn’t have.  Namjoon is startled from his book and shrinks into his chair, sheepish against the onslaught of verbal abuse from his brothers.  

You are triumphant.  You are wrathful.  You are pissed.  You stand up and the room goes silent.  They each look guilty and avoid your gaze.  Except for Hobi.  He meets your gaze head on.   “What are rules five and six?” you question, tone accusatory.  “I was told there were only the ‘Four Cardinal Rules.’"  You don’t hesitate with the air quotes.

Namjoon is about to say something, but Hobi’s glare silences him, and before Tae and Jimin can get a word in, Hobi tuts at them.  Hobi considers for a moment and then motions for you to sit, which you do reluctantly.  You’re so done with all the deceit.  You want to walk out the door and just keep walking, but you need to know what they’re hiding.  

Army always gets this thrill when our hope, Hobi, becomes dance leader Hoseok, his countenance severe.  Being subjected to this side of him is a whole other thing.  It withers your anger a bit.  The way he’s wordlessly put you and the boys in your place is an art that you can’t help but respect and admire.  

“Rule six,” he says, “is we can’t tell you about rules five and six.  The damage has been done, but all's not lost.  We all agreed to stick to your rules.  The rules you created.  You made us promise.  You did.  So we are going to do our best to honor you.  I’m sorry, but that’s all we can say.”  He pointedly looks at Jimin, Tae, and Namjoon.  Namjoon apologizes and then gets up to wash his finished plate and retreats to his room.  Jimin and Tae turn their attention back to breakfast glancing at you apologetically every now and then.  Annoyed, you finish the plate of nectarines, but you revel a little in your small victory.

Savoring the last piece of fruit, you lock eyes with Hoseok, who is very much still Hoseok and not Hobi right now.  He’s looking at you with suspicious, calculating eyes.  You know he knows that you did that to Namjoon on purpose.  Namjoon, god of destruction.  The Spoiler King.  You don’t know how it's possible, but Hoseok deepens his gaze and suddenly you know that he knows that you know that he knows.  You flash him a sassy smile, daintily wiping your mouth with a napkin.  He rolls his eyes and Hobi’s back, smiling at your antics, but there’s a note of concern there.    

So, there are two more rules.  Rules Five and Six.  What could be so detrimental that you can’t even KNOW the rules?  They think they’re trying to protect you, but you need to get to the bottom of this before you lose yourself again.  It must be hard on them to have to deal with a clueless Y/N, but you need more concrete answers.  You steel yourself.  You’re gonna figure this out, and none of them can stop you.

—

Jimin plops the shopping bags on the ground next to door 602.  He struggles with the keys against the door and then he swings it open.  He gestures for you to walk in first, and then follows with the shopping bags.  

The apartment is small.  The living room is cozy with a white fabric couch and loveseat with the same red throw pillows as the ones on the sectional in the boys' condo.  There’s a cute espresso-colored coffee table and a modest flatscreen tv.  This apartment is also open concept with a tiny kitchenette and small breakfast nook.  You follow a short hall to a standard bathroom.  You notice that the toothbrush holder is empty.  

Across from the bathroom is your bedroom. A queen-sized bed takes up a large amount of space, but a fancy vanity takes up the other.  An assortment of skincare products and hair and makeup products are organized neatly.  The sliding door closet contains a sparse amount of clothes.  Seems a majority of your clothes is housed elsewhere…  

In the living room, Jimin is now sprawled on the couch.   

“So, this is my apartment,” you say aloud.  

“Yup.  It’s home sweet home à la mode.”  

“What does that even mean?”

Jimin considers and then wrinkles his forehead.  “I have no idea.  It’s what Tae says.  Something he picked up from Paris, but I’m pretty sure he’s using it wrong.”  You both giggle at the likelihood.   

Jimin sighs in satisfaction.  “We’ve made many memories here.”  

He motions at the wall above him.  All the walls are teeming with a collage of framed photos.  In one, you and Jimin are wearing corgi head hats posing cutely in front of a carousel.  In another, all eight of you are holding trays of fresh strawberries in a greenhouse, smiling brightly.  There must have been a strawberry fight because there are red smears all over us.  In this one, you, Kookie, Hobi, and Tae are having a sleepover.  The four of you are piled in this very living room with face sheet masks on, tangled in blankets and pillows and surrounded by snacks.

It’s a patchwork of moments you have no memory of and you feel…regret?  Sad?  Bitter?  You trace over your smile in one of the photos and wish you could be so carefree.  The head of a picture hanging nail scrapes your palm.  There’s a missing picture frame.  On further inspection, there are a few empty, dustless spots where some frames are missing.   Curiouser and curiouser.

“Jimin?”  

“Hmm?”

“Why are all my clothes in Jin’s room?  And my toothbrush?”

Jimin clothes his eyes and waves his arms around.  “Well, even though you live here, you mostly stay with us because of the memory thing and so we can keep an eye on you.  And Jin has the biggest closet.  He has the biggest room in the whole condo actually.  Hyung perks.  How is that fair?  I didn’t choose when my parents decided to get it on.  Ew.  That was a wrong turn in the brain.  Insane in the membrane.  And It’s not like Tae and I have any space to spare.  Joon can barely take care of himself.  Hobi has a meticulous system that none of us understand.  Yoongi likes his own space.  And Kookie’s room is like a jungle.  One of these days, I swear, we’re gonna have to dig him out of there, dead by suffocation under a mountain of basic black tees.  Imagine explaining that to his mom.  ‘Sorry, eomma.  Sorry, appa.  Kookie fell victim to the wormhole of his own diabolical creation.’  Yup, that’ll go over well.”

Hilarious, but also sus.  Jimin’s explanation is plausible, but he’s rambling at this point.  And he’s avoiding eye contact.  Before you can dig any further, he quickly sit up.  He fishes keys out of his pocket and shoves them into your hands.   

“Welp!  Gotta go!  Dinner will be ready in an hour.  Yoongi says he’s making Chick-maek.”  Jimin scurries to the door, but stops dead in his tracks.  “Aish, almost forgot.”  He pulls out a cellphone and hands it to me.  “This is yours.  I’ll give you some time to yourself, but if you feel too lonely, come over and hang out with us.  We’ll probably be catching up on Itaewon Class.”  And then he’s gone.

For Jimin’s bite-size, he filled the room better than an extension charm.  Now that it’s just you, the apartment feels like the yawning maw of a lion threatening to swallow you up.  You perch yourself on the loveseat and the phone unlocks with your face.  The photo gallery is filled with you and the boys.  Concerts.  Shenanigans at Big Hit with other employees. Travel photos. In one picture, you’re standing in front of the Eiffel Tower with Joon, your backs turned in a half-heart pose together to form one complete heart. 

You’re not on any social media.  There’s no facebook.  There’s no instagram.  There’s no twitter.  The contact list has quite a few numbers from restaurants, Big Hit coworkers, and networking professionals.  The only numbers you recognize are the boys and Bang PD.  

You never memorized Jo’s number.  You dont have anyone's number memorized.  You didn’t think you would need to.  You create an instagram account and look for her.  You look for your mom.  You look for your cousins and friends.  They all seem to be doing okay and you don't know how you feel about that.  What gets you are the familiar pictures.  Birthdays.  Parties.  Electric Forest.  It’s like the twilight zone.  Events that you remember attending, but now have not.  Pictures you knew you had posed in, but are no longer in.  Not even a ghost or whisper that you ever existed in their lives as if someone had scrupulously erased you.  You lock your useless phone and chuck it at the other couch.  

Gathering the shopping bags Jimin had plopped in the living room, you bring them over to your bedroom.  As you organize your haul, you notice that, here too, there are empty spaces where picture frames should be.  Why would anyone need to hide photos?  Did you get rid of them?  Or did someone else?

Dinner will be ready soon.  It’ll be the first time you’ll be with all seven of the boys.  It should be fine, right?  You just spent the whole day with Jimin and Tae.  They cheerfully dragged you all over Seoul to shops and boutiques and pojangmachas.  No ajumma could resist them.  And apparently, your credit score here is top-notch because you have a black card.  In your name.  Wild.  The three of you ate some street tteokboki by the Han river and people watched for a bit until Jimin and Tae were inevitably recognized.  You all had to leave, or risk getting mobbed.  Overall, it was a good time.

But in a room with all seven of them at once?  Your heart quickens.  You’re fine with each of the boys, but Jin in particular…you don’t know how you’ll face him.  The both of you left things half-finished and you don’t know if you can recover from that into some semblance of, what?  Friendship?  Is that what you are?  Do friends lie to each other?  

For a split second, you almost entertain the idea of skipping dinner, but who are you kidding?  You’ll go.  The boys are your only lifeline, you reason with yourself while trying to ignore the phantom sensations of bony fingers holding yours, the easy laugh that makes it easy to smile, and the clear eyes that seemed to see right through to your core.  

He lied.  He lied.  He lied.  The echo weakens as you feel the gravitational pull to the man you know is waiting a few floors above you.  

Decision made, you touch up your makeup, staring intently at your reflection.   You read a study somewhere that if you stare into a mirror too closely for too long, it can trigger an almost hallucinogenic effect of face blindness or distortion.  Your face is the same face you’ve always known it, at least you think it is.  You have the same neat eyebrows.  Same smooth lips and high cheekbones.  Same dark brown, almond eyes sitting beside the nose you inherited from your mother.  Well, actually, who knows who you got your nose from because apparently you’re an orphan.

In your dreams, your mom was a single mother and you were an only child.  Your parents divorced when you were a toddler.  You spent most of your growing years with your mother’s side of the family until you found family and friendship with estranged cousins from your father’s side.  You wonder if there is some version of mother walking around oblivious that she almost had you as a daughter.  You wonder if Jo is living alone or has some other roommate.  You wonder if Marlena, Jo, and Garrett are even friends because you were the common denominator between the three.  But here you are.  Alone.

There’s a knock on your door and Tae waltzes in.  Well, you’re not quite alone.  Apparently, you have BTS.  You have Jungkook, Tae, Jimin, Hobi, Namjoon, Yoongi...and Jin.  

“Dinner is finished.  Ready to go?”  

Even if you’re not, the world keeps on turning and you have to, too.

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[rosegoldandsequins]

@akiiyamashun​  //   SENT :

It wasn't often that Akiyama woke up before Okamura - usually his wife had a morning routine which started much earlier than anyone gave her credit for, although the moneylender assured the heiress constantly that she was never anything short of beautiful to him. But even the blonde could see that something was amiss with the loan shark given his very weird look (almost to the point of looking comical on him). Okamura didn't have to ask - when the man realized his wife was up, he rolled closer to her over the bed, folding arms under his body and using them as support for his half-naked torso; the golden phoenix pendant swung free as he did so, but the darkness of the room barely allowed for much light to be reflected by the jewelry. Akiyama placed his chin over Okamura's stomach, getting a very nice view of his wife from down there - but for once, he was entirely undistracted by her chest. "I had a very weird dream," he explained, and smiled as if conscious that what he was about to share would probably sound just as strange to his wife, but anticipating a certain comedic element in her reactions as well, "I was a... Dragon. Like a fantasy dragon, with tail, scales, wings, everything. I really liked gold," he said, and raised an eyebrow as if begging his wife not to interrupt because he wasn't done. "And then I met you - I mean, it was a princess, but it looked like you. And I fell so utterly in love with princess-you that I staged an entire fire at the castle to hide the fact I took you away so we could be happy. The last thing I remember was your hair - and that it was prettier than any gold dragon-me could find," at that moment, Akiyama's left hand extended from under his body to reach for Okamura, brushing a stray strand of hair away as if to emphasize his point to the woman in bed with him. "I have to ask, my star: if you were the princess, would you have ran away with the big, bad dragon? I mean, I set fire the the castle - I think I was a bad one."

❛ ❤ ⋯      

Okamura stirred under the covers, stretching leisurely. A yawn broke through her lips. She fumbled around for her phone ( carefully protected by a custom case made of rose gold sequins in a hard shell ) and glanced at the time. It was early  ―  before she normally got up. Okamura would have gone back to sleep if her husband hadn’t moved beside her.

The heiress’ lips tugged up into a smile as Akiyama situated himself on her middle. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark interior of their bedroom. Quietly, Okamura slipped her fingers into the loan shark’s hair and began to play with the shaggy locks. She considered teasing him about the placement of his head ( given their antics last night prior to falling asleep, Okamura’s body was completely bare ). However, Akiyama spoke first.

Okamura murmured soothingly while the moneylender described his dream for her. A carefully - plucked eyebrow ascended toward her hairline, but the heiress didn’t comment until it seemed her lover was entirely finished. Then, she giggled. 

“A dragon?” the heiress echoed. She cleared her throat to get rid of the raspy quality that had settled over her voice during sleep. Okamura’s free hand fell onto Akiyama’s arm. Pink nails stroked his skin slowly. “I think you have been watching too many episodes with Emma, ichigo ; our precious setoka’s fascination with that one is getting to you.”

“Game of Thrones?” Akiyama asked, chuckling. Emma was on her third watch of the series and had requested her father join her. There was something about the piece of media that the girl just loved ( even if it was dated by now ), and she always tried to bring her beloved father into what she liked. 

“That’s it,” Okamura said. The heiress’ smile deepened. “  ―  but, yes, I would be happy to have you kidnap me if you were a dragon.”

Akiyama laughed softly. “You barely thought about it, ma étoile.”

“I don’t need to think more,” Okamura countered, shifting a finger over to tap his nose. “If the beast is indeed you, then I have nothing to fear. You do not have an evil bone in you, ichigo  .    .    .  no matter what world or what you, I know you would never hurt me. Besides, you said yourself that you stole me to keep us together. It sounds like princess - me would be thanking you profusely.” 

The heiress’s palm moved down, cupped the loan shark’s chin, and lifted his head. She stared at him for a moment, thumb pressed just beneath his lower lip. What a handsome face. Okamura could stare at it for the rest of her days, hopelessly lost in the laugh lines and little wrinkles under his eyes that she adored. Scales, horns, wings  .    .    .  those additions wouldn’t make a difference for the heiress. As long as it was still him.

“We’re very lucky ladies, ichigo,” Okamura whispered. “That we both get to have any type of you.”

[ashbrat488]

Sliding Into Home - Calahan Skogman AU - One Shot

"Kenzie! Are you ready?"

Brook's voice cuts through my thoughts as I sit staring at myself in the mirror. I turn to my closest friend and assistant with a sigh. "I hope so." I stand up to follow her out of the room as I smoothed her hand over my blonde ponytail. My stomach filled with butterflies as we walked down the long tunnel toward the field. I had graduated top of my class with a Sports Management Degree and yet they had me running their team's social media accounts. It wasn't what I was wanting to do, but I now worked for a Major League baseball team which is more than I could have hoped for right out of college.

I knew very well that my father being the head coach was the reason I had the job, to begin with. I was used to being under-appreciated and undervalued. People saw my blonde hair and blue eyes and pretty face and automatically write me off as shallow and unintelligent. I scoff, shaking my head as I listen to myself complain about being too attractive. Pretty privilege is a real thing that I knew well, but just like everyone else, I had my own trouble based on how I am perceived by other people, men especially.

I stop at the end of the tunnel, the light and noise from the stadium filling my senses as my heart beats erratically in my chest. "Do I look okay?"

Brook chuckles, handing me my phone as she rests her hand reassuringly on my arm. "You always do, babe. Just breathe. This is easy shit. I have a few of the guys lined up to chat with you with Calahan last since it's his first MLB game."

"Right... I can't believe my dad is starting him on his first game."

"Have you seen him pitch?!"

I roll my eyes as Brook grins, her brown eyes more amber in the sunlight. "Of course I have. I am good at my job, Brook." Calahan Skogman was just fresh out of college as well and had been tried to be recruited by more than a few Major League teams. We were lucky he wanted to play for his hometown team here in Milwaukee though.

She laughs, nudging my shoulder as she leans toward me. "And have you seen how hot he is?"

"Fuck off, Brook." I hear her laugh more as I chuckle and we step out onto the field as the team practices. Brook fetches a few of the men, one at a time as she helps me to film small interviews with them for the team's social media accounts. I turn as a shadow approaches me and I see Calahan stalking toward me. At 6 foot 4, he was the tallest member on the team, and even in my heels, he towered over me as I barely reached his shoulders. His shaggy hair which could only be described as hazel was peeking out the sides of his hat. The normally dirty blond hair appeared brown sometimes and almost red in the sunlight as did the fuzz of his five o'clock shadow. His blue-green eyes also hid under the shadow of the bill of his hat but I could see them roam over my body as he approached; from my blue heels to my skinny jeans and custom jersey with my last name and my lucky number 13.

He finally reaches me, standing beside me as he plasters on a fake smile. He has never managed to warm up to me, just like the rest of the team since I graduated and my father insisted I accept a job within the club. "Hello, McKenzie..."

"Calahan Skogman! It's so great to have you on the team this year. And this is your first ever MLB game and you're pitching. Are you feeling the nerves a little bit?"

"Um..." He shuffles slightly as nervous energy radiates off him. "Sure, I am a bit. I'm always a little bit nervous before a game, no matter where it is. I just try to drown out the noise and focus on the mission at hand and try to remember that Scott wouldn't have placed me here in starting position if he didn't believe in me."

"That's so great, Calahan. Well, we all believe in you and we're all happy to have you here." I watch him nod, giving a small smile to me and the camera before we hear someone yelling behind him.

"Head's up!"

I turn around just in time to find Calahan's large right hand in front of my face encased around a ball that had almost hit me. He turned to me, his eyes as wide as mine as my heart beats painfully in my chest. He brings his left hand up to my arm as his face softens slightly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" I look down at his right hand as he moves the ball to his left hand, and he opens and closes it a few times, obviously in a bit of pain. He only nods, not really looking at me as some of the other guys call him away.

***

"Girl, that vid of Calahan saving your life is blowing up all over social media. That mixed with the win today, the Brewers are the talk of all the sports networks."

"Good, then I'm doing my job. And he didn't save my life. Let's not be dramatic..." I follow her into the bar, both of us in short dresses and heels as we are immediately spotted by some frat bros at the bar when we approach.

"Can I buy you a drink, darling?"

"No thanks." I don't bother looking at the man the voice belongs to as I scan the bar to find some of the team members in the back, nursing some beers and yelling, and having a good time. My eyes catch briefly on those blue-green eyes once again hidden under the bill of his hat before Brook nudges my attention back to her and she hands me a shot glass.

"What's the point of being hot and having guys want to buy you drinks if you never accept?"

I roll my eyes, my mouth and throat burning from the alcohol before setting the shot glass back onto the bar. "Because they never do it just to do it. They buy you a drink because they're expecting something. Whether it just be attention, or something more."

"You're so negative, Kenzie. You expect all guys to be dicks, that everyone is out to get you."

I shrug, turning around as I feel someone's presence behind me. A tall, obviously drunk, college guy saunters up to me. "Hello, beautiful..." His eyes roam down my body greedily, falling on my breasts before finally dragging them to my face.

"No."

"I haven't even asked anything yet..." He smirks, leaning one arm on the bar, moving closer to me as I back up slightly into Brook.

"Doesn't matter, the answer is no." I turn away from him as I feel him grip my arm hard, pulling be back around to face him, my chest pressed against his. "Just fuck off."

"Dude, leave us alone..." Brook tries to break the guy's grip as he sneers at the both of us.

"Why you being such a fucking bitch? You come in here as a fucking tease in your short dress and then you blow me off without even a smile."

"I don't have to give you a smile or anything else." I bring the heel of my shoe down hard on his toes, making him grunt as he only grips my arm tighter, causing me to wince.

The guy is thrown back as another shadow looms over me, and Calahan places himself between the drunk guy and Brook and myself. "She told you to leave her alone. Keep your fucking hands to yourself."

"Fuck off dude, this doesn't concern you." The guy pushes Calahan back hard enough to knock the cap off his head before Calahan brings his fist up to crush against the guy's face.

I groan, grabbing his hand and pulling him back as the guy falls to the ground and his friends surround him. "Cal!" I drag him back to face me as the other team members approach us. "Get the fuck out of here before you lose your baseball career before it even starts." I push him back as he shakes his head and the guys drag him out of the bar. "Fucking cavemen, I swear to god."

Brook laughs, handing me Calahan's hat that fell to the ground in the middle of the scuffle. "He left his hat. We should get out of here too, Kenzie."

***

I stand with the hat in my hand as I wait for the door to open. Finally, an obviously annoyed Calahan opens the door wearing only boxers. His hair hangs in his face as he runs his hand down his bare chest to his tight abdomen, his hand sliding over the ridges of his muscles as he clears his throat. "I um... I brought you your hat," I stutter out as I drag my eyes up to his, handing him his hat. "You dropped it at the bar."

"Thank you. I love that hat, I was worried I lost it forever." He offers me a small smile before tossing the hat out of my view and I give him a small nod, turning to leave. "That's it? Don't I get a thank you?"

"For what?" I scoff, turning back to him quickly, stepping toward him as he stands up straight, crossing his arms over his chest. "For being a fucking buffoon and almost ruining your career over a stupid drunk college boy?"

"How about saving your life? And then for saving you at the bar."

"I could have handled myself just fine without your interference."

"Oh yeah, it looked like it..." He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in obvious disgust. "Just another spoiled princess just like I thought you would be."

"You don't know anything about me!" I spit, pushing him back hard, both palms flat on his chest as he chuckles, barely moving as I turn away from him once more. This time I feel a large hand grip the back of my neck, forcing me back toward him, pleasure surging down my spine as I feel him crush his mouth hard against mine. I try to push against him but instead succumb to his force as I feel his tongue penetrate my mouth, seeking out mine. I can't help the moan that escapes my throat as he pulls me into his apartment, slamming the door shut behind us. With his hand still on the back of my neck, his other hand goes to the back of my thigh, pulling me up to him as my legs wrap around him and my shoes fall onto the ground. "What are you doing?" I manage to mutter when he pulls his mouth away to nip at my neck, carrying me further into the apartment and plopping me onto his bed.

"You got me kicked out before I could find a girl to bring home, so you'll just have to do..."

"I'll have to do?! That's not a proper proposition or seduction," I scoff, standing up as he smirks down at me, amused.

"You've made it all the way into my bedroom and you seemed to like it when I was kissing you..." He brings his hand up to gently cradle my chin as he slowly rolls his tongue over his lips. "We both know there's some sort of chemistry here between us. It doesn't have to go beyond sex. In fact, I prefer it that way. I can't much stand you otherwise."

"Funny..." I quickly consider the proposition as he cocks a brow, dropping his boxers to the ground and my eyes fall down to where his cock already stands heavy between his legs. "Fuck..." I can't contain the obvious staring as he brings his hands up to my shoulders, pulling the straps of my dress down to fall onto the floor.

"That's the plan... now stop talking..." He demands, gripping my throat as he dips down to kiss me hard once more as he pushes me back onto the bed with him on top. He keeps his mouth sealed over mine as I feel him pull off my panties, which were soaking already, a low fire burning deep inside my core.

I don't say anything as he reaches over to grab a condom from the nightstand, leaning back on his knees. His eyes lock intensely on mine as he rips open the foil to roll the condom onto his cock. He leans over me once more to press his mouth to mine as I feel his large hands come up to palm my breasts, moaning as I push up into his touch. He pinches the nipples, pulling on them and causing me to whimper as it sends jolts of electricity straight to my pussy. It clenches in anticipation as he releases my nipples, pulling back. I gasp as he grabs my waist, turning me away from him as he pulls my hips up to his.

He pushes into me hard as I gasp, the stretching almost painful as he doesn't stop, pulling out and pushing back in with a loud grunt. "Don't expect me to go slow or easy on you," he growls out as I whimper a response and he grips my hips, my knees barely grazing the bed as he pumps into me hard and fast just as he promised.

He runs a hand up my spine between my shoulder blades as he pushes me into the bed. Though I had never had someone so rough with me during sex, there was a certain sort of primal surge now buzzing through me as he used me. Pleasure coursed through me with every thrust, causing me to become louder and louder as he groaned.

Calahan leans forward to wrap his hand around my throat to pull me up on my knees, never losing rhythm as he pulls my back up against his chest. "You feel better than I thought you would, princess..."

I can't help but growl slightly at the endearment that sounds like an insult as he brings a hand up to my mouth. I clamp my teeth down on his hand as he hisses, his other hand gripping my throat harder until I let go. "Don't... call me princess," I barely spit out before I pain surges in my shoulder as he sinks his teeth into my skin, pain dissipating into pleasure. My head falls back against his shoulder as he moves his free hand down between my legs. "Cal..." I whimper as I hear him growl, dragging his tongue up the length of my neck to my ear, pulling my lobe into his mouth as the low burning fire explodes inside me. The grip of his hand on my throat tightens as the orgasm rocks through me, prolonging it as I faintly hear him panting and grunting behind me. He finally releases me and I collapse onto the bed, face down with a grunt.

"Don't call me Cal. It's Calahan or nothing," he barks as he crosses the room and slams the door to the bathroom. I roll my eyes, rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling as my heart races. The sex was better than I would ever care to admit, even if now I was beginning to feel the bite on my shoulder. I groan, sitting up to stare at the bathroom door as I hear water running, regretting coming here. I knew it was a mistake to sleep with one of the players and that I would never be taken seriously if it got out that I had. I stand up, stumbling slightly as I quickly pull on my panties and dress and grab my shoes, leaving the apartment before he comes out of the bathroom...

Potential for a full story 👀

[theywithnoname]

how i originally saw the magnus archives characters before i looked at any fanart. something nobody asked for but i wanted to share anyway bc i get frustrated when people start to police character designs.

my original jon was a boring white guy with professional short wavy black hair with greys at the temples. i guess i saw him as white bc i just reflect my own identities onto characters? also in a really fucked up way, if anyone is gonna get a super underserved promotion it’s gonna be a white guy (part of the horror ig lol) :/ he’s always been tall to me. shorter than martin but at least 5’11. he’s thin but not emaciated, a healthy weight for his hight or whatever. he has green eyes and rectangular glasses. i still see jon like this, except his skin is a darker, more olive tone, and his hair is curlier. i have never seen him with long hair though. the longest it gets is around his collar.

for martin, i took the “not the smallest person” to mean that he was super tall (like 6’1 or 6’2) not a reference to his weight or body shape. i actually originally saw him as super skinny and scrawny, but ive since adjusted that to make him look a lot like mike from the newest bake off season lmao. to me he’s white with dark brown hair that’s a bit wavy and shaggy but just in the sense that it makes him look youthful. he wears round tortoiseshell glasses, knit sweaters, and corduroys.

tim looks exactly like his VA. i can’t see anyone except mike lebeau in my head when i hear tim. except on the rare occasion where i see markiplier for some reason. my original idea of tim was just a vague Hot Guy with dark hair, nothing too detailed.

i’ve never had a mental image of sasha bc i hadn’t really heard her much, she was just a vague Prescence in my head when she was referred to. when i listen to the show now, i see the fandom’s version. not!sasha however has always looked like gemma chan. she has long stick straight black hair, dark eyes, and wears turtlenecks and trousers.

i’ve never seen melanie as the fandom design. to me she has always looked EXACTLY like freema agyeman as martha jones in dr who. i think lydia (melanie’s VA) sounds just like freema so that’s who I always saw. melanie is black, has dyed hair (there’s no specific color i see, it’s just dyed Vibrant), wears dark clothes, and heavy shoes. her hair is straightened and she wears it in a spiky bun quite often. she’s short, maybe 5’4.

georgie is white and a natural ginger, 5’6, medium build. she has a heart shaped face and a wavy bob with bangs and she always tucks her hair behind her ear. sometimes she has a jellyfish haircut. she dresses like one of those new hippies: patchwork skirts, flowing cardigans, big boxy silhouettes, some crochet pieces. this is how i’ve seen her since i first listened and it hasn’t changed at all.

i originally saw basira as having long curly hair (3C curl pattern to be specific), dark skin, and sharp eyes. idk how else to describe them. when she’s not in her police uniform she wears all black and owns a lot of hoodies with graphics on them. she’s about 5’6 and the same body type as georgie, if not a little bigger. i still see her pretty much just like this, if ive been looking at a lot of fanart then my brain will make her a hijabi, but it’s not a constant design in my head.

daisy looks like dulcie collins from deadloch. she’s tall (at least 6’), thin and muscular, white, with long wild blond hair. she’s always looked like this for me, except after she gets out of the coffin i decided that her hair would be so matted from the mud that she would have to cut it into a pixie. she wears a lot of graphic tees and jeans. she owns only a few sweatshirts or sweaters and they’re all a little oversized for her.

Podcast fanartists baffle and amaze me. I've been seeing TMA fanart for *years* on the peripherals of my feeds, and I always assumed that there was official art or clear descriptions or something because there was always variety in the designs, but there were things that were almost always the same, just like fanart of any visual media.

Here is a list of all the main character descriptions I am aware of that exist in the 200 episodes of The Magnus Archives (not counting scar descriptions):

Johnathan Sims

"Scrawny"

Premature grey hairs

Martin Blackwood

"Not the smallest guy in the world"

"Uncanny" resemblance to his father. Whatever he looks like.

Sasha James

"Tall"

"Long hair"

"Glasses"

Timothy Stoker

"The hot one"

Basira Hussain

...

Alice "Daisy" Tonner

...

Melanie King

...

Georgina Barker

...

The amount of details that everyone has just agreed on being true for all of these guys is legitimately wild

[slimeywooper]

Labmas AU - Unintended Consequences

Chapter 11 - Disappointment: Notes

It's best to read the story first before reading these as there's definitely going to be spoilers.

CW: A curse word.

I never got around to describing Alvis. Maybe someday I will go back and add it to chapter 5, but for now I will give a few details: he has short, sandy blonde hair with a messy, shaggy cut, he's on the short and thin side, and looks like a teenager but is in his early twenties.

This chapter finally explains what Colress uses to control Kudari. The device has three buttons, the bottom being the one that is used the most. It only incapacitates Kudari for a short amount of time, as seen in chapter 4. Pressing the middle one will have him unable to move until Colress presses it again. The top button will knock him out. Colress hasn't often used this one over the years because he doesn't want Kudari to lose consciousness. He wants him to know what he's done wrong, when he does it.

Colress is always needlessly cruel to Kudari, though he doesn't usually show the brunt of it to other people. It's done in private. Kudari isn't always angry when he interacts with Colress. In this specific situtation, he realizes he's done something wrong and is fearful of how it may impact his newfound freedom and Reader. I know I've mentioned that he likes to purposefully rile Colress, but that isn't the case here.

Kudari doesn't like the situation he's in, but he doesn't know any other way things can, or should, be. He only knows the life and rules of the laboratory. Reader's dislike of Colress is really going to intensify here on out. So far, he's shown himself to be an asshole and controlling of the hybrids, but spending more time with Kudari and Nobori will reveal more of Colress' sadistic qualities.

Kudari spends a lot of time in his room, so many of his hobbies revolve around shows, games, and crafts. The two desks are located on opposite sides of the room. One is for his computer(which has been taken by Colress) and the other is used for painting and assembling model kits. These are purchased by Nobori when he leaves for work, or sometimes ordered online. His bathroom is two smaller separate rooms, a shower and sink in one, and a toilet in the other. Whatever gaming system he is currently using is held on the nightstand by his web.

[nirvanamerchstore]

Nirvana is a band that revolutionized the music industry in the 1990s. With Kurt Cobain as their frontman, the band brought grunge music to the forefront, inspiring countless other musicians and fans alike. Even though Nirvana disbanded after Cobain's tragic death in 1994, the band's legacy lives on through their music and merchandise. In fact, Nirvana merchandise has continued to influence music and fashion over the years. From band t-shirts to sweatshirts and posters, Nirvana merchandise has become a staple in many people's wardrobes. In this blog, we will explore why Nirvana merchandise continues to be so popular and how it has influenced both music and fashion. &nbsp; 1. Nirvana's Grunge Aesthetic: One of the main reasons Nirvana merchandise has become so popular is the band's grunge aesthetic. Grunge was a subculture that emerged in the Pacific Northwest in the late 1980s and early 1990s, characterized by its rough and unpolished look. Nirvana's music and image were the embodiment of this style, which included oversized flannel shirts, ripped jeans, and combat boots. This look was a departure from the glam and flashy styles that dominated the music industry in the 1980s and paved the way for a new wave of fashion that was more casual and accessible. 2. Kurt Cobain's Signature Look: Kurt Cobain, the late frontman of the iconic grunge band Nirvana, is remembered not just for his music, but also for his signature look. Cobain's style was often described as "grunge," and it reflected the DIY, anti-fashion ethos of the 1990s alternative music scene. His clothing choices were a mix of thrift store finds, vintage pieces, and items he customized himself. One of the key elements of Cobain's look was his hair. He often wore his blonde locks in a shaggy, messy style that appeared as if he had just rolled out of bed. He also frequently dyed his hair in bright colors, including pink, blue, and green. Another staple of Cobain's wardrobe was the cardigan sweater. He was often seen wearing oversized, slouchy cardigans that gave him a cozy, laid-back vibe. Cobain was also known for his love of vintage band t-shirts, particularly those featuring obscure punk and metal bands. He often paired these shirts with ripped jeans, Converse sneakers, and sunglasses. Another notable element of his style was the way he incorporated feminist imagery into his wardrobe. He was often seen wearing t-shirts with slogans like "Nobody Knows I'm a Lesbian" and "I Like Girls Who Like Girls." Overall, Cobain's style was a reflection of his values and his music. He rejected mainstream fashion trends in favor of a more DIY, anti-establishment aesthetic. His signature look continues to influence fashion and music to this day and serves as a reminder of the power of personal style to make a statement. 3. The Power of Band Merchandise: Band merchandise has always been a way for fans to show their support for their favorite artists, and Nirvana merchandise is no exception. However, Nirvana merchandise goes beyond just a show of support; it has become a cultural phenomenon that transcends the music industry. The band's logo, which features a smiley face with X's eyes, has become one of the most recognizable symbols in pop culture. It has been adapted and reinterpreted by countless brands and designers, further cementing Nirvana's influence on fashion and style. In conclusion, Nirvana's impact on music and fashion cannot be overstated. The band's unique sound, image, and style have continued to inspire generations of musicians and fashion enthusiasts. Nirvana merchandise is not just a way to show support for the band, but also a fashion statement that represents a cultural movement. From their iconic smiley face logo to their grunge-inspired fashion, Nirvana has left an indelible mark on the music and fashion industries. As long as people continue to appreciate their music and style, Nirvana merchandise will remain a beloved and influential part of popular culture.

To view Nirvana Merch's entire catalog, go to this website: https://nirvanamerch.store/ &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;

[dodo-begone]

Beware the Beast

Pairing: Yandere!Philza x Reader

Request: Maybe some yandere!philza headcanons? You don’t have to!

Word Count: 2k

Warning: yandere, swearing, talk about kidnapping, depression (kinda detailed on that aspect)

A/n: I accidentally turned this into a story- i really need to stop doing that. But I just couldn't resist! Also sorry if Phil is OOC. And this isn't proofread. We die like men here. Can be perceived as platonic or romantic.

This man has lived many years, lost so many loved ones. He’s getting tired of this cycle. It’s truly exhausting. You start to care about the world less. After a while, you start to see too many similarities in things, making it hard to look at. So he starts to close his heart to others. It’s just easier that way, for both parties. Saves him from the heartbreak and them from… well, him. He also stops caring for himself. After all, he’s literally immortal. Nothing can kill this man, so neglecting some self care routines every once in a while wouldn’t hurt…

But this becomes such a bad habit of his. He barely cares for himself after a while. It’s hard to find the energy when it isn’t going to matter in the end. Nothing matters anyways. Every action will always prove fruitless in the end. So what’s the point in doing something so... small if it takes this much energy? If a past version of himself saw Phil now, they’d be disgusted. Telling him to just get up and care for himself. Come on, you’re immortal. Nothing can kill you. Just do this.

He’s a mess when you two meet. His platinum-blonde hair was mostly neat, a little shaggy. It was obvious that he just got himself cleaned up a bit. One can only do so much about deep eyebags, dull hair, and lifeless eyes on such short notice.

You were introduced to him through Ghostbur. Phil was overjoyed that Ghostbur was making more friends. Though much less pleased when Ghostbur insisted that he’d bring his new friend over to meet Phil. Oh come on Phil, you’d just love them. They’re so nice! What tortured Philza more than his first interaction with you? His conversations with Ghostbur about you. He’d just prattle on about things you and him did, about how much fun you two had and how nice you were. Always nice.

And you were nice, an absolute sweetheart. But much too perky for Philza’s liking. You two had been chatting for quite a while when Ghostbur silently leaves you two together. Well, you’re chatting. Phil is just listening to you, hoping that you’d leave at any moment. Some topics were brought up; they were mostly some small icebreakers to get acquainted more.

When your past was brought up, you’d always paint this fucking picture-perfect past. So peaceful. God, the envy he had of you, of the peace you experienced in your life- He felt bad for it, honestly, he did. But he just wished he could’ve had even a fraction of the prosperity you spoke about. For someone living in the DSMP, you had a relatively easy and steady life. No war, no major or sudden loss or anything of that sort. A perfect life.

After that, you just kept coming back. Why? Why are you coming back? Are you here to taunt him for the life he lived? For the life he’ll never have? Is some god sending you as a punishment? A living example of everything he gave up, had to leave behind. That’s what he believed, anyways.

That was far from your intentions. You saw how he was in your first meeting; jumpy yet dissociating from reality. An oppressive, glum aura seemed to just emanate him. So downtrodden and dead inside, yet so obviously alive on the outside. It hurt to see him like that, as you went through something similar. You had no idea how long he’d been like that, but you decided that you’d help him in any way that you could.

You tried to make it a daily thing. Everyday you’d go to Phil’s house around midday to afternoon. You two would talk for a bit, but you’d couldn’t help sprinkling your questions in. Have you eaten yet, mr. Philza? Have you had water today, mr. Philza? Have you preened your feathers, mr. Philza? Have you bathed today, mr. Philza?

Your questions irked Phil. Everyday, without fail, you’d come and talk to him. It’d be small talk at first; what the weather was up to that day, some light politics, Tubbo’s new adopted son. Small. Yet you’d always bring up his self care. He was a fcking grown man. He could take care of himself. What’s worse? You’d pester him to care for himself in that instant if he even showed a small sign of negligence. And you’d stay the entire time, making sure he did everything. And then you’d always add “mr. Philza” on the end. It was a sign of respect, yet it upset him so much. But he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was.

Though it was annoying, it got him in the habit of caring for himself. It was only to stop your pesting! That’s the reasoning. The only reason. It wasn’t because you’re congratulating and giving him treats when he remembered to care for himself. Or you petting his wings… Those were only bonuses! He swears!

It becomes more steady as time goes on; you go and visit Phil, you talk with Phil and see if he’s caring for himself, and if he was, you’d reveal a delicious treat from within your enderchest. You two would talk while munching on the food, having fun sharing what your pasts were like. Well, more like yours. Phil didn’t really talk about his.

But he still seems so cold, disinterested. Even with how long you’ve been going over for. Like he’s only listening to what you’re telling him. If he’s even listening. And seeing how he interacted with others like Techno and Ranboo, it really disheartened you. He was so much more lively with them, more natural. Loud laughing and silly little antics. It only took a few small, insignificant depression episodes for your self doubt to finally debilitate you. Though it only really affected your contact with Phil; he was a big insecurity of yours.

So you start to distance yourself. You were hurting and saw yourself as a bother to Philza. It would’ve been better if you just didn’t try to talk to him anymore. He’d be so much happier without you bugging him all the time. All of this sudden, open time gives you much more empty hours. There was nothing to do. So you did what you could; you went out to make or strengthen friendships. It was so nice. You never realized how everyone on the smp was so nice. Maybe they weren’t as bad as Phil was making them all out to be…

Philza was upset the first day you weren’t there. You were such a steady element of his day. You were like the very air he breathed; it was extremely hard to live without you. He never noticed before how much he needed you. Yes, he knew that he really enjoyed you, saw that you were a pillar, a constant in his life. He came to enjoy your visits, but hadn’t realized how dependent he became because of them. It was day three when Phil started to worry about you. Why hadn’t you come to talk with him, like usual? He’s taking care of himself, just for you, just like you kept insisting he do. And he made you some cake.

He knew he was acting odd, lovesick even. His love for you was toxic, extremely so. It wasn’t healthy, yet he couldn’t care less anymore. You were like his nicotine to a smoker; he couldn't live without you being in his life. His everyday life. So after some debating, he finally went out to look for you.

Traversing the nether wasn’t too bad, but still a tedious walk. He was stuck in his mind the entire trip there, wondering where you could be and what you could be doing. Maybe you got caught up in making something. A redstone project? That’d be pretty cool. Or maybe moving? No, if you were, you’d have told him. But that didn’t stop him from speeding up just a wee bit. Just to make sure you were actually still on the smp.

His mind was racing, thinking of any possibility of what you were doing. And his mind eventually hit something that absolutely terrified him; you could be sick, injured, or dying. It felt like the world just fucking stopped. This was a sudden loss of contact and you still hadn’t come to talk with him. So that… that means there’s a high probability of you being in danger.

He ran the rest of the way to the main part of the smp. When he came out of the portal, he frantically looked around for any sign of you. For your house. Then it hit him; he had no idea where you lived. You only mentioned it being cold where you lived, just like where he lived. So that most likely meant Snowchester. He started running toward the cold nation

On his way to Snowchester, he observed his surroundings. A little bit. He had to get to you, keep his eye on the prize. And he was glad that he looked around. There you were, on another part of the prime path.

He was overjoyed to see you, especially doing so well. Soon he came to a stop. Just floored by the fact you were there, in front of him. Frantically he tried to view you as best he could, looking for any sign of injury or illness.

Now he couldn’t come across as clingy or desperate. That wasn’t how you knew him. You know him as Philza; the kind but a mild social recluse. Not really going out to others unless he needed something or he was needed.

So he walked over to you, trying his best to look nonchalant. Like he wasn’t just desperately searching for you a moment ago. He called out to you and guess what happened? You started to walk away. He was stunned. Did you just ignore him? No, you must not have heard him. It was kinda windy out at the moment.

Logically he did the best option, following you. He had no clue where your destination could be. You were going to a different area of the smp than he had been. My how the smp changed since the destruction of L’manberg. He knew it changed, but it seemed so much bigger than what you described.

He didn’t exactly pay attention to where you were indirectly leading him. That was until a flash of movement caught his attention. Snapping out of it, he looked to see what could’ve been going on. Who could’ve been there. And what he saw before him was a terrible sight.

Quackity stood by your side, animatedly chatting with you. Phil was confused as to why you were talking to Quackity of all people. You two recently talked about how Quackity was problematic and arrogant. If you knew that, then why were you talking to him?

Awkwardly he watched you. Not within earshot, but where he could keep an eye on you and Quackity. And Quackity was looking at Phil too. His eyes spoke volumes; Quackity wasn’t pleased that Phil was there. Boy was that sentiment shared. It was tense between the two, yet you still seemed oblivious to what was going on.

Then Quackity said something, putting his hand on your shoulder and leading you somewhere else. But gave one last look at Phil, one that just spoke “fuck off”. Phil wished he could’ve told Quackity the same. To get him away for you.

Quackity’s action sparked a thought in him. A reason as to why you hadn’t come to talk to Phil; Quackity must’ve kidnapped you! Yes, that’s why you hadn’t come. It makes so much sense. Quackity knows you and most likely knows you talk to Phil.

With how easily you tell Phil of the people you’re talking to, he doubts that the behavior would just change. But that’s what must’ve gotten you in so much trouble; you were too trusting, too kind-hearted. You gave Quackity a chance and he was stealing you away, imprisoning you. You needn’t worry dear, he’ll rescue you from that foul man.

[mothandpidgeon]

Helter Skelter - Chapter 1

MASTERLIST

Pairing: cult leader!Ezra x f reader, dark!Ezra x f reader

Summary: When you meet a mysterious thinker named Ezra, you join up with his followers and become a part of their family. Your new life is full of psychedelics, sex, and mind bending experiences. But there’s something dark lurking in Ezra’s philosophy. Will you discover it before it’s too late?

Words: 1947

Rating: E 18+!

Warnings: dark!Ezra, elements of dubcon (this is a cult so there is psychological manipulation), cults (obviously), cannabis, masturbation, hand job

a/n: Hello, friends. Please mind the warnings. This is a sexual thriller about a cult. This is a dark fic. It's going to get darker. It's not for everybody and that's cool so feel free to keep on scrolling. If you enjoy, I'd love to hear from you.

Also thanks to @purplepascal042 for helping me through this from the jump and @ezrasbirdie for the sanity check.

PATIENT INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT EXCERPT [NAME REDACTED] ALIAS “STAR” September 22, 1969

-How would you describe Ezra? Is he some kind of guru? A shaman?

-Don’t be condescending.

-Then in your own words, please.

-He’s a, a thinker. A philosopher. A rabbi.

-He’s Jewish?

-Jesus was a rabbi.

-So he’s like Jesus.

-No. Nobody’s like Ezra.

NEW YORK CITY 1967

“You should come with us,” Cee had said to you in that little apartment on the Lower East Side. “Ezra wants you to.”

That was all you’d needed to hear.

You hadn’t realized you’d been looking for something until you met Ezra. He was the answer to the question you hadn’t asked yet. But he had answers for every question you could possibly think of.

Every time you heard him speak, you were drawn in closer. He had a way of seeing the world that made things feel so certain.

“Society has mandated that we deny our very human nature. That we annihilate such natural impulses as desire. It goes against our own self-preservation,” he said.

His voice was deep and raspy but somehow covered in a layer of molasses. You swore he looked right into your soul when he spoke.

“Birdie, might I implore you to introduce me to this gem you’ve shepherded to our flock?” Ezra had asked Cee.

You’d met her in the park when you’d been crashing on a couch, running out of bread. There was food and grass and beer at their parties so you kept showing up. But after the first few times, you returned because of Ezra, his lilting words swirling in your head.

Ezra didn’t look like a teacher, a thinker. He didn’t have a big beard or dress like the Hare Krishnas that hung out by the fountain. And yet he made perfect sense.

He was disarmingly handsome. His square jaw was covered in patches of stubble and on his cheek was a delicate white scar. His hair was rather short considering his scene but it was shaggy and tousled like he’d cut it himself. It was a rich shade of brown but at the front was a chunk of shocking blonde.

You couldn’t help but note that one of his sleeves was empty, pinned to his side where is arm ought to be. You always tried not to stare. They told you he’d lost it in Vietnam, come back from the war without it but with new ideas.

When Cee had introduced you, Ezra shook his head.

“That name doesn’t do you justice. I think I prefer Star,” he’d said. “What do you think?”

You’d felt as if you’d been swept off of your feet looking into his deep, brown eyes for the very first time.

So when Cee eventually told you that they were leaving, heading out to a farm in Pennsylvania, when she invited you to come along, you didn’t even have to think about it. Anything to stay close to them. You’d lost your own home and your family eight months ago. But this could be your new family, Cee promised.

There were four of you, Ezra’s closest followers, though he didn’t call you that. You were his circle, his tribe. Cee had been with him the longest– a pretty, slim girl with sharp features who must have been in her early 20s. There was a sadness in her eyes that she was good at concealing. Clo and Reive had hitchhiked together from San Francisco. Clo was tall and dark haired, almond-shaped eyes and a dreamy smile. Reive, lanky with umber skin and black hair down to his shoulders, was almost always barefoot. They all welcomed you into their group with open arms. Because Ezra had chosen you to be a part of it.

It was a little after midnight when you arrived at the house. It was a sweet looking white farmhouse with a welcoming porch. The interior looked like it had been decorated by an old woman. There was a charming old kitchen with floral wallpaper, a living room couch adorned with crocheted lace doilies, and there was an ivory table cloth on the dining room table. Over that was a layer of mess you assumed had come from your new friends— dried flowers, discarded clothing, magazines.

“This is a nice pad,” you said.

“It was Cee’s grandma’s,” Clo giggled.

Cee elbowed her.

“Perhaps you can find Star some apparel that will suit her,” Ezra suggested. You didn't have much in the way of possessions other than a quilted bag.

The girls went on their mission and Reive carried his guitar case upstairs. Ezra approached you and put his palm to your cheek.

“I’m pleased you joined us, Star,” he purred.

You were tired but exhilarated. The five of you stayed up late into the night. In the living room, Reive lit candles and built a cozy fire. You’d changed into a soft floral dress that Clo had dug out of a closet. It smelled like cedar. Cee recited poetry she’d written as they passed a joint around.

Ezra sat with his back to the hearth, you just to his left. You lay on the floor, leaned on your elbow and gazing up at him as he spoke.

“I laid on the floor of the jungle for a week, my arm festering right off of my shoulder,” he explained.

“That must’ve been awful,” you said, scrunching your nose.

“It was enlightening,” he said. “As I hovered so close to the hereafter, wishing for death to claim me, it was as if reality itself folded over. And I was transported to another time and place. To the Green. Another world, thick with trees and exotic plants and a sky that’s powder pink. And I lived there for what felt like years. And that is when I learned how to survive.”

You weren’t sure if this was something he believed or if it was just meant as some parable but, somehow, it really didn’t matter to you. There was a strangely fuzzy place where Ezra seemed to exist, somewhere between asleep and awake where you weren’t sure if you were still dreaming.

Ezra gave you a gentle nudge and you realized you’d drifted off there on the floor, sung to sleep by his voice.

“Come lay with me, little star,” he whispered.

You followed him quietly past the others, all sleeping, sprawled across the couches, up to what had once been a master bedroom.

He undressed and you felt an ache seeing his skin, the curls that sprawled down from his belly.

“Timidity is unnecessary,” he said. “This is our natural state.”

You slid off your dress and when you were naked, you got into the unmade bed beside him.

You hadn’t seen Ezra’s arm— or what had been his arm—exposed like this before. It had been taken off just under his shoulder, a smooth pink round projection remained.

“Does it hurt?” you asked him.

“In my experience pain and pleasure live equally in the mind,” he shrugged.

You laid on your side, eyes glazing over his chest. His skin was smooth aside from where there were scars and dimples on his right side.

“I...Why did you want me to come with you?” you asked. When Ezra had begun to watch you more closely back in the city, you were surprised. You’d never been special before, never chosen in a room with women like Clo or Cee.

“When I was a boy, there was a vagrant cat that followed me. A mangey, emaciated thing. It would recline on its back so I could stroke its belly until I adopted it in, fed it. It became the most elegant creature I had ever laid eyes on,” he said. “I recognize in you the very same tenacity. And beauty.”

He looked down your body, a faint smile on his lips.

“My precious Star. I want to touch you,” he said. “Would you be so kind as to provide me with a hand to do so?”

You stared at him, your mouth open, your breath shallowing. You weren’t quite sure what he wanted. Eventually, you brought your fingertips to your own lips and softly brushed over them. Ezra’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment as if he could feel them himself. You continued, moving your touch down, across your neck. Your skin was prickling with goosebumps and, as you reached your collarbone, you thought you could feel his hand. Not imagined, no. It truly felt as though his phantom limb was ghosting over you, warm skin and wide fingers that weren’t your own.

“You’re plush as velvet, Star,” he purred.

You closed your eyes and went further. As you grazed the swell of your breast you heard Ezra let out a hum. You continued, feeling his touch in yours over the hardened bud of your nipple. You hardly felt in control of your own fingers as they swept down your belly between your thighs. You were already pulsing and wet. A low moan escaped you as you gently teased at yourself.

“Such a sweet sound,” Ezra said. “Let me hear it again.”

You bit down on your lip. You could feel Ezra’s gaze on you, like nothing else existed. Heat was swiftly building in your core. You let yourself release all of the noises that you would normally hold back as you squirmed under your own touch.

Ezra continued to praise you in his flowery way. It felt like you were being made love to by a book of poetry. Feeling him beside you, his hypnotic voice, you were quickly over the edge and you gasped and shook as your senses were overwhelmed.

“Perhaps this pleasure can be a mutual one,” Ezra suggested, watching you come down with heavy lidded eyes.

Somehow your heart was beating faster now than it had been at your peak. You sat up and traced your hand over Ezra’s face, the white line on his cheek. You felt along his jawline and across his chest, carefully outlining his scars. He was hard and waiting for you, leaking down his length. You looked at him, unsure for a moment, and then wrapped your slick hand around him, mixing your own juices with his. He groaned and his hips twisted under you in his revelry. You pulled at him, your mouth watering.

“You have quite a talent for physical manipulation,” he managed.

His breath rasped, jagged, and his brows drew together. His eyes shut and you watched his lips twitching as you stroked him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him and you felt arousal pooling again as if you could feel his ecstasy as your own.

“Oh shit, shit,” he panted.

He tensed and his cock throbbed under you and soon you were pumping his warm release into your fist. You watched his face relax, a serene expression overtaking his features, and when he opened his eyes, he looked at you more tenderly than anyone had before.

“Absolute perfection. How fortunate I am to have found you, Star,” he said, finally touching you with his own hand— a brief stroke on your jaw with his knuckles.

You were breathless and you felt as though you might cry from his words. You wanted to kiss him but it felt like something you should be given, not take when you wanted it.

Once you had cleaned yourself up, Ezra pulled you against his warm body, his arm holding you possessively, and he fell asleep.

By now you could see the twilight lifting outside and your lack of sleep was catching up to you. It felt like you had been brought to another world just as Ezra had explained. Except, in this one you were loved.

--- chapter two

tags: @purplepascal042 @ezrasbirdie @pascalslittlebrat @starlightmornings @danniburgh @wyn-n-tonic @charnelhouse @giizhkens-cedar @too-manyfandomstocount @310ra @sunnydunnydays @mandocrasis @notcookiebelle @anaaaispunk @ayoungpascallover @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @tuskens-mando @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @goddessinwolfskin @stevie75 @casualpalacebagelrascal @evyiione @buckwildbarnes

[the7thcrow]

indulgence | part one

~

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader series

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous, as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 4.9k

genre: forbidden love, angst (sorta), fluff, suggestive.

warnings: blood, suggestive content (kissing and a shirt comes off, nothing too crazy lmao), hook-ups (but nothing is explicitly described), strong language, and vampires ofc.

rating: 16+

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first fic, so i’m sorry if it’s a little messy. this is part one of what will be a series. i’d love to hear some feedback, so don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message! i hope you enjoy!

...

..

.

You are late. The pattering of rain echos from atop your umbrella, the puddles of pooling water soaking your loafers as you hurry along the busy street. However, you pay no mind as the liquid seeps into your shoes, mud embedding itself along your pant leg. On a normal day, you’d scowl. You’d curse the shitty weather, and grumble as you marched home to change into a dry pair of shoes. Only today is different. Today it doesn’t matter, not when you have far greater troubles warranting your concern.

The Council isn’t pleased. They’d be even more upset, if that were even possible, if you arrived tardy. You can imagine their old, petulant faces, looking down on you with disgust. Perhaps even pity, seeing you as nothing more than a childish young girl, who’d been foolish enough to break her vow. You frown to yourself, that’s all they would ever see you as. It didn’t matter how the years passed by, to them you were, and would always be simply that. A child. Always younger, always naive. Most of all, always beneath them.

The headquarters becomes visible in the distance, clouded in the slight haze of fog. It appears to be like any other building on the Hampden Campus. Old and rustic, elegant in the way it was shaped and carved, a relic of history reflected in a modern day era. Only this building holds a far different tale than those surrounding it.

Far more bloody. Far more gruesome. A home to monsters.

Monsters like yourself.

You knock on the door. Twice, slowly. Then a pause, before three times quickly. A code, letting anyone inside know that you are, in fact, a member of The Society. 

The door opens with a creak, a young boy with electric blue hair peeking out through the crack. After recognizing your face, he smiles, ushering you in quickly as the door slams shut behind you.

“Y/N! It’s good to see you. It’s been a while, huh?” The boy says, casually leaning against the door. It has been a while, you never came to this god awful building unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I guess it has been. But it’s nice to see you too, Jeongin,” you speak warmly in return. You’ve known Jeongin for a couple years now, since he first arrived at The Society doorstep. Alone and confused. A freshling, having just been turned. While perhaps not physically, he’s certainly grown since then, in both confidence and courage.

Suddenly, the smile drops from his face, his expression becoming sullen. “I hear you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble,” he states. When you don’t respond, he continues. “It’s not true, is it? I know you wouldn’t-”

“Listen, Jeongin,” you cut him off quickly. You aren’t in the mood to be lectured, especially not by someone whose opinion you actually care about. “I’m already running late. I’ll catch up with you after, okay?”

“Wait, Y/N!” He calls after you, but you’ve already disappeared down the hall, heading towards the council room. You quickly cast a glance at your watch. Shit, five minutes late. They wouldn’t forget that.

With only a quick breath to gather yourself, you burst in through the large wooden doors. The silence in the council room is deafening, as all heads turn to face you. In all your life, you’ve never seen so many dissatisfied faces. 

“Ms. L/N,” the head councilman calls. He has an old face, embedded with wrinkles and a scalp of thinning white hair. Unlucky. He could have been beautiful, or at the very least, young. However, he must’ve been turned late. A pity, to stare at such a reflection for eternity. 

You stifle a laugh. The frown he always appeared to be wearing probably wasn’t helping. 

“Take a seat,” he states, motioning to the chair seated in the center of the room. How dramatic you think, to put you in the middle of so many staring eyes. While the council was only composed of three individuals, the room seems to be full of other lower ranked members of The Society. 

As you take your seat, your gaze wanders the room, landing on a familiar head of shaggy brown hair. His eyes bore into your own, his expression serious. Perhaps even angry, the longer he stares at you. 

You want to say something. Mostly, to ask him what the fuck he’s doing here. This isn’t any of Chan’s business, yet for whatever reason he has the audacity to stare at you as if it is. As if you will grant him answers. As if he deserves answers.

“Ms. L/N,” the chairman interrupts your thoughts. “Do you know why you’re seated here today?” 

Why are you seated here today? Well, that answer is complicated. How could you have possibly gotten yourself into such a mess? How could you have been so foolish? You knew the rules. You knew what was permitted and what was not. Yet, you chose to ignore these conditions.

Why? What could possibly have made you toss everything you’d promised to the side? 

Well, that story starts with a head of bright blonde hair, and a set of curious eyes.

~~~~

The library of Hampden College had become something of a second home to you. Late nights spent bent over a book, transcribing various philosophies and literature into latin. Sometimes greek, however you didn’t have quite the same knack for it. That’s where you found yourself tonight, your beaten down copy of The Iliad staring back at you from its place on the table. 

Your classics degree was coming along just fine. You didn’t mind the endless books to read and poems to analyze. Nor the papers you often found yourself crafting from this very spot in the corner of the library. It was always quiet, always solitary at this time. Even the night owl students having gathered their books, departing the library for a brief rest before their early classes the following morning.

Tonight however, was different. You heard the door creak open, glancing up as a boy appeared in the doorway. He had long blonde hair, fluffing at the nape of his neck. Sporting a sharp blazer and a pair of oxfords, you couldn’t deny he was well dressed. Perhaps that’s why he grabbed your attention immediately, you were attracted to effort. To someone who was put together, who cared. 

The boy took a seat just a few tables away from your own, gently setting his books down and disappearing into the maze of shelves to your left. You attempted to go back to your work, but couldn’t seem to find your focus. Who was this boy? You’d never seen him before in all your time at Hampden. Also, why would he possibly be at the library so late? You recognized the faces of those who while rare, might possibly be here at this time of night. He wasn’t one of them. 

You would remember if he was.

You strained your neck trying to find his figure, having lost him almost immediately.

“A fan of Homer?” A voice rang out from beside your ear. You jumped in shock, greeted by a sweet smile and wide eyes. The boy chuckled. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You smiled sweetly, trying to calm your beating heart. “No worries. And well, you translate the entirety of Book Eight overnight into Greek, and tell me if you could still consider yourself a ‘fan of Homer.’”

The boy laughed before beginning to pull a chair out beside you. “May I?” He asked.

Looking back, you should have said no. You had a lot more work to do, and near no time to do it. Not to mention of course, rejecting him initially could have saved you from this whole mess. Instead you nodded, a grin forming at the corners of your lips as he sat down. 

“What’s your name?” He asked. His voice was sweet, sultry. Alarming in just how deep it was, not quite fitting his bright and youthful exterior. 

“Y/N, classics department. Yourself?”

“Felix,” he answered. There it was, the first time you heard the name that would cause your undoing. “I’m majoring in history. Listen,” he began, leaning in slightly closer as if he were going to tell you a secret, his voice lowering further. “I must say, I’m in here all the time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

You hummed, leaning in closer to him as well. His eyes glinted. “Well that’s simple, I’m assuming you don’t frequent the library at-” you glanced at your watch- “2:32 in the morning.”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed with something like concern. “You’re here every night at this time? Why?”

“Hey,” you began, not wanting to lose the playful nature to the conversation. You’d heard enough concerned voices to last a lifetime already. “Aren’t you here this late yourself? You’re in no place to judge.”

He laughed, and you knew you could get used to that sound. “Fair enough, I’ll leave it be.”

“Why are you here this late, anyway?” You asked.

“Oh, so you get to know my secrets, but I can’t know yours?”

“Of course.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, resting his head on the desk, cradled by his crossed arms. “If you must know, I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d read some of your classics, thought they might help me doze off.”

You shoved his arm, to which he feigned a groan of pain, clutching his shoulder. “Excuse you,” you laughed. “I have a lot of Homer to struggle through, and no time for your cheap shots. You can go ahead and leave now.”

You were surprised when he got to his feet, worried for a moment he’d taken you seriously and was actually about to make his exit. Instead, he disappeared into the philosophy section, emerging with a copy of The Odyssey. Felix flopped down back in his chair beside you, extending his feet on top of the table and leaning backwards. 

“Well, then I guess I’ll suffer along with you,” he said. Without another word, he flipped towards the first page.

Felix was a good person to study with. Well, technically you weren’t studying with him, but nonetheless it was nice to have him in the room. He didn’t bother you, didn’t speak, just let you do your work. Sometimes you’d look up and meet his gaze, his eyes imploring you. Curious. Mischievous. 

Dangerous.

“Alright,” you yawned after an hour or so had passed by, stretching your arms high in the air. “I’m done.”

He smiled, slowly closing his book and setting it down on the table. “Yeah? Finally going to go home and sleep?” 

“Sleep? What’s that?” You said, playfully scoffing. “Nah, it’s already past 3:30, it’ll be 4 by the time I get back to my apartment. Not worth it at this point.”

“Hmm,” Felix hummed, a flicker of mischief in his growing smile. “What ever will you do to pass the time?”

“I don’t know,” you returned, excitement building in your chest. “But I suppose I’ll leave you now. You still have about 3 quarters of The Odyssey to get through, and I don’t want to tear you away from-”

You shouldn’t have been surprised when his lips crashed into yours, but you were. You let out a small “mff” against the sudden impact. It took your brain a second to catch up to speed on what was happening. Here you were, with this incredibly beautiful boy of whom you literally just met, kissing in the middle of the library. 

Your second thought was about how you’d never done this before. Not kissing someone, hell you’d done a lot more than just that. But never a stranger, and certainly never a human, for that matter. You had to be careful with who you got close to, you never knew who could be dangerous, who could be a hunter. Besides, The Society had rules, and this alone was undoubtedly breaking a few of them.

So what the hell were you doing?

You should stop this, you thought. But the more you settled into a rhythm, the more your worries trailed from your mind. Felix was a good kisser. A really good kisser. His lips were soft, warm, his breath sharp with the taste of mint. When the dork had a chance to pop a tic tac you didn’t know, but it made you smile against him. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, leaning into him. He groaned in response, moving his hands down your figure, settling in on your waist. Carefully he began to fiddle with the buttons at the bottom of your blouse, and with that it all suddenly became real.

“We can’t do this,” you breathed, finally breaking away from him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I went too far, I-” he began to apologize, frantically removing his hands from your body and shifting backwards into his chair.

“No,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips at his sweetness. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him closer to you. “We can’t do this here.” 

The Society had rules, plenty. Human’s, in any sort of relationship, were out of the question. Public displays of affection with even your own kind, especially of the more vulgar sort, were off limits as well. The idea was to not bring attention to yourselves, to not cause a scene. And if you were going to break one of these rules so terribly, you figured you could at least pay the respect to do so privately.

“Okay,” he mumbled, placing his forehead against your own. “Where should we go?”

“My place? It’s a little far from here, but I don’t have any roommates. So..”

Felix smiled, planting a soft, lingering kiss at the nape of your neck. “Lead the way.”

~~~~

The walk over to your apartment wasn’t awkward per say, it was simply...charged. Felix had his arm looped around your own, making your way silently down the dark, lantern lit path through campus. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest, a desire thrumming down inside you, resurfacing. It had been a long time since you’d last been with someone. That last person being Chan, your ex as of eight months ago.

Things had been good with Chan. Great even, in the beginning at least. He was intense, thoughtful. He loved you deeply. Most of all, Chan understood. Like you, he was a member of The Society. He was under every restriction you were, and felt all the same frustrations. 

Of course, not all good things can last. Eventually your relationship began to sour. Your arguments became full on brawls. Your differences and quirks became unbearable. You couldn’t be in the same room without being at one another's throats. You were the one who finally decided to end things. 

Chan was the only man you’d ever loved, and since him you’d never entertained the thought of being with another. Until now, that is. You glanced towards Felix, who was staring ahead down the street, his eyes dark. You could feel his own desire radiating off of him, visible in the way he slowly swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. Besides, Felix could give you something more. Something Chan could never.

No. You stopped yourself. That wouldn’t be happening tonight. It would only make things more complicated, more dangerous. Still, you could feel it deep inside you, pounding for control. That familiar, incessant hunger. The more you tried to ignore it, the more it was there. Becoming stronger as your ears focused in on Felix’s heart beat, the sound of blood pumping through his veins.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sight of your apartment complex appeared in front of you. Quietly you entered, making your way up the stairs and towards your own door. Releasing your arm from Felix’s, you fumbled for your keys in your purse. Giving him a small smile, you twisted your key in the lock, and allowed him inside.

The moment you closed your apartment door, all bets were off. Felix tossed his books onto your kitchen table, clashing into you with a speed that almost made you lose your own breath. You felt your back press against the wall behind you, Felix’s lips devouring your own. Desperate and wanting.

He quickly revisited the buttons of your blouse, this time starting at the top and beginning to make his way down. All the meanwhile his lips traced your neck, gently brushing against your skin. With every new kiss fueling your own desire, you slowly began to rock your hips into his own. This was escalating. Fast. As he finished with the last button, he allowed your blouse to drop from your shoulders, smiling to himself as he took you in. 

“Your turn,” you breathed, tugging at the collar of his shirt as a signal to take it off. He did so, absent-mindedly tossing it aside into your living room. He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him, staring deeply into your eyes. Then he proceeded to say the very last thing you ever expected him to:

“Look at your eyes… You haven’t fed in weeks, have you?”

You slapped his hand away and shoved him off of you, rushing to the otherside of the room, putting the coffee table between yourselves. “How-How do you?” You stammered, physically unable to form a complete sentence. How could he possibly know what you were? How did he even know you existed?

Felix’s eyes widened, clearly shocked by your reaction. “No, no. Don’t worry!” He said frantically, outstretching his hand to you. “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, disbelievingly. “Yeah? And how do I know that?” You let this man into your home, your safe space. How could you have been so stupid?

“Look, I grew up around Vampires okay? My neighbors, back in my childhood home, they were like you. I know the signs. I know how your eyes blow out when you’re hungry, the way they glaze over when you haven’t fed in a while. That’s it. I didn’t even realize until I got a good look at you, back when you were translating. It’s no big deal, really.”

You scoffed. No big deal? Felix didn’t seem to realize just how big of a deal it actually was. Humans weren’t supposed to know what you were, certainly not at Hampden. The Society had made well sure of that. God, if The Council saw you now...

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have told you back at the library. I honestly didn’t think it would freak you out this much. That’s on me,” he said, inching slightly closer to you. Despite yourself, you didn’t move away.  “I’m serious though, it’s been a while since you last fed. Hasn’t it?”

A while was an understatement. The Society had been going through a shortage of blood bags, after having severed their connections with one of the nearby hospitals. Meaning if you wanted to drink, it would have to be from one of their Certified Donors. Which was another, fancier and far more innocent way of saying prisoners. These were humans who had given their lives to The Society, some willingly and others not so much.

You didn’t like going to their quarters. Located in the basement of the main district, it was always quiet down there. Always solemn. You’d never been to a place lacking so much hope. You’d only gone once, and drinking from that man still haunts you to this day. The way he didn’t move or speak, or even wince when your fangs broke his skin. The way his eyes were hollow and empty. How when you were done he simply laid down in his bed and turned away from you, without another word. 

The Certified Donors were what made you begin to hate The Society in the first place. Since then, your resentment only seemed to grow. 

You sighed, walking past him and flopping onto your couch. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” you confessed.

Felix carefully approached you. Instead of seating himself next to you, he got down on his knees, resting a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay, you can use me. I don’t mind.”

You were ready to tell him no, the word lingering on the tip of your tongue. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. Perhaps it was your hunger, the fact that a few more weeks in this drought, you might actually become ill. 

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you wanted to disobey the society. That this little act of rebellion, this utterly wrong indulgence, was what made your desire grow unbearable, unchained. You hated The Council, you hated the Certified Donor system, and you hated the way they had such a firm grip and control on your life.

A beautiful boy was seated in front of you, begging you to drink from him. How could you possibly say no? Better yet, why would you say no? To deprive yourself of something so great, for something you despised so deeply seemed ridiculous. That was the moment your judgment lapsed, that you crossed the point of no return. If you drank from Felix, there would be no going back. If the council found out, there would be consequences. Big ones.

But who doesn’t love a little risk?

You sunk down to meet him on the floor, staring at his bare chest. You could hear his heart pumping, its pace quickening the closer you got to him. 

“Are you sure about this?” You asked.

“Yes,” he whispered. You shifted your position. Not quite seating yourself in his lap, but hovering above, your knees on either side of him. 

“This might hurt a little bit,” you warned. You extended your fangs, approaching his neck, carefully. You didn’t realize until then how nervous you were. It had been a long time since you’d fed from a human. You’d drank from Chan of course, but he was also a vampire, and your blood didn’t have quite the same effect. There was pleasure in it, usually accompanied in moments of ecstasy, but it didn’t replenish you. It didn’t heighten your senses, nor fill you with energy. Most of all, it didn’t satisfy your hunger, your thirst. Not at all.

Felix’s blood would. 

You kept this in mind as you finally plunged your fangs into his neck. Felix let out a gasp, tensing beneath you, his hand clutching onto your arm for support. The taste of his blood grazed your tongue, metallic and warm. Delicious.

Fuck, did blood ever taste this good before? You didn’t think so.

The sweet taste consumed you. Intoxicating. Raw. Cascading over your mind in a blanket of pleasure, reveling in the way its effects seeped over your body. You could feel your mind growing sharper, your senses becoming more alert. It was a relief, after weeks of blurry weakness, of being too close to humanity in your thirst. You felt yourself again, the monster you are. The monster you are glad to be.

Here you were powerful. Invincible. And all you wanted was more. More. More.

More of this power, this sensation, this strength. This is what feeding should be. What feeding can give you. Not from a blood bag, nor a helpless prisoner, but from someone you want. Someone you desire. Someone who desires you in return.

It was as you felt Felix’s grip on your arm loosen that you finally broke away, breathing hard as you caught your breath. Felix’s eyes shifted to yours lazily, dazed. Perhaps even delirious. For a moment you feared that you’d taken too much. He blinked slowly, his eyes regaining focus.

Then he smiled. “Shit Y/N…” he began, his voice appearing more of a croak. “That felt really fucking good.” 

You grinned, leaning into him and pressing a series of kisses up along his jaw. Felix shivered, allowing his hands to slowly slide up your figure. Wanting.

“Yeah?” You whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “Then how about we continue where we left off?”

      ~~~~

The next morning you woke to the sound of your alarm buzzing, sunlight peeking through the opening of your drapes. You heard a low groan next to your ear, quickly becoming aware of the hand wrapped around your waist. 

So last night really happened. The reality of your situation dawned on you. You’d both drank from and fucked a human. There was no going back now, you’d completely disobeyed The Society.

Worst of all? You didn’t care. At least, not near as much as you should have. 

You shifted to face Felix, seeing his eyes still closed, eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” you whispered, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “We have to get up. I have class.”

He groaned again in protest, shaking his head and burying his face into the crook of your neck. Between last night's events and the ringing of your alarm, you both only got about two hours of sleep, and that was being generous. This was no problem for you, as while sleep was a luxury, it was not a necessity. The same didn’t go for Felix.

“Come on,” you laughed, worming out of his grasp. “You’ll be fine, I’ll go make us some coffee.”

You rolled out of bed, throwing on Felix’s discarded shirt and heading towards your kitchen. Flicking on the radio, you felt oddly blissful as you grounded the coffee beans into a filter. It had been a long time since there’d been another person in your apartment. It made the space seem less… haunted. No longer lingering with the essence of Chan’s ghost. It felt fresh. New. 

Felix emerged from your bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily, sporting only his khaki’s from the past day. His gaze met yours and he smiled. “So, I take it my shirt is yours now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning forward over your kitchen counter. Felix bent down, causing you to become nose-level with one another. The close proximity made your heart race.

“Mean,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss you softly. There was no unchained desire, no promise of more. It was simple, warm. A morning of peace after a night of wildness.

You could get used to this, you thought.

The thought sunk in your chest like a stone. This wouldn’t be as simple as you wanted to be, as you needed it to be. There would be sacrifices to make, and cautions you’d have to adhere to. You had to get the truth out in the open. Better to rip the bandaid off now rather than later.

 “Felix, you can’t tell anyone about this.” You said. The smile faded from Felix’s face, and for a moment he looked so… hurt. He stepped back.

“About the feeding? Y/N, I wouldn’t tell anyone what you are, don’t worry about-”

“No, not just the feeding. About us. About any of it.”

Felix opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly closed it. His gaze hardened. “Ah. Got it,” he stated sharply, grabbing his blazer and motioning to the door. “I’ll just head out then.”

“Wait, Felix! No, it’s not like that,” you said, rushing around the kitchen island and reaching for his arm. He turned around to face you, his expression wounded. “Listen, I don’t know how it was with your old neighbors, but here at Hampden things are different. There’s certain rules we have to follow, and what you and I did? Well, that broke about a hundred of them.”

Felix was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Okay… But what do you mean rules? Who’s enforcing them? Hampden?”

“No, it’s bigger than that. There’s a group of us here, a society. There are rules we abide by, and they’re meant to keep us safe. Keep us united,” you explained.

“Like a cult?” Felix asked, and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Well, if that helps you, then whatever. Yeah, sure. A cult.”

“Where do you-”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off. “But that’s all I can really tell you, at least for now. Honestly, the less you know, the better. Just for safety’s sake.”

“Oh. Alright,” Felix said, his lips pursed. He wasn’t pleased, that much was obvious.

“I know this sucks, I’m sorry. But if we want to keep doing this-”

“Wait,” Felix interrupted, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You want to keep doing this? I thought you’d get in trouble?”

You smiled, and were pleased to see the corners of his mouth curve up in return. “I’ve already risked getting myself in trouble.” You trailed your finger along the bare of his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. He was so alive, so real. And it only made you want him more. Perhaps, that’s why he wanted you as well. You were unpredictable, wild. A challenge. 

A match made in hell.

“I dug myself a grave, Lix.” You looked up at him, entranced by the curiosity swimming in his eyes. “Might as well lie in it.”

~~

next chapter 

[lost-kiwi-dev]

chengyi/changjie huang:

C has beige skin with warm undertones. They have an oval face, a slim nose, and dark eyebrows that frame their monolidded chocolate brown eyes.

C has dark brown, almost black, wavy hair which Chengyi lets fall down just past his ears and for Changjie down to her mid-back which she pulls into a quick braid. They style it into a side part with bangs that curl along their forehead. They are never seen without their iconic peachy coloured shell necklace.

C is twenty one years old. Chengyi and Changjie stand at around 5'6. They are skinny and probably couldn't even scare a child, no matter how hard they tried.

C is open minded and curious, but also cautious. They are hardworking and passionate, but also private. They are idealistic and take things personally, but they also are energetic and have a heart of gold. C's personality type is INFP.

noel/noelle reid:

N has sandy skin, lightly tanned from the sun, with neutral undertones. They have a sharp jawline and thin peachy lips, and their narrow nose is dotted with dark brown freckles. They have thin, light brown eyebrows which make them look like they're constantly scowling, and their hazel eyes are always swirling with some unspoken emotion.

N has straight copper hair which Noel keeps slightly shorter on the sides than the top, while Noelle lets it fall past her shoulder blades. Their hair has a slight curl at the tips, and they usually keep it with a middle part.

N is twenty three years old, and Noel and Noelle are 6 foot. They do not force themselves to do exercise, although they still manage to keep a relatively healthy body.

N is charismatic, bold, and passionate, but also insensitive, impulsive, and defiant. They are perceptive when they want to be and dramatic when they don't. N's personality type is ESTP.

yuri/yaryna tarasovich:

Y has pale, ivory skin with neutral undertones, and a long, thin scar running vertically from just under their right icy blue eye to the edge of their lips. They have high cheekbones and dark eyebrows, their eyes crinkled with laugh lines. They also have a skeleton bone tattoo on both hands, which they are very proud of.

Y has very pale blonde hair, which Yuri keeps in a long buzzcut close to his scalp, while Yaryna keeps her hair choppy and just tickling the base of her neck. Yuri also has what he likes to call the 'designer stubble', more commonly known as a 5 o'clock shadow.

Y is twenty four years old. Yuri and Yaryna stand at 6'2. They are very lanky and their long limbs somehow manage to look out of place and awkward on them.

Y is witty and charismatic, but also dominating and impatient. They are confident, driven and inspiring, but they have also been described as having a ruthless streak in them. Y's personality type is ENTJ.

vinesh/varsha kusari:

V has rich brown skin with warm undertones. a wide nose, full, dark lips, and thick eyebrows adorn their heart shaped face. They have very dark brown double lidded eyes.

Their hair is so dark it may as well be black, and Vinesh keeps it styled in a meticulous coif - long on the top and short on the side - and it's clear he uses too much hair gel. Varsha prefers to keep her pin straight hair shoulder length. Vinesh also has a slight stubble + moustache situation going on, too.

V is twenty four years old and Vinesh and Varsha stand around 5'8.

V is honest, strong willed, and responsible, but they are also stubborn and a little bit judgemental, and have the annoying tendency to internally blame themselves for everything that goes wrong. V's personality type is ISTJ.

lian/leilani soriano:

L has golden, honey skin with warm undertones. They have a very square jaw, a long nose, and bushy eyebrows. Their dark blue eyes are framed by a long line of lashes.

They have light brown hair that Lian likes to keep in a shaggy style to his shoulders, whereas Leilani's hair reaches far down her back but she prefers to keep it in a high ponytail. Lian also has full, dark facial hair which he is too busy to tidy up.

L is the oldest out of the romantic options and also the tallest, being twenty six years old and standing at 6'5. They are rather physically imposing due to their height and natural muscle on their body.

L is reliable and patient, but also usually unwilling to try new things. They are hardworking, humble, and protective, but tend to overwork themselves and not express their feelings or opinions as often as they should. L's personality type is ISFJ.

[any aspect of any character is subject to change without notice because i do what i want :P]

[amuelia]

Got any fun Woose head cannons bouncing around in your head ? :) or about anyone else. you have such neat insight into asoiaf and I love reading it

Hello, thank you that's so flattering! 🥺❤ I'm glad you enjoy my meta posts!

I do have many Woose headcanons :D I am going to try and focus this post more on headcanons that i can somewhat closely support by text, so i'm sorry if i mentioned some of these already!

Since Domeric squired in the Vale under Lord Redfort, i headcanon that Roose' mother was a Redfort as well since that would explain the connection the easiest... The way Roose talks about Lord Redfort doesn't necessarily sound like theyre close or related, but that might just be to keep the information simple for the reader. Either way we will likely find out in Sansa's tWoW Vale plot how that connection came to be, since she will probably interact with relevant characters like Mychel Redfort.

[Domeric] served four years as Lady Dustin's page, and three in the Vale as a squire to Lord Redfort. [...] Redfort said he showed great promise in the lists. - Reek III, aDwD

Roose not only has a son who loves horses, but he himself also has some quotes alluding to him liking to ride and being knowledgable about horses, which makes me hc that Roose is an able rider as well; So Domeric would get it from both sides of the family (explaining why he's such a horse boy). This hc is inspired by analysis from Bran Vras

"...on our way back to the Dreadfort my favorite courser came up lame..." - Reek III, aDwD

"The clans of the northern hills come with him on their shaggy runtish horses. " - The Prince of Winterfell, aDwD

He's likely so pale from all that leeching (since they cause regular blood loss), and would probably have a normal skin color if he didn't do it so often... His quiet voice might also be caused by it (fatigue). I also assume his "unwrinkled" face is at least partially due to him having such an emotionless expression; if he showed an intense emotion (like a very genuine smile) there might be more wrinkles visible. I also don't get the impression his "unwrinkled"/"ageless" face makes him look unnaturally young, since none of the older PoVs (Cat, Jaime) comment on it; He probably just looks like he aged very well.

He is described as having a "hairless body" during the leeching scene, which makes me think he might shave his body hair so the leeches can apply easier (which ive seen recommended online for leech therapy).

Him having dark brown hair is unfortunately still a headcanon, since his hair is not described in the books... But it seems likely to me because it would contrast his pale features and make them stand out more; and if his hair was grey that would have probably been pointed out as a contrast to his unwrinkled face. I'm usually excluding blonde/red hair as a possibility since I assume grrm would have described that explicitly.

He'd probably wear sunglasses frequently in a modern au, his eyes seem sensitive to me because their color is so light (less pigmentation making eyes more sensitive to sunlight)... I also hc him as nearsighted + needing glasses in modern au, though obviously we don't have anything in the text referencing this.

He and Barbrey share a long history, yet we see that she talks negatively about him to Theon... I hc that she probably started having a lower opinion of him due to the way he handled the Domeric situation (or that the situation at least heavily contributed to it); My assumption is that Barbrey quickly suspected Ramsay of murder and hates Ramsay because of that, so if Roose takes Ramsay in as his new heir this would make Barbrey think that he's really callous/emotionless and "does not love/hate/grieve".

"Those leeches that he loves so well sucked all the passions out of him years ago. He does not love, he does not hate, he does not grieve." - The Prince of Winterfell, aDwD

Roose doesn't seem to care when it comes to various cruelties and illegalities (telling Ramsay he will not chide him for his "amusements" and Ramsay just needs to be "more discreet"; and also being guilty of many crimes himself), but due to the long Bolton-Stark animosity i feel he would probably see warging as an abomination and oppose it on "moral" grounds (similar to how he says a kinslayer is "accursed").

He is usually described as clean-shaven; i hc he shaves his beard partially out of vanity, partially because he doesn't want to look like his father... He probably also takes a while to grow a good beard/has weak beard growth. (No textual evidence for any of these statements, just hc; sadly we don't know about any of his family beyond his sons/wives. I also wonder if he was always shaving his beard, or if he had a beard phase when he was younger)

I get the impression he is not that strict a father, and is more someone who tries to get to his kids verbally than through punishment... In both Ramsay's and Domeric's case we see that he gives them advice that they dont much care for, and neither appear to fear disobeying him or arguing with him much.

"He wanted a brother by his side, so he rode up the Weeping Water to seek my bastard out. I forbade it, but Domeric was a man grown and thought that he knew better than his father." - Reek III, aDwD

“It should have been you who threw the feast, to welcome me back,” Ramsay complained, “and it should have been in Barrow Hall, not this pisspot of a castle.” [...] “Is this why you left Lady Dustin and your fat pig wife? So you could come down here and tell me to be quiet?”- Reek III, aDwD

I do also have more "fanfic-like" headcanons, but im shy about posting them since they could easily be deconfirmed in future books :") Of course i try to do them as "in-character" as i can, but in some aspects grrm just hasn't given much info yet.

[rotten-games]

City of Immortals RO List

Okay so here it is, the list of ROs like I promised. Both mc's have their own pool of love interests to choose from with little overlap.

Here you’ll get a description of the ROs and some information on how the mc or others might view them. Also some info on the mc’s.

Mc1

Born to be a soldier by design, they were afflicted with immortality and stopped aging entirely once they hit thirty. A side effect—or perhaps a feature—is the beast that all but lives inside them, taking control when they feel incredibly strong emotions, though most often when anger is present. Where once they held full control of it, of the transformation they go through, now they must wrestle with its control with each passing day.

You are what’s called a Hunter. Every settlement has them, but Eden has the most. Caroline controls all her hunters from Eden, though ‘Hunter’ may be a bit of an oversimplification of the job description. Yes, one of their main jobs is providing food and other resources for the settlement, but they’re also bounty hunters, keepers of the peace, and are also often recruited for odd jobs when they have no contracts to fill. Perhaps the most important rule in Hunting, is that you always work in pairs.

Caroline: She/her

The best way to describe Carol is ‘short’, with a pair of unblinking amber eyes and a wind-buffeted, naturally tanned complexion. Her russet curls, while  usually out of her face, never seem to stay tied back for long, a seemingly constant slew of curls sticking to her forehead. A jagged scar cuts across the knuckles on her right hand.

Caroline is unrelenting. She knows what her settlement needs and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it—to save the lives of those she must oversee she is willing to do anything. Within reason. Truthfully, Caroline never asked to be made the leader of Eden, the job just sort of fell into her lap one day and no one bothered to take it from her. You’ve worked for her for years by the start of chapter one, and if you’ve learned anything about her it’s that she doesn’t do smalltalk. She’s been in a relationship with Lowrie for years now, and as far as you can tell, they’re very happy with one another.

Lowrie: non-binary, they/them pronouns

Impossibly tall and scrawny, Lowrie’s skin is constantly burned red by the sun, seemingly unable to tan no matter what they do. Their face is long, with ash-coloured, shoulder-length hair that would usually hide their grey eyes but is otherwise kept out of their face with a blue-patterned scarf.

Some have called Lowrie stuck up in the past for their less than talkative nature but that would be an oversimplification. In truth, they just aren’t fond of talking—which is probably why they get on with Harley so well—and more shy than anything else. One of Eden’s finest Hunters, they spend most of their time in the sweltering heat of Wasteland bringing bandits in and shooting any of the mangy beasts that stray too close to Eden. The rest of their time is spent managing the bar with Caroline and Harley, tending to keep to themself. You’ve worked with Lowrie in the past, and as far as you can tell there’s little love lost between the two of you. 

Carol + Lowrie poly:

Caroline and Lowrie are poly and in a committed relationship with one another. They will not leave one another for monogamy with mc, however, you don’t have to be in a throuple with them—though that’s definitely on the table—you can simply be with one, who is with both you and the other. Lowrie is also currently casually seeing Harley. Carol is not seeing anyone else.

Mordred: he/him.

With a seemingly constant fuzz along his jaw, and a never-ending supply of little scars littering his warm olive skin, his hair tends to cover everything but his yellow eyes and the deep bags underneath. His hair is typically tied into a loose bun at the back of his head, mostly obscuring his pierced, slightly pointed ears.

Mordred is a hot-headed, easily irritated young man who’s been by your side since day one. You dragged yourselves out of the crumbling ruins of Ledala together, you fought together, and now you work together as Hunters. Partner’s in crime doesn’t quite cover your relationship but it’s certainly close. In recent years, however, your relationship has strained—perhaps it’s due to past mistakes getting in the way, or past feelings, but either way at the start of the book he’s nowhere to be found.

At the start of the game you can determine just what your relationship is with him—it’s strained at this point but the reasons why are totally up to you. He can also potentially have been an old flame of MC2.

Ridley: Gender variable

Ridley is an energetic person with a pair of bright green eyes constantly sparkling with a glint of adventure. Despite their heavily-muscled frame, they seem to constantly be hiding behind their oversized glasses, a veil of their shaggy red hair, and a slouch that makes them out to be much smaller than they are.

Ridley is… an enigma. While technically a Hunter, they seem much more interested in the pursuits of science and research than holding off rabid beasts with nothing but a gun that’s falling apart and a rusty sword. Of course, they can hold their own well enough, but when they’re meant to be spending their time training or helping out—and indeed, even on their time off—they’re usually found traipsing around in the desert looking for… who knows what.

Doc: She/her

Doc is stocky and sharp-jawed, dark brown, almost black eyes always watching. Her dense curls are shoulder-length and appear twisted together and held back behind her head. The tip of her left ear appears to have been torn off somehow.

Not known for her bedside manner, Doc travels between settlements to tend to the sick, injured, and broken, and though none can particularly vouch for her interpersonal skills (though who can say anyone has particularly good ones, these days?), they can certainly do so for her medicinal accomplishments. Some think her a wandering ghost, aiding those who need help to make up for the sins of her past, others simply see her as a woman seeking to do her part for the good of Wasteland, regardless, if you get on her bad side she’s been known to be liberal with her gun. Or so the rumors say.

J. Allard: Gender variable

Allard is a nervous-looking, shifty individual with short but messy brown hair flecked with grey. Constantly fidgeting with the ring on their thumb, their stutter becomes more obvious the more nervous they are. Though their eyes hide behind a pair of darkened glasses, a pallid face a week out from its last wash they are, completely, honest. Trust me.

J. Allard is a totally normal priest. There is nothing strange about them, they simply want what is best for you and your companions.

Mc2

Dragged down into the depths of the earth on the day Ledala fell, you never knew of the city beneath the surface. Your sibling died that day, you’re sure of it, and a part of you died with them—the beast no longer responds to your call and you’re still left injured from whatever afflicted you and your comrades that day. The man who saved you set you to work for him—sorry, with him—and now you walk perpetually in the darkness of a city long since forgotten by the sun, with people named after the remnants of an old world you never knew existed. You were never meant to survive that night, and every day the world around you reminds you of that.

Arthur: he/him

Arthur doesn’t look quite there half the time. His skin is translucent, his pale blue eyes impossibly far away, platinum blond hair little more than wispy strands atop his head. Most of his body is otherwise covered completely by that old, brown coat of his. There’s light freckling across his nose.

Arthur saved you that night. A Private Investigator by trade, he brought you on to work together because you had no where else to go. Maybe because of it you should be closer than you are but there’s always been a distance between you he’s been unwilling to cross. Either way, despite working together—living together—he keeps to himself and you try to keep to yourself in turn. Still, you can’t help but notice the disdain he has for the City Council and their lackeys.

Perci: she/her

Perci is constantly smiling. Relaxed of posture, her straight hair once ashy brown is now dyed silver. It’s cut short at the sides and back, creating an undercut, most of her fringe tucked behind her ears to reveal a pair of dark brown, monolid eyes. She seems allergic to sleeves, taking whatever chance she gets to show off her cybernetic arm and the colourful tattoos that adorn her flesh arm.

A friend of Arthur who sometimes helps with investigations. She’s friendlier than he is with you, even inviting you out on occasion, but rebellion is on her lips more and more nowadays, and she isn’t subtle about it. You haven’t seen her in quite a while—as far as you can tell she and Arthur aren’t on speaking terms anymore after that big fight they had a few months back. As far as you can tell, she’s moved on and you certainly wouldn’t blame her if she has Council dogs on her heels.

Saga: Saga is always the same gender as your mc is.

Saga’s hair is a deep blue in colour, their black roots just barely growing through. Half of their head is shaved, the other half left chest-length and braided over their shoulder. Though their entire body seems to interwoven with tech, what is perhaps most interesting about them is the angular tattoo that crawls down the right side of their face. This is probably why they come to you completely covered in muck and baggy clothing.

Saga shows up at your door with a different name and a job. You aren’t given why, only the how, only the what. They’re stubborn and flighty in equal measure, suspicious of everyone around them including yourself. Oh, they dress the part of a street rat well, but the cash they have just on hand is nothing to blink at and, underneath all that grime, their skin is perfectly unmarred by the ravages of time.

Deimos: he/him, gay

Whether or not Deimos’ strength is his own or from borrowed, military-grade tech is anyone’s guess, but no one’s ever bothered to ask. Though he’s tall, he isn’t necessarily as muscular as the fear he commands would suggest. His eyes glow orange, black hair trimmed but not maintained, and his grin is enough to stop anyone in their tracks. For whatever reason, he always wears warm clothes.

Deimos is a Council dog who’s been hounding Arthur for a few years now. You’ve never officially met him; somehow whenever he drops into the office you always manage to be out. Whether that’s coincidence or because Arthur sends you out on errands very conveniently at those times it’s not for you to say. Somehow, he never seems to do too much damage to your colleague.

Adrastea: Non-binary, they/them or she/her pronouns, only attracted to nb or female mc’s

Adrastea has been voted the city’s most attractive person many years in a row now. Everything about them is perfect; perfect smile, perfect blue eyes, perfect cascading coils of iridescent hair, yet somehow despite their well-calculated appearance it’s like there’s a tiger waiting to pounce on any wary admirer who comes too close.

While not a member of the council they hold great sway simply by virtue of their age and the fact they’re so beloved by the populace. You’ve seen them on the holos, how they’re oh, so giving to the needy and even invite the commonfolk to their lavish parties all the important council members attend. It’s an act, it has to be; through their gorgeous smile and all those sheer dresses they seek nothing if not attention. A lot of their history is shrouded and deleted from public record, but you do know that they were once a head scientist that took part in the very same project that supposedly made you what you are today.

Dagda: gender variable

Dagda is the perfectly attractive face everyone sees on their screens every night. In a world of cybernetic bodies and unnaturally bright lights, they are the one person who almost looks... natural. With a perfectly cultivated appearance of salt and pepper hair, soulful brown eyes, and that winning smile, nothing about them is their own; everything they do exactly what everyone else tells them to do.

The mouthpiece of the Council, Dagda is seen to be charming and down to earth in the vids. They say Ledala is prospering more than it has in decades, that the crime rates are lowering thanks to the wonderful work they and their colleagues on the Council are doing. Of course, there always has been a certain emptiness behind their eyes. When the camera isn’t rolling, you wonder what they really think.