#i just need a bit of a trim and i'm golden

[seismologically-silly]

"Never promise to do the possible. Anyone could do the possible. You should promise to do the impossible, because sometimes the impossible was possible, if you could find the right way, and at least you could often extend the limits of the possible. And if you failed, well, it had been impossible.”

[calypso-apologist]

hii

Could you do a odysseus nsfw alphabet too? 👉👈 thank u

in one sitting, by the way.

Odysseus NSFW Alphabet ♡

Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of Ithaca and Aftercare. He always has everything you might need prepared before he actually suggests having sex and always makes sure he tends to you afterwards.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His? Probably his arms and chest. He likes feeling your body against his as he embraces you tightly.

Yours? First of all, how dare you expect him to pick favorites??? Your eyes. He could just sit there, looking into them for years. Days, even.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Very thick. Usually takes a solid minute or two with each orgasm just to get it all out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He cannot keep anything that smells like you on him because he will get hard if he smells it one too many times. It was incredibly embarrassing to explain and he will get all red if you tease him about it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's experienced with you, if it makes sense. You two have learned everything together. He knows your body perfectly.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that means you're close and he gets to look into your eyes is good in his book, but I think his favorite would just be the good old missionary, honestly.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's a mix of both in the most loving, affectionate way. He's not completely serious, but not completely goofy, either. It's like the golden middle.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Pretty well groomed, trimmed relatively often to keep it nice and short for you. Much darker than his actual hair, but not dark enough to be considered black.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

All in. Fully. This man is locked in, focused on you entirely. The world could be on fire, but as long as you want him focused on you, he might as well burn alive just to keep making love to you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He (600) strikes me as one of those men who feels guilty about jacking off because he subconsciously thinks about it as cheating, so I'm gonna say he probably doesn't really do that.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Vanilla motherfucker. I see no kinks in this man. His only kink is his love for his partner.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He's a sap. He loves your wedding bed. There's no better place than your bed.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You exist. That's it. That's all he needs.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes, cucking, basically anything that involves another person joining. This man is strictly monogamous, you cannot convince him to even consider another person joining you.

Also, anything that means you're in pain or even the slightest bit of discomfort is out. Not ifs or buts, if it can do anything you won't like, he will die before he tries it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Definitely prefers giving. He's decent with it, not some incredible master of the craft, but he'll keep you very satisfied. He doesn't mind receiving, but he'll always insist on returning the favor.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual all the way. And even when he is fast, it's not so much rough as it is just... him being needy when he gets closer to orgasm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's not exactly opposed, but he does prefer regular sex. But if this is the best he can get when you two sneak away for a moment, so be it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Listen. I'm not saying he would do absolutely anything you asked him to aside from the very few things I mentioned in the N section of the alphabet... But he would do absolutely anything you asked him to aside from the very few things I mentioned in the N section of the alphabet.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Solid three to four rounds on a good day, but he usually settles on one or two slower, more loving rounds. Can he last longer? Yeah, absolutely. But he prefers quality over quantity.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I dunno, I don't see it. Maybe a blindfold to make you feel everything stronger, but I feel lik even that would be reaching.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's a service top or a bottom. "I don't tease, I just please" type of guy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not very loud during the act itself, he mostly lets out some low grunts and groans. When he cums, however, he lets out a much louder, slightly high pitched moan. It takes you off guard the first time.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he was capable of getting pregnant, Telemachus would have a sibling for each year you two are married. Just because he loves you so damn much and he would love to just make an army of mini-you.

I didn't know what to put here so you get mpreg.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF I'M TOO ASEXUAL TO DESCRIBE SO MANY DICKS

Around five and a half inches when hard, relatively thick. Has a mole very close to the tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I mean... The Odyssey says something about how Athena asked Helios to make the night longer for him and Penelope when they re-united, right? So that should answer this one.

... I need to hurry up with my reading list and finally make it through the Odyssey.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Somehow, he's in complete sync with you. The moment you fall asleep, he falls asleep. So it depends on how quickly you fall asleep afterwards.

[hooksbooks]

Renegade Exchange '24: Her Kingdom As Great

I participated in @renegadeguild's typesetting and bound fic exchange, in which we trade typsetting/bound fic wishlists with other participants and then typseset/bind at least one fic from their list and send it to them.

This post is about the first fic I bound for @celestial-sphere-press: Her Kingdom As Great by MarbleGlove.

I was excited to see this fic on my requester's wishlist, because I've read this series in the past and really enjoyed it. I liked the imagery of the golden wheat berries from the Nearly Endless Plains being used in embroidery on clothing, so I wanted the cover to feature embroidered wheat sheaves.

My first step was to work on the book cloth. I knew I wanted something tan that looked kind of hand-woven, so I went to the fabric store and got some linen-look fabric that I liked. I also experimented with three different ways of making it into bookcloth: backed with tissue paper filled with Heat'n'Bond (right), filled with a 50/50 mix of starch paste and matte acrylic medium (bottom), and filled with the paste/medium mix with a piece of tissue paper on the back (top).

I ended up liking the last option the best, though it meant the fabric lost the slubby linen-like texture I had selected it for. I wanted to go all-in on the tan wheat-tone theme, so I also printed the text on cream paper instead of white (the right typeset in the picture above).

I also added a tan bookmark, embroidered on gold headbands, and added an oxford hollow (although this book is a bit too thin to really need it).

When I went to cover the book, I had every intention of using gold HTV foil. However, I didn't take into account how the beads would inhibit me moving the iron around like I usually do with HTV (to avoid issues with the steam holes). It didn't end well. In fact, it ended very horribly.

The foil only partially stuck, and when trying to use the tip of the iron to apply heat only on the bits that hadn't stuck, the iron left a big black stain on my bookcloth. Luckily, it came out pretty well with a bit of baking soda on a nearly-dry toothbrush. I ended up asking a neighbor for some gold paint and using some regular vinyl as a stencil, which worked out OK. I found out later that it works better if you put down a layer of acrylic medium or the like first to avoid bleeding around the edges, but you live and learn.

Technical details:

Quarto size (quarter-letter, about A6)

Sewn on tapes

Sewn-on made endpapers

Chisel-trimmed

Rounded but not backed

Sewn-on endbands

Sewn-on bookmark

Oxford hollow

The tapes are frayed and glued to the exterior of the boards

The mull is also glued to the exterior of the boards

Full bookcloth cover

Things I especially liked about this bind:

The embroidery. It turned out pretty much exactly how I had envisioned it

The filled bookcloth. I don't think I'll do it by default, but I liked how it turned out and I like having it as an option in my back pocket

Things I'd like to improve for next time:

The title. I don't mind the paint rather than HTV foil, but I didn't love that it bled under the edges of the stencil. Next time I'll try using acrylic medium to seal the edges first, and see how that turns out.

The endpapers. I've been applying my endpapers with the covers open because I was concerned that they'd pull weird and possibly rip at the hinge. Unfortunately, this causes a big wrinkle in the endpapers that does not look nice. I figured out while doing the back endpaper that it actually is just fine to apply the endpapers as I close the covers on them because of the way I taper my boards and glue the mull on the outside of the cover.

Overall I'm moderately pleased. It's the highest-effort book I've made so far, and it turned out nearly how I had envisioned it with only minor issues.

[munsonfamilyband]

(Not) Getting Married Today

I posted about this idea I had based on the song Getting Married Today from the 2018 London cast of Company last week and I finally had the motivation to write it up.

This is going to actually be a submission for @stmarchmm for day 14: second chance romance (and sort of day 24: arranged marriage/bond of convenience).

As this is also a songfic, it may help to look at the lyrics and/or listen to the song especially since the vibe of the song is pretty consistent with Steve's emotional state for most of this fic.

Bless this day Pinnacle of Joy Boy unites with boy The heart leaps up to behold This golden day

The singing echoed out from the church hall into the "bridal suite". Just calling it that almost made Steve laugh. The "suite" was just a back room that had been repurposed for him to get ready before his wedding. It smelled like moth balls and the chair he was sitting in was barely better than a folding metal one. It's all so sad that he would laugh if it weren't for two important details.

His mother was currently standing directly behind him, pinning his hair into place. And, more importantly:

He's barely avoiding a full blown panic attack (which is being held back by his mother's oppressive presence and his heart breaking).

The conflicting emotions on his face must have shown somewhat, because his mother stopped what she was doing suddenly and placed the hair pins in her hand on the table in front of Steve. She then carefully leaned in to press her cheek to Steve's in a half-decent attempt at compassion.

"I know you're nervous, so was I on my wedding day. But when you get to the end of that aisle all the nerves will fall away and all you'll have to do is say 'I do' to Paul and then you two can live your lives together. Today is for you, Stevie. Paul is going to cherish and keep you, forever."

Steve gave her a small smile that even he could tell was barely more than a grimace. He knew she was trying to be comforting but all he could focus on was his panic. He needed to be alone, and soon, or he was going to lose it. "Thanks, mom. I'm sure I'll be fine once the ceremony starts."

She gave him a smile and a quick kiss to the cheek before straightening up and resuming her work on his hair.

Thankfully, she finished quickly and pinned his veil in place before stepping back and helping him stand to go over to the standing mirror that had been brought in. His mother was practically beaming at him from her reflection but Steve could hardly recognize himself.

His mother had insisted that he just had to follow the current trends for omega wedding fashion so he's in a dress with too much lace and sleeves that are too puffy. It has a high collar made of, of course, more lace and he lost count of the number of layers in the skirt. Sure, the dress is nice and it fits him well but it's definitely not what he had pictured for his wedding day. At least he was able to convince his mom to let him pick the veil and hairpiece. So, instead of the giant poofy veil and tiara his mother wanted, he was wearing a simple veil with a thin lace trim and a simple flower crown that El had made from fabric flowers. Even his scent had been smothered in perfumes courtesy of his mother. Her joy was only grating on his already fraying nerves with every second, so he forced his best smile and made eye contact with her in the mirror. "Thanks for helping me get ready. Do you think you could go check on everything out there and give me a bit to myself?"

She smiled somehow wider and gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Of course, sweetie. Your father will come get you when it's time to go. I'll see you out there." And with one last kiss to his cheek, she was leaving and shutting the door behind her.

A beat.

A deep breath.

And Steve was rushing over to lock the door, pressing his back against it as if angry Russians were going to try to break it down. He took two gasping breaths before he was off, pacing the small jail cell room.

"Okay, Steve, you can do this. You can go out there and get married. You asked for this." As he paced, he caught his own gaze in the standing mirror and he stopped, staring at himself. Could he really do this? Sure, he agreed to it but only because of, well...

Following the Spring Break from Hell in '86 Steve found himself in a whirlwind relationship with one Eddie Munson.

Steve from before the Upside Down could have never imagined the future Steve was now experiencing but that Steve was an idiot. Eddie is everything he had ever wanted in a mate but could never quite put in words.

He's kind to a fault, cares about his family with his whole self, and he truly understands Steve in a way that no one but Robin ever had. Not to mention he was gorgeous and he smelled like heaven - campfire smoke and fresh cut grass with bits of cinnamon and pine. The first time Steve realized his nest had taken on scents other than his, and how well they meshed with his own lilac, lemongrass, sage and summer rain, he didn't stop purring for hours.

Everything was perfect for once in his life. The Upside Down was gone, everyone was back in Hawkins and closer than ever, and he was well on the way to courting with his dream alpha. But then, his heat was late.

Steve tried not to panic, it didn't mean he was pregnant. His doctor had said that going off suppressants and the sudden lack of stress in his life could mess with his schedule. But then it didn't come after a week. Then two weeks. And halfway to three weeks, Eddie asked about his heat and Steve broke down crying.

Once Eddie calmed Steve down enough, he called Robin and told her they would be picking her up. Eddie drove them to the pharmacy, bought a couple pregnancy tests - and ran into Joyce while there who said to try one now and then again the next week in case it's a false result - and picked Robin up on the way back to Steve's house. They both sat with him for the 10 minutes and then they both held him when nothing turned blue. And sure enough his heat came a few days later, which he spent at Eddie's place.

Unfortunately, when Steve got back a few days later he walked into the house only to be confronted by both of his parents standing next to the dining room table. And on top of that table was the remnants of the pregnancy test packaging.

It was a screaming match between him and his parents, his father red in the face and his mother sobbing loudly. It only ended when his father scruffed him and dragged him to his room, locking Steve inside. As he banged on his door, screaming for his dad to let him out, he heard the front door slam and a car leaving the driveway.

His father never did tell him what he did that day, though Steve had his own ideas. He tried to not linger on those ideas, they just made it harder.

After that day, Eddie stopped contacting Steve completely. The one time Steve tried to call him his father stole the phone before he could even get a full word out.

He got sick after that, and it only got better when his mother finally agreed to let him see Robin, but the message was clear to both of them. The only way Robin would be allowed to see Steve was if neither of them mentioned Eddie.

Slowly he got better, but the rejection sickness never fully went away. His mother kept trying to set him up with people and he kept refusing until 1991, when the loneliness and desire for a family won out over the betrayal. He agreed to meet someone.

And now he was supposed to be marrying him. By all meanings of the word, Paul was an excellent alpha. He was gentle if sometimes too quiet, handsome even if he didn't have the big brown eyes in Steve's dreams, and he smelled nice enough but in the end it came down to the fact that he deserved more than Steve.

Maybe he could go out there and just say, "Pardon me, is everybody here? Because if everybody's here, I want to thank you all for coming to wedding, I'd appreciate your going even more. I mean, you must have lots of better things to do, and not a word of this to Paul, remember Paul, you know, the man I'm gonna marry, but I'm not, because I wouldn't ruin anyone as wonderful as he is, but I thank you all for the gifts and the flowers, thank you all, now it's back to the showers, don't tell Paul but I'm not getting married today-" He cut off with a gasp for air, having just worked himself to near hyperventilation.

Just as he was about to try the little speech again he heard the music from the church again followed by a knock on the door.

"Steven, it's time to go," his father's voice came from the other side of the door.

Steve took one last look in the mirror and took a deep breath, pushing his shoulder back and stabilizing himself. "I'm coming." As he unlocked and opened the door, he could have sworn he caught a whiff of pine and cinnamon before it was gone.

Bless this day Opposite of joy Boy gets yoked to boy The heart sinks down and feels dead This dreadful day

Steve felt like he was watching from outside of his body as he was escorted down the aisle by his father and he lifted the veil over Steve's head, only coming back to himself when Robin stepped up to take his bouquet with a sad smile and a quick squeeze of his hand.

Steve returned the smile and turned to face Paul. Paul looked so happy and it just made Steve feel worse but it was as if his feet had turned to lead and his mouth had been cemented shut. He barely heard the vicar speaking but as Paul started his vows he tried to focus except he suddenly caught that same scent again. He could feel someone staring at him and he had to just take a quick look, just to convince himself he's imagining things. It'll be fast, just a scan of the pews and he'll be able to get back to his weddi-

Halfway through his scan, Steve felt the world stop rotating. He was there. Eddie was there, at the very back of the church.

He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and just staring directly at Steve. He looked, well, he looked good. His hair was still the same, long wild curls, but it looked healthier and he had grown a beard. He was wearing all an all black suit and he skipped the tie, instead leaving the top few buttons of the dress shirt undone.

Steve could have sworn he wasn't even breathing, just making eye contact with Eddie for the first time in 6 years. He looked so different but Steve still felt the exact same feelings surging up to the surface, almost dizzy with it and-

"Steve."

He blinked rapidly and turned to face Paul who had just whispered his name and quickly realized that he was supposed to say his vows. Almost without his control, Steve glanced back at Eddie, noticing that he had stopped leaning against the back wall, his arms no longer crossed over his chest.

"I'm not getting married," Steve whispered, not even aware he had said it outloud until Paul called his name again.

The world started spinning again and Steve remembered where he was, what was happening. He made eye contact with his parents, glanced back at Robin, then turned to Paul fully.

Steve whispered a quick, "I'm so sorry," to Paul before he turned to the gathered crowd. "Thank you all for coming but I'm not getting married today. Listen, everybody, look, I don't know what you're waiting for, a wedding, what's a wedding? A prehistoric ritual where everybody promises fidelity forever, which is followed by a honeymoon, where suddenly he'll realize he's saddled with a nut, and wanna kill me like he should-" The crowd gasps, but all Steve notices is Eddie taking a single slow step forward. "So listen, thanks a bunch but I'm not getting married. Go have brunch, but I'm not getting married. You've been grand, but I'm not getting married. Don't just stand there I'm not getting married today!" Steve did recognize that he's seemingly falling apart at the altar, but no one was moving and he needed them to understand.

"Go, can't you go? Why is nobody listening? Goodbye, go and cry at some other person's wake. If you're quick, for a kick, you could pick up a christening, but please, on my knees, there's a human life at stake! Listen everybody, I'm afraid you didn't hear, or do you want to see a crazy person fall apart in front of you, it isn't only Paul who may be ruining his life! I'm not well, so I'm not getting married." At that point Steve was pulling pins from his own hair and just tossing them to the floor, desperate to get the veil off his head. "You've been swell, but I'm not getting married. Clear the hall 'cause I'm not getting married. Thank you all, but I'm not getting married. Look, you know I adore you all but why watch me die when I'm only being nice? So take back the cake, burn the shoes, and boil the rice." He finally got his veil free and threw it aside, quickly followed by the shoes he kicked off before moving on to the too tight collar of the dress.

"Look I think I'm gonna faint, so if you wanna see me faint, I'll do it happily, but wouldn't it be funnier to go and watch a funeral? So thank you all for the twenty seven dinner plates, and thirty seven salad bowls, and forty seven picture frames and fifty seven candleholders, but I'm not getting married!" With a gasp he finally gets the buttons undone on the collar. "See? I'm not getting married. No, I'm not getting married today."

When he finishes he's breathing heavily, chest heaving with each breath as he looks around the room. He sees Eddie starting to walk toward him just as people start standing and shouting in the pews, slowing him down. Steve makes eye contact with his dad who is nearly purple with rage and quickly averts his attention to Paul, grabbing one of his hands in two of his own.

"Paul, I'm so sorry to do this, but I can't marry you. You deserve someone who truly can love you, but that isn't me. I wish I could explain it all to you now but I need to run before my father gets to me."

Paul stares back at him and Steve watches some kind of understanding flash across his face. "Go, I'll try to slow him down. Whatever you're looking for, I hope you find it."

Steve grabbed Paul's hand tight in his, "Thank you thank you thank you. Hopefully we can talk at some point so I can explain everything." With one last squeeze of Paul's hand, Steve pivots and starts to run, grabbing his skirts in one hand and Robin's hand in the other.

They crash through the side door of the church into a side hallway and Robin takes the lead, guiding them through the back halls to an exit door and suddenly Steve is gasping in the fresh air, feet stinging as he steps on the concrete.

"I can't believe you actually did that! Steve! What was that back there, I thought you were okay with marrying Paul, what change-" Robin's nervous rambling was cut off sharply by a new voice and a wave of smoke and cinnamon.

"Stevie?"

Steve had been bent at the waist, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath but that one word had him standing up so quickly he nearly fell over, only staying upright by Robin grabbing his arm.

But there was Eddie, only a few feet away. His eyes big and brown, his hair ruffling with the light breeze, and god, had Steve missed him so much.

"Eddie. It's really you." That got Eddie to crack a smile, his dimple popping up on his cheek. They seemed to be moving together like magnets, slow steps toward each other until they were breathing the same air.

"Hi, sweetheart. I've missed you."

Steve didn't even bother responding, he just jumped at Eddie, finally able to kiss his alpha for the first time in years. And with that one kiss, being back in Eddie's arms once again, Steve felt his broken heart finally weave itself back together.

Eddie drove the three of them to get all of Steve's important things and then Wendy's. A few months later they get married in a small ceremony and Steve gets to wear the dress of his dreams. They have all of their chosen family present and they eat cake and dance barefoot. The Steve of a few months prior couldn't see a future this full of joy.

And there it is! Hopefully it's coherent, this kind of exploded out of my brain. I also want to make sure everyone knows that Steve did meet up with Paul a couple weeks after the wedding the didn't happen. They sat down and Steve explained the whole history with his parents and Eddie, then Paul gets to meet Eddie and after some awkwardness and hurt feelings they ended up being friends. Paul does go to Steve and Eddie's wedding reception (he said it was too soon to go to the ceremony which Steve fully understood) and a couple years down the road, the Munson's get to attend Paul's wedding to a sweet girl who is a much better match for him.

I did want to include some visuals for Steve's two wedding dresses because I have very specific vibes in mind for both.

This one is almost identical to how I picture the one he's wearing for most of the fic, the only difference is the veil/headpiece are the pictures on the right.

THIS DRESS!! This is what he wears for his and Eddie's wedding, except it doesn't have the higher neckline. Steve's just has the ruffles as the neckline (anything above the red line in the image to the right is gone in Steve's dress).

[redpill-tfs]

What do you think you're doing, bro? I saw you turned my bro Hades into a redpilled senator! Now he's off passing bills he never would have considered in the past! You'll never get me though! I'm going to protest his latest bill to show how much I hate his new life.

Yeah, good luck with that "bro." You and a group of leftist protestors thought you'd protest Senator Johnson's latest bill tearing down a historic building to make a new gym. You made thing a bit too violent though. Did you forget his son is a cop? You were swiftly arrested and brought to the local prison. I talked to Johnson and he decided it's time for you to see things our way. The Right way.

It's time for you to swallow the red pill and turn you into a real man. You think you're so strong right now, leading a soccer team? You barely even have muscles! I can fix that though.

Here you go, Brody. We've forced the pill into your mouth. Now swallow it. Good boy. You'll see the changes starting any second now.

Your biceps and pecs are ballooning out now, stretching your gold jersey to the brink. Don't forget your legs: huge tree trunks of pure strength. Your package could use some length too. Let's go from 5 to 9 inches of pure masculinity. But we're also going to make you an older man. Not too old, but just in your prime. Mid 50s maybe. Hair that's turning grey and a well-trimmed beard to fit the look. A few wrinkles on the forehead never hurt anyone.

Now let's get you out of that gold uniform. You don't need to worry about your Golden Army anymore. I have a nice suit for you to wear. It matches the suit and tie of your new colleague. I'll help you put it on. You seem a bit... mindless right now.

Alright. The shirt is buttoned up to the tippy top, the red tie perfectly tied around your neck. The suit pants and jacket a crisp and professional navy blue. You look the very image of a true patriot.

Now let's alter your memories. No more liberal beliefs for you! You're going to be joining the senate as another Christian Republican, spreading your new beliefs to all of America. It's what the people want, right? They did vote for it after all.

Brody Gold is no more. Only Curtis Lewis remains, a proud American conservative and muscle freak. You played football in high school and college before going to law school. That's where you discovered your passion for politics and the drive to change the country for the better. You've been in the senate for twenty four years now, and you intend to support President Trump and his agenda in the coming years.

But hey, maybe you can go back to where the protest was someday. I'm sure you'd love to use the gym there.

Anyone else want to be red pilled or try to stop me? Just send me an ask. I'd love to turn more men into who they should be.

[martianbugsbunny]

That's How He Knows He's Yours (A Lokius Fic)

Okayyyy I would have sworn up and down that I had already posted this fic ??? but I did a bunch of different search attempts and I couldn't find it so I guess I didn't

The premise is basically Loki and Mobius are going to a party and Mobius is helping him with his hair, but Mobius has been studying up on the meanings of different Jotun hairstyles and accidentally-on-purpose picks the one that means "I'm taken." Ofc there's a bit of cultural headcanon involved. It's super fluffy w a little bit of flirtatiousness, so read on and enjoy!

The TVA was having a party.

That wasn’t really the important thing, but it was interesting. Mobius couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a party—but they needed to keep their spirits up after finding out that their entire lives were, in fact, lies, so a party it was. Every sector was having its own, because the TVA was too immense for all of the employees to have fit in a single room if they’d been threatened with death to do it.

Well, anyway, the important thing was that Mobius wasn’t going alone. He’d convinced Loki that it would be more fun to go together than to go separately, or not to go at all.

The other important thing was that Mobius had offered to braid Loki’s hair, which had grown considerably longer than it had been the first time they’d met, and that Loki had taken him up on it.

He’d spent hours studying both Jotun and Aesir braiding styles—not just the actual construction, but also the meaning behind them. In the end he’d picked the Jotun style that signaled “I’m taken” because it was beautiful, and because he was pretty sure Loki didn’t know enough about his own culture to know what it meant himself, so Mobius could convince himself it wasn’t that much of a presumption.

“I’m not so sure about this suit,” Loki said, sitting patiently as Mobius brushed his hair before plaiting it. “The gold stripes are a bit much, don’t you think?”

“What happened to the guy who used to strut around wearing gold armor and a cape?” Mobius teased, beginning the first braid. Left under the middle, right under the middle, he muttered under his breath.

“I’ve been wearing your boring TVA clothes for months,” Loki said, holding out one arm to watch the threads glitter. “The drab must’ve rubbed off on me.”

Mobius rolled his eyes. The truth was, he was outside his own comfort zone in a fancy suit. His didn’t have metallic pin-striping on it like Loki’s did (because it was a bit much) but it was a much sharper cut and a much more dashing style than he was used to wearing. He’d been just an analyst in a plain brown suit for centuries, and now here he was all dressed up like he thought he was Prince Charming or something.

He tried to focus more on the different strands of dark hair in his hands than on the way his fingertips brushed against Loki’s temples as he gathered new locks to add to the braids.

He failed.

As he began to pin the braids up using glittering golden hair pins, he tried to focus more on not stabbing Loki’s  scalp than on the brush of his hands against the nape of Loki’s neck.

He failed.

Loki was built like a prince, Mobius sometimes caught himself thinking. It didn’t matter if it was princedom of Asgard or of Jotunheim. There was an elegance in the set of his shoulders, in the movements of his hands as he wielded his magic, and a determination in the curve of his back and the way he stepped, that was utterly regal. Gold, like the simple rings he was wearing that night and the hair pins Mobius had found for him and the single slim chain around his neck, seemed to have been built into the cosmos for no reason other than to decorate Loki's trim form.

That was waxing poetic. Mobius didn’t do that often—only for Loki and Jet Skis. What could he say, they were both remarkable singularities in the universe.

He finished setting the last braid into place, nestled among several others like a crown across the top of Loki’s head. “All done, puss,” he said, patting Loki on the shoulder.

Loki’s head turned slightly to the side at the use of the nickname, and Mobius could just see a smile tugging at the corner of his mauve-tinted lips. “Do I dare look?” he asked.

“I didn’t mess it up that bad,” Mobius said. Loki chuckled and got up from the floor in front of Mobius’s couch to go check his reflection in the mirror on the other side of the room.

Mobius could see the reflected green eyes widening as Loki caught sight of himself. For some reason Mobius’s heart was in his throat.

“I didn’t know you knew how to do this,” Loki said.

“What, braids?” Mobius managed to speak past his racing pulse. “It’s not that hard.” It was, actually, quite difficult to his untrained hands, but learning it for Loki had made it seem easier.

“No. The Jotun style.”

That quick pulse stopped altogether. Mobius sat there, stock still, feeling very much like he was going to throw up if Loki didn’t break the sudden silence.

He turned from the mirror to look Mobius in the eyes properly. He was smiling, his eyes glittering beneath the faint liner he’d applied earlier that evening and a light dusting of shimmery grey eyeshadow. “Seems the pussycat has caught himself a guilty little mouse,” he said, his voice sultry and honey-smooth, dripping into Mobius’s soul. “You didn’t realize I knew what these braids meant.” It was a statement, not a question. There wasn’t a hint of doubt on his face.

“You caught me,” Mobius said. He was impressed with himself for being able to get any words out at all with Loki’s gaze focused on him like that.

“I’m taken, am I?”

Now Mobius found himself entirely unable to speak. What could he say, after all, other than we’ve been spending a lot of time together and you don’t mind when I call you ‘puss’ and I catch you staring at me sometimes in a way nobody ever has? It seemed stupid even in his brain. None of it meant he and Loki were…whatever he’d been subconsciously thinking they could be when he’d picked the style.

Loki walked back across the room, a new sway in his hips that Mobius was positive hadn’t been there before, and sat down on the couch to lean directly into Mobius’s personal space. For a long moment, far too long, far too breathless, he simply studied Mobius’s face, as though he could see everything single thought that had ever crossed his mind.

“We’ll see about that when we get back from the party,” he said finally, gaze flicking briefly down to Mobius’s lips. “Maybe you’re the one who’s going to be…taken.”

He crossed into that last bit of personal space and pressed their lips together, his touch surprisingly light, stunningly tender, as one arm came up to drape across Mobius’s shoulders and draw him even closer.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, puss.” Mobius finally found his tongue again and flirted back, laying a hand on Loki’s thigh. “You’re the one with the fancy hairstyle to prove it.”

As Loki laughed, Mobius captured his lips in another kiss, just as soft as before but oh-so-many leagues more passionate, and he thanked his lucky stars he’d been fool enough to pick a Jotun way to call Loki his.

[lou-struck]

Pancakes for Dinner

Izuku Midoriya x reader

~ For some people, moving about the kitchen is effortless. You are not dating one of those people, but you appreciate Izuku’s efforts.

Wc:1.1k

a/n: I wrote this for pancake day but ended up having other things to do.

You think these cold, late winter days are starting to last just a bit longer. 

The evening drive home from work that usually has you chasing the sunset is now much brighter, and as your vehicle pulls into your driveway, the sky is just beginning to darken with rich shades of purple, pink, and orange.

Taking a deep breath in, you inhale the savory scent of someone using their grill the smokiness makes your stomach rumble as it yearns for a home-cooked meal. Between Izuku's hectic patrol schedule and your unorthodox work schedule, you cannot remember the last time you took the time to make a nice meal.

You hunger for something made with love and not just convenience.

But have not the energy to make it happen.

Tiredly, you reach your front door. You are about to put your key in the lock, but then you notice that it has already been unlocked. 

Tiredly, your lips form a small, fond smile when you realize that Izuku had gotten home before you. Maybe the two of you could order food and finally catch up on that show you've been meaning to watch.

"I'm home."

The front door closes behind you as your call remains unanswered. There is a doughy smell in the air, and the clanging of pots and utensils can be heard down the narrow hallway where your kitchen is located.

"Zuku?" you call again, following the noise with light steps, your socks pressing into the fluffy carpet. Your boyfriend's unmistakable sign reaches your ears just as you peer through the fluorescent-lit doorway. 

To say the kitchen is a disaster is an understatement. A creamy batter is splattered all over the countertops, and the cabinets and mixing bowls are piled high in the sink. But in the middle of the disaster, Izuku stands determinedly, his strong shoulders hunched over the stovetop poking at a skillet with a rubber spatula in complete concentration mode. The flames coming from the burner are ridiculously high as they lick the side of the pan.

The Sugarman apron you got him for Christmas secured snugly around his trim waist, tied with a lopsided bow. You wait to get his attention until he is a bit farther away from the dangerously high flames. Next to the stove, there is a plate piled high with crumbly bits of what you assume to be his attempts at making crepes. Some pieces are golden brown and paper-thin, while others are slightly thicker.

His phone is propped up against the ceramic flour jar, and when you see what covers the screen, your heart overflows with affection. It's the crepe video you sent him earlier while scrolling on your lunch break. You thought the recipe looked amazing and wanted to save it for later. 

But Izuku Midoriya, aka Mr. Acts of Service Is My Love Language, must've thought that you were craving them tonight.

"Izuku?" you call again. You voice much louder when he is out of arm's reach of the stove. You don't need to see his face to know that he is disappointed in how his crepes turned out as the one falls apart onto the plate. 

This time, the green-haired man turns with a bit of a jump in your direction. A bit of an embarrassed flush on his freckled cheeks as he runs his hand through his hair. 

"Y/n!" he smiles, glancing down at the mess. "You're home early today."

You walk in and lean in for a kiss. "Nope, right on time today." you hum playfully as he leans in for the kiss. Subtly, you reach behind him and turn the stove off, the flames dying quickly as you deny them of their fuel. Without the potential fire hazard, you shut your eyes and give his lips the full attention they deserve.

"Sorry about the mess," he murmurs against your lips. "I promise I'll clean it up when I am done.

You nod thoughtfully, knowing that he will. Izuku may be a bit clumsy when it comes to cooking, but he would never destroy the kitchen and leave you to pick up the pieces. "What are you up to here?" you tease, wetting your thumb with your tongue and wiping a bit of pancake batter that has somehow splattered onto his forehead.

"I- uhh." the tips of his ears turn pink as he looks sheepishly at the splatter marks on the cabinets. "I saw that video you sent me and wanted to surprise you by making some for you when you got home. I followed every step of the recipe, but making them was a lot harder than I thought it would be. As for the batter, I was a bit too strong when I was stirring everything together and it kinda went...everywhere."

You notice the way he awkwardly scans the room. But when he notices the plate from what he considers failed attempts out on the counter, he steps subtly to the side, trying to shield it with his body. But in truth, they may not look like the ones in the video, but they still look edible. 

"They really don't look bad," you say honestly. "This was your first time making them, so of course they wouldn't turn out perfect. 

"They are just broken little pieces," he mumbles more to himself than to you. His hand cupping his chin as he gets lost in his reflections. "Maybe I should've used a different pan or used oil instead of butter. The recipe only called for flour, but since they are breaking apart, I should've accounted for some sort of binding agent like yeast. Do they even use yeast in pancakes? I really tried to make them according to the recipe, but no matter what I did, they just kept tearing apart."

As he murmurs to himself, you reach over and pinch off a piece of one of the crepes to try. It tastes nice. The pieces are fully cooked, and the taste isn't too sweet at all. Overall, it's a solid first attempt. They were made with love, and that's all that matters.

"A-are they bad?" he asks, his eyes inspecting your face carefully as he waits to see your reaction. 

Leaning in, you place a soft kiss on his cheek, a simple act of reassurance that never fails to make your heart flutter. "Don't worry, they're perfect."

~

A bit later, the two of you find yourselves curled up on the couch, finally catching up on your show. In your laps are two bowls filled to the brim with scraps of crepes and toppings as you eat them with spoons.

Enjoying the sweet, sweet taste of breakfast for dinner.

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[burningcheese-merchant]

*Throws a free rambling card in your face and runs for the hills*

(Preferably something Tiger Nutmeg related, but you don't have to)

Nutmeg Tiger headcanon, coming right up 😎

I made a post a while back talking about Nutmeg Tiger maybe enjoying gardening as a hobby; one she always kept secret out of fear and worry of appearing soft and weak. Well, what if we continued with this thought and let Nutmeg have not only a love for plants, but an actual green thumb?

I am a big sucker for characters having unlikely talents (I hc Dark Cacao as being a fantastic cook, for example). Skills and hobbies you really wouldn't ever expect them to have, but are cool and add a bit of extra depth to them as people. I'm also a sucker for "strong"/overly serious characters having a touch of softness in them somewhere, in some way, be it a positive relationship with another person (romantic, friendly, familial), a twinge of hidden warmth and optimism in their thoughts and view of the world, or - like I said - a beloved hobby. Just something that grounds them. Keeps their hearts from completely turning to stone.

I would like plants and gardening to be that for Nutmeg Tiger. An affinity she always had, even when she was little, but one she was never allowed (by anyone, including and especially herself) to explore or nourish in any way due to her warlike culture and upbringing, but nevertheless kept tucked away in her heart somewhere, thus never truly losing it. Something she is free to acknowledge at long, long last after Burning Spice's tyranny is brought to an end (in my personal canon, by force to a degree, and then him standing down willingly after having a change of heart) and she no longer has to "prove" herself and her strength to anyone anymore.

She would still try to deny and ignore it, of course. Old habits die hard. But with enough time and encouragement (perhaps in the form of Golden Cheese having her take charge of the palace gardens in the GCK, like I mentioned in that post 🤔), she lets that wall come down and herself enjoy something that actually makes her happy. The sort of happiness that battle and bloodshed never truly brought her (she likes those, but... this kind of joy just feels different). Something that actually grants her peace of mind.

And with that green thumb, not only does she care for plants, she makes them thrive better than anyone expected her to. She picks things up quickly. She notices right away when a plant is sick, or needs water, or needs a trim, or anything related to their needs. She develops an almost encyclopedic knowledge of plants of all sorts; first the ones in Golden Cheese's garden, then others even beyond that scope, either through reading about them in books or actually getting her hands on them in person (perhaps brought by Golden Cheese herself, or other people Nutmeg knows maybe Smoked Cheese can bring her something cough cough). It quickly becomes clear as a cloudless day that Golden Cheese picked the absolute right person for that job.

She doesn't really talk about it or bring it up at all unless prompted, nor does she really accept any thanks for caring for the garden. But it's obvious that it makes her happy, if you pay close enough attention to her expression as she tends to the lillies and cacti

[opheliajupiter99]

Sagely Advice

Lost again. It felt like every step in this damn Feywild was just another wrong trail, like it was one giant circle, or somehow shifted with each and every step they took. This time, Gricko was the one that found himself lost.

Lost all alone, to make matters worse. One moment, he'd split away from the others for just a second to peer at an odd bug that caught his eye, and the next, he was...well, he didn't know where really.

It looked like the same thick woods he'd been in, at its core, but it was...different. There was thick sludge stuck to the sides of the trees, almost like syrup, but reminded him more of a spider's silk in how it moved and clung to its surroundings. It was much darker than it had been, though he supposed that could've been the leaves being thicker in this part...

The worst part was the scent in the air. It was this rancid scent that permeated through every breath he took, like remains left across hunting grounds to fester in the heat, the kind of level of rot that gained a sickly-sweet quality to it. He coughed a bit, trying to cover his mouth as he fumbled through the brush, trying to find the path he'd walked here on.

"Well, well, well...what have we here?" Said an unsettlingly calm voice behind him. He jumped and wiped around to look at the source. Behin him, was a tall, plump man clad in green, shimmering golden gilding along the trims of his robes and the turban upon his head. He looked down at the goblin past a thick beard with deep, intense green eyes.

Gricko stared for a moment, not quite sure what to say, before he blinked and cleared his throat, awkwardly chuckling. "Oh, heh...hello. I'm sorry, ah...am I intruding?" He said, doing his best to give the man a polite smile. The man -looked- perfectly normal, refined even, but...something about him felt, off. Perhaps it was just the atmosphere.

The man hummed softly, looking the little goblin over, then smiled very softly. It was barely visible through his beard, but the gleam in his eyes further unsettled the poor fellow. "No...no, not intruding at all, my little friend. My name is Sage; a pleasure." He bowed deeply; or at least as deeply as he could, given his hefty weight.

Gricko bowed in return, keeping his awkward smile, trying to stop his legs from trembling. "A pleasure, yes! Ah...um, I-I'm sorry, I'd love to chat but, I really need to find my way back, my daughter's probably worried sick." He quickly glanced around, seeing nothing but more gnarled trees and darkened leaves.

By the time he looked back at Sage, the man had leaned forward, making Gricko stumble back a bit in surprise. Sage chuckled, a deep, slow chuckle. "You have a daughter?" He grinned. "What a coincidence; I have a few kids of my own. Would you like to meet them?"

Gricko blinked, glancing around again. It sure didn't seem like there was anyone else around. If it was any other situation, he'd probably be elated at the prospect of meeting children. But every moment he spent in this place, the more he felt like the very wilds themselves were shrieking how wrong all of this was.

He shook his head, holding his hands up defensively as he tried to back away. "N-No, I...I-I'd love to, be...I really need to get back." As he tried to back away, Sage suddenly reached out and gripped his shoulder. Gricko yelped and tried to pull away from him, but his grip was surprisingly strong.

Out of panic, he flung his hands forward, trying to rake his nails across his wrist in an effort to make him let go. With a loud 'rip', the grip loosened, and he fell back on his side with a grunt. He blinked, huffing. "I'm sorry, I just n-need to-"

His eyes widened as he looked back up at the man. His wrist...was torn. Not the -sleeve- of his wrist, though that was torn as well, his actual wrist. But...there wasn't any blood. No tissue, no bone, torn like this his skin didn't even really look like skin.

All that was on the inside, was bugs. So. Many. Bugs. Gricko shrieked in terror, and immediately shot up onto his feet, running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He was in such a frenzy to flee, he had no idea to ponder how odd it was that the man didn't bother to chase him, or even simply looked worried he might escape.

The poor goblin just focused on fleeing, running and running, even as the forest around him never seemed to change, like he was running in place. As he ran, he caught glimpses of eyes amongst the branches above him, three pairs of eyes to be exact, watching him with predatory glee.

Suddenly, his run was halted when he got ensnared in something, so quickly and in such thick darkness that he had no clue what it was, though it felt a bit like some kind of bag, especially when he realized he could no longer see his surroundings from wherever he now was.

He heard a trio of chittering, gleeful little voices all around him, before the trap he was now held in was hefted up and carried away. Whatever had happened, the odd, bug-filled man had ensnared his prey.

[lollytea]

(About the Dana post)

ALSO LIKE. THE WAY HE WAS PROBABLY IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING ELSE AND THEN JUST. DID THAT.

Like he's holding a clipboard! I'm willing to bet Willow just slid under him with some encouraging chant to hype up the team, and Hunter just went "ah yes spot for me"

What if I explode

YEAHHHHH!!! Talking about this sketch and the implications makes me very unwell. Also the little gesture of happily resting his chin in her palm is just like something a sweet doggy would do before looking up at you with confused yet earnest eyes and then wagging his tail hopefully. He's so doggy like to me. Do you know what I mean? You know what I mean <333

Agsbdjnk the clipboard. A silly little sketch but with visual storytelling. It's absolutely tryouts or something similar. I imagine that Willow is the only EE player that is dedicated to playing longterm while the others have a lot of fun during their time on the team but eventually move on to other ventures after a year or two. Once Boscha improves her behaviour after FTF, I could see Skara wanting to return to playing grudgby. She seemed to really love it. So Willow and Hunter are on the ball near immediately to find a replacement. And with the Flyer Derby renaissance Willow has lowkey started at Hexside, there's a way bigger turn out than the last time she needed recruits.

Judging by Hunter's level of relaxed contentment and Willow not giving it much notice, a good chunk of time has passed since the events of W&D. They're very attuned to each other, having probably been joined at the hip for a while now.

(We're gonna ignore the fact that Hunter doesn't have his post TTT scars. Presumably Dana just forgot agsbdjk.)

Definitely post grom I imagine. If you compare Hunter's body language in both pics

In the left pic, I don't think he's unwilling to be touched. He's definitely excited about wherever the FUCK this is going. But he looks stiff and his smile is twitchy, clearly nervous. Which implies that he's not that used to Willow being so touchy with him and he's a little out of his depth. My headcanon is that grom was when they officially got together, after months of situationship shenanigans. With that little idea in mind, this is just the beginning of their relationship.

When it comes to the pic on the right, I imagine it's also quite early in the dating stage. Early enough that they've only just broached the exciting world of more intimately affectionate touches. Which Hunter has evidently not built up an immunity to yet. Still melts every time.

Yeah that is definitely a boy who has only been in a relationship long enough to discover that he loves the feeling of his face being held, but also a boy who's so comfortable in his relationship that he's not shy about seeking out affection when he wants it. Even in public.

So he's still swoony but not shy about it anymore. So I'd say a few weeks-a month or two into dating.

(Also the haircuts align with this little timeline I've made up in my head. Willow has cut her hair short for grom, while it's in the season 2 short stubby braids during tryouts. So it HAS grown out but only a little. Meanwhile Hunter's hair has grown out a bit during grom, but looks recently trimmed during tryouts. There's no real significance to this. I watched a Dana livestream once where she said she'd rather just draw short hair Hunter because the long hair noodle is annoying to draw. But asgbknk! I like to make up implications where there are none. Anyway my hc is that Willow and Hunter do not just decide on a signature hair length and keep it forever. They spend the next three years bouncing back and forth between long and short styles.)

ANYWAY Willow is absolutely hyping Hunter the fuck up as the Golden Star of her team!! The best and the brightest!! Her pride and joy as a Captain. The purpose is to get the candidates all excited to do their best to get a spot on this epic team so they can play alongside him, but Hunter misinterprets Willow's praise as sweet talk and smiles and blushes appropriately.

Agsbdjnk it's so funny. He totally understood that the goal was to get their potential players PUMPED and he was excellently playing along with riling them up. But that glowing review of his character distracted him and now he thinks they're flirting. So the super cool badass disposition he had adapted for the newbies was promptly thrown out the window because hehehehe my girlfriend is so nice to me 🥰 Bro has forgotten where he is. Head empty.

So when Willow juts out a hand to aggressively present ✨️Him✨️ to the audience, Hunter's already gooey brain just says put chin in hand because sweet girl soft girl my girl.

Willow is a little thrown off but when she feels the weight of his face but just rolls with it and keeps going. She even gives him an affectionate little caress. I think she recognizes that he's misunderstood the tone a bit and has decided to not tell him. He usually gets very embarrassed when its pointed out that he's made a social error and she doesn't wanna do that to him. It's harmless and its cute, who cares? He's a little confused but he's got the spirit.

[snek-panini]

Happy Halloween! Have a book:

This is Siren's Song by @kedreeva (Hi! I asked to bind your fic months ago, sorry it took so long XD). It's an incredible Good Omens siren AU, which needs no introduction from me but it gets one anyway. It's one of the most in-character fics I've ever read, tackles a lot of the most resonant themes of the original (love in the context of aromanticism and asexuality, human labels in the context of non-human perspective), and has incredible world-building. Later parts of the fic always make me cry but they're good tears. You'll see. When I first learned that fanbinding was a thing and started looking into how to do it, this was one of the first fics I thought of. It just took me a while to learn the skills I needed before I could do it.

More pics and process talk under the cut!

So the cover up there is black faux leather and momi paper that I bought...about two years ago? And just kept on hand till I was ready to do this project. This is the first time I've worked with it and it was fairly nice, though harder to get a nice crease into than lokta or chiyogami. It felt very fragile when I was handling it but I didn't have any issues with tearing or glue bleed-through like I thought I might. It did bleed some color when I got it damp with the glue, and it took way longer to dry than normal, but once that was done it's been fine. Which is nice because I have a lot left over, so it'll probably be making many future appearances in my binds.

Look! It's rounded! I got a backing setup recently and this is my first time using it. It was Very Hard and I am not very good at it yet. But I think it looks pretty good for a first attempt, and there was really no other way to mitigate the spine swell on this one. I used a thick paper so I've got a thick book. I also tried something new with the case, though it isn't visible. Usually I make the text block and the case separately and then attach them as the last step, but for this one I actually built the case around the text. Like, boards attached to mull/tapes (sandwiched between thinner boards, with grooves cut for them so there are no bulges), then covered with momi, then leather corners and spine, then paste down the endpaper. It's got an oxford hollow, too! The tapes and mull actually wrap around the outside of the boards instead of the inside like I've done before. Endpapers are my favorite feather chiyogami. Combined with the marbled momi they make for a very opulent look, and I had just barely enough to do this. Like, down to the millimeter. I had to trim the edges and then glue the endpapers after to be sure they were right. I'm glad they were, because I didn't have a backup plan. Handmade endbands, colors picked to match the cover. Also, last note, I got the corner bits right for the first time. Measured properly, with no weird pointy bits that come out at funny angles. Very proud.

Title page and bookmark/interior shot. Did you know that some basic fonts in MS Word look different when you use a huge font size? Because I didn't until I made this title page. That's Parchment for the title, and it only gets those swirly bits around the capital letters if you take it to 26pt or higher (I used 72 here). Now I wonder if any of the other fonts have easter eggs in them like that. The ribbon is very fancy, to go along with the rich endpaper/cover combo. I think it's pretty appropriate for a mythological golden age of piracy story, as are the text ornaments:

Chapter header image, chapter end image, and section break image. It was a very image-heavy typeset. I was originally planning to only have a header and a section break, but I couldn't decide whether I liked the ships or the book/shell/feather better, and they both suited the story so well that I just went with both. Again, opulent, but I think it fits. All the images came from rawpixel, all I did was resize them.

There was a small error in the trimming process. Comes of having to calculate so closely the exact amount you can trim off, that you have to trim off so your slightly-too-small endpapers fit. I think something got misaligned when I poked the sewing holes because only the first signature is like this. The rest of the book has a more appropriately-sized margin between the page number and the edge. I got very lucky here, and I know it, and I'm never cutting it this close (lol) again. Next time we just order another sheet of chiyogami.

And that's it! I have one author's copy and one new bind in progress right now (that's taking a while because I'm learning more new stuff for it), and then I have two Christmas gift books to do, so it might be a bit before I have another book to share.

[bubble-popping]

day 57 last bit I have of dragon Dream and wolf Punz :]

By the time the tray was empty, Punz felt more full than he had in years. Dream placed it back on the cart then slid off the bed to stretch his back, wings reaching high above his head and tail going rigid as audible pops were heard. He went to sit at his vanity table and reached over to pull at a strip of tapestry to his right a few times. Though curious, Punz remained quiet, much preferring to gather the thick blanket around his form and nuzzle the warmth. It was odd, Dream's scent. Sweet like honey with a distinct undertone of roses. Not what they expected for dragon hybrid royalty, but very pleasant nonetheless. In fact, Dream's entire room didn't seem to fit his title.

With the light of the sun shining through the open window, they could better make out all the details. Pictures of friends and family lined the walls, the dirty laundry from last night strewn across the floor, a cluttered mess of papers and books on his work desk. It all looked... painfully normal. Like Dream was the same as any other young man his age.

Not that Punz knew what that meant. His life had been anything but normal.

"How was your sleep? I hope I didn't smother you. Should've warned you I'm a cuddler." Dream glanced back at them in the midst of brushing his long hair.

"Huh? Oh, it wasn't a big deal. I slept okay." He didn't need to know it was the most restful sleep Punz had gotten in a long time.

"That's good to hear. Your room will be made up by the end of the day, so either way you'll get your own space soon."

Not too long since the last one, another knock came at the door.

"Come in, Calla!" Dream answered. A deer hybrid entered the room only to pause upon seeing Punz. He blinked, head tilting in question.

As if sensing his confusion, Dream piped up, "That's Punz, my personal guard. Punz, this is Callahan, a dear friend and excellent tailor. He's here to take your measurements so we can get a proper wardrobe started."

"Ah, that makes sense." They reluctantly unraveled their self from the cocoon of blankets and got to their feet. Callahan promptly began taking his measurements, wrapping a measuring tape around his limbs and torso in several different places.

"Make sure to send the measurements to Sapnap when you're done, Calla. He'll need ceremonial armor as soon as possible."

"Ceremonial armor?" They absent-mindedly asked aloud. That wasn't good. This atmosphere was too calm, too casual; they were losing their training.

"For my coronation. All guards will have special armor, but personal guards in particular must be dressed their very best," Dream explained as he collected his golden hair into a neat braid.

Soon enough, Callahan finished taking measurements and bowed to them before leaving the room. Afterwards, Dream stood from his vanity, braid tied off with a juniper-colored ribbon at his lower back, to open his closet.

"You'll have to wear my clothes again today. I'll see if there's anything you can wear."

Eventually, Dream emerged from his closet once more already dressed for the day in a poofy dark green top trimmed with gold and light tan pants, and an outfit in hand for Punz. Just like last night, they went into the bathroom to change. He'd given them a white blouse with bees and flowers embroidered on the hems and buttons in the back. The pants were black slacks that reached higher in the front than the back, giving their tail ample room to lay naturally.

[iwriteasfotini]

I'm not a Bartylus shipper (because James and Regulus were literally born for each other), but I do love the HC that Barty had a major crush on Regulus before he and Evan got together (and maybe even a bit after...). Here's a little taste of that for a first year who doesn't know what to do with all the novel feels he's encountering...

Barty POV, his first year

Rating: Teen

TW: implied underage drinking, an alcohol induced vomiting incident

...

Turned out Regulus was an arse hole. He never spoke. He looked down his adorable nose at everyone. He had a small dark mole just under his jaw on the right side of his face. He was a hell bred angel. 

Barty was quiet as well. And he spent far too much time watching Regulus. Having so few interactions with people his own age, Barty had never put much thought into his appearance. But now he was surrounded by peers who looked like fully fledged adults, he noticed his clothes were rather drab and his bowl cut hairstyle wasn’t in fashion. Barty couldn’t do anything about either. Instead he grew even more reserved and self conscious. At least the school uniform was issued to everyone. His black slacks, white shirts, Slytherin colored ties and green and silver trimmed outer robes looked decent. Somehow Regulus, who wore the exact same clothes, looked about a hundred times better than Barty felt.

The first time Regulus spoke to Barty, they were in Herbology and Regulus asked if Barty would pass him a watering can. It was three weeks into the school year. 

“Sh-sure,” stammered Barty. He didn’t trust himself to pass the watering can without spilling water all over the Prince of Slytherin’s shoes so he took a massive step back and Regulus looked at him in annoyance before reaching way over to grab a watering can. 

Then Regulus got horribly drunk at the Halloween house party. Barty had been extremely annoyed to be booted out at eleven, and then twice as annoyed when a second year he recognized came into the dorm room supporting an ashen and clammy Regulus. Apparently Prince Regulus was exempt from the rules the younger students were expected to follow. 

But Severus, the second year, explained they had been out on the grounds and had only recently returned to find a party in full swing. Barty sort of lost track of the conversation as Severus started helping Regulus remove some of his clothing. He needed help, which Barty provided. His brain was screaming at him “you are touching Regulus Black!” He hoped his eagerness didn’t show. 

Regulus proceeded to vomit all over the floor from his bed and Barty became even more distracted as he felt his own gag reflex raise bile in his throat. But he swallowed and grabbed towels to help Severus clean up the mess. It was not a dignified moment for Regulus. And there was something extremely sweet about what was actually a gross and ridiculous situation. Barty had helped Regulus in a time of need. How many other people could make such a claim?

By the time the vomit was cleaned up, Severus had closed Regulus in his bed. Barty, his wits back around him now the smell of vomit had lessened, held out his hand and introduced himself. Then he realized this was a golden opportunity to bridge the gap between himself and Regulus. 

“You seem to be in with the right crowd. I’d love an in, if you catch my drift,” he said, after promising to keep an eye on Regulus, as if Regulus was one of his best friends. 

“Of course. Er, see you around,” said Severus leaving the room in a hurry. 

Barty pulled back the hangings on Regulus’ bed only a sliver and peeked in. Regulus was asleep and his sleeping face was far more peaceful than his awake face. Barty felt a sudden and intense urge to brush Regulus’ long black fringe out of his eyes. And then to…

Barty leapt back, his heart hammering. No. No. No-no-no. He didn’t have a crush on Regulus. Regulus was a boy. Boys don’t have crushes on boys. He thought Regulus was really cool. He wanted to be Regulus. He wanted to be an arse hole who people worshiped. That was what he liked about Regulus. He didn’t want to kiss him. 

Except he did. 

Feeling quite nauseous again, Barty returned to his four poster where he didn’t fall asleep until well past three in the morning. By then he had convinced himself he did not, in fact, have a crush on his dormmate. And in case there was any doubt over the fact, he’d keep his distance from Regulus Black.

...

This is an excerpt from installment seven of the Our Love is Written in the Stars series, which is title The Battered Boy and will begin posting on Ao3 on October 31, 2025. Check out my pinned post for more info on the series and all there is to come between now and then (there is plenty!).

[somethingclevermahogony]

Writeblr Interview

Rules: Answer the Questions

Thanks for the tags @mk-writes-stuff, @the-golden-comet, and @tildeathiwillwrite!

Short stories, novels or poems?

Novels or Epic Poems (Odyssey, Iliad, Aeneid, Epic of Gilgamesh is the GOAT (the officiant literally quoted it at my wedding)).

What genre do you prefer reading?

Fantasy or Epic Poetry. I haven't actually sat down and read a book in a while though, my life has been pretty overwhelmed with academic papers and such.

What genre do you prefer writing?

Fantasy, preferably High/Epic Fantasy, turn world-building up to the max.

Are you a planner or a write-as-i-go kind of person?

I do a ton of planning for the world (I'm a lore nut) and I plan out broad narratives and directions, but I tend to let the path to get there just sort of happen.

What music do you listen to while writing the story?

That depends on what I'm writing. I actually don't tend to listen to a lot of music when I'm actually writing because it distracts me. I listen before I start to write, what exactly I listen to changes.

Sometimes I listen to the same song from Little Shop of Horrors, Epic the Musical, or whatever. For awhile I was listening to Prom Queen by Beach Bunny over and over and over and over again. I don't know why I do that, it just scratches my brain.

Fav books/movies

I love the Gregor the Overlander Series. It balances silliness and fantasy with darkness. The worldbuilding is complex enough to be intriguing and yet so ridiculous that you just sort of accept it. Giant talking rats and Victorian Rats living in a massive subterranean world underneath NYC? Why not! The books made my mom cry over a cockroach so there's that.

As previously stated, Epic of Gilgamesh is great, its so interesting to see all the tropes and story beats already developed thousands of years ago. I love my two big burly bronze age queers.

Saying the LOTR movies feels like a cope-out, but I genuinely do love those movies.

Any Current WIPs?

The Testaments of the Green Sea series! I'm sure you've seen random tidbits on Tumblr if you've been in any of the worldbuilding or fantasy writing places.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

Reading glasses worn too far down my nose, a button up shirt (probably blue checkered) with the sleeves rolled up, baggy jeans, and black shoes. Looks like a young chubby and scruffy caveman cosplaying as a 45 year-old English teacher.

Create a character description of yourself.

He was of average height, though he looked taller than he actually was owing to the mane of hair which surrounded his head and covered his shoulders and upper back in a blanket of brown curls. His beard and moustache were both of medium length, though his moustache was in need of a trim. A pair of fingerprint smudged, wire-rimmed glasses sat on the tip of a crooked and humped nose, as far away from his heavy brows and green eyes as they could be while still maintaining their grip on his face. He wore a checkered blue and white button up, the sleeves hastily rolled up to his elbows. His jeans were baggy, and though he hated to admit it, were swiftly developing a hole on the inner thigh. He's was normally a quiet man, prone to sit and nod, rather than to speak. The exception of course, was with his wife, in which case he could hardly be made to shut up.

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

Literally putting people I know into my writing? No, I don't think it would really work to randomly insert my friends and family into my fantasy setting. I do like taking bits of inspiration from people though!

Are you kill-happy with the characters?

I guess that depends on what this means...because my series takes place over vast lengths of time, almost everyone in my stories does die eventually, but that's just nature. I don't shy away from killing my characters, that's for sure, though I try to make sure it adds something to the plot, I don't like killing characters just for the sake of it.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Tea (The real answer is wine)

Slow or Fast writer?

Fast writer, sloooow editor.

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

Lots of things. A big part of my inspiration comes from the ancient civilizations that I study, like the Hittites and Mycenaeans. I also take inspiration from my family and my wife. Myths are a big inspiration too, I've said plenty of times that my MC, Narul, is Gilgamesh with social-anxiety.

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

Dead....or less pessimistically probably the local baker/cook.

Fave book cliche?

Found Family! Honorable mention for Gentle Giant characters!

Least fave book cliche?

Dark/High Fantasy including explicit depictions of SA or underage stuff because its "accurate", just the implication will suffice, I don't need that nonsense playing in my ear while I'm at work, thank you very much (Looking at you GRR Martin, or as my wife and I call you, JarJar Martin)

Fave scenes to write?

Scenes with nature or monsters! Trying to be descriptive and convey what the characters are seeing and feeling is really interesting to me!

Most productive time of day for writing?

Between 1:00 and 4:00 in the morning, unfortunately. That's also when my typos are the worst.

Reason for writing?

To bring my characters to life and to share their stories and scenes with other people.

I don't know how many people have already done this so I'm just gonna leave this one open!

Blank list under the cut:

Short stories, novels, or poems?

What genre do you prefer reading?

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

What music do you listen to while writing?

Favorite books/movies?

Any current WIPs?

Create a character description of yourself:

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Slow or fast writer?

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Most fav book cliche:

Least favorite cliche:

Favorite scene to write?

Reason for writing?

[msfcatlover]

Batman Cass

I think this one will be shorter, since I'm iterating on a canon costume rather than creating an identity from scratch.

I know I'm giving Dick his discowing colors (several artists have actually given them to the Flying Graysons over the years, to keep Dick's costume being inspired by them without him just running around Gotham in his performance costume. I think Robin should be the tribute rather than Nightwing, but I'm happy to steal that as an excuse to put Dick in the blue & gold.) Cass's Batman costume was basically designed in tandem with the Moonbeam suit, so the two should compliment eachother.

Cass's cape is jet black, but the underside has a yellow-to-black gradient (ombre) where it's bright up high & fades out towards the edge. I'd actually make that highly reflective, since as Moonbeam Cass learned to use light as a weapon, and it makes her look downright angelic when the cape flares out, like she has a golden sun caught under her cape.

(This is definitely inspired by the fic Loading & Aspect Ratio, whose use of colors makes me rabid. Read it, please.)

(Have a quick & messy bit of concept art I threw together from the "Mark of Cain" cover to show what this cape might look like. Ignore the rest of the suit, we're getting to it.)

Next, Batman is losing about a foot of height. Cass will be compensating for this with ears. Not the super-absurdly-long ears Batman sometimes has, but still big.

(Thanks to broosepayne for literally collecting these. Very handy.)

She'll also be wearing lift-boots. Not platforms, not heels, those both threaten to seriously twist your ankle. But Cass is used to running around in lifts as Black Bat, and it helps make up the difference. Based on my observations of her costumes over the years, Cass genuinely likes fitted knee-high boots. (Is it a "make it more feminine" sexist command from on high? Probably. But it's a consistent part of her design, and I'm using it.)

(Something like these, probably. Maybe with a more emphasized/rugged sole, like these.)

For the cowl itself, I think Cass would probably still stick to her mouthless look. So probably something like Batman 1,000,000's cowl:

...which, now that I'm looking at it, I love the detail of the cape-clasp. And the shoulder pads kinda work too? She needs to add some breadth/bulk to her build, and their almost pauldron-like look is a nice callback to her Moonbeam days. Cass does wear more traditional shoulderpads under the suit, and then these pauldrons over the cape. I'd make them matte black, just slightly lighter than the cape. The little golden clasp should be bat-shaped, obviously. (This detail probably gets ignored a lot of the time, but it lets her have a bat visible even with the cape closed.)

Solid black body suit (also seen in the 1,000,000 pics) but I do think Cass should have a bat-symbol on her chest. After consulting my favorite chart, I think a slightly stretched version of the 70s bat symbol with a perfect circle behind it would probably be best.

(Quickly thrown together in GIMP. I really, really like the way the gold outline turned out, even though I wasn't leaning towards just an outline when I started.)

I think her utility belt is black, but the pouches are yellow/gold.

(Okay, this is the best version I can find, but I do want to draw everyone's attention to this comprehensive breakdown of every bat-belt because it's very impressive.)

Finally, rather than gauntlets, Cass wears black gloves with a folded cuff. Kinda like the Zero Year purple gloves, but with a much thicker cuff. The top & bottom of the cuff has a gold trim, but I'm going back & forth on whether there's more details (like capped knuckles or wire-thin fingerstripes) or if they're just plain aside from that trim.

(Here's the two best pics of these type of gloves I could find.)

I'm actually really pleased with this look. It helps Cass bridge the gap between her Black Bat (Batgirl) look and Batman, compensating for the difference in build decently well (especially when you remember most people aren't going to see Batman for very long or very well.) The wing-shaped shoulderpads & touches of glittering gold add a hint of showmanship, which means both thematically & color-wise she'll look good standing next to Moonbeam!Dick. The gloves then bring it back down to earth, looking like slightly fancier work gloves, emphasizing utility over flair or combat. Personally, I think the gloves soften the whole look a little, helping to show this is an older, more mature Cass who has taken an apprentice of her own, and especially how much she's healed & grown since donning the stitched-up Black Bat (Batgirl) suit after Steph's death. I even got to bring back my idea of the Shadows wearing Moonbeam's circle to represent their connection, very specifically with Cass's golden ring, to show that Cass is once again part of a matched set---it's just that this time, Cass is the shadow to Dick's light.

[starsandink13]

The White Crow Game Chapter 3

Your reflection glinted in the polished white marble floor as crystal chandeliers hung above you like glittering blades from the impossibly tall ceiling. The walls were pristine porcelain-white with the occasional oil portrait or marble statue of Corvin breaking up the long stretches of white.  You shivered looking at the artworks, you could feel their empty, soulless gazes piercing right through your soul, almost as if they would suddenly spring to life and chase after you.

They're just decorations, it's not like they're going to actually come to life.

After walking for what felt like hours through a white blur of statues and portraits, it didn't take long for you to realize that you were lost. You sighed as you shook your head and clenched your teeth.

Oh come on! Are you serious? I really got lost this early?! You stamped your foot in frustration and put a hand to your forehead. 

Way to go, idiot.

As you chastised yourself, you suddenly remembered the trick that you learnt from your mom during a first-grade field trip to a corn maze: always go left and put your hand on the left-hand side of the wall. If you do this for long enough, you'll eventually you'll wind up at the exit.

You weren't sure if it would apply to a mansion that you've haven't been in before, but you supposed it wouldn't hurt to give it a try. You gingerly put your hand on the wall and shivered at the cold touch of the wallpaper. With a small step, you began to walk.

Every now and then, you looked over your shoulder to see if anyone or anything was following behind you. You jumped at every slight sound, making you walk a little bit faster. Occasionally, you ran into a dead end only to turn around and go further down into the main corridor. The threat of marrying that fairy loomed over you like the Grim Reaper, making your stomach turn.

Just keep going. At this rate, you're sure to find it by now. Keep moving in a single direction and don't make any turns until you reached the end of the hallway. You'll win this game and never have to deal with that fairy ever again or become its...

Cold sweat dropped down your cheek, you didn't dare to even bother with finishing that thought.

After groping the left side wall for several minutes, you came across a massive lobby that had a large peacock-blue carpet with gold trim taking up most of the floor. But what actually caught your eye were the golden front doors that looked as if they were twinkling from the crystal chandelier above. Relief overcame you and you sprinted towards it without a second thought. You pulled on the doorknob with all of your might, but it didn't budge. Confused, you jiggled the knob and pulled at it a little bit harder.

"What?" You stammered and took a step back.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Corvin sighed behind you.

"B-but I found the front door!" You protested.

"Yes, but you didn't get the key to unlock the front door," he retorted, walking his slim fingers on your shoulder like a spider.

"Are you going to give me a hint as to where I might get it?" You asked.

"Of course not! That would make it easy for you!" He chuckled. "And that's not going to be interesting for either of us, now would it?"

You gritted your teeth and narrowed your eyes, "If by 'us' you mean yourself, then you'd be right."

"But isn't life a bit more interesting for you humans if there was some sort of adversary or challenge to face? Isn't that the purpose of every story you tell?"

"Well this isn't a fucking fairytale," you smacked his hand away from you and spun around to face him.

"You sure?" He breathed. "I'm sure there's a lot of them that have some parallels to your current situation."

"If you're here to make fun of me, then shut up. You stupid, disgusting piece of--"

Corvin suddenly leaned in towards you, his smile turned into a cold expression as his sclera turned black. "Need I remind you what you're dealing with? So if I were you, I'd be a little more careful with how you address any member of the fair-folk."

Fighting the urge to make a sarcastic retort, you settled to glaring back at him. Even if you were terrified, you wouldn't give in to him. Corvin leaned back, his sclera reverting back to white and he tapped his cane against the floor. He turned his head westwards with his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Anyways, I wouldn't stay here for much longer. You don't know what else is going to wander in here." He said and walked away from you, receding into the shadows of the hallway.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before you began to move. You didn't want to stay and find out what else would come in here. As you were about to head right, you heard something walked towards you from that direction. You ran into the left hallway and entered a random room. You quietly closed the door shut and listened.

Your heart pounded against your chest like a rabid animal. The drumming of it was the only thing you heard before the distant sound of a raspy, rattling groan followed by what sounded like shuffling feet that broke the silence. Your throat closed up as the groaning and shuffling became slightly louder. Closer.

Don't let it find me! Just keep calm and don't make any noise. If it comes close, swing the door in its face and make a break for it!

You waited for hours as it inched closer to where you were. Your body stiffened with dread and your heart felt like it was about to explode. The groaning and shuffling became more grating to your ears and felt like someone was slowly twisting a knife into your head.

Wait for it...

The being stopped for what you assumed was mere feet away from the door. Your fingers tightened around the doorknob. The thing, whatever it was, let out one last groan before it started to retreat. You pressed your ear against the door and waited until you could no longer hear it.

Is it gone?

After waiting for several minutes, you finally opened the door slowly. You glanced around to make sure that nothing was there before sticking your head out. When you were sure that nothing was following you, you carefully got out and took a look around at your surroundings: nothing but an impossibly long hallway that seemed to continue for miles.

Throwing a quick glance behind you, you began to make your way down further into the halls; praying that you wouldn't have to face that creature again.

---

After wandering in this grand and flawless labyrinth for several minutes, you noticed a door that was different from the others. Instead of it being as sterile and white as the surrounding environment, it was in a state of disrepair. The wood was splintered, the paint was cracked and peeling in places with the doorknob covered in dark stains as a result of the passage of time.

Taking a deep breath, you ironed yourself for whatever was behind the door; praying that maybe the key was in there so that the nightmare could finally be over for once. With a soft push, the door creaked open and the smell of dust and mildew hit you like a sudden slap to the face. You coughed and put a hand to your neck as the stench wafted away. When the last of it was gone, you pushed the door open a little bit more before entering.

The room was completely dark, save for the orangey-yellow glow coming from the lit fireplace on the right side wall, casting long and writhing shadows. The dark brown walls were decorated with disturbing watercolor paintings of creatures with abnormal features: some had limbs far too long for their bodies, others the mangled heads of animals for faces, or eyes that glowed like hellfire. The once luxurious furniture was covered in a thick layer of dust, making the fabric appear it was taking on a deathly-gray hue. The frayed rug had clusters of dark mold growing, distorting the original patterns of it. On the far right was a cards table with a white lace tablecloth and a pale wood chest sitting right in the middle of it as if waiting to be opened.

You approached the chest and gave it a closer look. The wood had small scratches on its surface, as if someone had hacked it with a knife. You flipped up the latch and the cover flew open, releasing a cloud of a sweet-smelling powder. You waved your hand in front of your face as the powder dispersed before you took a look inside. Glinting within the silk cushioning, was a white gold medallion in the shape of a fork and knife. Confused, you flipped the emblem on the other side to see that there was a small square peg in the center of it.

"So how is it going so far?" 

You whipped around to see Corvin's face mere inches from yours, his gold and red eyes glittering like gems with amusement as he leaned on his cane.

"Why are you here?" You demanded, not bothering to hide your annoyance and put the emblem inside your jacket's pocket before he could notice it.

"Just to see how you're progressing, besides this is my home. Well, one of many." He laughed to himself.

"Just how many do you have?"

"I lost count after the thirteenth or so."

"And how do you afford that many?!"

"Being a count helps."

"Fairies have governments?"

"Well, even we recognize the importance of them." He answered coolly and adjusted his coat.

You were about to make a bitter comment about comparing fairies to politicians, when the air felt static. As if all of the oxygen in the room was sucked out. Corvin noticed the expression on your face and his smile dropped.

"Something wrong?" He asked, his voice sounded to be of genuine concern. "You look a little unwell."

"No. I'm fine." You shook your head and tried to steady yourself.

That's when you heard the same pained groaning and shuffling from before.

"Oh, so it's here," he grimaced.

I-is that the thing from the main--

"In case you were wondering: yes, that was the thing from the main entryway," Corvin responded, his voice was laced with the slightest bit of disgust. "If you want to resign already, you can."

"I'll take my chances," you spat out.

"Alright then," he shook his head. "But don't say that I didn't warn you."

Before you could ask what he was talking about, Corvin stepped into the darkness and began to fade away. The thing banged against the door. Wood splinters flew in the air from the force. You crouched down low to the ground and carefully hid behind an end table. Your terror grew stronger as the door splintered more under the creature's force. You flinched as the door gave way and the monster stumbled into the room.

The thing-- whatever it was-- let out another groan as it limped towards where you were a moment ago. In the low light of the fireplace, you could see it was human-shaped and hunched over. Long, tangled hair covered most of its gaunt, warped face. Thin, deathly-pale skin was stretched over the jutting bones underneath. The dirty and faded remnants of a cotton tunic barely covered its mangled body. Its long, cracked nails nearly dragged across the ground as it sniffed the air every now and then.

You pressed yourself closer to the wall, daring to not draw a breath. The monster let out a heavy wheeze and headed towards the left side of the room. Quietly, you took another small step towards the fireplace. Never taking your eyes off of the creature as it slowly walked around the room. As you were about to reach the end of the wall, the floorboard underneath your foot squeaked.

The monster stopped and slowly turned its head towards you. Its jaw was barely connected by a string of sinew, making it hanging down to its chest. The gaping mouth was lined with crooked and yellowed needles for teeth. In place of eyes were empty sockets with dark brown sludge leaking from them.

It let out a raspy cry and staggered towards you. You screamed and stepped away in time to avoid the ghoul crashing into you. Scrambling away, you nearly tripped over a fallen chair. The monster let out another screech and lunged at you with its talons. You stepped aside and slammed the chair over its head. The ghoul froze up briefly and you scurried away from it. 

The creature let out an ear-splitting screech and made a leap for you. You stepped to the side in time to avoid its reach and kicked it in the back. Without wasting a moment, you smashed a chair leg over its head. The wood splintered from the impact and the ghoul flinched. It swiped the weapon out of your hand and made another grab at you. Its claws narrowly scrapped by the tip of your nose as you backed away.

Panic pounded against your bones as you looked around for another weapon. By the light of the fireplace, you caught the gleam of a fire poker. You ran towards it, only to trip over the broken seat. You fell to the floor and let out a sharp cry of pain and shock. You turned on your back in time to see the monster creeping towards you, thick strands of saliva dripped from its jaws as it came closer.

You jolted your foot away from its talons as you reached for the poker. The monster's twitching movements became more frenzied, like a shark that smelled blood. Sweat rolled down your face as it inched closer. Your stomach twisted as you finally saw the dark brown splotches that coated its teeth.

Just a little more! Come on!

The ghoul grabbed hold of your leg and began to pull you towards it mouth. You screamed in terror and kicked it in the nose. A sharp CRACK! filled the room as the monster's head flew back. Immediately you kicked it again-- this time even harder. The creature let out a feral screech and held its broken nose. As you were starting to stand up, the monster grabbed your ankle again with a much harder grip than before. It felt like your bones were about to snap under its hand.

"No, no, no!" You yelled and tried to shake the monster off of you. It let out a low, husky laugh that made your stomach drop. You watched wide-eyed as it slowly raised its hand in the air; the dagger-sharp claws aiming directly for your eye.

As the thing's talons began to descend, your fingers wrapped around the poker and you swung it into the monster's face. It screamed in pain as its flesh sizzled from the red-hot metal. As it squealed and grabbed its burnt cheek, you stabbed your attacker right between the eyes. The creature screamed and feebly tried to pull the weapon from its head. You grunted and pushed the poker in deeper and deeper, cringing at feeling the metal scrapping against bone and brain. Still you pushed until the poker had fully pierced through the other side of the ghoul's skull. The monster fell limp, its eyes facing the ground.

You gagged slightly at the dark gore that coated the metal. Readjusting your grip, you grunted as you struggled to pull the weapon out of the skull. When it was dislodged, you fell backwards a bit as the poker flung out of your hands from the force. You watched the creature fall to the side. Dead.

Panting as cold sweat dripped down your face, you watched as the corpse begin to crumple in on itself into dust before the the particles dissolved into nothing.

"It- it's over now," you gasped and wrapped your arms over you. "It's finally over."

"That was impressive," Corvin admired. "Although judging by how weak it was, it must have been a more recent addition. Regardless, you held up much better than I'd thought."

You reached for the poker and pointed it at his chest, "You are--"

"Don't even bother with threatening me with that thing," the fairy shook his head. "It isn't even made from iron. Do you really think that I'd be so foolish to have the one thing that could harm fairies in my home?"

"B-but why is it--"

"It's made from brass, my dear."

You clenched your eyes and took a deep sigh. "Let me guess: there's much, much worse things in this house besides that thing, right?"

"Yes. But your chances of running them are very low."

"I have a feeling that there is more to this, isn't there?"

"There indeed is, as they do tend to stick to only certain places in the mansion. So long as you avoid those areas, then you shall be perfectly fine."

"And how would I know if they're near?"

"You'll know it when you do."

"I see," you nodded your head and turned on your heel. Thanks for your very specific and useful information, jackass.

"Oh (Y/N), there's one more thing that I'd like to talk to you about before you leave," Corvin said.

"What?" You turned around.

"What are your favorite flowers?"

"Huh?"

"I'm asking so I know what kind of flowers you want for your bouquet, so what kind do you want me to get?"

"Doesn't matter." You spat out. Because I'm getting out of here.

"You sure?" He blinked, "Aren't weddings supposed to be the bride's big day?"

You ignored him and stepped out of the room.

"I guess I'll come back to that later," he said as you trudged away without sparing a second glance at him.

---

"Think, think, where would it be?" You paced back and forth in the front lobby. "Where would that fairy put it?"

If I didn't want a key to be found by anyone, where would I put it? Maybe on my person? If you had it on you, then it would be nearly impossible to find it since then the location of it would change as you go to room to room. But that would be too obvious!

You put a hand to your chin, the frustration bubbling in your mind growing stronger with each passing moment. You glanced at the locked front doors, it seemed that these golden doors were mocking your imprisonment. You threw your head up in the air and let out a wail before flopping down onto a nearby couch.

"Having trouble?" A croaky voice asked.

You looked up to see a crow with ghost-white plumage looking down at you from the banister. Its eyes were wide with curiosity as it tilted its head a bit to the right.

"W-what?" You blinked.

"Something seems to be bothering you. Care to tell a little old bird like me?" The bird stuck its head towards you to get a better look at your face.

"Well I'm stuck in this hell house of horrors for starters," you sighed.

"This house doesn't seem so bad," the raven remarked.

"That's because you didn't nearly get killed by some monster-ghoul-thing that was once human!" You groaned.

"Goodness! What happened?" It asked.

"I was in this really old and musty room an- and then this thing bust down the door and I had to kill it!" You exclaimed.

"Oh my, that must've been quite frightening." The corvid ruffled his feathers. "But why were you in that situation to begin with, if I may ask."

"It's because I have to play this game and win!"

"Why can't you quit?"

"If I forfeit I have to get married to the fairy that put me here!"

"That doesn't seem that bad," the crow shuffled a bit. "Especially since it sounds like that fairy you're going to marry sounds so handsome."

"Wait a minute...Corvin!?"

"Who else?" He chuckled as transformed back into a human, and leapt down in front of you. "Did you think this was going to be like a fairytale where some friendly talking animal would come to the downtrodden maiden's aid? Remember, one of the rules of this game was--"

"That no one is supposed to help me and to do this by myself," you rolled your eyes.

"Just making sure that you remembered," he sat besides you and fluttered his hand on your shoulder. 

You flinched at his touch and ducked away from him. The fairy's lighthearted smile turned into a small frown and he began to lean in closer to you. His eyes seemed to glow under the heavy shadow casted by his hat, reminding you of a hungry wolf.

"How many forms can you take, anyways?" You eyed him.

"Quite a number," he responded.

"That's very specific," you scoffed.

"Your sarcasm wounds me deeply," he said.

"And you're annoying like a crow that won't shut up." You shot back.

He put a hand over his heart, his face wrought with faux hurt. "How could you say that to me, my dear?"

"Because it's true, anyways standup."

"Hm? What for?" He tilted his head.

"Just do it."

Corvin stood up and you begin to pat down the sides of his coat and his legs, putting extra attention to the pockets. You felt nothing and sighed as the fairy looked at you with a smirk.

"Did you think that I would have it on my person?" The left side of his smile twitched further up.

"Not really, I just wanted to see if my hunch was right or not." You shook your head.

"I see," he nodded. "So where else do you think it may be, if not that?"

"I'm not telling you that!" You snapped. "Because then you'd try to find another hiding place for it!"

"Clever girl," he smiled wider, revealing his brilliant white teeth. "For a moment, I thought you'd be as foolish like the other humans I've encountered in my centuries of existing."

You didn't speak, knowing that he was probably trying to make you overconfident and use it against you. So you simply nodded your head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Well then," he sat back down next to you. "Have you finally given any thought about what kind of flowers you want for the--"

"No. Now shut up about it," you growled.

"How about the size of the wedding? Personally, I was thinking maybe at least half of the members of the court. Although I'm willing to do a smaller one."

You closed your eyes, fighting the urge to make a derogatory comment and shoved your hands in your jacket's pockets. Your hand felt something cool and you pulled it out. Shining in the chandelier's light was the emblem from the chest.

"That's for the dining room." Corvin said.

"Huh?" 

"It unlocks the dining room's door," he clarified.

You gave a slight nod of your head and put the medallion back in your jacket. Maybe there's a clue in there.

"And where's that?"

"It's on this floor, down one of the halls in the right hallway," he answered and stretched out his arms. "Anyways, I need to be somewhere right now. I'll see you again to see how you're holding up."

You watched as he went upstairs and ascended into the darkness above. You pulled yourself from the couch and began to walk towards the right hallway, your hand clutching the medallion.

---

Your feet were beginning to ache a bit after all of the walking that you've done. You watched carefully at each door that you passed by to see if it had an imprint that matched the shape of the dining room's emblem. The portraits and statues looked even more sinister than before, you could have sworn their smiles were smaller beforehand.

You looked away from the artwork and pulled your jacket closer to you. Remember, it's just some really creepy and egotistical artwork, not some horror game! 

You caught a glimpse of a macabre painting of the fairy holding a skull in his hands, as if he was admiring it like it was a fine jewel. However the painted eyes were facing you, as if it knew that you were looking at it.

Then again, given what has happened, I probably shouldn't put it past it that these stupid things are enchanted and would start chasing me down at any moment.

You flinched when a shadow darted from the corner of your eye. You turned around to see that the figure was gone, you clenched your fist and shook your head.

Calm it down, it's probably him trying to mess with you. Just focus on finding the dining room, finding the key, and getting out of here.

As you were about to turn a corner, you caught sight of a pair of oak doors with brass handles on them. Above one of the handles was a plate with the silhouette of the emblem imprinted in it. You stopped and turned towards the door. Taking out the medallion, you gently pushed it into the imprint. With a quick twist of your hand, the door was unlocked with a soft click.

Your shaking hand slowly wrapped around the crystal doorknob. The unpleasantly cold touch of it made a chill run down your back; and with a slow breath, you opened the door.