#i still have a lot to draw in/re-draw here but as a small change of pace i threw some colors on❗️

[wizardmarriage]

[sailoryooons]

Request: Alpha Yoongi x omega reader. Werewolves. Smut and fluff. Dom Yoongi and sub reader. Starting with non-sexual dominance like her kneeling at his feet. Then, kind of a fear/primal chase in the woods as foreplay. Smut. And then aftercare with nesting.

❀ Pairing: Alpha Werewolf!Yoongi x Omega werewolf! F. reader

❀ Summary: Your alpha wants to go on a hunt through the woods. Who are you to deny him?

❀ Word Count: 8,727

❀ Genre: A/b/o, werewolves, supernatural, established relationship

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: I have never used the word scent and smells this much in my life please forgive me for I have used it a million times, alpha/omega dynamics, Yoongi chasing through the reader for fun, light predator/prey play, sexually explicit content including unprotected sex (f. receiving), breeding kink, mention of ruts, oral sex (f. receiving) not a lot of foreplay, a ton of being in subspace and hormone drunk, reader is pretty much a pillow princess/borderline free use for Yoongi, a lot of slick and soft dom Yoongi/sub reader, hint at aftercare and nesting

❀ Published: April 11, 2023

❀ A/N: Hi okay so I re-wrote this like three times because every time I did it, I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of filling this request, but I think I finally have something that I am happy with! It went in a little bit of a different place, but I hope that you like it! I am super unused to writing werewolves and a/b/o and I had such a good time dipping my toe in - it’s something I want to write in the future where I have some room to world build and go crazy on word count hehehe. Enjoy!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Trees flash by you as you run, hands pumping at your sides, heart thundering in your chest. A pack of rabbits startle as you run by, bolting into their little dens. The earth is damp beneath your feet, still saturated with morning rain. You almost loose your footing more than once as you spring over a fallen tree, dry-rotted and full of ants.

The pine trees are packed tight, shafts of moonlight painting the forest floor in spotlights of silver as you run. The low-hanging branches catch you on your flight, needles stinging your skin but not drawing blood. Still, you snarl as a branch cracks under your barefoot, sending a sharp pang through your sole. 

You don’t stop, moving blindly toward the south of your territory. You don’t look over your shoulder to see where he is - you don’t need to. Even with a small head start, Yoongi is far faster than you are, and you swear the land changes at his command, putting tangled vines where you don’t remember them being, adding a hole to trip you up as you sprint through the trees. 

Yoongi isn’t magic, of course. He cannot change the lay of the land any more than you can, but he walks among these trees and hills every night. Plus, you’re frantic in your runaway, your human instincts bluring, somewhere between wolf and person. 

Run, little omega, Yoongi had whispered, pupils blown out, scent heady and hypnotizing. You’d only just come through the door to find him standing in the living room on the edge of pre-rut. Run and don’t let me catch you. 

Except Yoongi is going to catch you. You can hear the squirrels in the trees chattering angrily at him as he crashes through the woods behind you. He doesn’t have to be quiet - he is the top of the food chain here, he has nothing to fear. And neither do you, really. You’re a predator too, a wolf born and bred in these woods.

There is only a single thing you are prey to and he is laughing manically behind you as he hunts you down. 

Movement to your right catches your eye. Yoongi’s trying to cut you off, coming from the west of the woods to intercept you as you scramble south. You snarl and change direction, swerving southeast to put distance between the two of you. 

“Ah, come on, omega!” he hollers behind you, voice closer than you expect. You move faster, desperate to outrun him.

This far south of your house is a ravine. You know that if you slide down the side and run east, you’ll end up in Jungkook’s territory. A place your’e definitely not allowed to go, especially right now. You throw caution to the wind anyways, making a line for the ravine, singularly focused on making the slide down. 

You never make it, Yoongi slamming into your side and knocking you off your feet. You scream as you go down hard, but not hard enough to do more than jar your bones. Yoongi takes the brunt of your fall; you pressed against his chest, his back hitting the ground hard before he rolls. 

Gasping for breath, you claw at him, scraping to move from where he has you pinned. He laughs, catching your hands in one fist and slamming them above your head. His grip and the sound of him snarling your name has you snap to attention, going boneless. 

Yoongi is panting heavily against you, filling your space with his scent. Your eyes flutter as your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath. Every inhale has your sense flooding with Yoongi’s scent: pine and sage, edged with something heaver and muskier. 

Alpha near rut. 

It makes your head spine and for a second, your vision of him goes a little blurry. He lets go of your hands but you don’t move. He knows you won’t, pinned under the heavy weight of him as he straddles your waist, sitting on you. 

Blinking the heaviness from your eyes, you look up at him and it feels like the world stops. 

Yoongi’s round face is framed by dark, black hair. It’s a little damp with sweat, clinging to his brow bone. His feline eyes are sharp and wild, pupils dilated with the frenzy of the hunt. A single, dark scar mars his right eye. You used to feel a pang of guilt looking at it, a reminder of what being an alpha had cost him. 

Now, though, you think of it fondly. You’ve traced it hundreds of times with your fingers, know every smooth and knotted surface of the injury. Yoongi is beautiful with and without it, lips glossy as his tongue darts out to wet them.

“You smell so good,” Yoongi growls, leaning down. You hold your breath as he leans toward your neck, nosing the scent gland there. Stars burst behind your eyes and you shiver underneath him, let out a whimper. He laughs, the sound low and scratchy in your ear. “Could smell you all the way from the house.” Yoong’s hands runs down your hips, skirts your thigh, and slips between your legs. He presses his fingers against your jeans. “Could smell this perfect little cunt for miles.”

A high-pitched whine leaves you as Yoongi presses harder, fingers providing the barest amount of friction. The ache between your legs is growing painful, your stomach twisting in arousal in response to the smell of him, the touch of him. An omega responding to their alpha in pre-rut, nearly on the brink of instrictual frenzy. 

Forming coherent thoughts is difficult, especially when you’re mind is in a state that’s more wolf than human. That’s the struggle with werewolves, toeing the line between human and animal. Instinct and choice. Your body does not choose to respond to him on a chemical level, but you don’t mind. It’s Yoongi. Your Yoongi. Your mate. 

“I told you not to get caught.”

You huff, irritation stoking you. He mouths at your throat over your gland, making you nearly pass out. “You’re faster than I am.”

“That isn’t true.”

Yoongi distracts you with a wet, hot lick over your mating mark. You let out a loud moan, not even trying to hide it this time. He laughs as you squirm under him, silenced when he growls your name. “Is that true, omega?” He asks, mouthing at your jaw. You can hardly understand his line of questioning as your thoughts and feelings blur. “Am I really faster than you?”

For a few moments, you don’t respond. Everything feels heightened, the sound of Yoongi’s voice buzzing against the corner of your mouth as he brushes his lips across your skin, not kissing you exactly. You’re hyper-aware of the smell of him, threatening to drive you into madness. Feel the way his hips press to against yours. 

“Omega.” Yoongi’s voice is final. 

“No,” you admit. “You’re not faster than me.” 

“So you let me catch you?” 

“I thought about it.” Yoongi nose bumps yours. Your eyes flutter shut as his mouth barely touches yours and you speak against his lips, “But then I decided I wanted to win.”

“And you were running to Jungkook’s hmm?” You wince and he hums, knowing he’s right. “Bad omega. Little wolves running into another alphas territory while they’re being hunted isn’t a very good idea, huh?”

“Would you have followed?”

“Of course I would. You’re mine. I would follow you into a fucking fire. Little Jungkookie’s territory is nothing.”

It’s a simple declaration, but you know what it means for an alpha to boldly claim he would enter another wolf’s territory, to break a line of demarcation. You can’t help but smile, leaning your head upward to press a kiss to his lips, hungry and tired of running from him. 

Yoongi lets you, though you feel the shape of a smirk through the sweet taste of his mouth, warm against yours. Yoongi sinks his hips heavily against yours and you moan into his mouth, spurring him further. Your hands remain where he left them, outstretched above your head as he licks into you, no longer content to let you kiss him the way you want. 

His kisses consume you. He takes your breath away, hand leaving the apex of your thighs to snake up your front, loosely gripping your throat. You feel dizzy. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t do anything but rest his hand at the base of your neck, fingers pressed lightly to the sides of your throat. 

It’s comforting, having him smother you like this. You get lost in the wet tangle of his tongue, your skin burning up from the inside out. He rolls his hips into you, but it’s not enough. You need him, a fire sparking to life that burns hotter than you can manage.

A feverish need comes over you. Yoongi senses the shift. His kisses turn to bites, teething gently at your skin as he works you out of your clothes. You still haven’t moved your hands and when he glances at them, he grins. 

Your eyes are only for him, shrouded in darkness as he pulls your pants down, then your shirt. Your eyes are sharp in the dark, able to see the rippling muscle of his arms and shoulders. The dusty nipples, the swells and planes of his chest and stomach. See the way his gaze is fucked out when he’s barely touched you, shuffling down your legs, hands skimming and grabbing the soft meat of your thighs. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes dragging from the wet smear down your thighs, to your hands above your head. You whine under his gaze and he grins, feral and sharp. “So obedient for me.”

“You like hands above head until you say so.”

“I do.” Yoongi bows low, grabbing your legs and hiking them over his shoulders. Your world spins, feeling his breath on your cunt as he makes a low sound in his throat. “Fucking wet, just how I like it.” 

Yoongi licks a sloppy path up your pussy and you gasp, head digging back into the grass. It’s almost painful, the need for him pulsing between your legs. He hums, sucking at your clit hungrily. Your toes curl and you hide your face in your arm, the urge to squirm away from the stimulation strong.  

You’re an exposed wire under Yoongi’s tongue as he eats you out, messy and wet. He laps at your hole, eager to taste you, nose pressed against your clit, teasing. You whimper his name, thighs clenching, fisting your hands together as you fight to remain still. It’s nearly impossible, this stillness he’s asked of you. You want to reach down and thread your fingers through his hair, want to dig your nails in and scratch, want to pull him close and shove him away.

The sounds he makes are obscene, alternating between sucking loudly and flicking his tongue against your throbbing clit. It’s pleasure-laced pain. You want him to fuck you, to sink into you as deep as he can until you can’t do anything but take it. But you like this too, the way Yoongi’s tongue works your clenching hole.

A high-pitched keen leaves your mouth. He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded as he sticks his tongue out, making a show of licking your cunt top to bottom. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as you mumble his name, speech slurred. 

“Hmm?” he asks, grunting against you as he works you closer to an orgasm, which hovers in the distance. He looks up at you again, sees the tears lining your eyes. “You can touch me,” he murmurs, saying the world between lush licks between your folds. “Greedy omega.”

And so what if you are greedy. Yoongi gives you everything you want. He makes a grumble about it, rolling his eyes and sometimes acting like it’s a little inconvenience, but you know he loves it- loves this. Loves letting you get away with things when you ask sweetly.

Yoongi’s hair is silky and a little sweaty as you run your fingers through it, nails scratching at his scalp the way he likes. His moan is muffled against your pussy and you wriggle beneath him. It feels so good, your stomach in knots. Your limbs begin to tingle and you feel that tight, squeezing feeling in your core, clenching hard. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dig your nails into Yoongi’s scalp and he growls at the pain. You think your breaking skin, nails turned into claws, limbs shaking as your orgasm tightens and tightens until it feels like you can’t breath, like the world is going to crack in half. 

And then it breaks. Your orgasm floods out of you in a rush, your muscle spasming so hard that you scream. Heels digging into the dirt, fingers tangled in Yoongi’s hair, head whipped to the side, cheek pressed into the ground and eyes squeezed shut so hard you see colors exploded behind your eyelids. 

Heavy-limbed and feeling drunk, you drop your legs open a bit. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips, flipping you over. You don’t have the strength to hold yourself up, hands buckling under you, face pressed to the back of your palms. He says something that you can’t hear, your head still swimming in the clouds. 

Every one of your joints feels melted, unable to lock together to support your weight. It doesn’t matter. Yoongi does it for you, lifting you up so that you’re on your knees, thighs spread wide. Air cools the wet mess on your legs. You realize you’re dripping past your knees. 

Yoongi’s palms feel like fire on your flushed skin. He wraps and arm around your waist, pulling you back to his chest, the other looping under your arm so he can grab your neck firmly. This time, he does squeeze, fingers placed perfectly on the sides of your throat. 

Everything around you feels like cotton candy fuzz, fluffy and sweet. Your head lolls back, resting on his shoulder as his teeth find your shoulder, nipping your skin. Behind you, his cock slides gently between your folds, making you hiss. 

“Gonna fill up this pussy,” Yoongi murmurs. “Gonna fuck you full, yeah?”

You nod your head. “Yeah.” The word slurs on your tongue. “Please, want it.”

“You’re already fucked out from just my mouth, omega.” 

“So?” 

He chuckles darkly. His cockhead catches your clenching hole and you whine, hands going to clutch the arm on your waist and holding your throat. “Have you no decency, hm?”

“No. Yoongi please, it hurts. Please just - please.”

“Shhh.” Yoongi places a warm, wet kiss on your jaw. “I’ve got you. You know I’ve got you?”

Words are too hard, so you nod. Yoongi places another sweet kiss on your cheek before he shuffles and thrusts into you, smooth on the upstroke. You gasp, breath knocked out of you as he slides to the hilt. Yoongi’s cock is thick and though you’re soaked, the stretch is intense, your walls clinging to him in a vice grip.

Behind you, Yoongi curses. His hand tightens, and it gets just a little bit harder to breath. Slowly, he retracts before snapping forward again, stroke slow but hard. He groans, focused on setting a leisurely and smooth pace. Every thrust of his hips makes his cock hit deep, punching the air from your lungs. With his fingers pressing against your throat, it gets harder to take in more air, making you light-headed, the forest spinning. 

It feels so good, this blooming pleasure inside of you. Every time he hits your soft spot just right, you feel closer to madness. Yoongi squeezes your throat tighter. His skin is warm and sweaty, sliding against yours, the friction making your eyes roll back.

Yoongi’s teeth scrape your shoulder. Sink in just a little, not enough to draw blood, but you feel the sting. It’s good, pleasure-laced pain. And then he’s telling you to let go, to come around him. You deny your alpha nothing, eyes fluttering shut as you squeeze tight tight tight. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi snarls. You come so hard he has to stop thrusting, your pussy clenching around him with everything you’ve got. You’re not breathing, air stuck in your lungs, blood rushing in your eyes, stars behind your eyes. “Breathe,” Yoongi pants, letting go of your throat. You suck in a sharp breath of air, flooding your lungs. “That’s it. You can take it, yeah? Can take it til I fill you up?”

“Yes, alpha.”

It’s a mumble of words. You’re not even sure if it comes out right. Yoongi holds you to him, doesn’t mind that you're boneless. Your fingers thread his where his hands grip you, squeezing as your head cradles against his neck. You nose him there, drawing all sorts of feral sounds from him as he chases his orgasm, driven to the edge while you scent him. He comes with a loud sound, maybe your name or something else. You’re not sure. 

Yoongi smells like home. Well - smells like earth and come and sweat and trees and pheremones. But his smell is there, pine and sage. Wild and gentle. Earth and cleansing. You love the smell of him, you have since you met him. 

“Rest.” Yoongi’s voice sounds faraway. “I’ve got you.” 

Weightlessness takes over. You don’t remember moving and you don’t remember Yoongi pulling out of you and picking you up. You’re drunk off his scent, hormones throwing you over the cliff and into a deep lake, where you float aimlessly. Comforted. 

Soft sheets slide against your skin. You turn your face and breathe in, smelling Yoongi everywhere. It’s warm and you smell you too. Rosemary and mint. Your scents linger together, making you feel at home. Loved. Safe. 

Something jostles you a little. You slow-blink an eye open, realizing you’re at home, tucked into the corner of your room you like to use for nesting. Blankets of Yoongi’s are piled eye and there are shirts and hoodies that belong to him. Some shirts that belong to you. Things that remind you of the two of you, that feel like you both. 

Yoongi is tucked behind you, breath puffing against your ear. His eyes are closed when you curve your head to look at him. “Sleep,” he rasps, not opening his eyes. “And thank you for the hunt. I’m not done with you. But I’m tired.” 

You smile and close your eyes, drifting to sleep in the safety of Yoongi’s arms.

[vanessagillings]

I love your art so much!!! I've also been starting to paint with gouache, and I'd love to know a little more about your process! What kind of paints do you use, do you sketch first or start with paint, do you paint in layers over several day or all at once?

Hi and thank you! I hope you don't mind me answering this publicly and apologies for length, but:

MY ART PROCESS!

Supplies: I use winsor and newton gouache and arches cold press paper blocks, usually 140 lbs (the lime green ones) and sometimes 300 lbs (the teal green ones). Even though this paper comes pre-stretched in blocks, I actually take the sheets off and stretch them myself because I've found arches' glue isn't as strong as it used to be. This is how you get watercolor paper to lay flat! I recommend youtubing some videos on how to do it -- there's a lot of great tutorials out there. Also, I use princeton brushes, and kraft paper tape and these boards to stretch my paper. (these aren't affiliate links, I just shop at blick)

A word about art supplies: these are the exact tools I use but everyone uses supplies differently and two people with the exact same supplies might get different results! A lot of it is about what works for you and what you like, so I always suggest that gouache/watercolor beginners just buy a few tubes from a couple of different paint companies and some small pieces of paper from different manufacturers to see what you like. Just changing one ingredient in the above has created massively different results for me, but maybe that'll end up being something you'd like! The first step in learning a new medium imo is to play. Just have fun!

ALSO: gouache isn't super light permanent, check your tubes for which ones hold up to sunlight. Here is winsor and newton's color chart explaining which ones will fade when exposed to sunlight -- all manufacturers will give you this. I only use the colors rated A and AA, and I still frame my pieces with UV glass just to be safe. Not all gouache is re-wettable, but winsor and newton is. I just put it in my palettes and refill my palettes if it runs low. AND SOME PAINT IS TOXIC. A lot of paints have cadmium and cobalt in them. I don't use any of the toxic colors, but if you do, make sure you don't eat while working and wash your hands thoroughly afterwards. This information is also usually available on manufacturer's websites. As more people are rejecting cadmium paint, you'll see more tubes labeled things like cadmium-free yellow. This is why. More artists should be aware that their tools can be dangerous. You don't need that many tubes of paint to begin, just a warm and cool red, warm and cool yellow, warm and cool blue, white and black. I have around 50 colors and use 20 regularly. I always mix all my colors myself, and never use straight tube paint. Most of my colors have about 5-6 different tube colors mixed together. If you use re-wettable paint a tube of paint will last you years; even as a professional I only buy new paints every 5 years or so.

Process: I ALWAYS start with a sketch first. Not everyone has to, but because I do illustration work -- where sometimes a client gets input on a drawing -- I always do a lot of preliminary work before I even begin to paint. At this point, even my personal work usually involves the exact same process:

I start with a 3" or so thumbnail that I scan (left; I traced it quickly digtally for clarity to myself here) and then either clean up digitally or print out and clean up traditionally with tracing paper (right):

Then I scan the cleaned sketch in and color rough it digitally (left, this was for a gallery show, so no one had to approve my color roughs, so it's messy!) then I transfer my sketch to my paper (with either carbon transfer paper or a light table), stretch my paper, and paint (right):

I obviously changed my mind about the color of the ribbon in the trees, ha, and made everything a lot more vibrant. The benefit again of gallery work is no pre-approval!

You are correct, I paint in a series of washes, going from lightest to darkest, where I apply the same color beneath all shapes that are the same warmth (cools under all upcoming cools, warms under all upcoming warms). I paint a piece usually in one or two days, depending on complexity. I didn't take pictures of the above painting, but here's a different painting to show you a little bit what I mean:

I painted the peach color under everything (and twice for skin tones), and the gray color of the sky under everything that would be grayish (the rocks, trees, her pants, her skirt, and coat). I do this to stop me from getting darker lines where two different colors butt up against each other, and also for color harmony. I have step by step photos of this in my process stories highlight on my instagram; also check my FAQ and tip highlights for more info on all this stuff. Most pieces take around 25-30 washes before I start adding in the details (sometimes I add in face details early though because if I mess those up it's not worth finishing the rest of the painting! 😅)

All this might seem like a lot of work (...it is) but I do it so that I can show clients previews of the final piece and so I don't have to repaint the finals. I also used to pre-test all of my washes on scrap paper like this:

I still recommend doing this if you're just beginning! But at this point I only do it when testing techniques because I know my paints really well. (the above was my test for the pine boughs in this piece)

Painting by far is the longest part of the process, so I do more work up front to not have to do it twice. Every piece takes about 6-24 hrs of actual work time to produce. Stretching watercolor paper takes about 24 hrs to dry, and because I sell most of my originals in galleries, they need to be flawless, so planning ahead is useful and in the end saves me time.

And to conclude this novel of an explanation, don't be overwhelmed by all the information I've given you! I put it here so that people at various stages of their artistic journey can maybe find something useful in it. But seriously, the first step to learning how to paint whether it's traditionally or digitally is just to have fun. Try it out, see what's working and what isn't, and then try to solve specific issues that you're struggling with. I've been doing this for a loooooong time at this point, but here's my first watercolor piece from when I was re-teaching myself how to paint traditionally nine years ago:

Obviously, I was destined for greatness. Ha, yeah, no. If you scroll back through my tumblr archive, you can see me learning how to use these paints in real time. And keep in mind that I'd been working digitally for years before then, and years before that where I didn't post my work online at all.

So for anyone who needs to hear it: there's no such thing as talent, just hard work, patience, and trying again and again and again...and sometimes again. What I do is a skill and anyone can learn it. Sometimes, progress is slow. I'm 38. I only really feel like my art was half-way decent starting a few years ago, but I've been making art my entire life, and I went to art school at 18. 20 years later I'm kind of figuring it out.

The best advice I can give, whether it's about art or not, is find the thing you love so much that you'll keep at it even when you suck at it, because most skills you'll suck at to begin with -- and perhaps for a long time. I sucked at art for yeeeaaaaarrrrs. On top of the usual learning curve, I struggled with fine motor control and dexterity. But I loved it so much I kept trying every time I failed. If I can do it, so can all of you, no matter what stage of art you're at now, and no matter how old you are.

Anyway, thank you to those still reading this deep in. I wish you all the best on your artistic journey. Art can kick your butt sometimes, but it's also pretty dang rewarding 💛

[alavestineneas]

and if you are there, why do i feel alone in this room?

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, mentions of sa (!), blood and other parts of body, very non-healthy relationships chapter 1 - chapter 2 !this work is part 2 to the i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest! word count: 7,3k

author's notes: hi beautiful people! today, I have finally finished this chapter! be aware that this piece of literature is explicit and touches on some very heavy themes, including sa and child abuse. Please be mindful of it! As always, your opinions, suggestions, and critiques are welcome in the comments. Love you, and have a tasty read!

There are a lot of books stored in her memory, locked in the neurocytes safely. They are tucked into the cortex with love and tenderness that YN otherwise taught herself to suppress as a sign of her weaker self. But papers were non-living, so she felt like it was less dangerous for her to show warmth towards them; after all, if the objects can not acknowledge your love, does it really count as real? She read everything, mostly in an attempt to prepare herself for something she did not know the face of; she read to build the shield around herself, in desperate hope to be able to help at least her future self. YN read even now, although her foolish childhood desires were long gone, just to get a glimpse of the girl she was before the monsters escaped the pages.

The book she re-read the most was nothing special, nothing suiting the image she moulded herself into���a giant, relatively old encyclopaedia of animals inhabiting the furthest corners of Known Imperium. The letters inside, although faded a little, were left almost untouched by eyes—maybe it was what drew her in in the first place—to cherish something seen as unneeded. YN learned the small paragraphs almost by heart; she liked the idea of someone taking enough time to observe something as small as a roden to know its habits. She liked the idea of it happening to her one day. As it always is, it did not.

She chose her favourite animal without that much thought. Although even the notion of having something beloved was foolish, YN was made to choose; she and her sisters played the game of forest most often. The game was simple: pretend to be a creature you are not, forgetting the countless rules they had to follow. Pretending they have claws and teeth; pretending they can protect themselves not through intrigues and hidden motives but through open, bold force. Irulan was always a Katanga Lioness; she liked it because of the proximity to their house's symbol. YN did not; the grey pages of her beloved book described them as "observed to also scavenge on carrion of animals that were killed by other predators or died from natural causes''. What king of the animals steals the work of others simply to feed themselves? She did not tell Irulan that, of course—why would she?

YN chose a mountain lion for herself. Sure, she may have made a mistake thinking it was just another type of lion, but the game went too far to change anything, so she stuck with that. She even grew to love it—the drawing of the mountain lion on her character sheet, the way it prowled through the forest in her mind's eye. It had many names and many homes. Adaptive. Captivating.

She does not know why it came into her mind suddenly—maybe it was the dim light of the closed arena. The air circulated here freely, cooling through the complex systems of vents, even though it seemed to be deprived of any life—just a mechanical circle of the same molecules moving around her seated figure and returning to the hidden openings again and again. YN looked straight ahead; the two men were still sparring.

From her bench, they looked like one—two bodies moved so swiftly that one was unable to differentiate where the lines of their limbs ended. YN squinted her eyes; she was alone in the seating area, and still, she dared not move closer. The taller, thinner figure possessed skin so white it looked almost translucent underneath the cold light—YN wondered if she would be able to see the structures in his body through his clothed stomach. He moved well, almost too well for her not to press her lower row of teeth to the top one, hiding the tongue in a cave of pearl bones—she had hoped he was worse with his bare hands. YN had counted four hundred and five seconds before he made a mistake in his steps; it was a lot more than her own results, but for a man, he was good.

Feyd-Rautha had style; she had to give him that. He fought like a serpent would: calculated, precise. His fists knew the most effective targets, and his legs knew how to escape the blows of his opponent. If YN was to guess, he relied on muscle memory less than a usual fighter would, preferring to dwell in the moment instead. It made for a good show, sure, but it was not practical. She smiled to herself; of course, the na-Baron could not know what the real battle was like. How unfortunate for him—how delightful for her. YN still can't believe he let her watch his training every morning—was he really that stupid not to realise her motive? Was he too confident to consider having weaknesses?

Regardless, she saw what she needed to do - for three hours every day, she set unmovingly on the third bench in a small fighting ground, imprinting his every move in her mind. There are so many moves you can use and so many tricks you can do before she learns them all. YN did not care for the cold gaze thrown in her direction when Feyd-Rautha collapsed on the ground, taking a moment to rest before lurching onto his opponent again. She can wait.

Mountain lions are stealthy predators.

-

The days she spent here changed into months, their slow steps morphing into each other until time became a blur, a concept she did not grasp. Feyd-Rautha was a hard one to warm, but before she would mould him into something she wanted, YN needed to heat his DNA to a certain magnitude; otherwise, he would simply break. She would've gladly accepted this turn of fate too, but right now, keeping na-Baron alive is far more convenient for the Bene Gessarit. For her.

A concubine. A slap in the face: it seemed like life was determined to dissolve the small bits of her dignity in its endless pool of secrets. She was not a wife to Harkonnen na-Baron; no, she was to be his whore. If she was not too tired, she would've felt a pang of fear on her rising with oxygen lungs; a concubine's position is even lower here compared to one of a lawful wife's. YN remembers the words of her teacher as she prepared her for the union: Harkonnen concubines are killed after their first night in a position; if one is lucky enough to escape the fate by being with a child, she bears him until it's time for the baby to be born. One of the greatest honours for a Harkonnen is to take the life of his mother as soon as he enters the world.

She was to join na-Baron for breakfast today—a proposal YN waited long to receive, but part of her wishes she never did. It was worded like an invitation; YN knows it was not. Harkonnens rarely spoke when they did not give orders—a creature of habit, she supposed. So, she did what she had to: follow the slave to the chambers designated for the meal. The hem of her dress shone with a colour so foreign to the fort around her; YN needed to make herself stand out. Men are much like children, she learned—the more colourful the toy, the more likely they will want to play with it.

The walls were heavy here. They didn't bend in the shapes she was used to, preferring to stand tall. They didn't have to hide their strength underneath a complicated facade—quite the opposite. They paraded it, wearing it like the honour it is. Staying unremorsefully unbending. Maybe it's the air or a different measure of gravity; maybe it's her habit of soaking up the surroundings and letting them poison her insides, growing rotten in between the folds of her stomach tissue, but her legs are metal, stone-cold, pulling YN deeper and deeper into the floor. She tries so hard to ignore the three creatures in the corner.

They are hairless, much like the man in front of her, and dressed in matching black. YN would've mistaken them for Harkonnen royalty if it were not for the iron collars on their necks and the glowing black eyes that seemed to follow her every move. She would've been happy to have some company and not be forced into solitude with na-Baron if it were not for a still convulsing body on the floor. A body she did not recognise, but it could've easily been her own.

The creatures seemed to enjoy the involuntary moves of the soon-to-be corpse; they closed their eyes in delight and bared the sharp, black-coloured teeth in sheer pleasure as they lurched into the white flesh. They ripped it apart with only their hands, not bothering to use the prepared knives for more than a big incision from head to stomach. The sounds of chewing and gnawing filled the room, echoing off the walls and sending electric impulses down her body. YN was used to the metallic smell and the bright colour of arterial blood, but this was not a simple death. It was a show, and she was the long-awaited watcher.

Feyd-Rautha seemed unbothered by the sight near him. His hands, covered in thick streaks of blood, were deep to his elbows in the body. He dissected the corpse with precision, his eyes focused and his grip steady. He looked calm, even peaceful. Na-Baron was in good humour today. ''I must say, your arrival has graced us with much more than just the dowery; nothing could've made this union more auspicious—such a rare bird you are, daughter of our generous Emperor. A princess, yet treated no better than a common slave.''

Here it was: the thing she was thinking about all the way to this strange, garbage planet in the dress that pokes bleeding holes in her abdomen with each glass she downs. From his lips, it sounds even more bitter; even savages found the way the Emperor sold one of his daughters so easily strange. "Both of our houses have traditions far beyond our understanding," YN shrugs, scaring her thoughts away like annoying flies. Here, in a room so far from the comfort of her home, they moved too fast, bringing nausea to her throat.

She is here to secure the bloodline of House Harkonnen, to ensure the balance needed in the Imperium. YN does not notice how suddenly her gaze darkens or how tightly the hands that rested on the chair are now holding the pleated velvet of her ruby-red gown. Oh, the baby. The tiny creature inside her womb, the future head for the Baron's crown to be placed upon. The yet unconcieved child she could not feel love for. She was given no other choice but to risk its life before even giving it a chance to obtain its gift.

''Then you will find my present to be quite fitting.''

YN watches in silence as na-Baron reaches inside the rib cage of the corpse. He reaps out an organ with one swift motion, almost like plucking a harmful sprout from the garden. The organ is broun and rosewood, a weird mixture of shades that make it harder for her to focus on anything but the thing in his large hand. The gift he meant to give was a human heart.

She feels his walk long before she sees a figure departing from its place at the table; she guesses the end point of his manoeuvres too easily. It's almost funny—a cruel, senseless joke; how obvious the slight tremor in her hands is; how heavy her eyes become at the sight of Harkonnen black. The body positions itself near; if she squints, she can hear the hot breathing somewhere between her shoulder blades. His hand snakes around her neck quickly, positioning the organ right in front of her mouth. YN can detect the smell hitting her nostrils before she closes the receptors in them. She wants to scream, but the notes die in her throat. Who would she scream for? She hears the creatures hiss and whisper—the heart is a good part, from what she can make out. It did not need to be wasted on people like her.

''Will you not accept it?'' Feyd-Rautha's words are mocking, but his dark blue eyes stay virgin to the laughter. They drill small spots on her neck from behind with such force that YN can almost feel the burnt smell of her sweat-covered skin.

She takes a breath. Her own heart shrinks, its vessels beating with intensity twice as much as needed. Still alive, she notes absently. Still breathing. The feeling is natural and easy; the forced calmness in her body tingles the muscles, braiding her nerves into a pattern similar to the netting. Then, she opens her mouth.

"If I shall lick the blood of your hands, Feyd-Rautha, dare to make it your own."

That's it.

Maybe the Emperor was right to spare her none of the Sardaukars and a quarter of her dresses. She did not need more; she was not expected to survive long enough to use half of her clothes. YN chucked under her breath. Dead over diet preferences—how profound.

After a moment, the pale face behind her also twists, allowing the blackened teeth to escape the grip of thin lips. Like this, na-Baron looks less human and more like the evil he was said to be. He throws the heart to the creatures—they catch it greedily—and places a bloodied hand on her shoulder, the droplets of crimson going unnoticed on the brightly coloured cloth. ''Very well, then. Let us eat.''

YN nods. She looks around almost instinctively; nothing could make her eat a thing after the sight she just witnessed, but she refuses the na-Baron once; she is not about to do it again. The food is a lot, but her plate is almost empty: only a small amount of salad is here, sadly staring into the hunger in her eyes and a now featherless creature in an unnatural pose, suggesting its non-poetical death. The bird is small, almost delicate; its wings are pitifully glued to the body. YN does not want to let her mind draw the comparison, and does not allow her brain to admit a direct analogy; she dissects the bird with a dull knife and puts a piece in her dry mouth. The creature tastes good—almost too good to be expected in this brightly lit hall.

Most often deer is the mountain lion’s staple diet. However, they can survive preying on small animals as well.

-

The night covers Giedi Prime rather quickly; it never lingers, politely waiting for its masters to finish their daily affairs; it hits like a coward, from behind, trapping those not careful enough to hide before its arrival. The harsh, toxic waves of lazy winds hit the walls of the halls coldly lighted with a few sphears; they look like deep forest clearings, forming a system of endless options, ultimately leading to one, inevitable, end. His work chambers aren't big; he does not visit them often for them to be. The solitary metal desk before him is filled with letters, drafts of laws, and official documents, all waiting for his approval. It exhausts Feyd-Rautha to no end, the sheer stupidity of most of the advisers here; almost half of the documents were riddled with errors and inconsistencies. The forever present in his head dull migraine grows stronger when he opens the shortest letter; he almost busts his skull open when the pain heavies.

He ponders too much—the type of thoughts you can feel running on your tongue but never escaping. He is not used to being in the mist; all of his life is so painfully contrasted that no doubt of its nature can survive the sharp edge of his mind. There are things he can escape—forget, even—but some linger in his ribcage too long for them to vanish. Soon, they grow into his lungs with small, unbreakable threads, becoming him. He used to try to get them away from his heart, as if it held some value. Now, he is smarter, older, and more indifferent, he lets them pierce yet another piece of human flesh with no sorrow.

Of course, he remembered her face. The same face that haunted his sleep ever since she dared to appear before his eyes. Feyd-Rautha, naturally, found her little frolic that day. He spent an entire evening studying her work, analysing every move she could've made with her blade to achieve such outcomes. Sure, some things he would've done differently, but the sheer brutality of an animal he would not have guessed the girl possessed charmed him. Feyd-Rautha was a proud man, but he, too, held a love for beautiful things. For that, he hadn't told the Baron of the sight he discovered in the reading room. For that, he is now willing to pretend to believe her eyes when the fear fleshes in them.

Feyd-Rautha curses; she sickens. Like a bone stuck somewhere down his throat, not letting him live without a pang of mocking. She lurks, and whispers—Feyd-Rautha wants to smash her pretty head against the wall just to reveal the secrets she hides from him so he can finally understand the hold she retains. He is no stranger to the desire to own, or devour, but the fear in the back wall of his stomach is an alien in his body. He tries to hide it—to paint over it with anger or violence—but it remains a constant presence, gnawing at him from within. It's no use; the woman is a shark, designed to sense the fright. Maybe that's what brought him in in the first place—the steel eyes so similar to his own in a narrow hall all those years before. Maybe he was so used to the danger that he craved it subconsciously, looking for it to make him feel like himself again. A reoccurring childhood nightmare he can't escape; he doesn't want to escape.

Feyd-Rautha finds the chair to put his weight on and waits until the tingling, spinning sensation spreads from his temples down his neck, finding its way into his bloodstream and passing his organs one by one, until none are left uncorrupted. Of course, he expects it. The woman slipped into his brain and now chews her way into it like a parasite downs the rotten body. He knows he should be terrified, but instead, he feels a strange sense of relief. Feyd-Rautha can hear the whispers of his own mind fighting to remain the only owners of the secrets and desires buried within. He feels his eyelids heavy; a second later, the whites of his eyes are staring at the ceiling, the blue eye lenses dissolving in light.

Water. The first thing he feels is ice-cold water dripping onto his face, filling his lungs, and sending a shock through his arms. This body does not feel like his; it's too small, too narrow. His eyes are trying to adjust as fast as they can, jumping from one blurred spot to another until finally catching a glimpse of the surroundings. His brain does not have time to process the picture; his nose is filled with fluid again, and his open mouth is gasping for air but only taking in more liquid. He tries waving his hands around, but the stronger grip is firm on his nape, pulling him further down into the depths. The hand yanked him out just as he was about to fall into darkness again, the sound of water changing to loud screeching.

''How dare you hit me, devil child? Let the water wash away your dirt. Repent; beg for forgiveness for all of your rotten nature.''

The voice is unknown to him; it is harsh and filled with fury. The woman's face is twisted in anger; splashes of water on it match his. He can't tell if they are from his antics or tears. The woman's grip tightens, her nails digging into his skin. The black clothes on her figure make her status known - a Bene Gessarit witch. Feyd-Rautha tries to lurch forward and hit her back, but her strength is overwhelming. He feels panic coursing through his veins instead of oxygen—a sensation he did not think he could experience anymore. He wants to bark a response to show her that he is not afraid, but his voice catches in his throat.

Feyd-Rautha has no time to wonder what the woman wants; she brings his face to the bathtub again, and he opens his mouth involuntarily, frantically begging not to do it anymore. He says everything she wants to hear; he cries out and promises to wash his sins away. The voice does not sound like his at all. He is desperate to end this nightmare now, but some force holds him here. The woman is not satisfied; her ears are deaf to his pleas.

His face ends up on the water surface a moment later, his nose hitting the wall of the bathtub as the woman holds him down. He feels his body go limp with utter horror; this time, the shouting woman won't stop. Her voice grows quieter, replaced by the sound of small waves hitting the brim and spilling; from right to left, the water turns red, and his tongue tastes the iron he knows from sliding blades into his mouth.

''Echidna, what the fuck are you doing? Let her go; she is going to choke!''

''Get that spawn to me, for I will not let her ruin my life anymore! I must finish what I have started!''

Feyd-Rautha's head is filled with oxygen once again; his lungs take a desperate breath in, sending too much air to his blood system. He falls on his back, the world spinning. He does not care for the weeping woman in black or the chaos unfolding around him. His only thought is that everything is finally done and that the white floors are a magnificent place for drops of liquid to fall from his normally bald head's waterfall of hair.

He wakes up suddenly, the sensation long gone. His steps are heavy again; the body he inhibits no longer feels like a cage. The voices have left him for now, and the only thing on his forehead left is small drops of sweat and a pathetic, frightened, beating heart. The cold breeze from the darkened sands surrounding the city wishes to prove otherwise—it heavies and plants its spikes into his reddened cheeks. The horizon gleams at him, almost taunting; not a single star is to be seen under the imposing clouds. He will kill her; maybe he will even enjoy it. Feyd-Rautha can handle a lot, but not the shame of being seen. Not the guilt of being caught wanting.

There are only three ways to hunt a mountain lion: tracking, waiting in ambush, and with dogs.

-

The gliding motions of heavy fabrics across the wooden floors created a strange pattern of a song now centuries old. Here, in a room so long that the wind travelled through the hollows, her careful steps seemed to almost fall silent. Nothing was there for the preying eyes to see. YN closes her eyes; with that, even for a moment, the world stays still. She knows where the hollow staircase will lead her; she feels it in her stomach with every step she takes. YN knows nothing about the future, but the past lives deep in her memories, haunting her every move. She knows she shouldn't have done it. Travelling through one's mind is a sin she can't escape; she will pay the price for it in her blood, but the Bene Gesarit did not send her here to survive, so it's of no use to be afraid now. It makes no difference for the dead if you weep at their grave or not.

The burning sphere of light in the hall stops spinning; the doors open without any noise, although if the pounding eardrums had not stunned her hearing, she could've noticed the faint thuds. YN waits; there are no flashes of her happiest memories or the faces of her loved ones in her drained mind. No, in what seems to be her last moments, she thinks of what she could've been if the world had not given her a sword to turn into.

Feyd-Rautha appears in the hall; his steps aren't rushed, and his expression is stone-cold. She eyes him shamelessly: nothing. She sees nothing; she senses it deep in her crying bones. He drags her by the hair like a mother would with her misbehaving child; roughly, he pulls her towards the exit, his grip tightening with each step until the door behind them closes and her knees meet the cold ground with a nasty thud. The bruises will stain them soon, not that it matters now.

''You should've known better than to cross me,'' he hisses, his voice gruff. It's cold, chilling—the way his lips part to reveal a sinister smile. ''Now, you can think yourself vanished, little witch.''

YN does not answer—what fool would beg the deaf? The blade against her chin is sharp; she knows how attentive he is when it comes to inflicting pain. It pokes right into the Omehyoid muscle, a dull pain shooting through her body. If she has got to die, it may as well be from his skilled arms. How beautiful he is in the twisted pleasure he finds in her suffering. Unearthly, almost too perfect to be made of simple flesh and bone. Something was unnerving, unforgettable in the net of veins under his pearly skin; it was as if he were a work of art, meticulously crafted to bring physical pain and optical pleasure in equal measure. A silver glint under the defined cheekbones, a redness of lips filled with blood vessels. For a second, YN wonders what it would be like to bite into it, like an apple that lay too long under the golden sun; would the blood slip as generously as the sweet nectar? Handsome as poison, as a black sun on his forsaken planet, as death.

''Go on. Kill me, then; let me escape you once and for all.''

Under the deep sea of his eyes, something moved; his eyes dipped into her, part by part. Like the slow, deliberate dance of a predator stalking its prey, his gaze lingered on her, calculating and intense. YN lowered her head to push the knife a little deeper into the flesh. A strange thought lingered in her brain; she found herself on her knees in front of him, almost willingly. She has worshipped God all her life; who, if not her, can recognise his creation? The Devil. Lucifer. Satan. The man with horns so big they once touched the skies; a corrupt angel, fallen from grace so long ago he couldn't remember way back if he tried. They have warned her about him, but is it her fault that God has disowned her earlier than she could? Did it really matter to her, before whom to kneel, as long as she felt a sense of power and control in her submission?

All that mattered now was that he wanted to hurt her. He wanted her.

She sees the recognition flicker on his face. Caught. The blade slides quickly across her exposed neck, the blood sprouting out in a weak, painfully quick stream. Feyd-Rautha kissed her, biting her bottom lip till the stream of boldly coloured blood trickled down his chin. He did so like an animal would, baring his teeth and dragging them across the pulsating vein on her neck. YN's laughing cry echoes in the empty room; she is forced to admit that he felt good.

Never approach a mountain lion; most mountain lions prefer to avoid confrontations, so never approach them and make them feel cornered.

-

The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. The beautiful substance of her hair caught the light from the sun like a mirage in the desert, reflecting in his eyes with painful hits. The jewels, too, have found their way onto her clothes, but they were hidden beneath the layers of fabric. They shined brightly, impertinently, framing her figure in a glow that seemed to come from within.

To his surprise, the skills woman possessed spread out to politics as well, with her witch training proving useful in court. Feyd-Rautha did not miss how his advisors grew more uneasy when she entered the room, her careful eyes scanning their faces for even a hint of betrayal or deceit. Like a proud discoverer, he ached to share his new-found wonder with the blind audience, but something in him protested in a mare thought of showing the precious jewel of his eye to the cluster of unworthy. So, Feyd-Rautha did the only thing he knew how— all of his secret observations were done from afar, masterfully hidden behind the facade of casual indifference.

As he drags yet another blade across the surface of the whetstone, he thinks about her delicate hands on his neck, her ringed fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. It doesn't matter; YN is nothing of the sort. A concubine, a possession, a tool for pleasure and procreation—the Harkonnen way was simple.

''Are you done eye-fucking me now, or do you need more time with your blade?'' she sneers, her voice mocking. Only she could get away with such bold defiance in his presence, but she does not seem to care for the unusualness of it.

YN motions for him to come closer, her eyes studying the way his legs move. Feyd-Rautha has no control over them; the steps make themselves. She plays the game very well; the chase fuels something primal within him. Thirst. Hunger. It was the Harkonnen training talking to him—the wild, ancient sensation taking over his insides and imprisoning his mind in a cage of helpless desire. It spread its tentacles down to his fingertips, nesting in his abdomen. He positions himself in front of her, his body betraying him as he leans in closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Feyd-Rautha's hands repeat the ritual almost instinctively, rolling the hem of her deep purple dress up to her waist.

''Stop for a second,'' she whispers against his ear, her breath warm and inviting. ''Can I give you a piece of advice?''

Feyd-Rautha can feel the anger creeping into his body; he does not like to be refused. ''No,'' he grumbles, turning her around forcefully. "I don't need your advice," he snaps, his grip tightening on her arm.

YN does not seem to care for it. ''Don't do it. It will only lead to trouble.''

''What?'' He stops, his eyes narrowing as he absorbs the woman's words. The doubts that had lingered in the back of his mind suddenly grew louder, echoing through his mind. He releases her arm, his expression stoic. ''You are insane, woman. What are you talking about?''

''You know what I mean.''

The unease boils in his stomach. How could she know? He was careful not to slip anything; she wasn't able to cast her spells anymore either. But her knowing gaze tells him otherwise. ''You can not know the future,'' he pronounces.

''I don't need to know the future to see the truth, Feyd-Rautha. Your judgement is clouded by rage, and your mind is not as sharp as it usually is. You are not as invincible as you think you are.''

She is bluffing, he thinks. He hopes she is. Feyd-Rautha almost wished there was no cloth covering her face, nothing to hide her expressions as she lay beneath him. He catches her flamed eyes and the way they circle his face in one swift motion before settling on the ceiling above. It unnerves him, but he refuses to show it. She is no master here; she is simply a servant. That is not what power looks like, if he ever recognised one, and Feyd-Rautha knew power.

''Get out, now.''

Nothing was portrayed on her face as she curtseyed; nothing was there when she turned and walked to her rooms, leaving nothing but the ghost of the human body's warmth.

Mountain lions are more at home in brushy areas than in open prairies.

-

And then, he disappeared. Like the sound of the morning birds falling silent in the cacophony of voices of the city on her home planet, there was no trace of na-Baron in the entire Harkonnen fortress. YN thought she was slowly but surely going mad; no one but her noticed the usual place by the window empty, and no one but her seemed to care enough to know where he went. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. She looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, her eyes darting around the room in search of any sign of Feyd-Rautha's massive figure. Noon was dragged into the evening, and then night, for three, long days until she heard the long-awaited news: na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had tried to usurp his uncle and had failed.

She has told him so. A fucking brainless ram, with stubbornness bigger than his cock—why did he think he could outsmart the Baron? He will pay for his dumbness with his blood, perhaps even his limb—the thought brought nausea to YN's throat. She was lucky the Baron did not consider her important enough to be knowledgeable of such schemes; she lowered her head in the desert, hiding from the sand storms of Harkonnen politics; she waited for two long weeks until the announcement was made; Feyd-Rautha was forgiven. The celebration in honour of this news is to be today; she is to attend it. Not like his concubine, YN supposed, but more like the princess she still was.

Now, she took her time. YN chose a gown she wanted long enough to make even a tireless slave yawn, savouring each moment before their meeting. She was a victor now, in their small game of cat and mouse. He was a cat, but the mouse could still outwit him with grace and style. YN smiled at the wondering attendants; she looked good, and she was going to meet him.

The walk from her chambers to the Grand Hall wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The doors opened without a sound, revealing nothing but a mere celebration of yet another year under the reign of Harkonnens. The lines of slaves changed one another, the uneven circles of people dancing appearing and fleeing to the cheerful tone of strings. She was set somewhere between two Harkonnen lords she had no chance of knowing; she felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine as she tried to maintain a polite smile. Their gazes didn't look right; something sinister lurked inside them—hiding a secret she had no chance of knowing.

One of them turned to her, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "How are you finding the evening, lady YN? Or, what should I call you?,'' he mastered a fake confusion. ''Perhaps, darling? Concubine has a cheap wing to it; quite unworthy of a face so lovely as yours, don't you think?"

Dirt. The thing that crawled under her skin at his words was like dirt, making her feel unclean and exposed. She forced a laugh, trying to brush off his comments, the crown of her hair moving with muscles underneath her skin. "I am a princess, my Lord. Address me as such."

It would be enough every other noon, but today. The man's face twists, as if he just remembered something; he turns, the wine in his goblet splashing on the tablecloth. ''I think na-Baron wouldn't be too angry if I stole a princess for the night," he sneered, his eyes darkening with malice.

''Does it matter to you either way?''

YN watches as the smirk, so similar to Feyd-Rautha's, appears on the men's lips, although it doesn't feel the same. She fights back disgust as the man nods, biting into a hefty chunk of prey. His eyes, once focused on her, drifted away. YN chose to follow them; the string of fat streaming down the man's mouth onto the silver tablecloth made her nauseous. She looked from one unfamiliar face to another, until the cold feeling in her abdomen crept its way onto her chest.

There he was. His figure is unusually crouching as he sits on the podium reserved for members of the dynasty. The dark blue eyes are red now; the thin blood vessels in them are torn and emptied. His body seemed to suck the light out of the hall inside, casting a shadow over the room. There are no scars on his smooth face, but the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes spoke of a suffering that went beyond physical wounds. YN almost wished she saw him dead; whatever this was, it was surely much worse. He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers; something flickered in them before turning back to their empty state. Feyd-Rautha parts his dry lips to say something to her—she can't understand a word he draws with his breath.

From the place nearby, the Baron's voice booms, his low, almost whisper-like vowels mending into one. His face, covered with layers of skin and dead cells, twists into what was meant to be a welcoming smile—the corners of his paper-thin lips dance, lowering themselves only to jump higher, and his eyes travel from one corner to another, unable to be still even for a moment. He speaks of things YN knows nothing about court intrigue, power struggles, and alliances that shape the fate of their world, heavy with hidden meanings and unspoken threats. She does not listen until he gestures towards her, a scent of spice and decomposing flesh lingering.

''Sergeant Voss has served me well, and his loyalty at the right time is not to be forgotten. Here, I bestow upon him the highest honour of all; what was once mine, is now his. Do not let go of her if she screams, Sergeant; the girl is a fine one.''

No. YN almost does not recognise the hand as her own as the man drags her to the bed that appeared out of nowhere, freezing with horror as the people around her continue to watch in silence, their eyes devoid of any emotion or empathy. The tradition, she notes, is the one she learned so much about bedding in front of the entire court as a symbol of unity. She choked on her own tears as the man smiled at her pleas for help; they seemed to make him even more pleased.

YN looks, frantically, to the place she saw Feyd-Rautha sitting just a moment before. He would help; surely, he would not let them do it to her—his servant, his concubine, his. But the seat is empty. The scream echoing through the hall does not register as hers right away; he has sold her. For his own freedom, for a chance to be free from the consequences of his own stupid actions. Surely, the Harkonnens could not get rid of her openly—it would mean war—but she was not immune to the man who now owned her. His hands travelled her body with such audacity that YN wanted to cut them off—to cut her chest just so she could not feel the fingers digging into her skin. A sole reminder she was a woman first and a human second.

Mountain lions are solitary hunters.

The man undressed himself quickly; all of the soldiers were trained to do so. She should run; she should fight back, but the pair of unmoving hands pinning her wrists down was a stark reminder of her helplessness. The man lowers himself closer, his hot breath against her neck making her shudder in fear. She can feel him against her skirts; she can feel the weight of his body pressing down on her. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins; she will survive. Whatever it fucking takes, even if her body is bruised and broken, she will survive.

They prefer to ambush their prey from behind by swiftly and cleanly breaking the neck.

She bites—her teeth launch towards his cheek, feeling the warm flesh give way beneath her. She sinks them deeper, making holes big enough to draw blood. It's hot, and sickening on her tongue, but she does not have time for these thoughts; her next blow is in his stomach, with his knee jammed into his gut. She can feel his body convulse in pain, giving her a chance to throw him on the bed, his broad back facing her.

If they haven’t broken the neck, they will suffocate the animal.

There is nothing around that could serve as a knife; her captors made sure of that, and the sheets are too thin to wrap around his neck. She looks around the room, desperate for something to use, but the space around her is empty. YN curses as the man regains his composure and begins to struggle against her hold. Her elbow meets his nose with a sickening crunch, causing blood to spurt out. She takes a breath in; her hand wraps around his neck, forming a tight hold as she goes into the headlock. She chokes him, so desperately trying to live. And the man trashes against her grip, his white face turning a deep shade of purple before finally going limp in her arms.

Shame.

A thing that followed her after every life she took is now absent. Maybe the Giedi Prime's cruelty did have its effect on her; YN feels nothing but a sense of emptiness as she stands over the lifeless body.

''Do you have any more men to gift me to, Baron Vladimir? The night is still young.''

Her voice has changed. It holds a certain hiss now, a rasp that wasn't present before; it has matured and bloomed into half an octave deeper tone. It bites through the noise easily, cutting sharply.

The Baron laughs. His eyes gleam with amusement as he gestures towards the door. "Plenty more where that came from, my dear, but it's enough for today. Here,'' he throws something in her, a smirk ghosting on his lips. ''You've earned it.''

YN catches it and inspects the object in her hand. A small, golden broche catches the light, glinting in the dimly lit room. A head of the Bighorn ram stares back at her, the symbol of House Harkonnen. The taste of victory mingled with the metallic tang, leaving a bittersweet sensation in her mouth. Joy courses her veins—she isn't afraid. Finally, she is not afraid. Finally, she can look at her blood-stained hands without humiliation. Is it her fault she was born a better knife than a person?

Bighorn sheep are not a primary food source in most areas. However, when a lion does kill a sheep, they typically will continue to do so over and over again, until the herd is depleted.

tag list:

@oh-you-mean-me @juliskopf @moonsoulk @mamawiggers1980 @ashy-kit

[charlidos]

THE CHRONICLES OF THE CUNTYBAGO

I love the lore of the Fellowship, I can't get enough of it. And it's really turned into a kind of myth, hasn't it? The stories have been established, from being told again and again. Regardless if it's not the whole truth, or even not true at all. The lore has a life of its own. And it changes, depedning on who's talking, and over time.

The lore of the (inappropriately named) Cuntybago is a favourite; that famed make-up trailer bus where Orlando spent so much time with Viggo (hours and hours for years and years if you listen to Orlando) absorbing everything Viggo did.

So here's the Ultimate (very long) Cuntybago Post.

The Cuntybago is apparently where all the after-work parties happened. Most of what actually happened on it is still secret, private events not to be shared; after hours, after some wine/whisky drinking. What kind of special stuff was in the drawers? What did they really smoke? And, most intriguingly, who exactly was left onboard when everyone were ordered to get out... (Erm, V&O, perhaps?)I'm sure there are many more photos from the bus. Like a photo of Viggo & Orlando - which has yet to be seen. Oh, to have been a fly on that wall!

(A clip from the last day of the reshoots, in 2003. Because it's the time the bus has been talked about the most. Even if I'm unsure if this is the actual Cuntybago or not. Since it doesn't look green...)

Mortensen and Orlando Bloom spent much of their off-time on a green bus they named the "Cunty-Bago." Instead of the standard luxury lodging demanded by most stars on set, Viggo and co-star Orlando Bloom shared a converted bus while filming Rings. Viggo stocked the bus with a wine cellar and wallpapered the inside with candid behind-the-scenes photos. A source on the set said the bus was the site of frequent cast parties, with the motto, "Everyone is welcome, but when it's time to go, get out!" Indeed, they formed a club — The Cunty-Bago Club. [Viggo, Sean and Orlando] shared a make-up Winnebago, and through hours of beard and pointy-ear application formulated the rules of their society — most of which boil down to getting gossip and posting it on. [on what? I think the text is cut?]

There are very few quotes from Viggo. If you read his old interviews about life on set it sounds like he mostly worked 6 days a week, 14 hours a day. And in his free time, he went camping and fishing by himself and just drove around to get some me-time. That's it. It all sounds like mostly work and no play for Viggo. Cementing this image of him being ever serene, wise and a hard working method actor who never stopped being Aragorn. But then, we have the stories of this bus, which shows his wilder side...

(Viggo in ponytails, with a glass of wine and banana, in front of that mirror covered in photographs. They both took a lot of photos on set, so I guess a bunch of those photos are Orlando's.)

All Viggo's said is this:

"It was a crazy small bus." "Everything had cunt. It was 'cunt this' and 'cunt that'. We had a cuntmas tree, and we had cuntmas angels."

(Orlando on the makeup bus. )

Orlando has mostly mentioned the bus in passing, as he loves on Viggo, his great hero. And in his words, it always sounds like it was just the two of them... (when in fact it was from time to time also shared with Sean B, Bernard and Liv - but only Viggo & Orlando were there the whole time).

[Me and Viggo would] sit next to each other for a couple or hours each morning in a make-up truck. You get to know someone that way, more than by being in scenes with them. I used to sit next to him on the make-up bus, and find myself just staring at him while he was having his make-up done and drawing in his book or writing his notes. I would find myself fascinated. When I went back for re-shoots, I was on my own and he wasn't sitting there, and I suddenly was sitting in the makeup bus that we'd been driving around in for 18 months in New Zealand and got really emotional and felt that it was kind of weird to be there without him there and sort of reflected on all of the happy conversations and chats and glasses of wine and talks that we would have at the end of the day or whatever. He really had a huge impact on my life as an actor.

But he did say a few specific things too:

"Ahhh yes, the bus. It was mine, all mine. It was my precious." Bloom christened the bus the "C-word" when the makeup artist was fuming about someone and asked Bloom's advice. "You should kick him in the cunt and tell him to fuck off!" Viggo just lost it for half an hour. He kept saying, 'What did you say?' [The bus] became all about "the word. We took that word and took all of its power away. We made it the most loving word in the world. If you were a true cunt, you were the most amazing person in the world. It was a very free-spirited bus. It came about because me and Viggo kept being moved around, and we ended up on this bus one day. And the actors were fed up and we said, "This is it. This is our home and we are not moving. If they come, tell them to go away."

And finally from Orlando's IG in 2019 (obviously, to this day, a very important part of his life):

Our fondly named makeup bus, christened by Noreen my makeup artist and Viggo Mortensen, was, and remains in my heart and memory the most female and male empowered, joyful, disreputable and yet totally respectful place of work and creativity ever. Hours spent in the the makeup chair to apply ear’s and wigs and contacts." (They can't even agree who named it, Noreen never got any credit back then...)

(From the reshoots in 2003, Viggo gives Orlando some love and points out the photo message from Orlando on the mirror. But I want to know, who put up the pic of O with Brad Pitt? From this clip.)

The comments from everyone else in the cast about life on the Cuntybago are actually more enlightening. The rowdy gang reveal another side of life on set and of Viggo: as a drinking, partying prankster who loves crude language. It's definitely part of the fascination with Viggo. He's never one to talk about these things himself.

(I think they're wearing the special cuntebago t-shirts here. No idea from whence.)

Bernard Hill:

You are not supposed to know about it!" "There were five or six of us - Viggo, Orlando and Sean [Bean]. Liv came in and out [of the group]. Viggo has this special kind of crudeness that he is capable of. We were in the same make up bus [along with Bloom]. When I came back [from a break] it was called the Cuntybago. It was our private club. We had wine tasting sessions and had lots of parties. We also kept lots of food in there. Anything that was out [on the table], you could have. You could drink it, eat it, borrow it, smoke it… but don´t go looking in any drawers. That´s where we kept our 'special stuff'! [The Cuntybago bar would on occasion open very early] like 6:30am. There were days that we needed it. [I've made life-long friends with] everybody who was in the Cuntybago. Leaving the first time was such a huge wrench. Especially because of the Cuntybago, it was like our club. Fortunately we managed to get it back for Return of the king reshoots, so ROTK was the Return of the Cuntybago. We actually drove it out onto the streets for Viggo’s farewell. Viggo didn’t know we were going to do it, and when it started moving, you should have seen his face. I kept shouting, “Cunty libre! Cunty libre!” And the bus start leaving—we were breaking free. For propriety’s sake it was called the C-Bago Club, because you couldn’t put Cunty on the call sheet. Sean Bean came in, Liv was also a part of it. As soon as I get back to England I’m going to start the C-Bago web site: Orlando will do fashion and Viggo will do current affairs. I’ll probably do gossip — you know, the social calendar. Liv will do Hollywood and Sean Bean will do the art of war. It’ll be our little corner of the world.

(Bernard & Orlando Bloom getting make-up done. Here's the green bus again.)

Elijah:

Cuntybago is an amalgamation of 'Winnebago' and Viggo Mortensen´s cuss word of choice. I've gained an appreciation of the word cunt. Negative words - the best thing is to diffuse them by using and taking the meaning away. Cunt! Cunt! It's a great, great word. Very forceful. [Viggo] became utterly fascinated with it and it became the word of the film. Their Winnebago for makeup was called the Cuntybago. I was not a part of the Cuntybago unfortunately - it was the makeup room of Orlando, Viggo and Sean Bean - but it was a lovely place to visit. Cuntybago T-shirts were made up. There was a Cunty Christmas and we had a Cunty Christmas tree, all this stuff. Cate Blanchett [who plays the elf queen Galadriel] was deemed Her Cuntliness. I think we were all secretly jealous of the Cuntybago. I was anyway. I loved the atmosphere. Any place that had Viggo in the centre was always an interesting place to be… And that was where all the alcohol was. It was just spending all of that time with brits and Aussies. The word ‘Cunt’ came up quite a lot. I was fascinated by that and how it could become not so dirty. It’s one of the few swear words that still shock people." Is that why you called Cate Blanchett “Her Cuntliness? “Not my creation. She was called that by Viggo Mortensen. I put the blame on him. It was used during the making of the movie and seems a bit silly now. Wood says that his Cuntybago T-shirt is home in a drawer. "It's too big for me. I'm a small guy."

(A few photos up on the mirror in front of Viggo. I'm guessing it's Henry on the toilet (aww!), and Viggo and Orlando doing something something... Sharing a cigarette? Extinguishing a cigarette on Viggo's tongue? It looks kind of erotic. And who's the other dude?)

Billy:

"On Lord of the rings we'd go to Viggo and Orlando's trailer which was called The Cuntybago. Viggo was good for getting Irish whiskey, which was great but I keep trying to educate him on malt whisky. (To Billy it was just V&O's trailer. Like it's where they lived together...) Hobbits, an elf, a King of Men, maybe a dwarf. And quite a few times a wizard, sometimes a princess. Ha ha! That's enough to make anyone feel pissed. We had some good times on that one, some great times."

Peter Jackson:

"The actors had a spiritual connection to it. I liked the way they had photographs [Mortensen and Bloom] taken behind-the-scenes, plastered all over the walls."

(From the reshoots, I think. Beautifully blurry.)

Liv Tyler:

I can't believe he [Mortensen] talked about that. That was our private world. There was a lot of liquor on that bus. But the funniest thing about this bus is that this thing was a beast. It was so tiny; nothing worked. If they ever washed our hair it would go from scalding hot to freezing cold. There was no heat. Our makeup trailer became the center of things. It was given a really bad name that I cannot repeat. There were pranks, most of them also too dirty to tell. I love them all, all my costars. We would hang out mostly in the hair-and-makeup trailer, and after work at dinner. We would eat all the time and drink wine and laugh.  I think that a lot of that was the friendships that we made with each other and the fact that we all needed each other. It was vital that we all had each other to survive and to be able to laugh. Everybody had a really good sense of humor, thank God. We'd be constantly making jokes and decorating the trailer with ridiculous things and being rude and that was our sort of little bubble of escape in our makeup trailer.

(Photo by Liv, in the bus. You can see all the polaroids and stuff behind the unicorn elf.)

Cate Blanchett:

Viggo is the funkiest person I've ever met. I am far too polite to . . . he had this thing he called "the cunty-bago" . . . no, I guess I shouldn't go into that. So, yeah, he's incredible, very funny.

So, I can't quite figure out which bus The Cuntybago actually is: the green one Orlando is seen exiting? Or the yellow-ish one seen in the vids from the reshoots? Because they aren't the same. And in the vid from the final day, Bernard says the bus he drove on that last day was the same they'd had "for years" and which never moved before. While Orlando said they drove The Cuntybago around "for 18 months". So which bus was it? And did they drive the bus around or not? Or was it stationary? It's a mystery.

(This is the green bus - but is it the make-up trailer? Same as in the vid with Bernard.)

(Here in the reshoots, the bus is yellow-ish? And completely different. Looks more like a Winnebago than the green one really... So which one is The Cuntybago?)

ETA: it's the green striped one! Here's it's on the Cuntybago shirt:

That's all I have found about this infamous, mythical place, where all the magic happened, as they say. If anyone has info to add, please do! I want this post to be comprehensive!

[b3achysurfer]

I really wanna talk about this scene where “Logan saves Ashlyn” because I really believe it’s more than just that

I’m gonna be referencing mostly episodes 34, 35, 43, and 44 just in case you want to do your own digging 😋!

for starters I kinda bugs me when people brush this whole scene off as ‘Logan saving ash’ because 3 things:

1.) Logan saving Ashlyn didn’t really feel natural! mans was allllll the way in the graveyard, he was scared, it was dark, and he didn’t have any prior experience with using guns. but he still somehow did it in 1 shot. I honestly feel like that bit was so that he can’t be excluded from the later celebration and so that him being left behind had a purpose.

2.) ASHLYN WOULDVE SURVIVED WHETHER OR NOT HE MADE THE SHOT!!!!! if anything we’d probably learn a lot more about the phantoms if Logan had never shot his gun.

3.) I feel like Logan making the shot was suppose to distract us from the important lore aspect we see during the scene. we already know red loves throwing in foreshadowing and small hints for us. Especially when these hints get covered by other scenes so that we only notice them after we get the new information and we re-read old chapters. We can see an example of this in the same episode when Taylor offers to go see why Aiden was screaming and Tyler quickly takes action instead and sends her upstairs. it’s obvious that going back outside was the more dangerous option which is why Tyler told her she shouldn’t do it. But at the time many people brushed this off as Tyler caring about his sister as much as any brother would, and a part of his ‘jock/I’m bigger and better than everyone’ attuide seeping through. then later on in chapter 49, we learn about Tyler’s promise to always take care of Taylor and their mom, and we see how their safety is always his priority even if it’s to much for him. Taylor’s frown makes a lot more sense after we get this context.

Anyways what I’m trying to say is that I think Logan saving ash was suppose to draw away our attention to the whole reason he was even able to get the shot in the first place.

Ashlyn is convinced she’s gonna die here and this is her last effort to live. So very strong emotion. But pay attention to her voice box thing. It’s black and has the red streaks around it.

The phantom immediately pauses, as if it understands her. Also, it’s aggression vanished as soon as she spoke. This being LITERALLY TRYING TO KILL HER pauses and starts to question her!! In some twisted way Ashlyn can communicate with phantoms, or at the very least they can tell there is also a connection between her and them. This is literally so important and it’s not talking about enough. Even though no one has ever tried speaking directly to the phantoms before this, I do think this trait only belongs to ashlyn. For starters we already know that she has the strongest connection to the phantom world, and she’s the only one who can actually hear them. Her parents also said that they saw the phantoms after ashlyn was born. This is important for later on.

The only other time we ever see the black text bubble is here when Logan is mad (chapter 42) his shadow has also changed to his phantom world-self. Notice that even though his actions are connected to the phantom there is no red streaks next to his text box?

The fight obviously shows again that they affect the real world because their emotions and phantom and blah blah. This is all stuff we know. But hear me out! View their actions as if they are part phantom.

Ashlyn’s commanding them to do something while feeling strong emotions. Her text box is black with the red streaks again. Just like it was during the scene that ‘Logan saves her’.

And just like the phantom, all of them freeze and their violent behavior disappears. The fact that it’s all in sync and they all stop immediately shows that they didn’t just stop because their friend told them to. They stopped because Ashlyn’s commands have some strength to them. And remember earlier when I said think of them as part phantom? It makes sense why her commands would work, because it’s frozen a phantom before.

AND LOOK!!!! THEY SOUND JUST LIKE THE PHANTOMS! The fact that this guy doesn’t react to that statement means that his organization already knows this. They already know that the kids are partly related to the phantoms. Ashlyn’s especially.

I guess this can split into two ideas:

1.) Ashlyn’s becoming part phantom the fastest. And I don’t mean that she’ll eventually become a full phantom but idk how else to phrase it. Her words can already be understood by phantoms and they have enough impact to confuse and stop phantoms in place. The phantom tilting their head at Ashlyn was kinda like ‘how did you do that?’ .

2.) Ashlyn’s connection gives her semi-control over phantoms. This could be a skill she has to develop over time but the fact that her words were able to break that main cast out of their anger and brought them back into reality shows that they CAN listen to her commands. Either she’s not strong enough yet to control real phantoms or she can only stun them, ash was still able to communicate with the phantom.

That scene is such an important building block that people just brush over. I just don’t see a lot of people talking about the fact that Ashlyn can talk/control phantoms in a way. Or maybe she can’t and all of this means smth else but it’s still so important.

Also before ppl jump on me for saying Ash would’ve lived w/ or w/o logan:

Aiden was literally two seconds away from getting to ash. Plus the phantom was stunned. We don’t know if this hesitation would’ve lasted long or not, but it would’ve been enough time for Aiden to crawl to the top of the roof or for Ashlyn to kick it away. Ashyln was also in shock though so I’m not sure she would’ve been able to do much. But if Aiden saw the phantom on her he would’ve went crazy bro. Do not touch his girl ❌🙅‍♀️❌ All jokes aside though, we definitely would’ve learn more about the connection between Ashlyn and phantoms if Logan didn’t shoot. Not blaming him or anything but I’m just saying.

ANYWAYS THATS ALL THANKS FOR READING!!

[beautyofaphrodite]

A Message from Aphrodite

Today is the fourth of the month, a day to honor Lady Aphrodite (among other Gods). From now on, every 4th of the month will have a post similar to this.

DISCLAIMER: I do not speak for Her in any way, shape, or form. I am simply asking questions and drawing tarot cards. I am still learning tarot, and my interpretations may not be very good, but I am trying. This reading may or may not apply to you, it is a general reading for the Temple.

What message do you have for the Temple?

cards drawn: V of Cups Reversed, King of Swords, the Hermit Reversed

Interpretation:

You may have just experienced loss or grief of some kind, and you are making the choice to re-join the natural flow of life. You need to accept that there is no changing the past, and should embrace the future and what will come for you. You also need to find a way to separate logic from feelings, which can protect you a lot in the long run. You will need mental clarity, so being able to make decisions without being too emotional is helpful. You may have been isolating yourself, and you are now starting to feel the effects of that. Connection with other people is important to your well-being, and you need to be able to balance your want for truth with connections.

Moving forward from the past, separating logic and emotion, and finding connections with others will help you a lot in finding calm and peace.

Where can the temple see you in the next month?

Card Drawn: IV of Wands

Interpretation:

When you complete your goals, big or small, Lady Aphrodite is there, cheering you on. She is proud of you for accomplishing what you need to a accomplish, and will be there to celebrate you for achieving goals. She is there when a community gets together to celebrate, and She will help you to feel at home. She loves you, and wants you to know that you deserve to celebrate any little milestones you reach.

Anything else you’d like to say?

Card Drawn: IV of Swords

Interpretation:

You deserve to rest. You deserve to take a break. It’s okay to prioritize yourself. Rest is healing, and if you don’t allow yourself time to take a break, healing will be very difficult to achieve. She wants you to know that you are important, and deserve to rest and take care of yourself.

Notes from Aspyn

Lady Aphrodite is here for us. She loves us, and though one or some of us are going through a journey, She is there, helping every step of the way. As She loves and cares about us, She knows that we are not perfect, and we don’t have endless energy to spend. So She is reminding us to take a break, to celebrate the little things, and to enjoy life.

Take care of yourself, everyone, and may you find love and beauty in the world around you.

[helenkordart]

This was a bit of an insane project! I decided to draw all the designs from the various official arts we have gotten over the years. A bit of an archiving project! I tried to make them as accurate as possible. It involved a lot of guesswork tho, since most of them don′t show the full designs. Let′s just say that only 5 of these (and I mean five figures, not design sets lmao) show any kinds of shoes.

I do love seeing the design elements that carry over between the designs tho. Ququ is a cold boy and has to have some kind of fur or a scarf. Feng-er doesn′t want a speck of dirt to touch him and prefers high collars and bracers and high boots (the boots ARE book canon tho). I also love that there′s only three designs that have Ququ wear some kind of crown, the rest is just ribbons or nothing at all, despite the jade crown being mentioned at least once. Like no, we want the boy to be cozy and prevent headaches...!

Please tell me which designs are your favourite! Mine is the official manhua design, mostly because it′s honestly such a smart design, especially Ququ. Like you can tell the artist looked at Ququ and his specific disabilities and worked from there. Besides the hair ribbon, my favourite small detail is the arm warmers that look like compression gloves used for arthritis 🥹 That one means so much to me. Also the difference in layers between Ququ (I′m cold) and Feng-er (ew no dirt touch me ew). It′s just. So nice 🥹♥️

If you want the corresponding official arts, I′ve posted them in the thread on twitter! Anyway here′s which is which with more commentary lmao sorry I cannot shut up about these so much thought actually went into making them and this is the only place where I can actually talk about them properly 🥹

The designs from the first discontinued manhua- Some people in the fandom prefer these because they say they feel more adult but no, sorry, sure the art skill might be better but they just. Don′t feel like Fengcuis to me. Like I would′ve learned to love them but I′d never exchange them for the main ones we got. Plus the character designs changed between all the panels, so trying to chase down a specific design was hell. I′m glad Ququ showed up only in one panel so I didn′t have to do that again lmaoo

The designs from the official manhua- I already explained above why I love them so much. Just. These are THE designs for me. I see these little guys and my heart goes doki doki. If (when) I make lil standees, I′ll very probably use these

The designs from my favourite of the manhua covers- you don′t understandddddddddddddddddddddddddd I love this cover so much. To say I′m insane about it is an understatement. Just. Look at the cover art. Feng-er staring directly into the camera, challenging. Ququ looking soooo kissable. Their entwined fingers. Ququ wearing a jade bracelet in the colours of Feng-er′s robes. I′m just. Vrrrrrrr bark bark BARK. Also had to make MORE patterns for this one. Still not sure I did it proper justice tho 🥹

The manhua-canon modern au outfits- I still can′t believe we got a canon modern au where singer-spy Feng-er kidnaps doctor Ququ on a mission-date and has him hold a silly baloon all day and wear a cute little cap with a silly little cockatoo on it and then they wish each other a happy new year during a sunset on top of the ferris wheel AND I′M SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL ABOUT IT???????????? Anyway Ququ in his tweed collection is so cute. Mwah. Best boy. Feng-er come on tug on his scarf and kiss him. Do it. Now

Designs from the covers of the traditional edition- these designs are pretty unique while still feeling in character, which is cool! Ququ is such a fancy lil lad here. And I′m obsessed with his... frog? Mousie? Front clasp. I made it a little fox because of course I did

Design from the 1st cover of the simplified edition- I don′t have that much to say about these honestly except that they′re very pretty. I love that Feng-er′s top robe is sheer and I love the silver embroidery, even if it took me some time to figure out how tf to draw it

Design from the 2st cover (Ququ) and 3rd cover (Feng-er) of the simplified edition- that Ququ design drives me crazy. He looks so soft and cozy, you wouldn′t guess that this is the meanest most repressed bitchiest man in all of ye olde Sui dynasty. I want to squeeze him. Cute agression overload. Meanwhile I couldn′t figure out what Feng-er′s belt and hem was doing pattern wise so I just winged it lol.

Fengcuis cosplaying a married couple with designs from the Thai vol. 1+2 freebie- God. Funniest arc in the entire book. They′re insane. They′re perfect for each other. Peerlessly matched. One day I′ll draw more of unhinged wife Feng-er because seriously. Their idea of heterosexual marriage is SO funny. They′re so real for that. And the og chibi designs are SO cute. Ququ′s sweaty little face. This was your idea gay boy, suffer

Audio drama designs from first half of season 1- These are so funny bcs the difference of the designs is like. Main covers: beautiful and ethereal. Minisode covers: Ququ is A Tube with a head on top. Slappy fights. Beautiful. No notes. TubeQu is a god′s perfect creature

Audio drama designs from second half of season 1- I said it before but these just feel too generic to be properly them. While drawing them they did kinda grow on me, at least Feng-er, since his expression is kinda perfectly smug. Im still ehhh on the Ququ tho. He′d look better without the crown.

Designs from Thai covers 1+2- oh man lol the thai covers. I was joking that I could not save the Feng-er, but he did grow on me. It might be that he looks proper manic with the chibi base I drew 😂 But he′d look so much cuter with bangs. Idk why the artist did him like this. Meanwhile Ququ is the most beautiful man alive. I mean it′s what he deserves, but it′s still very funny. Also LOVE how big and fluffy his collar is.

Designs from Thai cover 3- besides my other issues with the thai design, the colours on Feng-er just clash lmao I′m sorry, again why did the thai artist have to do him like this 😂 meanwhile the coat on Ququ is not a colour I′ve ever seen him in, but yknow what it works surprisingly well. He continues to be the most beautiful man around. Sorry king is that horrible peacock bothering you

[thepacifistrouter]

Chelley week, day 6: Heartbeat

Okay, I was excited about this day and category, it was the first one I actually did, but I didn't feel like I could convey it in drawings (or that it would take me too long if I did it with that), so I turned it into a short-fic

I know it probably won't be well received for that reason, but it was something I really wanted to do, so… well, here it goes.

Thump

It was a cold, but mostly calm winter night, the wind was blowing outside Eaden's bakery, it wasn't especially strong, but it managed to generate howls and the trees to move enough for their wood to make a crackling sound from time to time.

The place, like most of the town, was mostly made of wood, but firmly and solidly built, even though until not long ago, they had to remodel a little inside, mostly the room in which its inhabitants slept - After all, since the second of them arrived, or rather, since they started sleeping together, it had become a necessity to make the ceiling a bit or two higher.

Yeah, a lot of changes had happened in that place, how it had turned from a place of tension, of banging on the wall and night terrors, to not only having an adequate roof so that anyone could stand without crashing or hitting or needing another bandage in his head, it also has a proper window, normal curtains, furniture, and decorations. It was a completely different place. Just like the people sleeping in it.

One of them, the one with the shortest stature, opens her eyes slightly, having woken up, with the weather - or rather the wind - being the main cause, along with a slight drop in temperature. When she was alone, she usually didn’t notice the presence of those stimuli due to being busy with her own nightmares, which either woke her up or kept her distracted. It could also happen that, if she manages to sleep with no nightmares or no dreaming at all, if she noticed them, than the sound plus the cold would bring back bad memories of unpleasant, cold places with hollow sounds on a smaller scale -usually that involved a short walk to the kitchen for a warm milk cup. and a re-reflection on her life and the events surrounding her until she could fall asleep again.

Things are different now. She had managed to get used to it, to feel those signals that reminded everyone that there was still a long time before winter left and spring take place, to stop associating every small unpleasant and cold noise with That place. But of course, as with any person, there could be exceptions, it could happen to anyone that the seasons could wake you up with the weather in the middle of the night, always something inopportune. The main difference was that, in the current time, she had other, new tools to deal with them and, her untold favourite, involved the person who slept a few centimetres from her.

A tall, too-tall, skinny, gawky blonde man who was fast asleep facing her. He was also the main person responsible for the vast majority of changes that both her house and her life had undergone. The mere presence of him there had been and had had a couple of changes.

Not that she was complaining at all, au contraire, having him there, next to her every night, was nothing less than welcome. In fact, at times like this, it was exactly what she needed.

Moving stealthily and carefully (never a problem for her) so that she becomes attached to him. That, at first instance, fixes the problem of the cold, probably for both of them, she knew he could have woken up at some point because of the same reason, neither of them were very fond of the cold after all- but of course, this was not just about the cold, if it was, being like that would have been enough or she could just have gotten up quickly and stealthily, as only she could, to get a blanket and come back and problem solved. No, this was different and required a small specification in her movements. And that was to put her head right at the height of his chest, so she could carefully rest her ear on it, close her eyes and just pay attention.

*Thump-thump*

She smiled.

There it was.

*Thump-thump*

The sound she was looking for.

*Thump-thump*

It wasn't a necessity, but it was something she liked to do from time to time, if the opportunity and circumstances presented themselves (like in this moment) - it was something more like an habit, perhaps? She didn't know, she just knew that for her it was almost like that feeling that comes from the sound of rain and a crackling fireplace on calm nights. Maybe even better. It was simply something that brought her peace.

And it wasn't just because of how she felt about him, although that was an important reason, but she knew it wasn't the only one. It was complicated, after all, it was, on a small scale, a vague reminder of everything they had experienced, but somehow... in a good way.

*Thump-thump*

It made her remember different related moments. How, the first time she saw him in a human form, that prototype avatar of solid light that they had made, was just that, an almost perfect, almost empty mirage, it wasn't real... it wasn't alive, Wheatley was the one that, while being awake, gave it life. Remembering, also, how, watching him asleep (or well, in sleep mode), if she hadn't known, and anyone who didn't know, she would have thought he was dead.

*Thump-thump*

Then, that time on the hill, when she leaned her face as she was doing now, but back then, there was nothing, just something similar to the noise of the LED light in a kitchen or the hard light bridges in That place. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling... even sad, it made her think about what they did to him, what they took from him and that his whole being, in fact, was actually in something not much bigger than a pen with lights and a lot of unnecessarily complicated Aperture technology.

*Thump-thump*

Even more, at this point, it was… almost hard to believe that he didn't always look like that. Human. Even though, he always acted like one. Who knows how long he was in his little spherical body. She was sure that even now he must feel, at least in part, as if he still is in some level. She knew that at least he still didn't stop completely feeling like a machine and she had her doubts than that would ever change - if it could, there was still plenty of time for that and it was fine, she didn't mind giving him time to adjust to things, it could be annoying, yes, but it was even sweet to see when he made progress on something, how happy he was and how, truly, he kept trying after failing and learned from what he did - achieved or not. Little by little he had begun to stop pretending so often that he knew or could do things that he really didn't, to quick so fast, and start to actually try, to practice and learn despite failing till he gets it and finally being able to do it. Frustration could still become an issue for him, depending on the situation, he could still seek responsibility or blame in others (or things) while failing - fortunately that was something that had also been slowly decreasing over time. Probably, knowing that no one would harm him or throw him up if he failed, specially not her, was a great help on his progress (Plus, the enthusiasm and shine in his eyes when he finally managed to do something well was priceless)

*Thump-thump*

Then, she also remembered the first time she heard that beat, that last time they stepped into That horrible place never to return. He was naked and soaked in a slimy, stinky, gross substance, but in that moment she felt such a relief to see him, she couldn't have cared less about any of it -he was there, he was alive and he seemed to be fine, that was all that mattered -she just needed to go check him and make sure of the “being fine” part. It was in the middle of a hug when she heard it. She was so excited to see him alive that she had overlooked it, distracted by so many emotions and sensations, but being who she was, it didn't take her long to react and, after a small check, It didn't take her long to solve the puzzle. That was not a mirage or an artificial body, it was his actual body, this was real. He had his human body back.

*Thump-thump*

Of course, at that moment there wasn't much time to process it, they were a little more worried about getting back to town all in one piece.

*Thump-thump*

Someone would think that after a couple of 101 lessons on being human and relearning how to use their organic body, everything should have gone fine, but the truth is that they would still have to go through one or two more big Aperture Science Labs headache, but at least this one wouldn't involve the "labs" part, so, by comparison, they weren't that big… but still.

*Thump-thump*

At first it was just a couple of colds, flu, stomach pains, allergies (luckily they taught him not to take too many medicines at the same time to get better sooner because it doesn't work like that), his forehead testing all the edges of 2 meters or less of the town. A lot of unpleasant stuff, but nothing particularly bad - who knows how many decades in suspended animation without even contact with air wreak havoc on anyone's immune system and physical condition -at least he managed to cover his mouth by reflex when sneezing or coughing... most of the time.

The real problem came later, a couple of months later and it started with what seemed to be another case of the flu, but accompanied by a lack of appetite and more and more noticeable fatigue, among other things. He was trying to hide the seriousness of the matter, trying to make it seem like just the flu, saying from time to time that he was starting to feel better and finding ways to make it seem that way. But there was no way to continue the attempt of a theatre once she saw him fall passed out, burning with fever while he tried to go down the stairs (luckily it was almost halfway). The scare plus her own instinct helped her react quickly enough and effectively to first check that there were no serious injuries and then go find help.

The details of what happened are long, complicated, almost worthy of an adventure, but at that moment, Chell could only especially remembered being there, in Dr. Dillon's guest/patient room, him asleep in the bed and her in a chair next to the bed. She went there when she could to check on his progress, changing wet towels and checking him, his temperature, his breathing...and his pulse. Since she checked him after the fall, she could feel how his heart took on such irregular rhythms, sometimes almost at the level of tachycardia... and sometimes so low... without a doubt they were days of worry and discomfort for everyone, including fear for them both. It was an absolute relief when things finally became normal and she could see him acting with the same energy as always, having regular breathing, and being like this, in that very moment, while she was listening to that sound in the rhythm it should.

*Thump-thump*

Of course, not all were bad memories, you could say that a third and final part of what makes this pleasant for her is what that sound transmits to her, his heartbeat could become as much or more communicative than his voice-which is saying a lot, especially on those... private occasions, planned or not. Like that first time, when she found him in the bathroom naked, confused and scared by a part of his own body's functioning that he knew nothing about, so she helped him to... clear up the misunderstanding… by using the empirical method.

She discovered 2 things that night: First, that she liked to feel how, at that moment, the most obvious part of his body was not the only one that showed emotion when they were that close, it was as if they had disconnected his mouth so they could say almost everything that needed to be said.

*Thump-thump*

Second thing was, deep down, she liked having that kind of control over him. Perhaps because he was someone so vulnerable and at the same time so paradoxically unpredictable and predictable at the same time. Having that level of control over him and the circumstances around at such an intimate level was an extremely satisfying delight, almost irresistible to her so, of course, when she managed to prepare, from time to time, very occasionally, she would gladly take advantage of her position. During those encounters, she even learned that there was difference when the heart races out of fear, out of happiness, or out of pleasure.

*Thump-thump*

And now this.

Moments like this, in some certain different way, also counts as a private, intimate moment, but instead of hot, they are warm.

These moments not only allow her to feel his more honest and vulnerable side, but also allows her herself to be openly vulnerable, knowing she would be safe by being it, even if it was just for a bit of a time.

*Thump-thump*

*Thump-thump*

Someone could say, in summary, that these moments, taking the time to listen and/or feel carefully, from time to time, was something that, in some way, for her defined very well his presence in her life and himself, a reminder of what he went through - what they both went through to get here, of who he was and what she liked about him, his fragility, his spontaneity, and that strange paradoxical strength that he himself doesn't seem to realize, but it does seem to be based in that cheerful endless optimism. He made her feel warm inside and happy to have him there with her, alive and in peace. Maybe it wasn't all always joy and happy and fun, but right now, there was no way she could ever say that she regretted it.

*Thump-thump*

*Thump-thump*

It didn't take long for her to begin to fall asleep again, without separating a single centimetre from his chest, from his heartbeat, as if it were a little coo just for her.

*Thump-thump*

Shortly before she completely falls back in the Morpheus arms, she gives herself the small luxury of carefully wrapping one of her arms around him.

*Thump-thump*

To her surprise, somehow he, unconsciously -because she was very sure he was still asleep- seemed to realize this and, in response, slowly and clumsily moved his own arm to lightly puts it around her in the same way.

After that slight initial surprise and a quick processing, she simply smiled - without moving from where she was, without taking her face off his chest, she closed her eyes again and, letting herself be carried away by the calm, but somehow cheerful way of his heartbeat, she finally fell asleep.

*Thump-thump*

[noahl-art]

Re- you're still not sure about Phantom/Aeon's design, have you seen that tumblr post about aeon being summoned and he was burned by hellfire and it caused him to be scarred like the phantom of the opera mask? There's a fanartist out there that draws him like that but I can't remember their name!

Anyways sorry for the ramble, I just love the idea of visibly scarred phantom uwu

Heya ! 😊 Don't worry, I love it when people come talk to me!! It makes me feel so included 🥺❤️

Oh yeahI don't know who started it but I've seen a lot of people around here using this idea and I love it!! Especially the ones @just-eddie505 and @arkeusruin !!

Personally, I don't know yet if I want to find my own way to use this idea or go a different way 🤷 One of the way I was thinking to maybe do it was by using patterns made by galaxy to create the scar tissue? Also had the idea of his yes being inspired by them... but yeah nothing really finished yet!

To ramble a bit more about design... I would love to have very nature/creature/elements inspired designs for all ghouls! And having distinctive features coming from that! Here are all my Pinterest boards up until now!

All ghouls would kind of have different variations of their base elements :

For example for the Fire Ghouls, Ifrit would be more inspired by magma and volcano, whereas Alpha by ashes and charcoal (also linked to the fact that he is an older summon). And Dewdrop being another whole story due to his element change.

Those were the first ideas I had (before the Pinterest boards)

But yeah I'm struggling a bit with Quintessence and Multi ghouls for the more "animal/nature" characteristics I could add to their features 😬

Anywayyyyys here is a small piece of what's going on in my brain ✨️ I tend to go way too far into research mode as you can see 🫣

[mechanical-sunchild]

{Can't draw so I'm going to write it!}

Therian HRT Diary, Day One:

"I was nervous that the doctor would turn me down on account of the endangered status of my desired species. He assured me that if they could do dragons they would have no problem finding a way to do Leontopithecus rosalia as well. The consulation when really well. I expected as much. I've already done HormoneRT, what's a little HumanRT as well? He assured me that the two things would not react badly with each other and my prescription will be ready for me tomorrow!"

Therian HRT Diary, 1 month:

"I'm definately a lot more hairy that I was before and even my bald spots have filled in! Yessssss. The colour has almost completely changed too, becoming the lovely orange colour I always wanted it to be. The texture has changed too. It's hard to describe but it's definately more fur-like than hair-like now, so much thicker than I'm used to and a little itchy. That's fine though because my nails are thicker, longer and stronger too!"

Therian HRT Diary, 3 months:

"I have fur covering my entire body now, shorter and darker on my face of course. I'm starting to get a lot of pains in my joints, but I'm already kind of used to that having chronic pain. What's even better is that my canines are nice and long and sharp! I feel stronger and can climb a lot better than before. My tail is starting to come in and that hurts like Hell..."

Therian HRT Diary, 6 months:

"I can't wait for tail grown and bone changes to end, ahhhh...I don't regret the HRT but Goooood. I'm moving slower because it hurts too much. I'm lucky I won't actually shrink in size, I guess. That would have really started to hurt. My fingers are done though, I think. They're much longer and stronger. My thumb is technically still opposable as it hasn't change much but it's no longer in proportion to the other fingers which means I've had to learn to grasp and hold things like pencils in whole new ways. My tail is small, but cute and just as furry as the rest of me. Yeah, I think it's worth the pain."

Therian HRT Diary, 8 months:

"Still growing the tail...well, it is going to be pretty long when it's done. I can now run on all fours just as well as on two legs, if not faster and easier. It's good to be able to stand still so I can reach things though! Cravings for insects are off the charts. I asked the doctor about it and he said I should still eat food for humans, but can absolutely eat any insects a golden lion tamarin would too. Neat! I've had a lot of fun figuring out all the new flexibility in my body, but the aches are still there so I won't push it too far. My eyes have started to darken in colour too and I no longer have much of a visible eyebrow. Weird thing to change so late but I'm not complaining! My nose is finally changing shape too. I was worried it wouldn't and the human nose was starting to look really odd! My ears are growing in size, even though I can barely see them behind all this fur!"

Therian HRT Diary, 12 months:

"I think I'm finally done! My tail is longer enough to sweep the floor unless I choose to move it now. My body no longer aches as my new bone structure has settled, my facial features have done changing and I feel full of energy all the time! I'm spending a lot of my days in trees I could only have dreamed of climbing before the Therian HRT, and even met a couple more monkeys (not my species though :( ) and a bird this way! My move to a therian-friendly village took longer than I thought it would, luckily during this time I wasn't in a very conservative area. I did get a lot of looks though and a little bit of harassment. Things are much better here and they even welcome those who haven't had the therian HRT so my partner can live with me. I'm at the end of a cul-de-sac, my neighbours to the left are a seal and a aphid (what an unusual pair /pos), and my neighbours to the right are a squirrel, a mongoose and a rose-bush. I'd only heard of plant-based Therian HRT before so it was really cool seeing this mix of animal and plant to create something new. So far everyone is really accepting and just as curious to see a primate amongst their midst! I've never been happier : ) "

[diana-fortyseven]

A.K.A. "I wrote this instead of sleeping..."

You can find the prompt bingo right here.

It's still a work in progress, and there's so much more I want to add eventually, but everything that's already there is working.

And what's there is a lot. Like, a metric shit ton.

I've added all

Cinematic Titles

Mission Names

Mission Stories

Challenges

Destinations

of all Hitman World of Assassination Game Modes.

Some challenge prompts might look like typos to you. While I always appreciate when you point those out to me so I can fix them (seriously, please do let me know if I missed something!), please check first if there isn't an in-game challenge with that exact name, because so many of them look like I forgot how to spell. :D

Fun fact, did you know that there are roughly 1,200 challenges in the game? I wasn't joking about the "instead of sleeping" part of the title.

Additionally, there are long lists with smutty, kinky, romantic, angsty and whumpy prompts.

You can opt-out of NSFW, Shipping and Angst by not opting in (I swear this makes sense in my head right now), but if you select the theme "Romance" from the dropdown menu, you will get shippy prompts even if you don't tick the Shipping checkbox, and if you select Hurt/Comfort from the dropdown menu you will get angsty prompts even if you don't tick the Angst checkbox. I recommend ticking the Shipping or Angst checkbox if you select Romance or Hurt/Comfort for a larger pool of prompts.

You will not get NSFW prompts unless you tick the NSFW checkbox.

However, some mission stories and challenges have names that could be mistaken for NSFW prompts. I haven't put them behind the filter, and I don't know if I will do that in the future.

If you don't like a prompt, you can just re-roll that one specific prompt by clicking/tapping the field it's in.

The Themes

The bingo generator has four themed lists so far: General Prompts, Mission Fic, Romance, and Hurt/Comfort.

I will be adding more at appropriate times, such as a summer list for summer (Northern Hemisphere) or a Halloween list for Halloween. Those will be permanent additions. It's just a lot of work, and I have so many more plot bunnies and code bunnies and art bunnies, so I really have to space these updates out. xD

If you'd like to suggest a theme or donate a list of prompts, please feel free to do so!

How to Play

Create the card you want, do with it whatever you want.

You can take the prompts literally or interpret them any way you like. If it's the name of a mission story or challenge, you can use the mission story or challenge itself as a prompt, or come up with something just based on the name. If it's a pun, you can use the prompt as-is or remove the pun element from it.

Use as many or as few prompts as you want in a fic, or in a drawing, or in a daydream. You make the rules!

If you think a bingo should require a line of prompts used in one single work, cool. If you think four single works should count, that's cool too. And again, if you don't like a prompt, just re-roll it until you get one you like more.

Just have fun with it! :)

Mobile Version

The mobile version is working, but word breaks for longer words won't be pretty. I still need to add word break opportunities, but that's a lot of work, and I will probably do this in small batches over the next month or so.

If you want a prettier card, you can re-roll prompts with unpretty word breaks by tapping on the prompt you want to change.

Keyboard-Only Users

For accessibility, all prompt fields have added button functionality, which means you can use tab to select them and enter to interact with them. Your browser needs to have JavaScript enabled for that to work, though.

Now go play with it!

Or don't, I'm not your mum, I can't tell you what to do.

Final disclaimer: The platform I'm using to host my generators, Perchance, recently added AI options. My generators were not built using AI, and none of the prompts you'll get are AI generated.

My generators are all 100% handcrafted chaos. :D

If bingos are not to your liking and you'd like more detailed prompts, try my Hitman Prompt Generator!

[weministertomonsters]

Orc (Oak) x human female reader ~ Part 1

If you enjoy this story, please re-blog it if you're able! It helps a lot. <3

~ ~ ~

The air bites at your skin and you can see each puffing white cloud of your breath as you struggle to keep your numb fingers curled around the handles of the basket of wood chips. The first thing you hear is the chatter of talking women and second, the crack of Ms. Markely's cane.

"Faster!" Ms. Markely snaps, and someone howls in pain.

"Oh, Ms. Markely, do have some pity on her," one of the women tuts. "She's just a girl."

"She's twelve, old enough to know that if she doesn't help fill her family quota, it will be her plate going empty," Ms. Markely sneers back. "The sooner you're done, girl, the sooner you can leave, so continue carding that wool. I don't want to see a single tangle when you're through."

Ms. Markely turns her ungainly body, rustling in her crisp skirt, and spots you.

"Come now, stoke the fire. We're all freezing," she commands.

You do as she asks, glad to have a reason to crouch beside the warm fireplace. You can't linger for long, however, and as soon as you're done you move over to the corner where the young girl crouches, untangling sheep's wool. Her face is dirty and smudged where fresh tears have run. A scruffy kitten lies sleeping on her lap. She smiles when you take a stool to sit on and begin to help her.

"My name is Ann, what's yours?" She asks.

You tell her your name and inquire about the kitten. "Is she yours?"

"Not really but she's a stray so Momma said I could keep her."

You make small talk for a while but soon fall into companionable silence. You daydream about the things you would rather do. Sleep, for one. And make clothes for people as a seamstress instead of being confined to carding wool, a job that has no room for creativity and design.

Everyone has been carding and spinning wool since morning, and the cold makes backs ache and fingers protest even more than usual but no one complains. For many, this is the only way they can ensure food on their tables and grain in their bins during the long winter months.

"How much longer?" Ann whispers, scratching at her hair.

You shrug a shoulder and wince at the throbbing pain that you're reminded of. You had gone out to chop wood in the shed earlier and since you had wanted a substantial amount, you were probably swinging that heavy axe for longer than you should have.

With this weather, it's hard to know the time, as the dusky light filtering through the dirty windows could either mean early morning, late evening, or anything in between. At the speed at which you're forced to work, a single hour feels like so much more.

"Ms. Markley, when will we go for a break?" Ann asks, "I need to pee."

"When you've darned that basket of clothes," Ms. Markely says, pointing.

In a place like this, there's always extra work to do. Ann groans loudly and scrambles out of the way of Ms. Markely's swiping cane.

"Don't let me catch you slacking off or you'll stay an extra hour," the woman warns sternly.

No one can complain. More than half of the young women are unmarried, meaning they have no one to rely on. Others are apprentices for various jobs that have nothing to do in the winter, so the wealthy families in the town offer food and board and a small stipend in exchange for their labor. 

Ms. Markely is in charge of everything, so no one dares stand against her. Not even if you needed to piss, like poor Ann. Outside, the clop of horse hooves draws nearer and Ms. Markely peers outside, smoothing her stiffly starched collar.

"The delivery man is here for the wool," she says. "You there, go and help load the bags out."

She's looking at you over her beak-like nose. You've been living with her for over two months and she still can't recall your name. You stand quickly, wincing as your knees protest. The damn cold. It's bearable though because you get to see Oak, so you hurry out before Ms. Markely changes her mind.

You've been friends with Oak for a while now, ever since the Summer Festival when you drank too much mead and made a fool out of yourself dancing on a table and he was daft enough to call the incident a cute mishap.

"Hurry!" Ms. Marekly snaps unmercifully. "The horse will need to eat before its rounds as well s you might as well feed it while you're out there. Can't expect that man to do everything."

"Yes, Ms. Markely." You sigh and dip into a small curtsy before stepping outside, bracing yourself for the cold, and yet you're still unprepared for how brutally cold it is.

The sunlight reflecting on the snow hurts your eyes and you blink until they adjust. Oak comes twice a week to take the spun wool to the warehouse, where it is then shipped off to fairer lands where the woolen clothes are worn for fashion more than anything, or so you've heard.

Oak is also a farmer and even owns a plot of land. That alone makes him considerably well-off but it has got to be a lot of work to manage a farm, although you haven't asked him about it because you don't want to seem nosy.

You pause for a moment to watch him haul bales of hay out of the cart he brought along for the horse. Ms. Markely pays for that hay, which is fed to the horse Oak takes to the warehouse. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing inky tribal tattoos, which makes you wonder how he isn't freezing.

His ears are studded with bronze rings and his shiny hair- even longer than yours, is loose around his neck to retain body warmth. He's an orc but that never made him anything less in your eyes; in your opinion, he's more handsome than most of the men you know. He looks up and catches you staring and calls out your name, beckoning you over. You blush and hurry forward.

"Hey. Let me help you with those," you murmur, grabbing the rough rope looped around a hay bale.

"They're almost half your size, doll, and rather heavy. Don't worry about it," he says, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

He knows you're going to insist on helping anyway. You work in tandem to take them into the shed, which doubles as a storeroom. He carries two at a time and could probably carry more if he had extra hands. You half-carry and half-drag two bales in, proud of your small accomplishment.

Once the last of the hay has been brought in and the horse is fed, an awkward pause comes between you as you stand in the shed. It's nearly impossible not to look at him. You clasp your hands together and blow on them, rubbing to try and wake your fingers up.

"Let me," Oak says, reaching out to take your hands between his.

His body runs hot and his palms instantly warm your hands. Idly, you think about what a cozy bedmate he would make. You wouldn't need to layer several dresses on to stay warm. You could just snuggle up against his big body.

His thumbs stroke over the backs of your newly awakened hands and you shiver. The veins running up his arms give you butterflies in your stomach. Oak is strong enough to yank young trees up by their roots and yet gentle enough to hold a newborn kitten with tender care. It makes you wonder how his touch would feel on you.

He calls your name and you jerk your gaze up to his face. Life up in the icy north is rough on everyone but the crow's feet that appear when he smiles have a sort of elegance that makes it impossible to guess his age accurately. His orcish smile and boyish gaze don't help either.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" You stammer.

"I said, you look rather thin and pale. Have you been eating enough?"

You bite your lip and look down. "My work keeps me busy," you murmur. "I'm often too exhausted to eat when I get home."

"That's no good," he murmurs. "You know, I packed breakfast today. I still have some of it left over."

"Oh no, please don't bother," you stammer and he shakes his head, looming above you with a concerned frown.

"I do bother, doll. I want you healthy and happy, and you're neither right now."

You try to explain, but he's already striding out of the woodshed, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the door frame.

You wait, nervously imagining how mad Ms. Markely would be when she realizes you haven't returned yet and the ideas she'll get in her head about what took you so long... With any luck, she'll be too busy scolding someone to notice your absence. Oak enters the shed again, holding out a parcel of brown paper.

"It's not much but it's better than nothing," he says, all smiles again.

"Oh, I can't take your food," you say, but he's already unwrapping the package.

There are thick pieces of meat and cheese in there, along with a raisin bun. It's been weeks since you had anything other than bread and lukewarm soup. You bite your lip as the smell wafts over you.

"I know you are all working hard, but that woman seems to go harder on you than the rest as if she hates you. I can't help but worry," he says. "Don't let her walk all over you, okay?"

He breaks off a piece of the bun and holds it up to your mouth. Your embarrassment almost gets the better of you but you're very hungry, so you give in and let him feed you. Even though the bun is a little stale, it's the best thing you've ever eaten. The meat and cheese taste even better, deliciously pungent and salty.

When he has given you the last piece of meat, he's about to withdraw his hand when you grab it and lick the sugar from the raisin bun off his fingers, stomach satisfied and rumbling slightly with the richness of the food.

"I like your food," you mumble.

"And do you know what effect that has on me?" He says, his voice low and soft and upset. "You can't just go around licking my fingers, doll. I've only got so much self-control."

You drop his hand and back away sheepishly. "I... Sorry. That wasn't intentional."

"I'm hardly angry." His hand remains at his side and you wish he'd wipe it off.

Anything to burst the bubble of tension that has appeared between you. You still can't believe you licked his fingers. You stare at each other for a moment, at loss for words. He isn't even a little put off by your actions and some hidden part of you is curious about what will happen if you do it again.

"Where is that girl?" Ms. Markely suddenly shouts somewhere outside, bringing both of you back into the present with a bang. Oak draws back, tugging on his ear.

"I..." He clears his throat. "I have to go. Will I see you next week?"

You nod, licking your lips where the flavor still lingers. His gaze falls to them and his jaw clenches.

"I guess I'll see you then," he says. "Now take this and buy yourself something proper to eat for dinner."

He presses a couple of coins into your hand and ducks through the door, giving you no time to give it back. Your heart soars with joy and so much more as you slip it into your pocket and hurry out of the shed. Oak is hitching up the horse and you wave before you duck inside. Luckily for you, Ms. Markely has found a new target, waving her cane around and yelling about how to properly card and spin wool. You sense some of the women eyeing you with knowing suspicion but that's a concern for later.

For now, you sit and pick a new basket of wool to card, your stomach filled and heart warm.

[du-buk]

8:11 Questions+Answers Pt.2

Got behind again:,D Thank you all for the questions and support though! I hope these don’t disappoint!💙✨✨✨🦭

General Characters Asks;

I’m SOOOO behind on these asks, I apologize to you anons😭💙 But thank you so so much 2nd anon! I love rambly asks, so no worries💙 Thank you for supporting BOTH versions of the game, and liking it! I am honored and I hope you enjoy the sequel; and Gabriel’s next upcoming content then! Thanks again!

For anon 1; hahahaha, I love that! What a cool dream......... I would love to try making such a thing in real life...... but no idea how to structure jokes into four-panels......

But it would be really cool! Newpaper comics and the like were some of my biggest drawing inspirations as a young kid. It would be so nice to give it a go:)

I’ve thought about it, and, sadly no 💔 I’m incredibly busy, especially as of late due to family tragedy, and my health makes it hard to be online all the time.

I’m a mod for one discord server my friends made, and, I do a terrible job at being a mod. I’m never online and just don’t check in with servers, sorry! But I can always happily promote a fan one👍✨

Hmmm......

There’s a small linkage to this. To be honest there was an grand, but old concept for this; but I might drop it as it doesn’t really impact the story in a positive way (as I see it). Or maybe I’ll continue with this, and see what I can do with it in the future.....! Maybe I’ll surprise myself, hahaha. Let’s find out!

But in general it was used before to signify angels, or death’s presence. I don’t know if I like this as I didn’t really use it for every angel in chapter one. For fun, this is what the map looks like when Gabriel and Vittorino talk and the static occurs. The Basilica walls change, and some angels appear.

Hmmm..... oh boy. I think there were a few changes, so I will attempt to remember, but I believe I changed;

Gabriel’s co worker plot line: Meh. It’s a good excuse for him to get to the Basilica. But it’s not so heavily talked about anymore. She is most likely just dead, or missing, and Gabriel can now use Vittorino to help regain his memories. Gabriel’s past overall has done a lot of last minute changes; I think all for the best.

Gabriel’s age: I made him younger. Just to look more helpless and you feel sorry for the guy.

Vittorino and Gabriel dialogue; Vittorino is meant to be ambiguously-taken by the audience when he meets Gabriel. You can decide to trust him, or not.

Accardi and Vittorino’s dialogue in Act 3: I believe I changed some things when they talk about Dante. The old version, I believe, there were indications that Accardi knew who Dante was? He still does for the updated full game, but, now with V2 he claims he can’t remember specifically just Dante’s appearance/face. Lots of face imagery here hahaha

Lots of little details I believe; like what notes Ryker found and such.

The static noise. Also is the reason why in the demo; Leon told Ryker to ignore the static noises; and why it’s not in the full game now. I really just didn’t care for that concept, and wish to use something better.

In the future, if given the chance; I would like to re-make the town and the townspeople. In general just change NPC outfits, way of speech, beliefs, etc. to really give the town a stranger feeling and making the player feel so out of place.

Hmmm..... sometimes I throw an intentional curve ball. Sometimes I don’t give a yes or a no to not spoil the future fun.  And yet, I have also deleted some asks that said too much. I try to delete outdated asks but I’m also just..... not online much and forget to go through my archive, hahaha^^;

Off the top of my head; nothing was spoilered in my answers, but, a lot of people ask me about “how will X character react to Accardi being outed as a cannibal?”

Well.... I’ve already decided to change someone’s reaction. I think this will be fun to write dialogue for, when I’m at that scene, hehe.

To give an idea; 8:11 is has been fully written for years now. But, it’s been a struggle to create a game with my health, busy schedule, etc. as a one-man-team. So, sometimes bits and pieces of the story, or characters, change over time like I do. New things inspire me, challenge me, etc. and I like to implement it in my stories. So far, the ideas and sets I’ve made for 8:11′s sequel overall make me extremely proud, and I hope to show it sometime in the near future when completed. 💙👍💙🦭💙

Hmmmm...... only recently! As a challenge I wish to find voices in the same language characters grew up speaking (i.e, Ryker = French, Gabriel = Italian, etc.) My girlfriend actually pointed out a really nice headcanon voice someone had for Ryker, which is this video;

I’ve shared before that I think Leon sounds like this, but, other than these two, I have no ideas yet on voice claims.

Hmmm...... I don’t know much about instruments, so, I might leave it up for fans to think about, hahahah^^;

I like to think Juliek was forced by his parents to learn violin or something; but he didn’t care for it. So he doesn’t pressure Amalia to pick up instruments if she doesn’t want to. But he loves to hear Accardi play. Maybe Susan knows how to play as well? Maybe instrument-playing is reserved for more upper class people in this world, as it sounds with above hahahaha.

Hahahaha, weeeeell...... ummm.... [weapons/guns talk below warning]

Sorry for a disappointing answer anon, but, I just like arrows! They are often in my dreams, and fun to draw, so it’s common to just see in my artwork and stories hahahaha. I’ve had practice with shooting arrows and guns; and just like them. So I like to draw characters with weapons. Nothing much to it for 8:11′s story(symbolism wise); but maybe for future stories of mine.

Yep! But I cannot say who ;) But I find the secret couples cute

I’m glad you like them anon, thank you!!

After playing Pathologic, and re-watching Twin Peaks, I really wish I developed Dakota and Wankou more. Side characters can be so fun to talk to and interact with. I hope in the future to develop them more 💙💙💙

Yep! Go ahead anon, please help yourself to any of the ADULT characters! Have fun!

Ryker asks;

Are you referring to this?⬇️

Then yes! My dear best friend @jirachi​ made that for me, in support of the game! I actually have it up on my wall, next to my work station 💙😭 So everyone say thank you to her! And since time is played around with in the Basilica, like loose strings, I figured it fit best there:)

He would, if you’re Ryker. If not, but you can see him, he might be alarmed (”why are you able to see someone else’s guardian angel?” he’s thinking) but if you are friendly......he can hug you. He would be so warm, yet probably smell like soil.

They certainly smell bad. They were going to take a bath in act 3, but then found Beetle in the tub instead.

Hi anon! Well.....

It wasn’t my intention, but, if you see fit; then who am I to stop you? Ryker wasn’t written with anything like that, but in general if I write a character with something; I will state it in text. (Which is why there’s so much talk about depression and anxiety disorders hahah)

Leon asks;

Hello anons! He technically had someone he was very close with, but, NOT in a romantic sense. Just a friendly way.

I’ve never written a love interest for Leon, sadly. If you want him though, you can have him. Just be gentle....

He also has no canon last name, so, you can give him yours. 👍💙💙💙

Hahaha, surprised (but glad) to hear! I didn’t think Francis would gather any fans until chapter two. Here’s some fun facts;

He was a morning person until the incident

He enjoys □ □ □ 

□ □ □ □ □  □ □ □ □ □

Yes! Francis is just spoken with in a non-human form, so, it can be tricky to tell.

Accardi+Juliek asks;

He probably had to drag them around, got dizzy, and threw up on them. What’s a few more bruises to Ryker when they’re covered in them, hahahaha.

Hannibal, definitely. Your mom is very right👍 I love Mads Mikkelsen’s portrayal of him. Other than Hannibal, Accardi was inspired by other characters like Koito from Golden Kamuy and Westley from the Princess and the Bride.

Are you referring to his pixel sprites? It honestly might have been a mistake, as, pixel art hurts my eyes 😭 I think 8:11 will be the last game I make with pixel art, as, the little details are too difficult for me to keep up with. My bad!

Hello! Yes, I confirmed it over on Twitter a while back I believe. But don’t be fooled........it’s not a long history between them, and anything about them will just be implied. Juliek just likes to fuck.

Uh, no clue, sorry anon. He’s just always had that.

Remember when Accardi told Ryker he gave stitches to Vittorino once? When he bumped his head on a table? Maybe Accardi had to do something similar with Juliek after a crazy night with the boys..... who knows....

Vittorino+Gabriel+Dante asks; 

There’s no cure. We’re just going to have to put you down. Sorry.

He would chase you with an axe.

I don’t mind! I’ve never really thought about it myself.... but I don’t mind it, hahaha. Chapter two might be a wild ride though if you do ship them ;P

Dante enjoyed hunting as it relieved stress, and a way to escape from the madness at the Basilica for a moment. Though, he was never taught proper gun safety (no surprise).

🔞🔞🔞🔞Asks;

....Or in the past, possibly. I doubt Gabriel would want to do anything in a sewage area.

Hello! I am, thank you for asking! You’re free to draw whatever you want, I don’t care.

You might have to ask off anon. I don’t know exactly how to send these images, as, I don’t want to upload them on my archives 😭Just a heads up, I don’t think anything other than bare chests are shown so don’t get any hopes up👍I believe for the priest zine I only drew Leon and Vittorino.

LOOOL yeah okay, pretty funny. But we will have to see, hahha. I don’t really draw NSFW images but I can try my best.

Well.... in honor of Noda, the author behind Golden Kamuy ranking  sizes.....sure. I will do that too 👍✨

Wankou (the biggest)

Dakota

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[wandafiction]

Selachimorpha - Just Us Chapter 68

Warnings: Mostly Fluff, Slightly Suggestive Theme

Word Count: 4841

Series List | Chapter 67 | Chapter 69

================================

"Where are the boys anyway?" I turn to Wanda once I've helped her out of the car and closed the door.

"With Hope." Wanda slowly snakes her arm around the back of my waist, obviously afraid of my reaction so when I wrap my arm around her shoulder to pull her close I feel her body relax. 

"Ho- oh- you met Hope?"

"Mhmm, I did. She is giving the boys a behind the scenes tour of the sharks. Or so she said she would." 

"I always find it funny that Hope ended up working in the aquarium." I lock the car, and me and Wanda start to walk back to the entrance as we continue to chat.

"Why?"

"Well because she majored in Entomology. Officially she is Dr Hope Pym. But of course being a Pym she couldn't have just one major so she also majored in marine biology."

Wanda hums as she moves her head to rest against the side of my chest. Her hands seem to be gripping a little tightly to my coat, not that I'm going to question it. I have a feeling she is going to be affectionate or at least more cuddly and touchy for a while. I don't mind as long as she feels safe enough to talk to me. 

I mean maybe it's partially my fault she didn't open up as well, not just her past. I mean I am meant to make her feel safe enough to talk to me, not about everything all at once but little by little. When I realised how much I was opening up, which was a surprise to even myself I knew it was because I felt safe and protected. So I could open up. 

It just makes me think maybe Wanda doesn't feel those things. So if holding on to me, cuddling just something as simple as pecking her lips so she knows I'm there will slowly draw her out of her shell so I can start breaking down her walls then I can wait. But then again, even with all that being safe isn't just about the small affections it's more about what the other person feels when with one another. 

"Do you feel safe with me?" Wanda removes her head from my side to look at me with scrunched brows. 

"Of course I do, baby. You make me feel protected and loved." Her eyes search mine and I think she sees my hesitation about her answer because she lets out a small sigh as we continue walking slowly to the entrance. 

"It's not that I don't feel safe enough to talk to you baby, because I do and I'm so thankful that you care so much. It's just my problems were never the biggest in the room, so I learnt to push it down...hide it away from others and myself. I don't even know how my emotions boiled over today, I have a lot going on up here." She taps her head as she presses her lips together, looking at the surrounding area as we show our re-entry bands and get in without a fuss.

"There's a few things that I need to talk about, it's nothing about you and not about me and you. It's all on me, and I know I'm not very good at the talking, and the being open. It's all new to me. The fact you had to drag it out of me this morning proves that point. I went from 0 to 100 in seconds and in no way is it your fault. I need you to know it's not your fault. So tonight, once the boys are asleep we can talk. Properly. I am still learning things about myself, more and more since being with you and I'm still learning to be okay with all this change." 

"Then we can learn and grow together." I stop us just outside of the ocean wonders building so we are not talking about this when we find the boys. "I don't need you to tell me every little thing as soon as it happens, I don't ever want to make you feel like I am forcing you to do something you don't want to do. Apart from today where I felt that I desperately needed something just as much as you needed to release something. I just want you to tell me when you're stressed or something is playing on your mind, nagging you from the deep dark and scary. Because I don't want to be on the other end of it when it all boils over." 

"I really am sorry baby, I just let my emotions get the best of me. I didn't mean a thing that came out of my mouth, I was so lost in my own mind at that moment, I have never even thought about those things. So please believe me when I say not a single thing I said is true, you would have been a great mother had you been given a proper chance to watch your baby girl grow up." Wanda's hands cupping my face, my eyes flutter closed and I lean into her touch. 

I may be hurt by her words, but I do believe her when she says she doesn't mean it. I've been there, I said a lot worse in fact but she is apologising and making sure I have some understanding of why. It shows how remorseful she actually is. I turn my head to the side kissing the palm of her hand, a soft smile grows on my face and I see a lot of Wanda's worries wash away for just a moment. 

"I'm going to have to do a lot of pining and wooing to try and make this whole day up to you." I huff out a small laugh kissing her hand a few more times.

"I would say yes, but just you being open with me is showing me that we can get past this. This doesn't mean I can forgive you straight away and I mean maybe a little pining over me wouldn't cause a great deal of harm, but just know. We are going to be okay, I want us to work and this is just a bump in the road that we have to smooth over before we can move forward." 

"You are wise beyond your years Y/n, and it makes me fall in love with you even more with the way you see things in life. You have an extraordinary way of looking about things and your outlook on life is so fundamentally positive it truly astounds me." Her hands move from my face to hold the lapels of my coat pulling them across my body a bit more. "So tonight, how about we all have a nice family meal. We can have a small movie with the boys. Then once they have gone to sleep we can talk, really talk. About everything." 

"That sounds lovely princess. We can stay up as long as you need to and we can speak about anything you need to. I love you Wanda."

"I love you too Y/n." 

I wrap my arms around Wanda's neck pulling her into me, her arms wrap around my waist underneath my coat as her head rests on my chest. One of my hands moves to scratch at her scalp, and her hot breath warms my shirt when she lets out a content sigh. I rest my chin on the top of her head, my eyes scanning the surrounding area to see the world outside of our little  bubble that we once again create. I squeeze my hand against Wanda's shoulder and lean back to look down at her, putting some hair behind her ear.

"Let's go find the boys."

I wrap my arm around Wanda's shoulder pulling her into my right side, and her hands grab onto the front and back of my coat; her head resting back on the side of my chest. I text Hope as we walk in asking where to meet her and she gives me the code for the door to get through the back and meet them at the top of the shark tanks. 

Wanda gives me a confused look when I drag her away from the main attraction and down an unlit hallway, and to a door that says do not enter in big red letters. Wanda pulls on my hand, gaining my attention before I can start putting the door pin in.

"What are you doing?" Wanda whispers as her head tilts back to look back down the hallway, obviously making sure no one sees us.

"Nothing." I shrug nonchalantly as I go to the keypad.

"Y/n we can't be here."

"Says who?" 

"The big red sign right there." She whisper shouts as she points at the warning sign. 

"Do you trust me?" 

"Of course I do." I smirk as she sees where this is going.

"Then trust me with this."

"Fine but if we get arrested for trespassing I'm throwing you under the bus and you can stay the night in a cell." She says half seriously but with a joking tone.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." I turn to the pad and start to input the code.

844339277777#

I hear the door click and smile at my success, trying to keep the act up that me and Wanda are breaking into the backroom. I turn to look at Wanda as I push the door open, and her jaw drops a little, her eyes flicking to me then the lock.

"That's a long as fuck pin. How did you even guess it?" 

"It's Hope's favourite insect, so I thought it was worth trying." 

"Of course you did." 

I roll my eyes as I pull Wanda through the open door and down another dark hallway and up a flight of stairs. Her grip in my hand tightens when she hears voices ahead trying to pull me back and away from them.

"Wanda, it's just the boys and Hope. She gave me the code for the door and we are heading to meet them."

"Meany pants."

"Scaredy pants."

"I wasn't scared, I was just being...overly cautious."

"Sure Jan." 

I pull her back under my arm now she knows my true intentions and allows me to lead her to the top of the shark tanks. The boys are too busy pointing out everything they see and getting excited at the smallest thing. Hope looks up from her spot next to the boys, smiling happily when she sees both of us walking toward the three of them. Standing up and making her way towards us, the boy's eyes not even looking up from the tank.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." 

"Well we are here now." I let go of Wanda so I can hug Hope, before letting go and wrapping my arm around Wanda's shoulders again. "Hope this is Wanda, Wanda Hope. I heard you two met already but I thought I would introduce you properly."

"It's lovely to officially meet you Wanda, I would say I have heard lots about you but this one has been keeping you a secret from me." 

"Oh has she now?" Wanda turns to me as Hope hums out a yes. "And why is that baby?" Wanda's tone is playful.

"Because the last person I introduced her to, she ended up whooping his ass." Hope laughs out holding her hands in fake surrender.

"Hey if you bring me a dumbass named Scott who thinks he can just pry his way into my life because my father and you like him then think again. He deserved getting his ass whooped a little."

"Maybe but aren't you giving it a real go now?" 

"Enough about me. Wanda, your boys are so adorable and amazing. They really find this stuff interesting which is pretty cool actually, not many teenagers think looking at sharks is cool. They take a picture and leave, but your boys have a keen interest." 

I let out a small laugh at the change of conversation knowing full well that Hope and Scott are most definitely together.

"Thank you. Yeah they have always been very adventurous and inquisitive. They love exploring and finding out new things to learn. They definitely got that from me." 

"Well not that they have spotted you guys, too busy looking at the sharks but do you want to join them in looking in the tank?" 

"When have I ever said no?" 

"When you were with bitch face."

"Okay, no need to call me out on my shit." I laugh so she knows I have taken no offense and I see Wanda smiling between me and Hope at our banter.

"Mom, Y/n come look. This is so cool." Tommy calls us over finally spotting us. 

"I will leave you guys to it. I have a few talks around the building so just come find me before you leave so I can say bye." She gives both me and Wanda a hug before disappearing down the stairs.

Me and Wanda don't wait another second before sitting down either side of the boys as their eyes scan the water, but I can't look at anything but Wanda. The way the reflection of the water and light dances across her face creating these amazing patterns that show her in all her beauty. I get lost in all that she is, it's like she is enchanting me to never look away, a strong force not letting me leave until I've remembered every little detail that magically seems to appear under the reflection of the world around us. I didn't know such beauty could exist, but she is a goddess in human form. In another world she may be known as Aphrodite or Venus, but in this world she is Wanda. My Wanda. I am so happy I get to spend everyday with someone only most people could ever dream of just meeting. 

I don't realise I am still staring until I feel a tap on my shoulder, my eyes flicking to the culprit who is a very worried looking Billy. 

"You okay Y/n? I've been trying to get your attention for a while." His voice quiet, keeping the conversation between us. I give him a soft smile, looking back at Wanda who is already looking at me, a light blush covers her cheeks as a fuzzy smile is painted on her face.

"I'm more than okay Billy. Just lost in a world of my own creation and coming out on the other side." 

"Hmm, what's it like on the other side of your mind's world?" 

"It's scary some of the time, it's like I have a ticking time bomb waiting to implode on everything good that I have built on the other side. All the good, all the bad and everything in-between the two exists on the other side. But in the inner world there is nothing but darkness which is scarier than anything on the other side of the world that has been crossed." 

"I want to go to the other side, it sounds like a very interesting place."

"You are already on the other side Billy, it is our reality, our present, it is what we call home. It's full of hope and wonder. It's a truly amazing place to finally be." I don't know if my rambling of other worlds and other sides makes sense to Billy, but he nods his head a couple of times thinking over my words. 

"So the world in your mind is like, uh, your mental health and the other side is you finally seeing a way out of it. Or a way of dealing with it." 

"You are very smart for your age Billy, very mature to understand what it was I was on about." 

"Thank you." It's quiet for a few beats. "I'm proud of you for pulling through whatever it is you are or we're going through." 

"I am too." 

"Hey you two, stop whispering to one another and come join us." Me and Billy got so lost in conversation we hadn't even noticed Wanda and Tommy move to sit on the opposite side of the tank.

"Yes come here Y/n, please, Hope said you have some really cool shark facts or know a lot about sharks. And I have SO many questions." Tommy waves his hand over frantically trying to get me to hurry up.

I give in, rolling my eyes as I stand up holding a hand out to hoist Billy off the floor. He jumps to his feet and to my surprise pulls me into a hug, his arms wrapping around my neck as he rests his chin on my shoulder. 

"I love Y/n." I wrap my arms around his shoulders and give him a small squeeze.

"Love you too Billy." I pull away. "Now! Let's geek out about sharks." 

I drag him over to where Tommy and Wanda are and as we go to sit down Wanda pulls me down next to her, landing with a small thump on the ground I huff of air escaping my lungs. She gives me a small apologetic look but doesn't say anything. Instead she moves her legs from underneath her laying on her side with her head in my lap. Like I said, extra cuddly. I weave my hands through her hair, every now and again scratching her head. 

"So boys, what do you want to know?" I turn my attention away from Wanda, but make sure my hands keep messing with her hair. 

"Everything!" They both wiggle excitedly on their butt's.

"Okay well let's start with the scientific name for sharks."

"There's another name for sharks?" Billy raises a brow in question.

"Oh yeah, don't they give them like Latin names or something?" Tommy looks at me in excitement at his fact.

"They do. So sharks are also known as Selachimorpha. "

"That sounds fancy?" Wanda laughs against my lap. 

"It is very fancy. So. What's the coolest shark in the tank to you boys?" 

"The tiger shark there. The one with the jagged teeth and looks like it could eat you alive." Tommy points out the shark he is on about.

"So that is a sand tiger shark. Also known as Carcharias taurus . False to the beliefs of many people the sand tiger shark is not actually that closely related to tiger sharks themselves. They are also very harmless to humans, never has there been a fatality at the hands -or rather teeth - of these sharks." 

"So it's not that deadly?" Billy asks as his eyes follow the slow moving beast around the tank.

"Not to us no, but if you are a squid, some bony fish or even some types of shark then they would most definitely be deadly."

"So it's called a sand tiger shark, but isn't actually a tiger shark?" Wanda speaks quietly from my lap.

"No, not at all. But it isn't just known as a sand tiger shark either. In the UK it's known as a grey nurse shark, which is a common name in other places too. The funniest name, and I would say the most descriptive yet least helpful is what they say in South Africa." 

"What do they call it?" Tommy leans forward slightly to see past Billy to me.

"It's called the spotted ragged-tooth shark."

"Wow, that's such a creative name." Billy's voice is full of sarcasm. 

"That's what everyone says. Anything else you want to know?"

"What about that one that's got the really flat head." Wanda asks, taking a peek into the tank.

"The one resting on the bottom?"

"Yeah." Wanda settles her head back into my lap and I swear I almost hear her purr when I start scratching at her scalp.

"Do you boys know what that one is?" 

"I think I saw the sign downstairs that said it was a nurse shark." Billy informs us.

"That's correct. Did you catch the scientific name?" 

"No but I know it was long and complicated." I laugh at his confession.

"It is. But the scientific name for a nurse shark is Ginglymostoma cirratum. "

"How do you know this stuff?" Tommy asks, stunned at my knowledge.

"I like to read, and my friend studied this for like 4 years in college. I helped her study, these sort of things stick with you." 

"Fair enough. So tell us about the Gin...Gingly…. What is is again?" Tommy asks, frustrated he can't get it the first time. 

" Ginglymostoma cirratum. "

"Okay, so tell us more about the Ginglymostoma cirratum. "

"Okay where to start? Oh so these sharks have had more attacks on humans than the sand tiger shark. There have been plenty of nurse sharks that have attacked humans, but I blame the humans not the sharks."

"Why the humans when it's the shark that attacks." Wanda turns her head to look up at me in question.

"Because a lot of divers disturb them and try to touch them. They aren't very cautious probably because of how lazy and slow the shark looks, but in reality it will bite you. So don't be fooled." 

"Why is the nurse shark the only shark who is laying still? Is it dead?" I giggle at Tommy's question, shaking my head.

"No, not at all. It's probably asleep." 

"But I read somewhere that sharks don't stop moving even when asleep." Tommy now turns to me slightly confused at the discovery of the nurse shark's habits.

"That is true for most sharks. If most sharks stop moving they will quite literally drown, because the way their respiratory system works. So sharks don't actually have lungs, like mammals do. So sharks like fish have gills, now the gills are basically like the lungs of these animals. So as they move, they leave a small gap in their mouths and water passes through their gills. There are these teeny tiny blood vessels within these gills which are able to extract oxygen from the water, and also remove carbon dioxide from their blood at the same time. Like all animals, sharks need oxygen to breathe and carbon dioxide is a harmful gas that can kill us and them. So that's why a lot of sharks will swim all day everyday, they even swim when sleeping." 

"Okay so that's why, in those programmes, where sharks are caught in the big shark nets by the beaches are dead. They don't starve like I thought, but instead drown? That's really sad for a creature that swims around its whole life." Tommy's face creases into a sad frown.

"It is, but the shark nets are there to keep people safe from sharks like great whites. But they are not the best solution when they end up killing animals." 

"Okay so how can a nurse shark stay still if they should be drowning?" Billy questions and I smile at how intrigued they are and how happy they are listening to me ramble out my knowledge.

"So it's pretty simple. It's called the buccal pumping system. So the shark will lower what is called the floor of their buccal cavity to pull air into their mouths. Then the floor of the buccal cavity is raised so the water rushes through the gills and the oxygen can be extracted from the water, like normal. They can do this for quite a few hours as well." 

"That's so cool that they have evolved in a way that basically makes them the lazy sharks of the ocean." All 4 of us laugh as Tommy's eyes move left to right as he looks around the tank.

"Or all the other sharks have dumb evolution traits because they can't ever stop moving, which must be pretty tiring." Billy points out. "Sharks are cool."

"They are aren't they?" Both boys hum in agreement and when I look down to Wanda I smile at what I see. "I think it's time to get home boys?" 

They look over to me about to question my reasons when their eyes dart down to see Wanda asleep, with a relaxed smile on her face. I gently dance my finger down the edge of Wanda's face, on the outline of her hair as I quietly whisper her name to try and wake her without starling her. I feel her start to move her head in my lap, I smile as I expect her to look up at me but roll my eyes when she is stubborn and keeps them closed stopping her movements. So I continue to draw along around her jawline, as I whisper to her.

"Wanda." 

Nothing.

"Wanda."

Nothing.

"Princess."

Surprisingly nothing, but smile when I know what will get her to break into a smile.

"Baby." 

And just like that a smile makes its way onto her face as she turns her head to look at me, her eyes fluttering open. When she sees me looking down at her with a warm smile her nose scrunches with her smile only increasing in size.

"Hi princess." 

"Hi baby." She does a small stretch of her arms and legs, but chooses to keep her head in my lap.

"I think it's time to go home. The boys agree. We can always come back another day and explore properly." 

"Okay, let's do that." Her eyes close for a second but shoot open when water ends up on her face. 

She tilts her head backwards to look at the boys upside down who are laughing as they wipe their hands dry. Her back is arched off my legs, her legs slightly bent and it takes a lot of willpower to not say or do anything. In any other environment I would definitely do something, but I can't. Maybe she is doing it on purpose and teasing me because she holds that position much longer than is needed. The boys are already on their feet and ready to go. 

"You guys coming?" Tommy tilts his head in question. 

"You go ahead, and say bye to Hope who should be giving a small talk in front of the shark tank. We will catch up." I'm thankful they don't question further and walk off and towards the stairs. 

Wanda watches them go, her body still in the very compromising position so I move my hand to rest on the inside of her thigh. I bite my bottom lip when she gasps, as I squeeze it gently, her back arching slightly more as her eyes close. 

"You're being naughty babygirl." 

I remove my hand from her thigh as she whines at the loss of contact, but finally relaxes her body. She moves her head back to my lap looking up at me with blown pupils, her lip between her teeth. 

"Behave or no strap." She gasps and sits upright, staring at me with a look of bewilderment. 

"That's rude." She crosses her arms, jutting out her bottom lip to form a pout. "You know how much I love that thing."

"Then be a good girl and behave." I stand up holding my hands out for her to grab, grumbling as I help lift her to her feet. "Come on, the boys are waiting." 

"Uhm, Y/n." I turn to give her my full attention as her voice sounds nervous. "I still want to talk, tonight, before we have sex or anything. I think it's important, I don't want us to be using sex as a distraction from what needs to happen." 

"I agree. We can get lost in the haze quite easily, but tonight's all about us talking and creating an environment where both of us feel safe enough to talk to the other." 

"You're not mad after that little moment?" 

"I won't ever be mad at you for not wanting sex. If you don't feel like it, not in the mood for it or even if we get started and you change your mind. I will never be made." I smile at her as I come to a small realisation.

"What are you smiling at?" 

"You."

"What about me?"

"You just opened up about an insecurity about how you were worried about my reaction to you saying no sex."

"Huh I guess I did. Well look at that I'm making progress."

"We are making progress." She stands on her tiptoes to peck my lips a couple of times and I mumble my words against them as she continues to peck them. "We are also making the boys wait. So come on, let's get home and have a nice meal. Then when the boys are asleep, we can talk." 

"You have to ask me the question first." For a moment I'm confused at what she means but then a smile grows on my face when I realise what she is asking for.

"Yours or mine princess?"

================================

[jazberry8]

Truly this is my first time posting on Tumblr, but here goes. Recently, I watched Doogie Kamealoha MD on Disney and I really liked it, but was bummed we won’t be getting anymore. So I wrote a few bullet points of what I think a third season could include. Please feel free to comment your own points or what you think should happen!

Overview:

- starts one to two years after the last season left off

- Lahela is finishing off her first stint of working the portable clinic. We maybe follow that for two episodes before she heads back to the hospital to move into the next phase of her career.

- Her family is still getting used to having a new baby at home. the pressures of having a kid you need to look after more closely. The baby is showing early signs of fast development and they wonder if they will grow up to be a genius like Lahela. She deals with jealousy but ultimately embraces the baby and looks forward to helping them as they grow up to know they are not alone.

- Kai has moved for a co-op farming program in Idaho to grow some potatos or some shit in his third year of post secondary school which puts strain on his and Steph’s relationship. They end up breaking up but on good terms.

- Steph, after taking a gap year, is struggling to figure out what she wants to do with her life.

- Early to mid season Steph starts dating a girl

- BP is in highschool, there’s definitely an episode that focuses just on his side hustles as the B plot.

- It comes to attention that BP has been leaving mean comments on a famous queer creators content online. His parents try to deal with it but are unsuccessful. Ultimately he confides in Steph that he might like boys as well as girls and she comforts him. In the end he comes out to his family and they are very accepting. He apologizes to the creator online.

- Its a very transition heavy time, with a big focus on that thematically.

- Lahela goes back to the hospital, which thanks to a big anonymous sponsor, has been donated the resources to create a small wing for free of charge care which she will helm.

- It’s a big leadership opportunity that she has to get used to and at first she struggles, especially after working alone in the portable medical office for so long. But after a visit from Noelani and Charles her confidence is re-instilled.

- She helps lots of people and solves some cool cases of course. She also deals with a very serious death which will definitely probably be a turning point in the series or a major focus at some point as she learns to deal with that trauma as a doctor.

- It comes to light that the anonymous donor is actually Walter!?!?!?!!! He’s made it big as a surfer and wanted to help give back to the community of Hawaii, but also to Lahela.

- He comes to visit the hospital and see how it’s going (mid season?) but the dynamic between them has shifted. He is now her boss in a sense and owns that wing. Also with time they have just changed. They kiss but ultimately decide it doesn’t feel right for either of them and they should just be friends and co-workers

- Nico’s Aunt ends up coming into the free clinic because she burned herself while cooking. Lahela asks how Nico is doing and her aunt says he’s good and that she’ll be seeing him soon. When Lahela asks what she means, Nico replies from the doorway that his aunt ruined the surprise. After spending the last two years soul searching, travelling, working, and finishing his highschool diploma he’s now in his first year of university for his pre-med degree. He got in on a full scholarship, for which he credits his entrance essay that he “had a lot of material to draw on”. He’ll be volunteering in the hospital to get more experience

- Nico really likes being able to take care of other people for once and feels really good about that. Plus he’s really good with the patients. When a little girl with cancer comes in, at first he stumbles and can’t face her. But in the end he comes to realizes that his connection to her and to cancer can really help her. He spends time with her and helps her to feel more normal as a kid with cancer because he went through the same experience. It’s a very emotional journey for him.

- He and Lahela dance around what they had before, never really mentioning it, but the tension is there. Lots of lingering looks and touches. She falls for him again as she sees the way he interacts with patients and his passion for medicine.

- Finally, (late season) they talk about what happened. Nico says that he needed time to figure himself out, and after processing it all. Even though he was mad at cancer and hospitals and even the cancer treatment for robbing him of so much, after the anger faded he came to realize how grateful he was for the doctors and for the treatment that was able to let him continue living and that he wanted to give back.

- Lahela admires his outlook, and she jokes about being able to experiment more with girls now that he was finally free. Nico says that he didn’t, because he couldn’t get her out of his head. Lahela kisses him, and admits that she felt the same way, she just needed some time to grow up a little on her own too and find out who she was outside of a romantic relationship.

- On their days off they definitely still travel around in the portable doctor office van with the lady from the highschool reunion to provide to unhoused people.