#i've known this creature for not even a day and already i've changed him to my discord pfp

[cinnamon-phrog]

Chat he's invaded my mind like a parasite

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Serenade of the Damned (M)

★ PAIRING: Pied Piper! Haechan x Little Red! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 10k

★ GENRE(S): Dark fantasy AU, Dark Fairy Tale AU. Magic. Smut, enemies to ??

☆ SUMMARY: The Pied Pier was one of the most feared folk legends of your time. Little did you know he was real and was coming to take your life. You, who was known as the wolfhunter, realized that the hunter had become the hunted.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: mature themes. Minor character death, knifes, blood, violence, alcohol, unprotected sex, gangs, threats, killing, 18+, MDNI

☆�� NOTES: Hallo! This is something that is totally different from my usual writing style, so im a little nervous to debut this, but im so excited because this concept was so freaking cool. I've been sitting on this for a while, but I thought it would be best to post in oct to fit the Halloween spirit. See the request that inspired it here.

Glossary Changelings- a shapeshifting race of beings that are related to the fey Tiefling- a humanoid race with devilish ancestry. They are known for their large horns, extravagant appearance, and carefree attitude Halfling- A halfling isn't a half-breed in that sense. They are their own separate race. They're called halfling because they're about half the size of a human. Half-Elf- A race that has a mix of human and elf traits Half-Orc- A race that has a mix of human and orc traits Harengon- race of rabbit-like humanoids Half-Harengon- A race that has a mix of human and harengon traits

In a quaint, shadowy town, where cobblestones whispered secrets and fog clung to alleyways, the figure of the Pied Piper emerged like a ghost from the depths of folklore. Clad in a tattered cloak, his features were obscured by the dim light of the moon, but the shimmer in his brown eyes betrayed a glimmer of mischief. To the townsfolk, he was more legend than man; a cunning sorcerer with the rare gift of crafting melodies so mesmerizing that they can lure even the most elusive creatures from the depths of their dens.

But behind his charisma lay a tale steeped in darkness—a story of pain that turned sweet melodies into lethal harmonies. The legend goes that the Piper had once been a simple musician, beloved for his ability to summon the gentle creatures of the forest with a mere note. But after tragedy left him scarred, his music dulled into a haunting echo of vengeance. Now, he used it to lure unsuspecting victims to their brutal demise.

He made his way toward the shadows of the town, the air thick with the anticipation of a storm. His target tonight was none other than the famed wolf hunter, Little Red. Much like him, numerous tales whispered through the streets about this legendary wolf slayer. He didn’t care; all he knew was that someone wanted you dead and was willing to pay a pretty penny for it. With each step, he breathed in the electric air, a smirk playing on his lips, ready for the deadly dance that awaited. 

Once upon a time…

There was a girl raised with cruelty. Some say she was raised by wolves. She knew nothing but brutality and lies as she grew up. Her family was ruthless and cold.

At a young age, she didn’t grasp the true nature of their business, but she sensed it was far from safe. Whispers of peddling girls and dirty money surrounded her family’s name, wrapping around it like a dark shroud, leaving a bitter taste in the mouths of those who spoke of them.

That girl was you.

You would come to learn that your parents were merely puppets, with someone behind them pulling the strings of their misdeeds. Like a fool, you were a puppet's puppet. You ran their errands, cleaned up their messes, and shouldered their burdens, enduring their brutal beatings when something went wrong.

One day, everything changed. 

You came home to an empty house, silence swallowing you whole. They had abandoned you, cutting their strings and fleeing with their puppeteers' money, leaving you behind in a world that was already merciless enough.

It wasn’t long before your grandmother found you, just before the bruisers came looking for you and your parents. Your grandmother was harsh, but you always thought she loved you in her own way. The forest was your new playground, a wild expanse where you learned to fight, to survive, and to become something more than a victim. Her love was implicit in the hours she forced you to spend deep in the woods, stalking prey, learning to hunt, and discovering how to protect yourself. You braved the harshest weather and the most unforgiving conditions, and though she never spoke loving words, you told yourself that this was better than the life you had before. 

You grew stronger, sharper, and more cunning. Each scrape and bruise taught you resilience, and every moment of solitude in the forest became a lesson in self-reliance. In time, you transformed from a puppet to a predator in your own right.

But soon, new whispers would begin to follow you.

You grew older, you could stand on your own two feet and you didn't need anyone but yourself.

Working at the nearby tavern, you earned a meager living delivering food to families in the area. You tucked delicious meals into your picnic basket and pulled your red hood high over your head.

Your grandmother had insisted you wore a hood in the city—she always said, "Wolves never forget." It had been years since your parents had run off with their tainted money. The Wolf Gang, a notorious bandit group that terrorized the townsfolk and threatened the crown with their ruthless dealings. They had once pulled the strings of your parents, and now they were still searching for you and your family.

As the end of your shift neared, you gathered your cloak tightly around you, seeking warmth against the biting chill of the approaching evening. After finishing your last delivery, all you wanted was to sink into the comfort of your humble home.

You entered the crowded tavern, your red cloak immediately drawing attention. The tavern master, a burly man with a thick beard, called out from behind the bar, his jovial tone slicing through the lively atmosphere of clinking mugs and laughter. “Heading out, little Red?” he teased, a grin spreading across his face as patrons turned to see who had just come in.

“Don’t call me that,” you replied, making your way to the bar.

“Oh, come on, Red. You won’t even tell us your name. What else are we to call you?” a half-elf named Renjun chimed in, leaning against the bar with a playful smirk.

“Faye,” you offered back, your voice laced with indifference. “Or Edith. What about Celeste? Do any of those names suit me?”

The tavern master chuckled, shaking his head.

Another voice chimed in.  “Oh come on, Renjun, we all know she can’t give us her name 'cause the wolves are after her,” a drunken half-orc named Hendery piped up, slurring his words as laughter bubbled up around him.

“Our little Red? Yeah, maybe when the Great Oak grows wings,” your boss added, his laughter infectious. "I do hear whispers of The Wolf Gang creeping closer to town. Just be careful out there." His expression turned serious for a moment, eyes scanning the room to ensure no unwanted ears were listening.

“I can handle myself,” a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. You understood the truth that lurked too close to the surface, the gnarled roots of your past intertwining with your present. The jokes and jests may been harmless to them, but the threat was all too real for you—a shadow that loomed ever closer.

With a wave, you turned to leave, the laughter of the tavern fading behind you, each step taking you deeper into the night. The forest beckoned; it was a sanctuary you understood better than the city. This is where you resided with your grandmother; she had less influence over you now but she was still as cold as ice. 

As you approach your cottage your human eyes struggled to perceive much in the darkness, the moonlight offering only a faint glimmer of clarity about the situation before you. The window to your cottage lay shattered, and the door hung limply off its hinges. At first, an icy fear gripped you—had a pack of wild animals broken in? But as you stepped through the threshold and took in the scene, you realized you were only half right.

A wolf towers over your grandmother's body, her ragged breaths shuddering in her chest. Its long, gangly limbs covered in fur and its ferocious muzzle are coupled with an unsettlingly humanoid shape. It looks like a nightmarish wolf, standing unnaturally on bent back legs. It's a perverse mockery of both wolf and man. These wolves were changelings, creatures that often adopt grotesque forms. Changelings can transform into whatever they desire. In a bid to evoke fear throughout the town, their gang had chosen a form that is both terrifying and unnatural.

"Get away from her!" you cry out, drawing a long hunting knife from your cloak. It may not be the ideal throwing knife, but it’s all you have in this moment of desperation. With precision, you hurl it at the creature. The creature howled in pain, a guttural sound that echoed through the silence of the night. It staggered back, the blade lodged deep in its shoulder, before bolting through the back doorway and disappearing into the darkness beyond. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins.

You rush to your grandmother, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. A part of you still harbored resentment, but she was all you had left. Kneeling beside her still body, you fought to steady your breath.

“Don’t fret, child. All will be well soon,” she rasps.

“Save your breath; I’ll find help,” you insist, tearing off a strip from your ragged dress to staunch the flow of her blood.

“There’s no time. Just promise me this: you will seek revenge. He wont just forget he saw you here. You must slay him before he tells the pack.”

In her final moments, she doesn’t utter words of love or comfort, but instead urges you to finish the job. It feels as if the last remnants of your heart shrivel and die alongside her, leaving a hollow void.

You stand up, your resolve hardening as you retrieve your knives from the secret spot beneath the loose floorboard. With a determined breath, you slip out the back door, embracing the darkness of the night.

He was wounded. He didn't get far when you found him. You weren't a puppet anymore; you were a hunter, and that night you killed your first wolf.

Any hope for a normal life died that night. She had thrust this burden upon you, and you could almost hear her voice echoing through the darkness, pushing you into a path you never wanted to tread. You didn’t want to kill that wolf. You wanted to run, you knew they would chase you but you were tired of fighting.

When the weight of his lifeless body slipped from your grip and sank into the murky depths of the sea, a pang of regret twisted in your gut. Days later, the waves returned him to the shore, a grim reminder of your actions. You realized then that you couldn’t simply wash this away.

With each report of the recovery, the whispers in the village grew louder, the shadows seemed to close in on you, and you found yourself a target. You didn't want to have to go further into hiding and you definitely didn't want the bounty that was put on your head.

The red hood, once a cherished gift from your grandmother, had become a symbol of something far darker. It hung around your shoulders like a curse, a silent testament to the blood that stained your hands and followed your name like a whispered sin. 

Then why do it? You had no choice. It was her dying words.

In this world, dying words carry some of the strongest magic imbued within them. They possess the power to curse, bless, or even command. When someone hears the dying words of another, they are bound by an unbreakable pact—compelled to fulfill the deceased’s last wish or face dire consequences. So, not only did your grandmother use her final breath to send you on a path of violence, but she also wove a curse around your fate, ensuring that if you failed to see her wishes fulfilled, you would bear the weight of her wrath.

Three cheers for family.

Your life was never comfortable, but you had grown accustomed to it. Working at the tavern provided easy coin, and you were frequently rewarded with free meals that warmed your belly and warded off the chill. The camaraderie of the patrons offered a fleeting sense of belonging, a brief escape from the harshness of your reality. But now, you stay hidden deep in the woods, very rarely do you go into town.

With winter just around the corner, the familiar game you hunted had grown scarce as the animals retreated into their dens. You were forced to broaden your field. You became a shadow among shadows, relying on your nimble fingers and quick wits to steal and swindle whatever you could in the city to put food on the table.

Tonight you were on a small heist, targeting a goblin who operated a brothel in the seedy pleasure district. He was known for his shady dealings and had amassed enough enemies that you weren’t particularly concerned about the theft tracing back to you.

You slipped through the winding, dimly lit alleys when you heard it—a sound unlike anything you had ever heard. It wrapped around you like a warm embrace, soothing your frostbitten ears and igniting a spark of warmth in your chilled body. Mesmerized, you followed the music, feeling an overwhelming urge to shed your clothes and dance, to lose yourself in the heat of the melody.

Your mind was clouded as you pursued the sound, unsure of where you were headed until you rounded a corner and spotted a figure. There, perched atop a barrel in a dark alleyway near the port where the wolf’s body had washed ashore, sat a man.

“Come to me, bring me the one who spilled blood,” he whispered, his voice carried softly on the wind. At first, you almost missed it, caught up in the resonant tune still echoing in your head, but as you stepped closer, the music faded. Rooted in place, you could only stare at the man—or perhaps the creature—before you.

He seemed human enough, but you knew better than to assume. Some beings intentionally concealed their otherworldly traits, opting to project an image of weakness—patiently waiting for the moment they had the upper hand to unveil their true selves.

“Who are you?” You asked, your back ramrod straight, unable to relax even a single muscle.

“Most call me the Pied Piper; some call me Haechan. But those who do rarely live long enough to share the name.” 

The chill of his words seeped deep into your bones at the realization that the Pied Piper was after you. You had always thought of him as a mere childish legend—tales spun to keep children in line, cautionary fables whispered at bedtime. Yet here he was, very much real, standing before you and setting off every warning bell in your body. 

He hops down from his seated position, setting his flute down on the barrel where he once sat. As he steps into the moonlight, he looks breathtakingly beautiful. He appears no older than you, soft brown hair tousling in the breeze, and delicate features that he likely uses to make his enemies underestimate him. But you’re no fool; you see right through him, right to the wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

He smiles at you, a disingenuous smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, as he closes the distance between you. Leaning down until your faces are inches apart, he distracts you, ensuring that all you can see is his face—the last sight you might have before your demise. You catch a glimpse of his deft hand reaching into his cloak, expecting something deadly. But instead, you’re taken aback when he places a gentle kiss against your lips.

Kiss of death.

Your grunt is muffled against his lips as a sharp pain lances through your side. He had stabbed you, just as you thought he would.

In one fluid motion, he withdraws his knife from your flesh just as he pulls his lips away from yours. The sudden pain breaks whatever trance he has on you. You jolt into action; he clearly didn’t expect you to be a skilled fighter. Maybe he thought you’d simply lie down and bleed out. But whatever he anticipated, it certainly wasn’t the swift kick to his chest that sends him reeling backwards. 

Seizing the moment, you sprint away, adrenaline coursing through your veins, fueling your escape as you leave him momentarily off balance.

You clutch your wound and don’t look back, sprinting through the dimly lit streets until you find yourself standing before the only place you know that might offer some help. The tavern looms before you, its wooden sign creaking in the breeze, the faint flicker of lantern light spilling from the windows.

You slip through the back entrance. The tavern has closed for the night, but you knew that the staff often linger for a drink or two. The sounds of laughter and clinking mugs filter through the air, guiding you like a beacon. Stumbling toward the main room, you knock over a few pails and brooms in your haste, the noises echoing in the silence of the empty halls.

“Red?” your boss calls from the dimly lit main room.

The last thing you see before darkness overtakes you is the sight of everyone jumping to their feet, concern etched on their faces as they rush to your side.

When you regain consciousness, you find yourself sprawled across a large wooden table in the center of the tavern, the surface sticky from spilled mead. Your cloak has been pulled aside, revealing the bandages wrapped around your wounds. A soft glow of magic hovers just above the injuries as Mark, the town’s cleric, administers a healing touch.

“Leave it to you to abandon your work and come crawling back half-dead,” Ten, a tiefling who worked alongside you, grumbles with a sigh.

“You’re just mad you had to pick up her shifts,” Lia, the only other human in the tavern, replies with a playful smirk.

“Will you all quiet down?” your boss interjects, his voice firm. “These doors turn away no friend.” He meets your gaze with a comforting smile, and you wonder if this is what a father’s love feels like.

As Mark’s magic dims, he gently removes his hands from your body. “You’re healed, but you might still feel some minor discomfort in this area,” he says, clasping his hands together. He must have been summoned in the dead of night to tend to you. You want to express your gratitude, but all that escapes your lips is a low groan as you try to sit up.

“Easy, you’re still sore,” Doyoung, a half-harengon with rabbit ears standing alert in worry, cautions you. You’ve always appreciated Doyoung; his expressive ears always reveal his emotions, making him a refreshing constant in a town shrouded in secrecy. He’s likely the closest friend you have.

Lia brings you over a glass. "Drink this, I mixed in a potion that should have you feeling a little better"

Gratefully, you take the cup and down it in one go. The warmth of the potion flows through you, easing the aches as you exhale a sigh of relief.

“Sorry for the intrusion; I didn’t mean to bring any trouble. I should be going now,” you say, attempting to pull yourself to your feet.

“No trouble at all, my dear,” your boss replies, his tone warm. “I’m not sure what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourself into, but if you ever need sanctuary, these doors are always open.”

“A little heads-up would’ve been nice if you were just going to disappear,” Ten chimes in.

“He just misses you—ignore him,” Lia laughs, her voice lightening the mood.

You look at them, a genuine smile creeping onto your face. Maybe you weren’t so alone after all.

The Pied Piper was real, and you were on his hit list. Rumors and legends shrouded his name, leaving you unsure of what parts were true and what wasn't. The one thing you were certain of was that his music did possess the power to enchant. You needed to discover his weaknesses—was it the pipe that held the magic? Or perhaps it wasn’t the pipe at all; maybe the true magic lay in the breath he blew into the instrument. 

You had to find him; you couldn’t just wait for him to show up again and gain the upper hand. Once he had his sights set on you, there was no stopping him from finishing the job. He didn’t chase you that night; he didn’t have to. With just a simple call from his flute, he could lure you out whenever he wanted. He was the cat and you were the mouse. You figured he liked to play with his food.

You had to find him and get some answers. Rumors spread as easily as the plague through the cobblestone streets of this city, and it wasn’t long before his name surfaced again. Tracking his movements was difficult; you had to sift through rumors to find the truth. It was like chasing a ghost but soon you had a lead.

His dark cloak enveloped him like a cloud of smog, and his steps were light as you followed his figure into the woods. You weren’t nervous. This was your hunting ground. You stalked him like a silent panther tracking its prey. 

As you ventured further into the woods, you came upon a rundown cottage with a thick thatched roof. You hid behind a tree as he entered the dwelling. After a few moments, a soft, warm candlelight flickered to life inside, casting shadows as you observed his movements. Carefully, you circled around the house, determining that the best way in was through the back. 

You waited until he moved to the front of the cottage before making your move. Slipping a knife through the crack in the back door, you lifted the rusty latch used to secure it. You entered quietly and shut the door behind you, holding your breath as you listened for his footsteps. The house was eerily quiet. 

Slinking along the wall, you made your way through the dimly lit house. The back door had led you into a small, cluttered kitchen. The air thick with the smells of old spices and something sweet that had long since gone stale. Haphazardly stacked dishes piled in the sink, their surfaces dotted with remnants of food that had dried and congealed.

Peeking around the corner into the front room, you took in the scene: a large desk was strewn with crumpled papers and half-filled bottles of ink. In the corner sat an old chest, its surface marred with scratches and mysterious stains, hinting at secrets long kept. A simple chair and a cushioned bench offered a rare spot of comfort in the otherwise bare space.

The room felt almost empty, save for the creaking floorboards that echoed with your every step, but the atmosphere was charged with an unsettling tension. A single door across the room caught your eye, and you assumed it led to the bedroom.

Just as you were about to move toward that room, you felt a knife pressed against your throat.

“I should thank you for making my job a lot easier, you know,” he says.

You freeze in your tracks, the cool blade pressing against your skin. You try to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. Raising your hands, you attempt to project confidence despite your precarious situation. “I always thought you were just a legend, but here you are. Tell me, who do I have to thank for sending a mere mice charmer to try to kill me?” You smirk, hoping to buy yourself some time and distract him just long enough to disarm him.

“A mice charmer? What are you, then, to have fallen into my trap?” he retorts.

Seizing the moment, you grip the arm that holds the knife and pull it down toward your chest, away from your throat. With a swift twist, you slip out of his hold. Maintaining your grip on his wrist, you twist it harder. The knife clatters loudly to the ground as you kick it away. Grabbing his shoulder, you pull him forward and drive your knee into his stomach. He doubles over in pain, and you quickly pin him down with a knee to his back.

You slip out your own blade and press it to the soft skin of his cheek. “Don’t move. Lay flat on the ground, and if you move even a muscle, I will hurt you.” You sense he isn’t quite the fighter he appears to be; he likely lets his magic do the heavy lifting for him.

He flattens his body against the rotten wood of the cottage and nods reluctantly. You slowly rise, keeping your knife steady, and make your way to the cloth you noticed earlier lying on the ground. You rip off a substantial piece and return to him, using it as a makeshift rope to bind his hands. 

With a swift motion, you pull him up and sit him in the chair in the corner of the room, making sure he can’t easily escape. 

“A mice charmer is nothing without his flute and enchantments, huh?” you sneer, looking him over with a mix of curiosity and derision.

“What do you want? Clearly, if you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now,” he retorts, glaring at you with a fierce intensity

You look at him under the flickering candlelight of the room. His cloak is missing, leaving him in little more than a simple white tunic and black breeches. A chain is tucked into the neckline of his shirt—probably a keepsake or a charm, something that hints at his connection to whatever magic he wields. You stride forward, seize the chain, and yank it, pulling him abruptly forward.

“Watch your tone, or did you forget I’m the one with the knife?” you warn, leaning in closer, your voice low and threatening.

His burning gaze doesn’t falter for a second, revealing the calm resolve of a man who isn’t new to the concept of death. His hands are probably as bloody as yours, if not more so. He’s been captured, but he’s not broken, and that only makes you angrier.

“Who sent you to kill me?” you demand, your patience thinning.

He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through the tension of the room. “With how you treat people in their own homes, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had more enemies than you could keep track of,” he replies, a cruel smile curling his lips. “But we both know who wants you dead.”

You push him back into his chair with force, and he grunts as his back collides with the wooden seat. “You better kill me, because if I get free, you’re dead,” he warns, his brows furrowing in a glare that could cut glass.

His confidence is infuriating, and you feel your grip tighten around the hilt of your knife. “You really think you can scare me with threats?” you say, your voice low and steady. "You're in no position to make demands."

He leans forward slightly, the chains around his neck jingling softly. “You may hold the knife, but you’re still desperate for answers,” he counters, a glint of malice in his eyes. 

You ignore his outburst, your thoughts racing as you assess your next move. You had suspected the wolves sent him, but confirming it wouldn’t hurt; you needed to know what you were truly up against. Weighing your options, you realize that killing him could lead to the same disastrous situation you found yourself in before. On the other hand, leaving him tied up while you made your escape was hardly a safe bet. How many times could you flirt with death before it inevitably caught up with you?

"You overestimate your importance," you say, stepping back from him. "I used to think you were some mythical creature that dragged children from their sleep with haunting melodies when they misbehaved. But you’re just a dim-witted knave with a flute." He bares his teeth and struggles against his restraints, but you remain unfazed. "You don’t frighten me, and slaying you would be a bore."

“If you leave me here, you will regret it,” he growls as you turn to leave.

“If I leave you here, you will owe me for sparing your life—don’t forget that,” you reply coolly before stepping out of the cottage.

Each night that has followed that encounter has been nothing but fitful bouts of sleep. You toss and turn, haunted by the shadows of uncertainty, constantly looking over your shoulder, and darting your gaze at every creak that disturbs the silence. Had he seen you? Would he come for you? You knew he would call your bluff if he could see you now, taunting you with the knowledge that you were not nearly as unfazed as you would have liked to pretend. 

You just needed a few more days to gather some coin and collect your belongings before making your escape. This was long overdue. There was nothing left in this town for you, and you had no desire to fight for a place that felt more like a trap than a home. The memories that lingered here were a weight upon your heart, but the thought of remaining any longer made your skin crawl with discomfort. 

If the wolves wanted this shithole, then they could have it, you had no intention of being among them when they claimed it.

It was your last night in this wretched town, and the anticipation of freedom coursed through your veins. You had already saddled the horse you had bartered for, packing all your belongings tightly—everything you could carry and nothing more. Now, all that remained was to wait for the first light of dawn to break over the horizon. 

Traveling under the cover of night felt far too risky; the shadows held too many unknowns, and you were no skilled rider. You knew you needed the gentle light of day to navigate the forest safely on horseback. The thought of losing your way or stumbling into danger sent a shiver down your spine. 

You were deep in sleep when a noise startled your horse outside. Exhausted from a long day of packing, you stirred slightly but let sleep pull you back under. 

You barely registered the creaking floorboards as someone entered your room. Your body was too tense and sluggish from the day’s work to react quickly. As you fumbled for your knife, a figure lunged at you, pressing a hand against your mouth and silencing you. 

A cold blade pressed against your throat, paralyzing you with fear. You lay stiff in bed, heart pounding, knowing no one would hear you scream in the darkness of the forest.

“I warned you, didn’t I? There’s a bounty on that pretty little head of yours that I have to collect,” he coos, his voice chillingly close as his body pins you to the mattress.

The knife presses deeper into your skin, a sharp reminder of your predicament. You mumble against his palm, and he lifts it slightly, allowing you to speak. “If it’s money you want, I can get it for you.”

“I don’t think you know just how much you’re worth,” he replies, chuckling as he grips your cheeks, squeezing them.

“The king of wolves is worth more,” you say, summoning as much confidence as you can.

His smile vanishes. “What a sweet talker you are. If you think I’m foolish enough to believe you could get the bounty from the king of wolves, you’re insane.”

“I can kill the king of wolves.”

“You’re a liar and a thief. Now give it back.”

The charm from his necklace—the very piece you had swiped the last time you were with him—was the key to his power. You had suspected that taking it would render him powerless, and now, faced with the reality of his desperation, you confirmed that he truly needed it to imbue magic into his flute. Without it, he was helpless. You only took it to buy yourself time; if he could lure you out with just a note again, you knew you would be doomed  from the start.

“Only if you agree to let me up. You won’t find it if you don’t let me get it for you.”

“You insolent little—”

“Ah ah,” you warn him with a smile, feeling the power shift in your favor. He steps back to the center of the room but keeps his knife pointed in your direction.

“Find it, now,” he growls.

“I can slay the king of wolves; grant me but a moment. This bounty is surely tenfold that of mine. The queen herself placed it upon his head; she would give us whatever we desire for his life,” you counter, your words dripping with allure.

“Charm, then we can discuss further,” he reminds you, his eyes narrowing.

You huff and roll your eyes, rising from the bed. The silk nightgown clings to your body, its delicate fabric highlighting your curves while the hem flutters just above your knees. The thin straps slide off your shoulders, exuding both elegance and vulnerability.

You notice a blush rising in his cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and something else. His gaze lingers on you longer than it should before he looks away, but not before you catch the flicker of desire in his eyes.

You slyly retrieve your hidden knife while he isn’t looking. Your heart races and as you pull out the charm from your brassiere, holding it up like bait. He takes a step closer, intrigue evident on his face, but you raise your weapon, warning him to stop.

“Stay where you are,” you command, brandishing the knife. The blade glints in the light, and the tension between you grows thick, hanging in the air like a charged storm.

“You shall not claim my life, for I possess a greater offer in exchange for it,” you declare, your tone resolute and laced with the bravado of a champion, your heart racing.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “How do you figure you will kill the king of wolves?” 

“I’ve evaded you three times now, and you’re the ever-so-feared Pied Piper. Give me some credit,” you reply lightly, hoping to shift the mood.

He responds with a sly smile. “Impressive, I’ll grant you that, but it’s still not enough.”

“You're going to help me enchant him, and then I’ll take him down. Simple as that,” you say. Under different circumstances, you’d have dressed it up with more flair, but fatigue still linger.

“And why would I help you?” he asks, skepticism etched on his face.

“Because I know more about you than you think. My bounty won’t even cover half of what you need, but a wolf’s bounty…” you whistle, letting the weight of the impressive figure hang in the air, “that will cover everything and more.”

His expression hardens, and a flicker of unease crosses your mind. You wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake by bringing up his debt. 

“Careful where you tread,” he warns, his voice low and edged with threat. 

“You help me take down the king, and we both get what we want. Think about it.” 

He studies you for a long moment, weighing the risks against the potential reward, and you can almost see the gears turning in his mind. The tension thickens, but you know you’ve struck a chord.

“Two days. That’s all you get,” he says, his voice icy and firm. “I’ll be back tomorrow to go over the details. If you try to run, I’ll find you and kill you before you can even plead for your pathetic life.”

“Deal,” you reply, tossing him the charm. You assume he needs his flute to use it, and since you don’t see it on him, you figure it’s safe to hand it over.

With that, he vanishes like a wisp of smoke, a true phantom of the night.

The silence that follows fills the air like a heavy shroud, and you take a moment to steady your racing heart. The confrontation has left you on edge. You run your fingers through your hair, exhaling deeply. Two days. You have that long to devise a plan, gather what you need, and prepare for the next inevitable encounter. 

As the darkness settles around you, the weight of your situation becomes clearer. To kill the king of wolves, you’ll need more than just a tongue-in-cheek plan. You’ll need finesse, strategy, and perhaps a little bit of luck. 

And maybe, just maybe, a deeper understanding of the man you're working with.

This time, when he arrives, you're clad in your red hood and more prepared than before—but so is he. As he enters your cottage, you notice the flute strapped to his back and charm hanging around his neck.

“Neutral territory,” he states. “You’ll find I’m quite formidable with my magic,” he warns.

“Only a fool would think otherwise,” you reply with a smile.

You invite him to sit in your front room and make tea for both of you. He watches you take the first sip before drinking from his own cup.

“You know you're ruining my reputation, right?” he calls out, a teasing edge to his voice. “You're supposed to be dead and the wolves are impatient.”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan for that too,” you respond, your tone steady.

You pull off your red hood and hold it out to him. “With this, you'll claim my bounty, and that should be enough to keep your skin in the game.”

“You really want to kill the King of Wolves?” he asks, raising an arched brow over his cup of tea.

You let out a long sigh. “I could run, but wolves never forget. They will just track me down again. No more running.”

You lay out your plan in detail, and though he appears skeptical, he ultimately agrees to go along with it. A hush falls over the room as you both sit in the weight of your scheme, each of you reflecting on your respective roles in this dangerous game.

“Permission to ask a question?” you ask with a small smile.

He glares at you, annoyance clear in his eyes. “Somehow, whenever you start running your mouth, it pisses me off.”

“Is it true, the reason for your debt?” you ask anyway, intrigued.

He grips his teacup harder, his knuckles whitening. Not many people knew much about the Pied Piper; the legend loomed large, but even fewer knew the man behind the title—Haechan, with his soft features and heavy burdens.

“Yes, I went into debt to save my sick mother. As you can see It was all for nothing, given the fact that I'm here and she's not. I take on these jobs to earn money. Any other invasive questions, Red? How about I ask one—why are the wolves after you, and how do you get a silly name like Little Red Riding Hood?”

“My name isn’t Red; it’s Y/N,” you reply, bold in your assertion. You’ve never shared your real name with anyone before, but you figured it was time to even the playing field.

“And the wolves?” he presses further, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“My parents stole away with some of their money. They want revenge,” you say with a shrug. “They got it when they killed my grandma."

As the gravity of your shared burdens swirls in the air between you, you realize that beneath the legends and whispers, Haechan was just a man, and you were more than a mere tale woven into the fabric of the woods. The truth hung heavy, intertwining your fates tighter with each revelation.

“And then you killed one of theirs,” he finishes for you, piecing it all together. “So it looks like we both have had our fair share of tragedy. Now look at us.” He shakes his head, a mixture of disbelief and resignation in his tone.

You had never thought of it that way—how similar your paths had been. Maybe out of everyone, he would understand you the best. Looking at him was like gazing into a mirror that reflected not just your struggles but also the shadows of loss and revenge.

Haechan was handsome, his lips plump and cheeks soft, giving him an almost innocent appearance. Yet, his eyes—oh, those eyes were hard and cold; they spoke of the dark secrets he carried, secrets that were all too familiar to you.

“Tell me more about your mom,” you say, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the air.

Haechan's expression shifts; a warmth creeps into his features as he recounts memories of his mother. He speaks of her laughter, of the stories she told, of how she would comfort him during storms and the way her love enveloped him like a soft blanket. Each word is laced with nostalgia, and you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the warmth these memories hold. He was loved.

“She sounds like someone who could light up the darkest paths.”

He meets your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the facade of the Pied Piper slips away. In that instant, all that remains is Haechan, the boy behind the legend.

“Tell me about your grandma,” Haechan says, curiosity in his eyes.

You take a deep breath and recount your upbringing. Your words are cold and empty as you speak of her harshness, how she cursed you and left you no choice but to kill the wolf that started all of this. 

“She never cared about me,” you finish, feeling the weight of your memories.

Haechan’s brow furrows. “Sounds like she was trying to protect you. If that wolf had escaped, you would have been in danger either way.”

You consider his words, the soft glow of candlelight flickering around you. Maybe he’s right, but it doesn’t change how cruel she was. “It’s too late to redeem her,” you say. “Her protection crushed any chance I had at love or hope.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not defined by her actions.” 

“But am I not defined by her cruelty? To learn is to experience. How can I know love if I’ve never truly felt it? I might just perish tomorrow,” you say, a bitter laugh escaping.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he replies gently, his gaze steady. “I still owe you for sparing my life back at my cottage. I can show you what love looks like.”

You narrow your eyes, skepticism creeping in. “And how would you do that if we don’t feel love for each other?”

He leans closer, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “We can pretend, just for this one night. I can show you how I would love you.”

A rush of emotions swirls within you—fear, curiosity, and a flicker of hope. “What do you mean?”

Haechan's voice is soft yet earnest. “Let’s create a moment together, something to hold onto, just in case tomorrow doesn’t come.” 

You hesitate, heart pounding, caught between the pain of your past and the promise of something new.

“Come,” he calls to you, as he stands. His hand outstretched, inviting yet unsettling. You’ve never felt this exposed with anyone before.

You know you’re being reckless, but what does it matter? Life could slip away from you at any moment—what have you to lose? You grasp his hand, and he leads you into your bedroom. 

He closes the door behind you, sealing off the world, and presses you against it, his arms creating a cage around you. 

“At any moment,” he says, his voice low and steady, “if you wish to stop, you have but to hit me.”

You manage a smile, trying to ease the tension coiling in your stomach. “That sounds quite tempting.”

His hands brush up against your cheek, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Once you feel my hands on you, you won’t want to let go.”

Your cheeks flush at his promise, and your heart races. His touch is gentle, as if you were a delicate doll, something precious that he couldn't bear to break. 

He leans in and captures your lips in a soft kiss, a sensation even more tender than you had imagined. His fingers glide over your face before trailing down to your neck, drawing you closer and pressing your body against his. The warmth of him enveloping you is just like the music that filled the air the night you first met by the docks. A sound escapes you—a breathless gasp—one you had never made before.

You can feel Haechan's smile against your lips before he begins to shed the layers of your clothing. Naked and vulnerable, you stand before him, yet your mind races too fast to truly register your defenselessness. His lips find your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses and gentle nips, igniting a shiver of sensation. You moan softly, your body writhing under his tender yet possessive hold. You were completely at his mercy.

"Like music to my ears, my love," was a low murmur against your skin. His gaze clouded. His eyes swam with emotion you didn't recognize. A heady, intoxicating blend of longing and something else, something wilder. It was as if the taste of you, the sweetness of your mouth, had intoxicated him, leaving him drunk on desire alone. He trailed kisses down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of damp heat against your collarbone and shoulder blades. His hands roam over your body, mapping out every curve before they find their way to your breasts, soft mounds yielding under his touch. With a gentle yet firm grip, he kneads them, pinching and tugging softly, drawing out more moans that escape from your lips.

The old, wooden door groaned under your weight as you leaned against it, your breath catching in your throat. His lips, soft yet insistent, found their way to your nipple, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine. You felt yourself drowning in his touch, in the way he made you feel utterly adored.

His gaze, dark and intense, met yours, the kohl lining his eyes like a smudge of night against the tan canvas of his skin. His tongue flicked playfully, a teasing caress that sent a jolt of pleasure through you. Each movement was deliberate; each touch a whispered promise.

He shifted his attention to your other breast, his deft hands working in perfect harmony with his mouth. You couldn't help but arch your back, your body instinctively seeking more of the exquisite torture. The rough wood of the door dug into your skin, a stark contrast to the velvety softness of his lips and the warmth of his hands.

His touch was an orchestra of sensation, a dance of pleasure that stirred something deep within you. It was a raw, primal connection, a language spoken without words, understood in the depths of your soul. The world narrowed, fading into a blur of color and sound, leaving only the intoxicating presence of him, his touch, his gaze, and the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that threatened to consume you entirely.

“I want you to feel everything,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, making you shudder with anticipation. 

He falls to his knees, a look of hunger in his dark eyes. With a swift movement, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and presses his mouth against your most intimate parts. A jolt of heat surges through your body as you try to squirm away from his eager touch, but his grip tightens, keeping you firmly in place. Your mind races with desire as you yelp out, your hands instinctively reaching for his thick, dark brown locks, tangling in your grasp. The intensity of the moment overwhelms you as you give in to his fervent passion.

“Hae—Haechan!” you gasp, his name feeling foreign yet perfectly right against your tongue. Each syllable feels like a spell, causing a desperate moan to escape from him as he feverishly licks at you. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but you welcome the pain as it fuels your desire for him. You grind your hips against his tongue, unable to control yourself as he dominates you with his mouth. He pants against your heat, driven by pure impulse as he closes his eyes and savors every delicious taste of you.

His lips and tongue move with wild abandon as he sucks on you, filling the small cottage with shameful groans and wet smacking sounds. Your legs start to tremble, but he shows no signs of stopping. You cry out and your head falls back, hitting the door behind you as you convulse in his grasp. A powerful sensation washes over you, causing a tightness in your gut before it finally releases. Haechan eagerly licks you up, cleaning away the evidence that you left all over yourself and on his face.

Your breaths slow down and meld together, as if in perfect harmony. The gentle rise and fall of your chests echoes in the quiet room. "I lost myself for a moment," he says softly, with a hint of apology laced in his words. It's almost as if he didn't intend to take you on this journey to the 12th gate of heaven, but couldn't resist the pull either.

He sets your leg down gently, and  he helps you right yourself.  He guides you to the edge of the mattress, and as he lays you down, there’s a palpable shift in the air. You watch as he stands before you, the heavy cloak slipping away to reveal more of him, piece by piece. The sight of him in his white tunic and dark breeches sends your heart racing, and when he sheds those as well, leaving only his undergarments and the silver charm necklace you once stole from him, your breath catches in your throat. 

You instinctively look away, your cheeks flushing.  Your body betrays you, reacting in ways you never anticipated, aching for connection. There’s a pull within you, a desire to close the distance and feel the warmth of his skin against yours. 

This man who had once threatened your life now stands before you, igniting a raw, undeniable longing that makes your heart race. You grapple with the gravity of the moment, torn between fear and desire.

He used to be your prey, but as he leans down and crawls onto the mattress, you start to see him in a different light. He presses his lips against yours once more, humming a tune that sends shivers down your spine. Your body melts into relaxation, and your senses are heightened even more than before.

“It's not the flute, is it?” You struggle to speak between kisses.

"I don't think I want to reveal any more secrets to you tonight." he responds with a playful smirk.

You surrender to the sensation as it consumes you. He was right - you had never experienced anything like his touch before. Your eyes follow him as he removes his undergarments, and you become slick at the sight.

“This might hurt; just relax and focus on the melody,” he says with a soft caress of your face.

You nod, realizing now that you trust him more than you initially thought. He coats himself in you and you moan at the lewdness of the act. He was coated in your arousal and soon he was slipping inside of you. He hums a beautiful note, one imbued with magic, easing any discomfort.

“It's beautiful,” you say, captivated by the sound.

His eyes shine at the compliment, and he kisses you.  It was strange to think that this love was all an act, because if this is what pretend love felt like, you could only imagine the intensity of real love. 

His hips sway to a rhythm that you can't quite hear, but you feel it pulsating through your body. His movements are fluid, like the  waves in an ocean. The chain around his neck, swinging in time with his thrusts. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, clinging to him as if he were the only life raft in the midst of a raging storm. With every thrust, he fills you up with his love, overwhelming you with intense pleasure and making you feel alive. In that moment, it's as if you couldn't survive without him, and he knows it. He pours his love into you, determined to fill every empty space so that you never have to feel alone again.

His movements quicken, the rhythm growing more urgent as passion overtakes you both.  Haechan's eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense. 

"You're a symphony," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. His fingers trace delicate patterns across your skin, leaving trails of tingling warmth in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more. 

Moonlight streams through the window, bathing your entwined bodies in an ethereal glow. The air is thick with the scent of arousal and magic. 

You run your hands along the planes of Haechan back and you cling to him as your overtaken by that feeling again. The release makes your limbs weak and mind numb.

Your muscles clench and release around him in a tidal wave of pleasure, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust. He finally withdraws, his body trembling as he releases on your stomach, The air is thick with tension and the scent of sex, but as Haechan's magic fades, all that remains is the sound of your rapid breaths.

As he settles beside you, the silence encases you both, thick with unspoken words and emotions. Your mind races, trying to make sense of how the events had unfolded so drastically. 

You glance sideways at him, marveling at the stark contrast of your feelings—a sudden urge to survive, to revel in this newfound complexity. It was almost surreal: one moment you were in peril, and now, here you were, yearning for the warmth of his presence. 

Determination courses through your veins; you refuse to succumb to the fate that looms ahead. If this is what Haechan's love felt like—the intoxicating blend of danger and allure—then you would indeed fight tooth and nail for every moment you could grasp. 

Working alongside Haechan had become a bit awkward, but you pushed the tension aside as you both raced through the labyrinthine alleyways of the town. The urgency of the mission overshadowed any lingering emotions between you. You had received a promising lead on the elusive King of Wolves; a halfling informant had mentioned spotting him stumbling out of a tavern, drunk and vulnerable. 

The king was never without his entourage, a handful of ruffian wolves who surrounded him like shadows. Despite them believing you to be dead, you understood that you still needed to be cautious. The element of surprise was in your favor, but luring him out would require a careful strategy.

Everything was going according to plan so far. If the informant was correct, then Ten had successfully slipped something extra into the king's drink.

As you maneuvered through the narrow streets, your mind raced with possibilities. You would have to bait the king, drawing him away from his pack. That's where Haechan came in. Haechan kept pace with you, his presence a steady reminder that you weren't alone.

Haechan maintained a watchful eye on the pack from over your shoulder as you both tracked the wolves ahead. The night was quiet and chilly, with a biting wind that whipped through the alleyways, assaulting your exposed skin. You cursed yourself for having given away your hood.

You waited patiently, your heart racing as you scanned the scene for the right opportunity. Though Haechan remained silent, the melody of his flute echoed in your mind—a lullaby only the chosen victim could hear. He knew that timing was crucial; if anyone interrupted or stopped the target, the trance could easily be shattered. Every second felt like an eternity as you both prepared to strike when the moment was just right.

The pack was a grotesque sight, with elongated frames, snarling muzzles, and bent, crooked limbs. Their figures resembled a tall, slender man who had forced his way into the mouth of a wolf, wearing the creature’s body like a horrid costume. They looked sickly and unnatural, and it came as no surprise that they struck fear into the hearts of the townsfolk. 

While trolls, goblins, dwarves, and other creatures managed to coexist with humans, these beings were unlike any you had encountered before. They had made a conscious choice to adopt such a horrifying appearance. They were changelings—shapeshifters capable of assuming any form they desired. They had chosen to embrace the guise of ghouls and monsters that haunted the night.

As the pack slinked past an alleyway, the King stumbled in, his steps unsteady from drink and poison. He leaned against a cobblestone wall to steady himself, his gang too intoxicated and merry to notice him faltering behind as they continued forward. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Haechan lifted his flute to his lips and began to play a silent composition. Almost instantly, the King's body straightened, moving as if pulled by invisible strings, like a toy soldier suddenly animated. He began to march further  into the alleyway, drawn by the haunting melody, oblivious to the world around him.

You wait a few seconds, holding your breath as the pack continues down the road, their grotesque figures just out of sight. Haechan remains vigilant, his eyes locked on the pack, ready to act if they turn. You know that time is of the essence; you can’t afford to let them discover the King’s absence.

With a swift movement, you push yourself off the wall and follow the King into the alleyway. Haechan’s silent melody fills the air like a ghostly whisper, and you can feel the tension building as the King’s contorted form glides deeper into the darkness. Your knives are unsheathed, gleaming under the faint light, ready to strike. 

A few feet behind him, he suddenly halts. You hold your breath as you witness his body crumple, a howl of confusion escaping his lips. For a moment, it seems he’s still lost in the depths of the enchantment—but then he stumbles, regaining control. 

Realization dawns on you: Haechan must have shifted his focus to the pack once they noticed their missing king. Haechan's magic is now redirected, enchanting the pack that seeks out their leader—perhaps to coax them away from the alley and give you precious moments to act.

You watch as the King sways unsteadily, his eyes flickering with awareness. He glances around, scanning the alleyway for any sign of his gang, oblivious to the danger lurking just behind him. You know you can’t wait any longer; it’s time to make your move. 

He's drunk. He's an easy target. Take him out. The mantra echoes in your mind as you silently slip out of the shadows, your heart pounding in your chest.

With lightning speed, you dart forward, knives glinting in the low light as you approach the swaying figure of the King. He doesn’t see you coming; his bleary eyes are still scanning the alley, lost in confusion and intoxication. 

In one fluid motion, you bring your blades up, the metal shining with intent. Before he can react, before he can summon the last remnants of his senses, you strike with precision. The cut is clean; a swift arc of steel, and his head rolls away from his body, the wolfish features contorted in a final grimace of surprise.

You expect his body to crumple into a lifeless heap, but it doesn't. The headless form sways for a moment, arms reaching up as if searching for its lost head.

“Shit!”

You manage to slip away while he’s still floundering in his confusion. You sprint, heart racing, hoping that Haechan can hold off the other cronies for as long as possible. You may have lost him for now, but you know he has your scent and will find you soon. Your feet carry you through back alleyways and down dark streets until you're bursting into the crowded tavern. You’re met with laughter and cheers that erupt around you as you stumble inside.

“Aye, look, it’s Red!” the patrons call out in greeting. You have no time for pleasantries. Ten gives you a startled look from behind the counter, aware that something has gone awry. You send him a quick, urgent glance and head toward the back of the house. Ten excuses himself and pulls a bewildered Doyoung along with him.

“Well? What happened?” Ten whispers, barely able to contain his surprise.

“I killed him. Well, I thought I did. I cut off his head, but he’s not dead,” you reply, arms crossed and brow furrowed in confusion. “We don’t have much time. I need your help.”

“No way! I already poisoned him on your behalf,” Ten exclaims, raising his hands in exasperation.

“You poisoned the King of Wolves!” Doyoung gasps, his rabbit ears flattening against his head in fright.

“Keep it down!” you hiss, casting a wary glance around. You regretted not filling Doyoung in on your plan earlier, but you didn’t want him caught up in this mess

“What’s going on back here? Red, is that you?” Lia calls as she approaches the small circle where you all huddle.

“Look, guys, I don’t have time to explain, and I’m sorry to drag you into this mess but If word gets out that the King of Wolves was poisoned at this tavern, you will all be on his hit list. So you might want to help me!”

“Who poisons the King of Wolves!?” Lia gasps in shock.

Doyoung points an accusatory finger at Ten, who shoots him a glare in response.

“Guys, focus! There’s a headless wolf after me, and if I don’t leave soon, they’ll come after you too,” you remind them. “Any ideas on how to take him down?”

“Aren’t the wolves changelings?” Lia asks.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Doyoung confirms. “I read once that if you light them on fire, they burn to ash.”

“I heard that if you show them their reflection, they cower,” Ten adds.

“Well, he doesn’t have a head right now, so that’s out of the question.” You say.

You hear distant howling. That cant be good and your thoughts flicker back to Haechan—where is he? Did he manage to shake off the wolves? The cold grip of worry squeezes your chest as the distant howling amplifies

“I have to go now. Don’t worry; just keep your heads down. If anyone asks, the King of Wolves never stepped through those doors.”

“Where are you going?” Lia asks, concern etched on her face.

“I need to finish this.” You grab a candle lantern from the wall and head out through the back door.

You sprint toward the docks, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you push your body to its limits. Haechan had agreed to meet you there if anything went wrong. The gravel underfoot shifts with each hurried step, but the sound of your heartbeat drowns out the crunching noise. You can feel the rush of impending danger creeping up behind you, reminding you that time is not on your side.

The alleyways give way to a wider street, and you navigate around groups of townsfolk enjoying their evening, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just moments away. Their laughter and loud conversations contrast sharply with the urgency of your mission. You dodge around a cluster of patrons who block the path, their jovial cheers fading into the background as you push through the throng. The crowd thins as you approach the water, and soon you find yourself alone. The air is thick with salty brine, and the sounds of waves lapping against the shore become the only company you have left.

But before you can take a breath of relief, a razor-sharp slash rakes across your back. Pain erupts, and you stumble forward, the lantern slipping from your grasp and extinguishing itself in the dirt with a soft hiss. Darkness envelops you momentarily, panic bubbling up as you realize who had struck you.

“lɹᴉƃ uɐɯnɥ ʎllᴉs,” an ancient voice rumbles behind you, low and mocking. He had no mouth yet you could hear him.

Struggling to gather your bearings, you force yourself to turn and face him—the King of Wolves. The sight of him sends a jolt of dread through you. His haunting figure looms over you. You can feel the fresh blood seeping through your clothes, and your back aches with a pain that warns you of the severity of the wounds. Even with magic, you know it will take days to fully recover from cuts this deep.

You force yourself to stand tall, despite the agony radiating through you. The howling you heard earlier echoes in your mind, a haunting reminder that you’re not alone. Panic flares anew as you realize that his cronies could emerge at any moment. You hope Haechan can fend them off a little longer. you have to think fast.

"ʞɐǝʍ ǝɹ'no⅄ ˙puᴉɥǝq ɯoɹɟ ƃuᴉɥɔɐoɹddɐ 'ǝɔᴉpɹɐʍoɔ ɥɔns oʇ ʇɹosǝɹ no⅄" he snarls, the effects of the poison and booze long gone.

"I'm not afraid to use underhanded tactics on scum like you." You shot back, circling around him, both of you sizing each other up.

He lunged, and you barely dodged his claws. Your body was tired, aching all over, but you were determined to stay on your feet. You threw a knife, but your aim was off, and he sidestepped with ease. It was frustrating; your eyelids felt heavy, and you could hardly focus.

Then, you heard a melody—a familiar tune that made your heart race. Suddenly, energy surged through you, making you feel lighter and stronger. You didn’t need to look around to know who it was. Revived, you fought back, pushing the king back for once. He swung at your ankles, but you rolled away just in time. You were on slightly equal footing, but you needed to gain the upper hand before he wore you down again.

Footsteps approached, and hope flickered inside you.

"Red!" Lia shouted. She was with Ten and Doyoung, and relief washed over you.

"Stay back! It’s too dangerous!" you warned, trying to keep the king's attention on you.

"Don’t be a hero!" Ten yelled, annoyance clear in his voice. "You can’t win without us!"

You exchanged blows with the king, your heart racing as you saw Doyoung preparing an arrow. You held the king off while Lia lit the arrow's tip. In one fluid motion, Doyoung let it fly, and the king of wolves erupted into flames. You all stepped back, eyes wide, as you watched him burn to ash.

Just then, Haechan appeared around the corner, flute in hand, playing that energizing melody that made you feel like you could take on the world. It was the last thing you heard before the music faded and everything began to blur around the edges.

It had been a week since that fateful night. The echoes of that ancient voice still haunt you, but you pushed the memories aside as you stood before the queen, the severed head of the wolf king resting ominously on a velvet cloth. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of approval and intrigue as she took in the sight.

“You have done well,” she proclaimed, her voice a soft yet commanding presence in the throne room. “In ridding us of this beast, you’ve secured not just our safety, but your own place in history.” With a graceful wave of her hand, she summoned her guards, who strode forward bearing an opulent chest. 

As they opened it, a dazzling array of rubies, emeralds, and sapphires spilled forth, glimmering like stars in the dim light. Gold coins cascaded down in a shimmering waterfall, their clinking a symphony of wealth

The sheer abundance of treasure left you momentarily speechless, and you could hardly believe the magnitude of your reward. You accepted gratefully but your mind lingered on Haechan. He had chosen not to attend the queen’s audience, cloistering himself away as he still relied on the myth of his existence as a shadow. He preferred to operate in secrecy, a specter amongst the whispers of the realm.

You stroll into the tavern, the warmth and chatter wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. You’ve brought some gifts and treasures, a little token of thanks for the friends who stood by you in that crazy battle. It just felt right.

"Drink up, fellas! Drinks are on Red tonight!" your former boss shouts, raising his mug high and getting everyone's attention.

You wince at the name. "Would you stop calling me that already?" you groan, rolling your eyes.

Lia smirks, leaning against the bar. "What do you want us to call you, then?"

"Just call me Y/N," you reply, finally giving them the name you’ve always wanted them to use.

"Y/N, huh? It suits you," Ten says, pouring a mug of mead for a troll at the bar, who looks way too eager to drink it.

"Was that a compliment?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

"Don’t push it," he shoots back, giving you a mock glare, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Laughter echoes through the tavern as everyone raises their mugs in salute. The atmosphere feels electric, and in that moment, you know you’ve found your people.

As twilight deepened, you made your way to a familiar cottage, navigating through the dense woods that wrapped around the kingdom like a protective shroud. 

Rubies and a dazzling array of gems spilled forth as you toppled over the chest, the treasures scattering against the old, rickety floorboards of Haechan’s hideout. The glint of gold caught the flickering light of the lantern, creating a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the dim space.

Haechan leaned back against the wall, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “So your word truly holds value, huh?” he teased, walking up to the trove. His fingers sifting through the precious stones as he reveled in his unexpected fortune. “Now, what’s your next move? I can’t imagine the pack isn’t hunting for the one who took down their king.”

You shrugged, a casual air masking the weight of your adventure. “They’re pretty useless without their leader. The royal guard has rounded up most of them, and for any stragglers, they’re probably getting out of town as fast as they can.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of hope creeping into his tone. “Are you planning to stay, then?”

“Never did I claim that,” you replied, glancing around the haphazard room. “There’s nothing for me here. I can’t spend all this gold in the slums anyway; I’ve got to see the world.” You stretched with a bored yawn, letting the wild possibilities of adventure wash over you. “But it would be a trifle dull to travel alone,” you hinted, letting a coy smile dance on your lips.

“If only you had a companion,” he shot back with a grin, earnestness hidden beneath the teasing.

“I know, it’s quite sad, really.” You turned toward the exit, pretending to be disinterested. “Well, I’ll be on my way.”

“Y/N.” The sound of your name, spoken for the first time, stopped you in your tracks, resonating in the air and binding you to the moment.

You looked over your shoulder, curiosity piqued and a smile still lingering. “Yes?”

Haechan shifted, his gaze steady and sincere. “You don’t have to go alone, you know.”

For a heartbeat, you considered the weight of that offer. Freedom beckoned ahead, yet the idea of shared adventure was equally tempting. You felt a connection forming, a spark of possibility that ignited your imagination. The world awaited, filled with danger and excitement, and perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if Haechan journeyed alongside you.

“What do you say then?” you replied, a playful challenge in your tone. “Are you ready to step out of the shadows and into the light with me?”

Note: I might expand this world more for other members in the future so if you guys have any cool ideas that would work in this setting, lmk and i may incorporate them into a work in the future (far future cause i need to finish my other wips lol)

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 7 "The Iceberg"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

A/N: I had to use my entire brain cell to write this one 🧠 Hope you're ready for some ✨LORE✨

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Giedi Prime, Day 1, later

This shouldn't feel so awkward.

Two hours after her arrival, Feyd and her are still in her room, seated on the couch. The cushions are wrapped in squeaky leather and her gown is too tight at the waist. She yearns for trousers and a shirt but doesn't dare open her coffer and change into her old sleeper clothes, because should she ask Feyd to turn around? Or simply undress?

The room with its black within black interior strangely reminds her of an insect burrow, molded out of plastic.

They've had a meal delivered to them half an hour ago by female helpers (slaves) without a personality and the empty plates are stacked on the coffee table. It had been nice while they were eating, giving them both something to do with no pressure to think of topics.

What would she even ask him? So, what was it like growing up on this planet I've never heard about? What do you even do here and please tell me anything about your culture, because I have no idea?

What would he even ask her? So, what was it like on old Earth, your old home that's lost forever? What kind of horrible war was that that made you flee to space and how exactly did you end up with the Bene Gesserit and survive for 24,000 years?

It's astounding how they've spent half a year together in their dreams and loved each other, yet managed to avoid anything that might give away their identity, hiding dirty secrets from each other.

Whenever she looks at him, new heat rises to her chest and her heart hammers like crazy. It obscenely feels like meeting your long distance boyfriend in person for the first time and the person you've known so well is suddenly a familiar stranger.

Every once in a while, Feyd takes a deep breath, head twitching forwards to close the distance between them and kiss her on her sweet lips, but the longer he waits, the greater the force that holds him back. She seems different, frightened and overwhelmed and like half of her mind is someplace else when he should be the center of her attention right now.

Every once in a while, she glances at Feyd's hands longingly, imagining to just reach out and hold them, but the longer she waits, the more difficult it becomes. He seems different, reserved and anxious, like he's weighing every word and action ten times before executing it.

There is also, naturally, a bed in her room and its mere presence has been making her flustered and nervous. They've both been looking at it in secret this entire afternoon and pointedly acting like it isn't there, pretending not to think about how they've already touched and explored each other everywhere. And yet they haven't. Not really.

She takes a deep breath, striking up a conversation. "What was that creature in the corner of the audience chamber?"

"Oh. That was my uncle's pet." Feyd's tone is apologetic. "I'm sorry you had to see that. Did it scare you? It's not dangerous."

"Didn't you say you… Killed it?"

"That's a longer story, I'm afraid." A muscle in Feyd's jaw twitches with a thousand thoughts and stories untold.

"But you did kill a pet of your uncle?" Horrified, she thinks, what if we did not actually have the same dreams? What if this reality is not quite like it should be?

But Feyd calms that worry quickly. "Oh yes, I did. More than once." 

Shouldn't he have said 'more than one'? 

"That's the joy of having a genetically engineered pet," he says without a trace of joy.

"Is that what Tleilaxu-fashioned means?"

"Yes." Feyd tilts his head curiously. "Aren't you horrified at all?"

"We did have a fair bit of genetic engineering at home, though that's not exactly my field of expertise." She briefly looks over her shoulder to where her cryo pod lies. The rectangle of sun has moved a fair bit. "But I've never seen anything like that creature."

The fact that Old Earth was capable of biological engineering is astounding to Feyd, but she keeps looking so longingly at the bulky, coffin-shaped thing and he fails not to become jealous of the inanimate object.

"What's up with that thing?" Feyd finally asks, finding a bit of his bravery and scooting closer to her. Her head snaps back to him, finding him less far away than he was before and her gaze drops to his lips and the tempting curve of his cupid's bow. Her breath hitches.

"It's just…" She takes an even deeper breath, perhaps her deepest one yet. Feyd watches her mouth as she speaks. "Would you help me with something?"

"Of course," he frowns. "Anything."

She hesitates for a moment and then bravely slips her fingers into his hand. "Are you… as afraid of technology as everyone here?"

"No," Feyd declares immediately, despite not being sure if that is actually the truth. But he wants to be his woman's confidant, more than anything.

"Okay, then…" She stands and tugs on his hand. Feyd follows her obediently towards the vessel which had preserved her for 24,000 years and released her unharmed. She kneels down in front of it and so does Feyd, warily. The stiff military uniform he still wears is uncomfortable at the knees.

She prompts: "Could you please shave my hair just over the ear right here? I'd do it myself but it's a tricky spot. I can't see it properly. Just a small stripe." She indicates with her fingers over her right ear. Feyd had expected many things, but not this. She bends to her little coffer and unclasps it. "There should be a multi-tool with a blade somewhere in here- Oh!"

Feyd has whipped his kukri from the holster under his jacket, presenting it with the sharp tip pointing upwards. One pale, blue eye regards her proudly from behind the curved blade that had been polished and whetted in the morning.

"That w-works too." She offers the side of her head to him, trembling when long fingers brush tenderly over her scalp, sectioning the area she had asked him to shave. He finds the hair in that area to be shorter than the remaining hair.

Her Feyd will be careful and not cut her. She suppresses the shiver that runs down her spine and into her core, nervous like it's the first time he's touching her. Silver glints at the corner of her eye and the whirring sound of strands being cut so close to her ear is momentarily louder than her heartbeat. Severed hair pelts softly on her shoulder.

Meanwhile, she deftly twists the cuboid capsule attached to her necklace and a tiny mechanism sussurates. The capsule comes apart and reveals a slim, shiny plate.

"What's that?" Feyd murmurs, brushing the pad of his thumb softly across a tiny slit he's found beneath the millimeter of hair that's still left.

"My port."

Jittery, she brings her hand up, shooing Feyd's away so she can trace the slit. Feyd notices her undone capsule pendant and the tiny rectangle in her hand.

"And what's that?"

"My chip. I had to take it out for the cryogenic sleep." She frowns, fingering around the area some more. "The port is overgrown. We had to have it sealed to protect the electronics."

"Are you a computer?"

She bursts out laughing so brightly that Feyd can't help but grin and his cheeks do the thing that they haven't done in so long.

"Oh dear, no! Where and when I'm from, everyone had one of these. You're technically only half a human without it. I've felt so naked…" She looks at him earnestly. "Could you cut it open for me, please?"

Feyd nods slowly, lifting the blade. The invitation to cut her elicits a twitch of his groins. He hasn't felt anything like his in so long, no enticing spark, not even when he tried to touch himself... His woman trusts him, so he will trust her chip.

She flinches when the blade tip comes close. "A-Are you sure you don't want to have the multi-tool for that?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Feyd moves closer, nose only centimeters away from her head. The pointy tip of his kukri tickles her scalp. "You need to keep still."

"I know, I'm just- Agh!" She flinches again.

"I haven't even cut you yet." He tries once more.

"Ouch! I'm sorry, I can't control it." Feyd nearly cuts where he isn't supposed to cut.

"Stop jerking around, my darling!" He determinedly reaches around her head with his free hand, stabilizing her and utilizing the fact that she's momentarily dumbstruck by the nickname, finally uttered in reality. She hisses when the blade precisely penetrates her scalp, just one millimeter deep. The skin is thin and bleeds only a little. Feyd is tempted to rasp his tongue over the cut and suckle her blood off the electronics inside, but he withdraws.

"And this is… safe?"

"Yes, don't worry. Most people don't remove their chips for several years, so the port has to be cut open when they need a replacement." 

Her face is so full of elation when she lifts the chip and slots it into the port that Feyd can't help but hold his breath, excited with her. His hand slides around her back, coming to rest on the crook of her arm. He scans her for change, unsure what to expect. Perhaps the soul of a machine flickering to life in her eyes, but she remains entirely the same.

Only her face brightens like she's seen paradise.

A virtual interface flickers into existence in front of her eyes, looking at the cryo pod. The world used to be so full of these interfaces, but now she looks into an electronic void that makes her feel lonely and empty. It's just her and the pod. The only surviving  human and piece of technology from Earth.

"What, what is it?" Feyd urges, scanning her face alertly.

"I used to communicate with the world with this," she murmurs. "Now there is… Nothing. I can only communicate with my sarcophagus."

"So, it's a transmitter?"

"It's a transmitter and so much more. With a  little bit of fiddling, perhaps I could link myself up to your satellites someday. This chip used to give me access to everything. Communication, information, entertainment, data processing, calculations. It's all virtually displayed in front of my own eyes. I can read, watch films, work... It has an in-built hard-drive, so not all is lost, at least." A piece of home. 

"So, you're no computer, but that chip is?"

She weighs her words, head swaying left and right. "It is a small computer, if you will, but it has nothing on the processing power of-"

"That's heresy," Feyd hisses, moving right in front of her face. She notices the tight set of his jaws but also the glint of temptation in his eyes, scanning her like she's a sweet poison apple.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"I won't. It'll be our secret. I swear it on my honor." She knows so many secrets of his, he will keep all of hers in a silver cage in his chest, twice locked. Feyd reaches for her face, softly grazing his fingertips against her jaw, but her gaze is faraway, drifting downwards diagonally.

The messages folder in the lower right corner of the interface taunts her with the promise of memories. Messages received from friends and family, the echo of her old life. Suffocating sorrow threatens to overwhelm her when she realizes this folder will never blink again with new messages and the contacts of loved ones in there are nothing but husks of the past.

"What do you see there?"

"Nothing," she replies earnestly. "Just memories."

"Look at me…" She follows the prompt of his soft voice. "What does it say when you look at me?"

"Hmm." Shyly, she focuses her attention on Feyd's face, lifting her hand and splaying her fingers across his soft cheek. Immediately, his lids drop halfway and she feels the weight of his head against her hand, relaxed. "First of all, nothing, because you don't have a chip." The tip of her index finger rubs over the smooth skin above his ear.

With the electric current of a thought skipping across neurons, she selects an application from the vast array. "But it has a tool that allows me to scan the environment. It's helpful for identifying flora and fauna."

"So, what sort of fauna am I?" Feyd mumbles, cheek still against her palm. A half-transparent box flickers to life in the virtual space above his head. 

"Human," she declares and smiles. "See, no fucking Bene Gesserit torture test required to find that out."

That causes Feyd to stir and he snatches her wrist with one hand and cups her face with the other, pulling their foreheads close. "They tested you?!"

"You know about the tests? Are they… A common thing?" Her heart pounds loudly in her chest.

"I don't know how common. But they tested me too, last week. Said I couldn't have you unless I passed the test." 

For a brief moment she catches herself wishing Feyd had plunged his daunting blade into the Bene Gesserit sister after the test. Feyd seems quite content with the vitriolic expression in her eyes, exhaling softly against her mouth, lashes half-lowered. His heart pounds quickly and he wonders if this is the right time to sleep with his woman and cover every inch of her body with himself, explore her real flesh until every square inch of her is covered with his handprints.

"Why are we sitting on the floor in front of this pod, my darling?"

"Because now that I've got my chip, I can finally get my things."

Feyd regrets that he said anything, because now she pulls away, attention diverted to the metal behemoth of a coffin. "What about your-?" He points towards the small coffer.

"Only odds and ends in there. My old cryo suit, the multi tool, couple of necessities the sisterhood gave to me. You know, a toothbrush and such," she rambles while establishing the personal area network between herself and the sarcophagus. The batteries have been holding up well for 24,000 years in space. She must have grazed the gravitational periphery of multiple suns which have fed energy into the cryo pod's solar panels. The pod was at 20% when she exited it on Wallach IX, puking and shivering after being woken. In Giedi Prime's unforgiving sun, it has already climbed up to 50% within a few hours.

The tethering is complete and the CryoSysTM system (evil tongues will say it pronounces like crisis) immediately recognizes her chip and her as the occupant of this pod and a rank 3 member of the International Spacing Cooperation of Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia, America and Luna, short ISCO.

On the virtual interface, she enters the passcode which she remembers by heart and completes the triplicate identification process by pressing her thumb on one of the four, small scanner panels.

Welcome, Astronaut M2-84.

Feyd flinches when the sarcophagus buzzes to life with a heavy, electronic sound and a segment in its lower half clicks open along what he had thought welt joints so far.

The relic reaches into cargo compartment 2 which had obediently opened upon her command. Feyd squints his eyes, frowning at the strange item she removes. A fuzzy thing with plump arms and legs which she squeezes against her chest. 

Is it delusional to think it still smells of home? But somehow it does and she can't help the tears that burn in her eyes.

"What is that?" Feyd tries to pry the thing out of her arms, but she fiercely resists.

"That's mine!" She flinches away, then adds more softly: "That's my stuffed animal."

"Oh. Ah. What can it do?"

"Nothing." She looks up with surprise and Feyd's eyes widen a smidge. "Have you never had one?"

Feyd thinks: Maybe. But he says: "This must be something we don't have anymore… nowadays."

"Hmmph." She highly doubts that. But she can imagine a childhood on this planet must be extremely different. "Well, it's mine and it's very personal to me, so please don't do anything that would damage it or I'll never forgive you."

"Okay!" Feyd reassures her quickly, taken aback. Her voice sounds so tearful all of a sudden and it puzzles him that one can be so attached to an object. It almost makes him jealous. Not directly of the stuffed animal, but of the fact that there was happiness in her old home. Happiness acquired through soft and useless things. How badly he wants that. But he doesn't even dare request a softer blanket for his room. Perhaps if she asked for him, he could have one…

Feyd will not touch the stuffed animal, even though it looks very soft. He touches his woman's back instead, sliding his arm around her so she leans against his side.

"Thank God I placed him in the high-security compartment." She looks at the fuzzy thing. "And my diary. The Bene Gesserit put my pod through its paces, but couldn't get past the outer shell." She taps the slit above her ear. 

If Feyd had such emotional objects, he'd keep them in the high-security compartment as well. Which is why the security for the palace has been doubled and the guards for this corridor alone tripled since her arrival.

"So, what would you have done if the witches had found and touched your little… friend there?" He grins, face conspiratorially close to hers, hoping to see maybe a sliver of that pretty violence again.

"That's not the problem," she shakes her head, squishing the plushie in her hands. Her heart pitter-patters from the closeness of Feyd's mouth near her cheek.

"Obviously, I don't only keep useless items in here." The look she gives him then is sly and Feyd's hairless brows shoot up. "I stopped asking for my necklace when I realized that computers are… Demonized. These pods were meant to preserve my people on our way from Earth deeper into the solar system, letting us sleep in a frozen slumber to skip the time. But each pod is also a fully equipped emergency capsule with all the necessities one might need as a stranded astronaut on a foreign world."

"Astronaut," he repeats the word uttered in a foreign language which sounds ancient to him. "How many like you were there?"

"We were twelve ships, 100 sleeping astronauts aboard each, all headed  to new worlds. Mine was the Magellan II, headed to Mars. Do your aircrafts have names?" Feyd shakes his head. "Ah, well. Traditions do change within 24,000 years I suppose."

"So, you left Earth to colonize the solar system, is that what you were trying to tell me on our last night?"

"That's right." She shivers at the memory. Her family and colleagues hadn't understood why she was crying so hard the whole morning before climbing into her sarcophagus to sleep. "I wasn't sure if I could dream in cryo sleep. The journey to Mars would have taken three years." Pleadingly, she turns to Feyd, startled by his proximity. "And how could I have told you I was leaving when you were doomed to die on earth? The program was scorned by the public, they said we're worse than terrorists."

So, she did leave him deliberately, Feyd notes almost matter-of-factly. But he isn't hurt, because her departure is the cause for his woman being here and he can convince her of his love every day for the rest of their lives, so that if the opportunity arises to leave him again, she will choose to stay with him.

A suspicious thought overcomes her. "I dreamed of you the months leading up to our departure. When did you dream of us?" He looks exactly like in the dreams, only a bit more tense around the edges. And no scar on his neck.

"The dreams stopped two years ago. And until one week ago, I had no idea if I'd ever see you again." He exhales deeply, eyes flitting across her face.

A frown spreads across her forehead. "Two years ago, the Bene Gesserit thawed me after receiving my cryo pod from the Guild. So, you've been dreaming while I was… asleep."

How odd. The timing seems to make little sense.

Feyd can see it in her eyes, how intrigued she is, already trying to understand and unravel the mysteries like back then. But Feyd has bigger concerns and looks only at her lips.

"And why are you here with me now, and not on Mars, 24000 years ago?"

"That's what I've been dying to find out."

Again, she pulls away from him before he can kiss her and Feyd silently curses himself. A muscle across his jaw tenses. It bugs him that he can't see what she can see, makes him feel excluded. Her eyes dart about, then squint as if she's reading. Feyd manages to keep quiet for a minute.

"What?" He eventually snaps, staring at her from the side.

"Well…" Her voice sounds small and disappointed. "It's what I expected. An emergency protocol released my pod after critical hull damage." 

Pensively, she kneads her own palms, staring at the virtual interface. Perhaps the others are still out there. Perhaps by some miracle they have survived the cryogenic sleep for much longer than what should be possible as well, and the folder in the corner of her interface will someday blink again.

The truth is, death has most certainly found everyone she's loved, embraced them with silent arms in their sarcophagi, cells turned to ice and withered away in the cold, endless night of the universe. A lonely and peaceful death, much more peaceful than the life that awaits her.

It was the program she was a part of that sparked the human advance into the universe. And she lives to see its terrible fruit.

"Why were you on that pod?" Feyd murmurs from the side. "What made you so special?"

Finally, she turns her head to face him again. "Because I helped build them."

"You?" A subtle frown crinkles the milky skin between his brows.

"Oh, yes. Where I'm from, women aren't just slaves. I'm a trained engineer."

And as the smart ship grew In stature, grace, and hue, In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too. - The Convergence of the Twain by Thomas Hardy

A/N: Yes, hello, I'd like to have one helping of Neuralink meets Cyberpunk 2077. To everyone who's not a trained engineer, myself included: We've got this! And also: Who is the ship and who is the iceberg here? 🤭

TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @charmingballoon,

@minedofmoria, @flower-frog, @welliah, @coastalcowgirl35, @sebastianswallows

Do let me know if you'd like me to tag you for this series or for Feyd fics in general 🫶

[otomehoneyybearr]

3rd Birthday Story Sale

Kagari Amagase: A Heart-Throbbing Moment (Gift) For You

Taglist: @candied-boys

On the morning of my birthday—

The first thing I saw upon waking wasn't Kagari's sleeping face or his green eyes, but a single cherry blossom and a letter.

.....

Kagari: "You arrived early, Princess. Were you that eager to see me?"

Emma: "Of course, I wanted to see you as soon as possible, but..."

Kagari: "Why are you looking at me like I'm some bizarre creature?"

Emma: "Because you're tied up, Kagari."

(And cutely tied up with a ribbon, at that.)

The location mentioned in the letter was Kagari’s secret hideout, known only to a select few.

There I found, for some reason, Kagari with his wrists bound together, filling my mind with all sorts of questions.

Kagari: "Gifts come with ribbons, don't they?"

Emma: "So, does that mean...?"

Kagari: "Rejoice. Your first birthday present is me."

(I’d imagined doing something like this with Kagari, but I never thought it would actually happen!)

I was so surprised that I was speechless.

But my gradually warming cheeks were proof of how genuinely happy I was.

(If he's the present, that means I get to spend the whole day with him.)

The thought of having the person I love by my side on my birthday—Well, there’s no way I wouldn’t be overjoyed.

Emma: "Thank you. I'm really, truly happy!"

Kagari: "Then untie the ribbon quickly. Otherwise, this gift might run away, it has legs, you know."

Emma: "I'll untie it right away, so please don't run away."

I hurriedly grabbed the end of the ribbon and pulled, and it easily came undone.

As soon as he was freed, he hugged me tightly, burying his face in my neck.

(This is the first time I've received such a cuddly gift.)

It was ticklish and endearing, so I hugged him back.

Kagari: "Princess, are you satisfied already? There are more presents. In fact, the next one is the main gift."

(Can there even be a present better than Kagari in this world?)

Kagari: "Take this."

(A notebook...?)

It was a small, palm-sized rectangular notebook with a picture of a sleeping cat on the cover.

(It’s a drawing made by Kagari. Haha, how cute.)

(If this is the main present, maybe there's something written inside.)

With growing anticipation, I opened the cover. Inside was...

Emma: "A coupon to eat dorayaki together?"

Kagari: "If you give me any of those coupons, I'll grant the wish written on it."

Emma: "What a tempting present. Are you sure I can really have this?"

Kagari: "I made it for you. If you don't take it, it'll just turn to ashes."

Emma: "Thank you, I'll take it!"

I carefully turned each page to see what other coupons were there.

A date while holding hands coupon, a dressing-up coupon, a birthday cake coupon, a birthday song coupon, a kiss coupon, a hug coupon...

Seeing the cuteness of the contents written in Kagari’s slightly scrawled handwriting made me smile.

(A hug while kissing, kissing on his lap, a hug from the front, a hug from the back, a hug from the side... So many variations.)

(It's so like him to have so many kiss and hug coupons. His desires are quite clear.)

I tried giving Kagari a kiss coupon.

Emma: "Mm..."

Kagari: "You really like kisses, don’t you, Princess? So do I."

His kiss was swift and took my breath away, making my cheeks hot as he slightly lifted the corner of his mouth.

(Giving him a coupon is basically saying, "I want this"...)

(This might be a present that tests my heart as well.)

Still, it didn't change how happy I was.

(Which coupon should I use next... Oh, this one looks good.)

Kagari: "The dressing-up coupon, huh."

Emma: "I thought it would be best to use this one first. I can't imagine what it entails, so I'm looking forward to it."

(Will it be a birthday sash, a hat shaped like a cake, or maybe glasses?)

As I eagerly anticipated, Kagari suddenly wrapped his arms around my back, hugging me.

Emma: "Waaah! Why am I being undressed!?"

Kagari: "Because I'm going to dress you up."

Without any room for argument, he quickly stripped off my clothes, leaving me in my underwear.

Embarrassed, I moved behind Kagari to escape his gaze.

Emma: "I can put on clothes by myself, you know?"

Kagari: "If you refuse, you'll spend your birthday in your underwear. Not that I'd mind."

Kagari: "Besides, I’m better at dressing you than you are."

Emma: "Dressing me… Oh."

Kagari took something wrapped in a cloth from the closet and placed it on the floor

When he untied it, an elegant kimono in a soft gray plum color appeared.

(Wow… It’s beautiful.)

The various flower patterns primarily in shades of red were both vibrant and softly understated, exuding a subtle sweetness.

Kagari: "A birthday comes only once a year. I wanted your outfit to feel special too."

Kagari: "You always cherish things tied to memories, after all."

(Kagari thought this through so much.)

Emma: "...It’s so beautiful, it makes me hesitate to wear it. It captivated me instantly.”

Kagari: "I'm well aware of your tastes, so this reaction was expected."

Kagari: "But seeing you actually happy makes me even more pleased than I anticipated."

Though his expression was hard to read, the air around him seemed a bit gentler.

Suppressing my embarrassment, I moved into Kagari's line of sight.

Emma: "Could you please help me dress?"

Kagari: "Of course, I'll make you look adorable. Just wait and see."

True to his word, Kagari tied the obi in a rose knot and braided my hair to match.

I couldn't stop looking in the mirror, so delighted by how cute he made me look.

(Even though I’m already overwhelmed with joy, I still have many coupons left...)

Emma: “Eek!”

Kagari gave a playful bite to my neck and looked at me with a slightly sulky expression.

Kagari: "Hurry up and give me the next coupon. Let me celebrate you more."

Emma: "Sorry, I was just so happy with how you dressed me."

Emma: "Then, next... I'll use this coupon!"

Kagari: "A birthday cake coupon and a birthday song coupon. Wait here."

Emma: "Okay."

(Since it's Kagari, it might be a gigantic dorayaki or a stack of them reaching the ceiling.)

However, when Kagari returned to the room, what he was holding was undeniably a birthday cake.

Emma: "A rose cake! I love it."

It's the classic birthday cake in Rhodolite, topped with fruit and rose-shaped sugar decorations. The difference was the little cherry blossom sugar decoration placed next to the rose.

Setting the birthday cake down on the table, Kagari and I sat on the floor facing each other.

Emma: "The rose and cherry blossom are so cute together. Well, let’s dig in..."

Kagari: "Wait, little glutton. We haven't sung the song yet."

Emma: "Oh, right. It looked so delicious that I almost forgot..."

I quickly pulled my hand back from reaching for the cake and placed it on my lap.

After subtly clearing his throat, Kagari began to sing the birthday song I knew so well from childhood.

He slightly nodded his head to the rhythm, and I clapped my hands in time with him.

(His pitch is off, but he probably practiced a lot for today.)

This was evident from the song and his serious expression, and it was so endearing that I couldn't help but smile.

Kagari: "Happy birthday, Princess. Now, open your mouth."

Emma: "Aah... mmm, it's delicious. And it tastes nostalgic."

Kagari: "What a lovely smile. You're so cute I want to shower you with affection right now."

Kagari: "Ready for the second bite?"

Emma: "Yes, I am."

I took a larger bite of the cake than before, and the sweetness of the rose and cream spread throughout my mouth, soothing me.

After that, I kept eating each piece he offered, and fed him in return, and the cake quickly disappeared.

(Ah, that was delicious...)

Kagari: "..."

(Kagari's gaze hasn't left me for a while now. Is he waiting for the next coupon or something...?)

(Now that I think about it, he usually takes every opportunity to kiss or lean on my shoulder, but today he hasn't.)

I suddenly noticed the coupons placed beside me.

(Oh, that's why...)

Kagari: “….!”

I picked up the "Kissing on His Lap" coupon and handed it to him.

Kagari approached me happily, like a cat with its tail raised, and lifted me onto his lap.

A soft kiss landed on my lips, and he narrowed his eyes at a distance close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Then, he nuzzled my neck playfully with his nose, making me unconsciously let out a soft sigh.

(Seeing Kagari so happy makes me want to use these coupons more often, even though I'll be sad when they run out.)

After that, I used the coupons as I pleased.

We held hands and went out to the town, he fed me dorayaki, we stole kisses away from prying eyes, and spent an incredibly sweet time together that could only be described as over-the-top romantic...

Before I knew it, the sky had turned a deep blue.

(There was a mysterious special coupon that turned out to be for viewing the night cherry blossoms.)

Sitting side by side on our usual spot on the tree branch, Kagari and I gazed at the enchanting, almost otherworldly cherry blossoms, which looked different from how they did during the day.

(Ah...)

As I instinctively reached out to catch a falling petal, Kagari's hand extended from the side and caught it first.

Kagari: "You really like this game, don't you?"

Emma: "I just can't help it."

I carefully took the offered petal and pressed it between my handkerchief.

Emma: "This is the first time I've received so many presents on my birthday."

Kagari: "Hearing that makes me happy too. I want to be your first in everything."

Kagari: "But look forward to next year's birthday as well. I promise to prepare an even grander celebration than this year."

Emma: "What..."

Kagari: "What's with that reaction? Ah, I see. This year alone was enough for you."

Emma: "That's not true! I'm looking forward to next year too."

Kagari: "That's right, be greedy, Princess."

Kagari: "Next time, I'll make the birthday cake all by myself... I swear it."

(Does that mean he had intended to make it by himself this this time?)

(…Next year, huh.)

(Before we became lovers, he’d never say anything like ‘See you next time’, no matter how many times we met.)

(But things are different now. He’s promised a future.)

(…It feels like I've received another present.)

I put the handkerchief in my pocket and took out the remaining coupons.

There were only a few left, most of them being kiss and hug coupons.

(It’s okay to be a bit greedier, right...?)

Emma: "Kagari, could you fulfill all the remaining tickets?"

Kagari: "I'll grant any wish of yours."

Kagari: "Besides, I haven't had enough of you yet."

Our lips met, and we passionately conveyed our happiness to each other with intertwined tongues. With every kiss, his emerald eyes gleamed with a fierce heat, and just being stared at made my core tingle with a sweet ache.

Kagari: “Did I get a perfect score for celebrating your birthday?”

Emma: “Yes. It was worth 100 perfect scores.”

Emma: “Thank you for such a wonderful birthday, Kagari.”

Kagari: “Then let me say this too.”

Kagari: “Thank you for letting me have you all to myself on your birthday.”

(At first, I thought he was happy just because I used the coupons...)

(But perhaps even more than that, he was happy to be wanted and given attention.)

Thinking that only made my love for him grow…

(For me, Kagari’s happiness is the greatest gift of all.)

This time, I initiated the kiss, and we spent a blissful time together until the date changed.

▼・ᴥ・▼

[malk1ns]

december 14 2024 @ senators, 3-2 OT loss

creature feature time. yes i've already written incubus sidney crosby once and i likely will again; what can i say, it compels me.

credit for this prompt goes to @beggingwolf who ended it with 'and uh something something they sleep together'. can do!

Zhenya can tell when Sid hasn’t fed in a while.

The team keeps a close eye on his intake, of course. He gets his blood tested weekly, and there’s a whole sub-department of the medical team dedicated to his care and keeping.

League requirements for something like Sid are much more lax than they are for other creatures; wolves take suppressants and wear thin gloves made of cut-resistant fabric under their normal hockey gloves, vampires wear specially-molded mouthguards that have to be cracked off by the dentists and get shots that dull their sense of smell on game days. Some creatures aren’t allowed in the NHL at all—the fae and telekinetics are stuck in the lower levels because magical dampeners aren’t effective enough.

Incubi, though? Unless they’re underfed, they’re in complete control of their abilities, and it’s so obvious when a sex demon is putting someone under thrall that they’d be tossed immediately, before any impact to the game could occur. 

So Sid is subjected to regular testing, and he has a group of people more involved in his sex life than he’d probably prefer, but it’s a small price to pay relative to others, and Zhenya’s never heard him complain.

Sometimes, though, he lies.

Sid’s stubborn, always has been. There are certain cities he doesn’t like picking up in even if he’s scheduled to feed, and he’s slippery, good at avoiding questions without the medical staff picking up on it until it’s too late.

Normally, it doesn’t matter. A day or two here and there doesn’t really impact anything, and Sid knows his body—he’d never delay to the point where it would impact his performance, or the team.

And if it does get close to a critical point, well, that’s where Zhenya steps in. It’s why he’s gotten so good at picking up on the early signs.

One of the places Sid never feeds is Montreal. He’s far too visible there, too well-known; they can barely duck in for a sandwich without him getting mobbed. They have to stick to the VIP if they go out, and even then he spends time brushing off hopeful fans looking to get up close and personal. All it would take is one person running to one of the innumerable hockey reporters that are constantly buzzing around the Penguins when they’re here, and it’s a league-wide story for months, if not the whole rest of the season.

Zhenya’s half-wondering if Sid will call him to his hotel room after the game. They’re not leaving until tomorrow after practice, and a bunch of the guys are chattering about going out as they all get changed.

Sid doesn’t say anything, though, and despite the blowout win his face is drawn. He lurks in the shadows at the bar they decide on and slips out early.

Zhenya shrugs it off and distracts himself with a couple of giggly French-Canadian girls with accents so thick he can barely understand them. He won’t go home with either of them, of course, but it’s fun to make friends.

—

Sid puts on a good face at practice the next day, but he’s quiet and crabby on the train, sitting across the aisle from Zhenya’s card game but refusing to be dealt in even when Karl tries to cajole him into playing. He chats for a while with Neets, but spends most of the ride staring out the window with his brow furrowed and one hand clenching and unclenching in his lap.

Zhenya sits next to him at dinner, but Sid doesn’t say a word, not even when Zhenya asks leading questions to try and get around to the topic.

Sid doesn’t text that night either, not that Zhenya was expecting it the night before a game.

The Senators game is fine. They manage a point, which is better than they usually do against this team, and they have two days before they play again. The team normally wouldn’t go out two nights so close together, but Karl’s chattering excitedly about a bar he used to go to all the time when he was playing here, and when Sid unexpectedly pipes up to say he’s in, the rest of the team follows suit.

Zhenya grabs Sid on the way out. “You sure?” he says quietly, leaning down so Sid can hear him. “You’re tired, I think, need to feed. We can go to hotel if you want.” Ottawa is another city Sid won’t pick up in, a relatively recent development that Zhenya hasn’t bothered getting to the bottom of outside of how it impacts Sid’s routines.

Sid stares up at him. His eyes are huge and black in his pale face, and his skin is drawn tight over his cheekbones. For a second Zhenya can feel thrall creeping up, and he sways forward, but then Sid shakes his head and wrenches his arm free. “I’m fine,” he says shortly.

Zhenya stares after him, baffled. Even when Sid had his eye on some other target, he’s never brushed Zhenya off so rudely before.

Sid’s demon likes Zhenya, is the thing. Zhenya’s heard it from its own mouth, lying prone on a mattress in some hotel and listening to the incubus inside Sid’s body murmur about how good he is, the best, as it works Zhenya over into orgasm after orgasm. And yeah, part of that is flattery designed to keep its food source compliant, but Sid had confirmed it too, when Zhenya screwed up enough courage to ask.

"Yeah,” Sid had said, flushing pink. “I mean…it’s not picky, you know, but there are…favorites, I guess. You’re one of them. You taste—” and then Sid had cut himself off.

Sometimes, Zhenya wonders how much of their encounters are Sid and not his incubus side. He likes to pretend that it’s strictly transactional, a series of mindblowing orgasms in exchange for keeping his demon fed, but Zhenya knows what Sid looks like when it’s just him in there. The lines have felt blurred for a while now, and Zhenya isn’t sure how much more clear he can make it that if Sid wanted it, Zhenya would wife him up so fast.

Husband him up. Whatever.

Maybe Sid figured that out and he’s trying to give Zhenya a hint. That would be just like Sid, to get himself all worked up over something and decide he has to shut it down before even giving it a chance.

Well, Sid isn’t the only stubborn asshole on this team. Zhenya’s prepared to wait him out. And since Sid’s incubus likes him so much, he’s got the edge over whatever objections Sid might try to trot out. He just needs to force the conversation and let their natural chemistry take it from there.

All Zhenya’s confidence evaporates, though, when he loses track of Sid for a solid hour at the bar Karl directed them to, only to spot him leaning up against a hightop making eyes at someone else.

To Zhenya’s surprise, his eyes sting like they’re about to fill with tears, and he has to swallow hard around the sudden lump in his throat. It feels like he’s gotten the wind knocked out of him.

Sid’s making himself perfectly clear. Whatever he and Zhenya used to do, he doesn’t want it, and by hitting on some guy in the middle of a bar like this, he couldn’t be sending out a stronger signal—we’re done.

Just as Zhenya’s about to turn away, make his way back to their table to grab his jacket and get back to the hotel to lick his wounds in private, Sid’s head suddenly turns, and they make eye contact across the bar.

Zhenya tucks tail and flees. He doesn’t need Sid’s pity right now.

He’s barely gotten changed from his going-out clothes into his pajamas, though, when someone pounds on his hotel room door. There’s really only one person it could be, and Zhenya seriously considers ignoring it and pretending he’s already asleep, but then Sid knocks again, harder this time, and Zhenya sighs, heading to the door to let him in.

“You left,” Sid says as he pushes past Zhenya into the room, except it’s not just Sid, there’s a crooning undertone to his voice that Zhenya knows mean the incubus is here too. “Why did you sneak out? You—” and Sid sniffs the air, sometimes this demon shit is beyond weird even after all these years, “you’re upset about something.” He steps closer to Zhenya, widening his eyes. The irises are pitch-black, not a hint of Sid’s normal hazel, and Zhenya closes his eyes against the gentle thrum of thrall brushing over his skin. “What happened?”

“Sid,” Zhenya sighs, taking a step back to try and keep his head clear. “You’re say you not want with me, you’re with some guy tonight. I’m a little upset, okay, maybe I’m jealous, because I think…” He shrugs. “It’s stupid, maybe, but I’m not want to see you do with someone else, so I come back to be alone, give you space.”

“Baby,” Sid murmurs, closing the distance again and curling a hand around the back of Zhenya’s neck. “I never want space from you. You know you’re my favorite.”

Zhenya doesn’t need thrall to give in, not when Sid’s standing so close and looking at him that way. He’s a weak man, and impulsive, and so he’s already moving for the bed before Sid has to push any harder.

Sid undresses them both slowly, letting his fingers reverently linger over Zhenya’s skin, the way a man besotted with his lover might. Zhenya closes his eyes and lets him, drifting on the drugging feel of thrall.

Sid lays him out on the mattress and stretches out next to him before leaning down, kissing him deep and lush, like the kiss is the goal and there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. His hands over Zhenya’s body are rhythmic and intoxicating, and they feel good, but he keeps intentionally avoiding Zhenya’s dick, which is getting hard painfully fast.

“Please,” Zhenya finally groans when he manages to break away from Sid’s mouth for a minute and gasp to catch his breath. “Sid, need it.”

“I need you,” Sid—the incubus—Zhenya can’t tell at this point, purrs at him, but instead of teasing further he slides down Zhenya’s body and takes Zhenya into his mouth.

Sid gets a lot of shit on the ice for what his mouth looks like, and Zhenya can attest that he deserves every last word of it. He’s preternaturally skilled with his tongue and doesn’t seem to have a gag reflex at all, and when Zhenya looks down at Sid’s head bobbing in his lap it takes all his effort to keep from coming right there.

He wants this to last.

Sid hums around him, taking him deeper and reaching down to press at Zhenya’s hole, just lightly, rubbing circles over it with a finger that’s somehow slick with lube even though there’s no way he had time to get Zhenya’s bottle off the nightstand. Zhenya tries to buck back and force Sid’s finger in, but Sid’s other arm is a steel bar over his hip bones, pressing him into the mattress. All Zhenya can do is lie there and take what Sid decides to give him.

Sid’s said before that when he’s with someone like this, he can kind of feel what they’re feeling. Nothing major, but enough to tell him what’s working and what isn’t—the better an orgasm is, the better he feeds. Zhenya wonders what Sid’s getting off of him now, the deep swell of arousal and love and longing that’s making his chest tight.

It means that Sid knows the exact right moment to slide his finger in and press mercilessly at Zhenya’s prostate, rubbing and rubbing as he sucks hard until Zhenya’s coming down his throat with a shout.

Sid nurses at Zhenya’s cock for a while until the shocky oversensitivity turns painful, then pulls back, licking his lips. His eyes are half-slits, and he looks contented, satisfied, like a well-fed cat.

Now that the high of orgasm is fading, though, Zhenya feels empty.

“Hey—” Sid says, and that’s Sid, just him, no trace of the demon. He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at Zhenya, eyes big and worried and wholly his again. “What’s wrong? I can still…I mean, not much, but I can still feel you a little.”

Zhenya flinches. “Sorry,” he mutters, wishing they weren’t lying on top of the covers so he could pull a blanket over himself. He feels exposed. “It’s not—I feel dumb, like, it’s big overreact for nothing. I know it’s…what’s word, like, a deal for you, it’s not serious. I let myself think something more, maybe. It’s okay, though, I get over. We don’t need to stop when you’re hungry.”

“G,” Sid says, voice small, “it is something more. I wasn’t…” He sighs, scrubbing his free hand over his face. “It’s true, that you’re its favorite. My favorite. It’s not just a deal to me, and you’re not overreacting. I noticed it a few weeks ago, the last time I fed from you, but I thought it was bleed—that can happen sometimes, the link starts to let stuff through the other way. I thought you were getting how I felt, and I felt terrible influencing you like that. So I pulled back.”

“Sid,” Zhenya says chidingly, but he has to blink away the dizzying wash of hope. “You’re not say anything? Have to talk, like, can’t just make decisions without say to me.”

“I know,” Sid mutters, flopping down onto his stomach and hiding his face in a pillow. “I felt so stupid, though. I mean, you’re doing me this huge favor and here I am making you feel stuff…it’s more than stupid, it’s unfair, it’s…” He trails off, but Zhenya can plug in a number of words into the silence that he thinks Sid probably would use if they weren’t so unpleasant to say aloud. “I wanted to give you a break to get your head back.”

Zhenya manfully refrains from making a dirty joke. “It’s both of us, I think,” he says instead, rolling onto his side so he can skate his palm over Sid’s back. “You and me, we’re both feel, that’s equal, yes? It’s good.”

“Yeah,” Sid’s muffled, but Zhenya can hear hope rising in his voice too.

[qin-qin16]

[CW: mention of animal bodies, dead animals, cannibalism, fanon Killer Sans]

Alright! Since many people liked the idea of ​​Hyena coded Killer, I decided to bring some characteristics of these beautiful animals so you can see why so many people like to compare Killer with these creatures.

NOTE: I will comment on some of his canonical details, as well as characteristics that the fandom attributes to him, that is, we will have both fanon and canon Killer here!

First of all, what are hyenas? Hyenas are carnivorous animals from the family Hyaenidae (and during this research, I discovered that hyenas are more similar to felines than dogs, so no, they don't have much in common with dogs or wolves!) that inhabit the African continent and western Asia. They are nocturnal animals, but they can function well during the day as well, and they hunt and live in large groups.

After this brief synopsis, I will now report some characteristics of these curious animals that I, personally, find similar and related to Killer Sans!

Hyenas are very intelligent animals - even with the negative stereotypes surrounding them - and are considered one of the most successful animals in hunting! In addition, they have a very complex social relationship with each other, respecting hierarchies and the leader of their respective packs.

In this excerpt, I can already relate this intelligence to Killer, mainly because many people think that, in fact, he is just a charming, idiotic little guy - but, just like hyenas, he is extremely smart and cautious. About the hierarchy part, I have a divided opinion: in some arts of the creator of Killer, we can see him with Nightmare, but it's not like he respects Nightmare as a leader, but rather as if he fears him or has a certain dislike for him, but also has nowhere to go, so he prefers to stay under Nightmare's "care", acting with false respect so as not to be mistreated so much (?).

Hyenas are scavengers! They can eat animals that are still alive or recently killed, but they are best known for feeding on remains (even bones). And, as mentioned before, they are very successful in their hunts, but unfortunately, these kills are mostly stolen by lionesses - which forces them to keep the remains.

I've already discussed a few times the possibility that Killer has already submitted to cannibalism purely out of curiosity, so it wouldn't be surprising to see him hunting monsters just to devour them (humans too, since Howl brought up a headcanon (I don't know if it was really or if it's something canon) about how Killer doesn't see himself as either a monster or a human with the merging of Chara's soul with his). And I also think that Killer has already tested eating at various stages of body composition.

Due to the high levels of male hormones (such as testosterone), hyenas are also very aggressive animals, which results in many deaths of young hyenas among themselves.

Here I am already relating this characteristic more to the instability between the stages of Killer - like the apathetic change from the second stage to the third, which enters into a kind of aggressive frenzy. I believe that not only triggers in interactions or gestures (such as eating or sleeping), but also smells and Killer's own body are affected by this aggression.

One fact that characterized hyenas as intelligent animals is their complex sociability as a group!

Okay, here comes the fanon part: In many Bad Guy fanfics, headcanons and fanarts, Killer is always treated as the best in social interactions, or the one who breaks up fights and the one who tends to “respect” the certain hierarchy he has in the group. Like hyenas, he has an easier time interacting with others, whether to create emotional bonds or mediate conflicts.

A pack of hyenas can have up to 40 members!

So... Do you know how they like to put Killer in different groups? Well, there's the explanation! His place with the Bad Guys, his partnership with Epic Sanses (more because of Color), his rare appearance with the Star Sanses (more with Ink and Swap). As aggressive as Killer is, he also likes to live in large groups, so he needs to rotate between them to satisfy this social need of his.

Now, some ideas that were taken from the depths of my head and that I won't explain much about:

Many people write/draw Nightmare as a trans woman, so Hyena coded Killer would make much more sense, since in the hyena monarchy, the females lead the pack! And they mostly have more power and decision-making in the groups, in addition to being larger than the males.

The sound that the hyenas can reproduce seems to be a strange laugh. There's not much to comment on, except that I imagine that Killer laughs exactly like that.

Hyenas don't usually lick themselves for better hygiene. Yep. Stinky Killer confirmed!

Now here's a touch of mine: I can see Killer being quite aggressive with his displays of affection, biting, pushing and play fighting, as well as enjoying chasing his friends, pretending they are some kind of prey.

And that's it! I hope you enjoyed it! I accept constructive criticism and more ideas for this headcanon that so many were waiting for!

Tagging people who would like to see about Hyena coded Killer (I guess???)

@howlsofbloodhounds @what-have-i-unleashed @toffeebrew @twinribbonz

[zapreportsblog]

↱ whispers of mating season ↰

➘ summary : mating season is fast approaching and tsu’tey already has someone in mind

➘ a/n : a kind individual on here told me to give it a try so that’s what I’m doing, I also was reading a story on Tsu’tey and I like how it portrayed his character so I’m taking it upon myself to create a story that showcases this man abilities and personality to the best of my abilities and knowledge

➘ tsu’tey x reader, avatar the way of water x reader

As the lush moon of Pandora, with its vibrant flora and towering Hometrees, neared the onset of mating season, the air seemed to shimmer with an undercurrent of change. The Na'vi people of the Omaticaya clan, nestled among the swaying vines and bioluminescent wonders of the forest, could sense the subtle shift in the environment.

Among them, Tsu'tey, a skilled warrior and future leader, felt the pull of the season deep within him. As the son of the clan's chief, his responsibilities were great, but his heart longed for something more - a connection that went beyond tradition and expectations.

One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the land bathed in the soft glow of Pandora's night, Tsu'tey found himself in a remote clearing, his thoughts wandering as the whispers of mating season seemed to surround him.

It was then that a figure emerged from the shadows, her presence like a breeze that stirred the leaves. (Y/N), a mixture of Na'vi and Sky People lineage, carried a beauty that was both ethereal and unique. Her features held the traces of her heritage, a blend of Pandora's native inhabitants and the visitors from a distant world.

Tsu'tey's gaze met (Y/N)'s, his eyes alight with curiosity and intrigue. He had known her since her arrival on Pandora, and over time, their interactions had grown from occasional exchanges to something deeper, an unspoken connection that defied the boundaries of their backgrounds.

"May I join you, Tsu'tey?" (Y/N)'s voice was soft, her eyes meeting his with a gentle smile.

Tsu'tey nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat beside him on the grass. "Of course, (Y/N). The night is peaceful, and it seems to have its own stories to tell."

As they sat in companionable silence, the chorus of Pandora's nocturnal creatures filled the air, a symphony of life that seemed to echo their own thoughts. Tsu'tey's gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, his voice thoughtful.

"Mating season approaches, (Y/N). The forest is alive with anticipation, and even the most hardened warriors find themselves influenced by its call."

(Y/N) shifted slightly, her expression pensive. "It's a time of change and connection, isn't it? The bonds formed during mating season are meant to last a lifetime."

Tsu'tey's gaze drifted to (Y/N), and he found himself captivated by her words. "Indeed. Yet, I've always wondered if there's room for connections that don't follow the usual paths."

(Y/N) met his gaze, her eyes searching his for a moment before she spoke with a hint of vulnerability. "Sometimes, the heart seeks what it seeks, regardless of tradition or expectations."

Tsu'tey's heart seemed to beat in time with the rhythm of the forest, his feelings for (Y/N) growing stronger with each passing moment. There was a shared understanding between them, a bond that went beyond words.

As the night wore on, (Y/N) and Tsu'tey found themselves lost in conversation, sharing stories of their worlds, their dreams, and their hopes. The more they talked, the more the lines between their differences seemed to blur, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and companionship.

Tsu'tey's voice held a warmth that mirrored the feelings in his heart. "You are unlike anyone I have ever met, (Y/N). Your origins are unique, but it is your spirit that sets you apart."

(Y/N) smiled, a soft glow in her eyes. "And you, Tsu'tey, are a warrior with a heart that is open to the possibilities that the universe presents."

As the moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver glow over the land, Tsu'tey and (Y/N) shared a moment that seemed to transcend time itself. In a world that celebrated tradition and connection, their bond was a testament to the universality of the heart's desires.

As the first tendrils of mating season's energy enveloped them, Tsu'tey and (Y/N) felt the pulse of change and possibility in the air. The forest whispered its secrets, and amidst the symphony of life, two souls found themselves drawn together by a connection that was as unique and powerful as the world they inhabited.

And so, as the night deepened and the stars danced above, Tsu'tey and (Y/N) embarked on a journey that would challenge conventions, test their hearts, and lead them down a path that would forever change their destinies on the enchanting moon of Pandora.

Over the following days, Tsu'tey and (Y/N)'s connection deepened, each interaction bringing them closer together. They shared moments of laughter and quiet contemplation, discovering common interests and embracing the differences that made them unique.

As the Omaticaya clan prepared for the impending mating season ceremonies, Tsu'tey found himself torn between his responsibilities to his people and the growing feelings he had for (Y/N). He watched her from a distance as she interacted with the other clan members, her presence a reminder of the possibilities that existed beyond tradition.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the colors of Pandora's sky painted a breathtaking canvas, Tsu'tey sought (Y/N) out by the Hometree. The glow of the bioluminescent plants created an ethereal backdrop for their conversation.

"(Y/N)," he began, his voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and determination, "these are times of great importance to our people. Mating season is a celebration of unity and bonds that sustain us. Yet, I find myself drawn to a connection that defies tradition."

(Y/N)'s gaze met his, her expression a mix of understanding and empathy. "Tsu'tey, I sense the conflict within you. But remember, the heart's desires are a part of the cycle of life too. They shape our experiences and guide us toward our true paths."

Tsu'tey nodded, his eyes reflecting the tumultuous emotions within him. "You speak wisdom, (Y/N). But our world is one of customs and responsibilities."

(Y/N) stepped closer to him, her voice gentle. "And sometimes, breaking away from those customs can lead to new beginnings. Our hearts know what they seek, even if it challenges tradition."

Tsu'tey's hand brushed against (Y/N)'s, a touch that spoke of unspoken promises and shared dreams. "You have a way of making me see beyond what I've always known."

(Y/N) smiled, her touch lingering on his. "Pandora is a world of wonders and possibilities. And our connection is a testament to the magic that can be found in the unexpected."

As the days passed and the mating season ceremonies approached, Tsu'tey found himself torn between the path he had always known and the one that beckoned him with (Y/N). The moment of decision drew closer, and the weight of his choice seemed to rest heavily upon his shoulders.

The night of the first mating dance arrived, the forest alive with the sounds of music and celebration. Tsu'tey stood among his people, his heart a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. As he watched the dancers, his gaze sought out (Y/N), who stood at the edge of the clearing, her eyes meeting his with a reassuring smile.

With each beat of the drum, Tsu'tey's heart resonated with the rhythm of change. As the energy of the mating season pulsed through the air, he stepped forward, the eyes of the clan upon him.

And then, in a bold move that defied tradition, he extended his hand to (Y/N), his eyes never leaving hers. With a mixture of surprise and hope, (Y/N) accepted his hand, and they began to move together, their dance a reflection of their shared connection.

The clan watched in astonishment as Tsu'tey and (Y/N) danced, their steps echoing a union that transcended convention. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if acknowledging the birth of something extraordinary.

As the dance reached its crescendo, Tsu'tey held (Y/N) close, his heart pounding in rhythm with hers. In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the Omaticaya clan and the moonlit embrace of Pandora, Tsu'tey chose a path that led him to his heart's desire.

The mating season's energy swirled around them, and as the final note of the music faded into the night, Tsu'tey and (Y/N) found themselves surrounded by a sea of approving smiles and knowing nods. Tradition had been challenged, and in its place, a new chapter had begun.

As the celebrations continued, Tsu'tey and (Y/N) stood together, hand in hand, their connection a testament to the power of love that transcended boundaries. The whispers of Pandora's mating season had brought them together, and in the heart of the vibrant forest, they embarked on a journey that celebrated unity, destiny, and the bonds that truly sustained their world.

Months had passed since Tsu'tey and (Y/N) had defied tradition during Pandora's mating season, forging a bond that transcended the expectations of their people. As their connection grew stronger, so did their love for each other.

One morning, as the sun's gentle rays filtered through the lush canopy of the forest, (Y/N) woke with a sense of unease. Nausea washed over her, and her energy seemed depleted. Tsu'tey, who had become attuned to every nuance of her well-being, noticed her discomfort immediately.

He was by her side in an instant, concern etched into his features. "Are you feeling alright, my love?"

(Y/N) managed a weak smile, though her voice was laced with exhaustion. "I don't know, Tsu'tey. I just feel... off."

Tsu'tey's hand brushed against her forehead, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Perhaps a visit to the healers would provide some insight. You have always had a strong connection with the energies of Pandora. They may offer guidance."

(Y/N) nodded, allowing Tsu'tey to help her to her feet. Together, they made their way to the healer's hut, where a wise Na'vi woman awaited them.

The healer's gaze held a knowing glint as she examined (Y/N). After a few moments of silence, she smiled warmly. "You are not sick, my child. Rather, a different kind of energy courses through you."

Tsu'tey exchanged a puzzled glance with (Y/N), uncertainty evident in his eyes. "Different energy?"

The healer's smile widened, and she placed a gentle hand on (Y/N)'s abdomen. "You are carrying a new life within you. A new member of your family is on the way."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and joy flooding her heart. She turned to Tsu'tey, her voice trembling with emotion. "Tsu'tey, did you hear that?"

Tsu'tey's gaze met (Y/N)'s, and a brilliant smile spread across his face. "We are to be parents, (Y/N). Our family grows."

Tears of happiness welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she embraced Tsu'tey tightly. "This is beyond anything I could have imagined. A new life, a new beginning."

Tsu'tey's touch was tender as he wiped away her tears. "We will welcome this new life with open hearts, just as we did with our bond."

As the healer provided guidance and advice for (Y/N)'s well-being, Tsu'tey and (Y/N) left the hut, their hearts full of hope and excitement. The forest seemed to embrace them, its vibrant colors reflecting the joy that radiated from within.

Tsu'tey's gaze held a mixture of reverence and awe as he looked at (Y/N). "Our ancestors watch over us, (Y/N). Our bond and our growing family are a testament to the unity of our people."

(Y/N) nodded, her hand resting on her abdomen where a new life was beginning to take shape. "And this new life will carry the spirit of Pandora within them, just as we do."

With a shared understanding of the journey ahead, Tsu'tey and (Y/N) walked hand in hand through the forest, their hearts united by a love that had defied tradition and embraced the boundless possibilities of their world. As they looked toward the future, a sense of purpose and anticipation filled their souls, for the journey of parenthood awaited them, and with it, the promise of new adventures and unbreakable bonds.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Tsu'tey and (Y/N) awaited the arrival of their new family member with a sense of anticipation and joy. The forest seemed to hum with the promise of new life, and the Omaticaya clan shared in their excitement, offering well-wishes and support.

(Y/N)'s connection with Pandora seemed to deepen as her pregnancy progressed, the vibrant energy of the moon intertwining with the life growing within her. Tsu'tey stood by her side every step of the way, his dedication unwavering.

One day, as the sun painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, (Y/N) felt the first signs of labor. Tsu'tey's presence was a steadying force, his hand clasped tightly in hers as they made their way to the healer's hut.

The healer's eyes held a knowing warmth as she prepared to assist (Y/N) through the birthing process. Tsu'tey's presence was a comforting presence by (Y/N)'s side, his voice a soothing presence as he whispered words of encouragement.

Hours passed, each moment a testament to the strength and resilience of (Y/N) and the bond she shared with Tsu'tey. And finally, as the moon hung high in the sky and the forest seemed to hold its breath, a cry filled the air, signaling the arrival of a new life.

Tears of joy welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she held her newborn in her arms, her heart overflowing with love and wonder. Tsu'tey's gaze was fixed on the tiny bundle, his expression a mixture of awe and adoration.

"She's beautiful, (Y/N)," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

(Y/N) smiled through tears as she looked at their daughter, a perfect blend of their worlds. "Yes, she is. Our little miracle."

Tsu'tey gently touched the baby's cheek, his touch tender and full of wonder. "She carries the spirit of both Pandora and the sky people within her."

The healer, who had been quietly observing, approached with a knowing smile. "A child born of two worlds. It is a testament to the unity that can be found in the most unexpected places."

As Tsu'tey and (Y/N) held their daughter close, a sense of completeness settled over them. Their journey, from defying tradition to embracing a love that transcended boundaries, had led them to this moment of pure joy.

With their newborn daughter nestled in their arms, Tsu'tey and (Y/N) returned to their home within the Hometree. The forest seemed to celebrate their new beginning, its colors and sounds reflecting the vibrant energy of a world that had witnessed the creation of a family.

In the days that followed, the Omaticaya clan embraced the arrival of their newest member, celebrating the unity that had brought her into the world. The blend of Na'vi and human features that adorned her face were a symbol of the connection that Tsu'tey and (Y/N) had forged, and the promise of a future where differences were celebrated and love knew no boundaries.

And so, under the watchful gaze of Pandora's moons and the swaying branches of the Hometree, Tsu'tey, (Y/N), and their daughter began a new chapter in their lives. A chapter filled with unity, love, and the beauty that came from embracing the tapestry of their unique backgrounds.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

lately I've been messing with a mod that changes some vanilla + sve dialogues about the species of the farmer to make them recognise them as not human (you can kinda customize the race). It's been pretty fun and great for role-playing but at the same time, it kinda crossed my mind that a supernatural lineage/genetics could sort of justify the weird thing of the farmer's children growing at strange paces for a human child (going from baby to toddler in weeks and then stoping) if they're biological.

And like, probably for the farmer it's the most normal thing in the world and never mentioned such details about children in their species. And so. It happens. The kid grows too fast or too slow. Maybe it's because the farmer is from a species that lives longer than usual so it halts the development even if they're half-human, or are from species that just reaches maturity faster than humans. Or whatever.

So, what kind of reactions do you think some bachelors/bachelorettes would have upon discovering their children have messed up stages of growth bc of this? I'm not thinking about anyone in particular but I kind of think that the more adventure/magic related spouses would get it easier or even expect it. Whoever you think would be more interesting, really.

I hope I wasn't too vague or weird with this idea-- Have a great day and weekend 🫶🪻

That's a pretty interesting theory about children growing up quickly! Usually a lot of people (myself included) have discussed the rapid passing of the seasons in Stardew Valley, but it's usually written off to the mechanics of the game or the fact that this magical world doesn't have the same passage of time as normal. After all, carrots don't grow for only three days, and autumn doesn't consist of only one month. Heh, I like this idea, dear anon, thanks for your ask! 💕

You mentioned that you weren't thinking of anyone in particular, but I understood that adventure/magic meant Expanded mod, right? So I'll include some candidates from vanilla game and mod. Anyway, enjoy!

_____________________________

Abigail:

Abigail thought at first that she was sleep-deprived (being a parent was a challenge, after all), but even as she wiped her eyes and scrutinized the baby's crib, the purple-haired girl was stunned. It's her baby, but at the same time, it's not??? What the heck is going on?

"Farmer, can I talk to you for a moment?"

She knew both for Farmer's background and the fact that their child might inherit some of her spouse's abilities of their non-human half, the young mom was prepared. But here was the rapidly passing stage from baby to toddler that was unexpected for both of them. Well, at least Farmer had explained that only this stage would be skipped like this. On one hand, Abby was a little bummed that she hadn't gotten to babysit her son/daughter as baby more, but on the other hand she exhaled a sigh of relief that now she wouldn't have to deal with the constant dirty diapers and crying in the middle of the night almost every two hours.

Magnus Rasmodius:

The creatures from which Farmer had roots were known for their longevity and slower growth stages, unlike the human race. Magnus knows this very well, he even has a book about it somewhere in his library. The wizard knows the entire contents by heart, as he wanted to understand what to be prepared for when a new member of his and Farmer's family arrives. This point, however, caused him a share of sadness.

Rasmodius loves Farmer and their beautiful child dearly, and wouldn't trade that happiness for anything. It's just... his child (and Farmer too) will live longer than Magnus himself, and he's already old. He's afraid he'll leave this world before his son/daughter starts talking or even recognize him... But at least the magical crystals he charges with memories and photos of a happy family will remind his child that they had a father, and that Magnus loved them and Farmer very much.

Lance:

It was rare to find Lance dumbfounded, especially dumbfounded by his own child. The gallant adventurer and young father wasn't the least bit surprised that his and Farmer's newborn was showing magic already at a young age, given the pedigree of both parents. But what kind of magic had made his crawling baby into an already confidently walking toddler?

"My soul, do you recall any other unusual features on your part that might explain this transformation?" Yep, Farmer could answer that.

It's a similar situation with Magnus, Lance will have a pang of sadness that he will grow old faster than his dearest spouse and his child. But that's fate, and there's no point in wasting this time with sad thoughts. Lance will devote all his time to his family, loving and protecting them as long as he walks this earth.

Emily:

It's one thing when the sudden growing up of an unusual child happens, say, somewhere over the course of a few days to a week, where you slowly but surely ask yourself the logical question, but are at least somehow prepared for it. And it's other thing - when you walk out of the nursery, with your newborn's dirty pyjamas, and come back in a couple of minutes later and they're already a toddler. That's how Emily caught the miraculous transformation of her kid.

At first, the gem lover thought that her child was cursed by someone, and began to look for ways to remove this misfortune and cleanse the house of the dark aura. Until her spouse Farmer came home and explained to Emily what had just happened. Why didn't they tell her sooner? Well, their great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother wasn't exactly human (Farmer too, but partly), and there was a 1 in 1000 chance of someone in the family will "skip" one of the stages of growing up. But that's just this stage, from here on out it's all human. Shocking, but baby and Farmer are fine, that's the main thing. Oh, their baby needs a new clothes! To the sewing machine! ☝️

[silly-salty-utdr-rants]

an unnecessarily in depth analysis of my take on underfell papyrus

before we begin: let it be known that none of this is properly confirmed or canon, this is all based on the version of underfell that almost solely exists in my brain. also the quality of grammar, spelling, and translation of brainrot to coherent essay is not guaranteed. also uf!papyrus belongs to underfella

to start lets look at the very basics, what would it take to turn papyrus, the only person to believe even the worst of the worst can improve, the causation (however indirectly) of the true pacifist route, the only monster that will never kill frisk, the sole creature in the entire world of undertale to be dubbed the sadistic fuckface flower's favourite, that the world is kill or be killed? allow me to spin you the tale of how i think it happened.

maybe once upon a time when uf!papyrus was just a kid, he wanted to be a hero. he wanted to be a pacifist in a kill or be killed world. maybe, even unintentionally, he constantly put both him and his older brother in danger. and one day, he tried to spare the wrong people, so both he and his brother were scarred in the process causing a crack over the eye for papyrus and a lost tooth for sans. and on this fateful day papyrus was faced with the choice, kill the attackers and survive or spare them and be killed. and maybe since he's still alive as an adult, he chose to kill, thereby gaining his first LV.

at least thats what i think happened. this traumatic event would cause a number of changes in his life, including, ditching his former obsession with "being a hero" in favor of being a villain, on several occasions being peer pressured to murder, and being more harsh to sans.

BUT. as i have said before and will say again, papyrus' soul is almost definitely bravery and integrity so his preference for pacifism isnt going down without a fight! maybe his whole "kidnapping and torture chamber" schtick is an excuse to not have to kill someone while not being seen as weak. maybe he lies about how many people he's killed or how much LV he has when in reality both numbers are shockingly low. maybe he wants to be captain of the guard so he can delegate the killing to others. maybe he hates asgore because its because of him that their world is like this. maybe he never kills the human. one thing i've never understood is whether or not he kills or spares the human or if he does the whole "OOP YOU'RE AT ONE HP! TIME TO GO TO THE CAPTURE ZONE!" thing. i like to think that he does. hell ive already done a whole damn drawing on what i think it would look like.

⬇️

so yeah. he spares frisk. and maybe adopts them

one last aspect of this guy that intrigues me before i go! what is underfell papyrus' dynamic with flowey? maybe he respects flowey a ton. maybe papyrus is envious of flowey's courage to run away from fights and defuse them instead of hurting the opponent. maybe they're the only one that the other truly opens up to.

but these are only my thoughts on the dude because frankly, there arent enough character analysis about uf!paps. feel free to add your own! or not! i dont care!

[hrefna-the-raven]

Heart of Steel

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Song for this chapter:

Summary: You took the opportunity to ask Danse about having a private life within the Brotherhood while Maxson was on his way to see an old friend, someone he knew he could talk to.

Notes: I'm so obsessed with Maxson still being this traumatised boy that grew up all alone in the Citadel so here you go with some more insight into his thoughts and fears :) and some sweet funny misunderstanding with Paladin Danse because he's just adorable in his own way. This is not proof-read, finished it 10 minutes ago and decided to just post to not keep you waiting :)

Chapter 5 - Don't let me be misunderstood

After finally being able to leave his quarters, you swiftly changed into your uniform and made your way towards the kitchen, your hungry stomach growling. The tables appeared unusually empty for this time of the morning, with only Danse sitting there, enjoying a simple breakfast of toast and roasted meat. A sudden question popped up in your head, causing you to wonder about the personal lives of the other soldiers and what activities the Brotherhood allowed them to engage in outside of their duties. Reflecting on your pre-war military life, you recalled being granted quite a fair amount of freedom, including the ability to marry fellow soldiers and enjoy leisure time after completing your duties. However these were different times, with different rules in a strange world. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you approached the Paladin, trying to strike up a casual conversation.

"Hey Danse", you said with a sly smile, "you've brought me to the Brotherhood and I've been curious about a few things we never had a chance to discuss. Like for instance how do you unwind after a long day of battling wasteland creatures?"

Caught off guard by your question, Danse shifted uncomfortably. He was known for his unwavering dedication to the Brotherhood and delving into his personal life was a topic he seldom broached. He believed that he had already divulged more than enough about his past during your encounter at the police station. However, he sensed that you were genuinely attempting to fit in, and he had no qualms about sharing any information that could ease your transition into the Brotherhood.

"Well," he pondered, his face turning slightly red at your sudden focus on him, "I, uh, usually spend my free time focusing on my duties, training and maintaining my power armor."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his response, wondering if Danse even might be the right person for this discussion. The Paladin you got to know made you ask yourself more than once if he even knew the concept of a life outside the Brotherhood.

"No, no, Danse", you said, trying to explain the intend behind your question, "this is all too strict, too much of the soldier life. I meant, do you have any personal hobbies or interests? Something that helps you relax?"

"Oh, I understand. Well, I suppose I enjoy tinkering with my weapons and keeping them in top shape or upgrading them. It gives me a sense of fulfilment."

Impressed by his unwavering commitment, you decided to delve deeper and inquire about what you truly wanted to know. You had no idea where things with Maxson would lead, but given how that man ignited a mix of curiosity, desire and occasional frustration in you each time your paths crossed, you didn't want to rule out any potential outcomes, especially not the ones you secretly hoped for. The way he tugged at your heartstrings despite being entrenched in his stubborn beliefs and the crushing weight that came with the leadership of the Brotherhood, meant something to you. He was by far not the first interesting person you encountered since emerging from the vault but along with him came that feeling of a deep connection, an understanding you'd find with no one else.

"And what about love?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, "do you think the Brotherhood has any against, you know, sexual encounters or relationships with...uhm...fellow soldiers?"

Danse's eyes widened at your question. You caught him alone and discussed all those very personal topics. Thinking back at when he first met you, you were rarely quiet, constantly poking at him with remarks, statements or queries. There had to be more to this than he first thought.

"Uh, well, the Brotherhood focuses primarily on our mission to protect and serve. Personal relationships can complicate matters, so they are generally discouraged but not forbidden. We do in fact have a few soldiers and initiates dating each other", he stuttered, "but uhm if you were specifically asking about me, I truly appreciate the sentiment but I'm sworn to my duty and not available for any...uhm...romantic relations with you."

As you stood there, nervously shifting from foot to foot, you couldn't help but feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. This was definitely not the way you had planned this conversation to go.

"Oh, no no no! I apologise for the misunderstanding, Danse. I was actually referring to someone els...within the Brotherho...you know what? I'm glad we cleared that up. I'm just going to leave now. Bye and thanks."

You hurried down the long corridor, hearing Danse bid his farewells before you sprinted up the stairs and finally got out of sight. It almost made you laugh as you realized that talking to the Elder felt like a walk in the park compared to any conversation with Danse. You headed towards the airport beneath the Prydwen, switching on the radio attached to your Pip-Boy as you geared up for the shooting training. As you made your way closer, the sound of gunfire echoed through the air unleashed a wave of excitement within you. The Brotherhood of Steel's training exercises were renowned for their rigour and you were determined to prove your skills, hoping Maxson would be there to watch, giving you another opportunity to spend more time with him under the cloak of duty.

Maxson made his way down to the airport, the weight of loneliness growing heavy on him, an all too familiar feeling. He needed someone to talk to, someone who'd listen, regadless whether they replied. Surveying his surroundings, he proceeded through a security door at the back of the main building. The dimly lit room emitted a faint aroma of oil as he approached the table. It was a whimsical, childish notion that led him here, but the instant he caught sight of it, a comforting sense of home enveloped him.

"Hello old friend", Maxson whispered tenderly, his hand resting upon the colossal robot head resting on the table.

He leapt onto the table, taking a seat beside the head, his legs dangling and swinging as he shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He felt the sadness of that little boy back in the Citadel who had no friends but was burdened with high expectations because of his name. He chuckled softly at thought that Rothchild wouldn't chase him away this time and if someone else were to stumble upon this place, he could simply claim to be inspecting the Brotherhood's most promising weapon. The perks of bring the Elder now instead of that little boy. He shook his head, scolding himself mentally for even being here, knowing all to well that he shouldn't try to make friends with a machine and yet, who else would listen to him without passing judgment? Perhaps you, but how could he discuss all of this with the person who started it all?

" I apologise for my absence and lack of visits all those years. It has been a challenging time for me, especially after losing Sarah. I didn't know what to do anymore, I was completely alone...", his voice trembled and tears formed in the corners of his eyes, " I trained, I fought and look at me now, Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, upholding the Maxson legacy and striving to protect the people." 

He couldn't hold the tears back anymore, all the weight of loneliness crushing him. He had managed to deceive everyone, including himself, until you entered his sacred space and saw through his facade from the moment you set foot on the Prydwen.

" But I feel alone, old friend, all the burden to bear yet never anyone to confide in, to share it with. But there is someone new in the Brotherhood, joined two days and you wouldn't believe how she's turning my life upside-down."

He chuckled, brushing away the tears from his face, the edges of his lips twitching into a joyful smile as he reminisced in the memories of last night.

"Believe me, if you could meet her you'd adore her too, she is everything I also thought I'd be when I grew up. Strong, kind and fearless in the face of true injustice. I envy her, she can be herself unburdened by the weight I have to carry...sometimes...I...I wish I could just leave, be someone else, be me but that was never my destiny, wasn't it? If you could you'd probably ask me what she means to me, well that is a difficult question. I hold great admiration her, I think there might even reside love deep in that broken heart of mine but I'm also afraid of her in a way. What if I disappoint her? What if I fail to meet her expectations? Given how persistent she was on tearing my defenses down, would she even care for expectations? Wouldn't she simply want the real me? But then again who exactly would that be?"

Arthur leapt from the table, pacing in circles before the head, his gaze fixed on the floor as he became lost in his thoughts. It eluded him how you'd even be able to like him, given how you disagreed with him on your first meeting. You remained a riddle, and the more he tried to unravel you, the more you seemed to fade into the mystery that defined you. A sigh escaped his lips; all his questioning and doubting amounted to nothing. He couldn't negotiate with the worries away that held his heart hostage; the only way out was to confront whatever lay ahead. He had to brace himself for whatever the next encounter with you had in store. His footsteps came to a halt in front of the table once more, his gaze shifting up to the visor of the robotic head. Gently, he placed a hand on it, tenderly tapping the cold metal.

"Thank you for listening my dear friend from days gone by."

He made his way towards the exit, his gaze lingering for one last moment.

"See you later, alligator", he chuckled with genuine joy.

As he flicked off the light and left the room, he knew he had to leave the little boy he missed so much behind, along with Liberty Prime as his friend, all for the sake of the Brotherhood. However, he also held onto a glimmer of hope that, with you, he'd found a new place he could finally find and cherish what that boy always longed for and it left him with a warmth he'd try to keep at any cost.

Chapter 6 - Dream a little dream

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story :)

[zeroducks-2]

I've just finished Gotham Knights and I get that people aren't happy with the fucked ass haircuts but like, I do believe this is the most progressive and well written Jason Todd we've ever gotten in recent times. Even in recent comics. Like damn, bro goes to therapy, picked up his interests and hobbies again (e.g. the cooking and the reading and the shit talking) from his "Robin makes me Magic" days. Like yeah, he's still edgy, but he was murdered by a fucking Clown, he's allowed to be edgy. We got a Jason Todd that isn't diluted to "the angry black sheep character" archetype. He's healing, working on himself, his relationship with his family, and he's fighting his way (brutal and all strength and tact) to do what he stands for and what he believes is right. And his heart is just so big and full of compassion, but it doesnt blind him and make him wishful or naive. He's so well balanced in Gotham Knights. I hope this version of his character is written in future comics. I'm sick of DC writers making him this angry anti-hero who's only reasoning and purpose in life is to get back at Batman for failing him and so many others. Jason is allowed to be more than his trauma. Thank you Gotham Knights for seeing that.

I'm glad you enjoyed the game anon. I personally am not a fan, not because of Jason but because of the game itself. The dialogues felt stale, more reminiscent of tumblr "incorrect Batfam quotes" than the source material, and the NPCs felt dull compared to how full of life they were in the Arkham series (so much so I would hide in random spots just to hear them talking about the current game events, especially in AK). The most unforgivable bit to me was Tim not having ever fought the rogues because he's "young" - I've never seen anything more insulting and infantilizing for a character which already heavily suffers for being treated as the useless one, never allowed to participate in the game changing dynamics or to have meaningful arcs, and is relegated to being the cute little bisexual twink.

That being said it's a matter of taste, and Gotham Knights is surely a good game for those who prefer a wholesome loving family approach to these characters. Jason working on himself and going to therapy and having a good relationship with his "family" is surely what lots of people (especially in here) want to see. Me, I don't think any amount of therapy would help since therapy is based on shared human experiences and repetition of patterns, and Jason died and dug himself out of his own grave. That's not a trauma any therapist would have the means to help with. They indeed "diluted" the event in the game, changed the fact that Jason dug himself out of his own grave and was functionally braindead and homeless for two years, and made it so UTRH never happened in order for therapy to make any sense, because there is no reconciliation possible with a parent that slit your neck to save the person who broke all your bones with a crowbar and then murdered you.

It's kinda like when Wally went to therapy (canonically) after Barry's death. The therapist was a good one and he tried! But ultimately he didn't manage to make a real difference because Wally is the Flash, a super-powered creature with time bending powers who does things on the scale of absurdity, and who also happens to have had an extremely traumatic childhood and to have just lost the only person who ever loved him unconditionally. His problems have roots in reality but are out of the scope of any therapy method currently known to man.

And Jason is more than his trauma, but pretending his trauma doesn't inform his actions and can be solved with him "working on himself" is not an approach I hope they take in comics. I'd rather they went back to Jason doing things his way and protecting the people of Gotham in the only manner he finds helpful, because he experienced on his own skin (twice!) that Batman's methods don't work. I'd rather they allowed him to stop clashing with Bruce as main theme of his stories, and have his own plotlines in which he's in between a vigilante and a mafia lord (which they were doing with Dick by the way, before chickening out and have Slade bomb Bludhaven) with Bruce only as a cameo sometimes.

We have a high number of morally irrepressible characters who always do the right thing more or less. I'd like Jason to be something different, something darker, because there is a dramatic lack of grey characters and anti-heroes which were sanded down to either 100% bad guys or 100% good guys. I hate that, why can't we have nuanced choices and people struggling with the darkness they carry, why does everyone need to be a perfect "unproblematic" paragon of goodness who would never do anything wrong. We have A LOT of characters like that and I love them, I really do! But if everyone and their families are like that then it's really frickin boring!

Plus, I'd like the characters to actually struggle with their past traumas in a meaningful way, otherwise why even giving them those traumas to begin with. Give me Tim still grappling with how he couldn't save his father, give me Dick haunted by all the times he slipped and let go of the no killing rule in a way or another, give me Jason haunted by the tragedy of being abandoned by every person who was supposed to protect him and working from there to being the protector of everyone else.

That's what I hope DC would pick up and write about. I was never much for fluff and wholesome things unless it's in small amounts, I always preferred strife and complexity. But hey, I'm glad you enjoyed the game, at least one of us did!

[besobendito]

"Shepard?"

"Bzzt- Yes, Commander Moss?"

"Start a new log recording will you? I need to settle my thoughts."

Log Number #14 Cycle: 10 Planet: PNF-404

"Despite exhaustion creeping into my very bones, I find myself unable to rest for the night. I need to note what has been happening- to convince myself that I haven't completely lost it... There is something.... strange about this planet, and for each day that passes the feeling grows even stranger. Small mistakes like misplaced items, something that Oatchi and I are very careful not to do- We have been rescuing for how many years and all of a sudden we can't seem to find where the ropes has been placed? Whatever we lose ends up right back in its proper place hours after we've lost it. Shepard clears it with me each time this happens... Those items have never moved from their spot on the cameras. Our frantic search shows up, all the crew members searching high and low- and we just... don't see them...? ......Ah, I don't know exactly how to explain this one. Oatchi joked that I might be haunted by the glowmin("Some invisible variety we haven't discovered yet!" he said) but I can see it in his face. It's happened to him too. We are all walking around... Something. Stepping to the side in an empty hallway, looking down and over my shoulder as to not bump into...Nothing? I keep feeling like there's something missing on the ship, something I can't quite remember. I've tripled checked my things and asked Shepard to list everything out in our inventory just in case. I just can't shake this feeling that...

-that I feel like I'm mourning... and for the love of everything, I don't know what. It's maddening.

I was ready to push it all to the side and continue the mission. The list of castaways only seems to be getting longer and we can't have campfire ghost stories to distract us! That is until I found a log not written by myself in my tablet...... Hmph. See, this is what's stressing me out so. No one but me has access to this tablet, it should be impossible!

The log is... Well it's creepy! From what I can tell, it's taken phrases from one of our Procedure Manuals("Bzzt- It would be the Distress and Urgency Procedures") and the logs from an unknown writer and spliced them together. I've been trying to make sense of it but- yeah I need the others to see this first. My theories wont help now. I'll have Shepard add it to this log for now, might as well...(sigh) Just what is going on...

Mm, right. I already mentioned this in the End of Day report- but I'm not done rolling this over in my head.

The castaway we picked up today- the one who limped out of that dark tunnel towards us. His clothing- you don't see pilot gear that old anymore, and the- the liquid? that fell off of him... I sampled what I could so I wont know for sure untill tomorrow, It looked like gold. I hope he wont mind sharing where he found a pool of gold to roll around in. It would be nice to be able to cover the cost of all the repairs... (Yawn) Ah- right there we go, ok I'm done for now. Have to get ready for- 'Everything' tomorrow, hope I don't sound too crazy. This is Commander Moss, Sleeping snug like a bug on a rug... (Yawns again) - - - Log Number: +#3@##0?/ Cycleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Planet: PNF-404

(a) If distress [ ] If urgency [ ] Someone or something [ ] a loud BANG echoed throughout the cave. [ ] (b) Name of station addressed [ ] natural enemy [ ] (c) I got careless... [ ] (d) Nature of distress or urgency. and all the Pikmin perished as a result. [ ] (g) Present position [ ] Horrified, I made my [ ] ; or if lost, last known position, time, and heading since that position. Fuel remaining/Number of people/other useful information [ ] accidentally thrown to their demise [ ] crushed on hard surfaces of by some creatures' teeth [ ] I [ ] Me [ ] My [ ] Do not change frequency or change to another [ ] Fly a course toward the destination which the hijacker has announced. [ ] keeps leading me completely off track [ ] adorable leaf at the top of her [ ] (4) If unable to provide this information, [ ] trusty partner.trusty partner.trusty partner. PAN-PAN, PAN-PAN, PAN-PAN. [ ] I am so very tired... [ ]

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #278

I woke up in a lot of pain today. But it slowly got better as the day wore on. Initially, I just planned on running a few errands with J and then returning home; I needed to see Mi, because I was marked as an "Unexcused Absence" from work yesterday despite having cleared my absence with Mi; I don't want an "Unexcused Absence" on my work record. I also needed to pick up some medicine from the pharmacy; one of them stops my stomach from digesting itself, and the other one stops my blood pressure from going out of control. And we also went to a reptile and arthropod expo!!!

I went to see Mi first about the "Unexcused Absence" that was actually a cleared absence. He had forgotten to change how my schedule was recorded, and he's going to clear it up, thank goodness. I also told him about what happened with the assistant manager on Thursday, and how I had made a fool of myself in front of him. Mi seemed more amused and unconcerned than anything; apparently my diligence is already known and appreciated??? But still, I...

...I guess I'm afraid of being misunderstood. And I value transparency. If I feel like I've fucked up, I want to be up front about that, and I want to explain - not as a means to excuse my fuckup, but as a means to try to explain that I'm not some lazy, deliberately disrespectful, stupid creature who should be thrown away.

...I don't want to be thrown away. I don't want to be someone that others find insufferable. I don't want anyone to dread me being around. I want to be good. I like where I work, I like the people I work with, I'm proud of what I do, and I like who I am when I sink into the comfort of routine tasks. I like doing repetitive things that require precision and attention to detail. It's good, and... I don't want it to be the case that the people I work with wish that I wasn't around.

...On the way out, I happened to see the assistant manager. So I stopped to apologize to him - first for making him repeat himself because I didn't register that he had spoken, and second for not knowing the answer to his question even after he had repeated himself.

...I'm worried that I might have been misperceived; he seemed more confused than anything. There's part of me that wonders if I made things worse somehow. But... then I remember that, if it is my intention to practice integrity and accountability, then if others perceive it weirdly due to their own insecurities, then there's not a whole lot I can do about it. I gave a genuine apology where an apology was owed; I did my due diligence. The rest, I suppose, is up to him.

...I hope they won't make me go away.

I'm going to try to do a better job of memorizing the service theme of the day, even though I do all the service themes every day that I'm there. Of course, I'll keep trying to be good to the people around me, trying to find reasons to delight in others' presence, and trying to exceed the expectations in front of me, regardless of what day of the week it is; I want to take my work seriously even if it's not glamorous, and I want to make things easier for the people in my immediate vicinity in whatever ways I can.

In any case, instead of just getting the errands done and returning home, J and I went to a reptile and arthropod expo!!! And of course, I took LOTS of pictures for you of all the cute and amazing things that I saw!! I can only have 30 photos per letter, though, so I'll just show you the best ones. But fair warning, they're likely going to be out of order, because when I sent the photos to myself, they got weird.

There were LOTS of different reptiles on display:

...This albino snake with eyes like polished ruby spheres!!!! Oh my gosh!!!!

Tiny gators and crocs!!!

And turtles!!

...Me, waiting around nervously in the crowd for my turn to hold one; J decided to take a picture of that for some reason, haha...

...But then it was my turn to hold one!!!!!

There were spiders and scorpions, too!!!!! LOOK!!!!

AND!!!! SEPHIROTH!!!! I GOT TO HOLD ONE!!!!

So fuzzy!!! So adorable!!!! So polite and gentle!!!! Such beautiful, wonderful, delightful, and utterly lovable little living things!!! Oh my gosh!!!!!

...Getting to meet this beautiful little creature was EASILY the highlight of my whole day today!!!! Oh my goodness!!! AAAAAAAAAA!!!!! 🤩😍🥰

...I wish I could live with a tarantula companion. But there are two problems with this. The biggest one is that M - one of the most extreme arachnophobes I know - would cry a lot. He gets terrified even at the mere mention of them. Second... I don't think I'd be able to stomach putting live insects into danger for the sake of feeding it. I don't wanna think about putting a cute little cricket or a cute little mealworm into a tarantula enclosure.

I would like to live with a snake companion, too, but... I would not be able to put live, adorable, fuzzy creatures into the enclosure to get eaten. Rats and mice are potential friends.

And... that's not to say that I have any issues with people who can stomach doing that. I'm just... not one of those people. Which is why I enjoy my reptile friends from a distance and hold the friendly ones when I can, instead of taking responsibility for their care and keeping.

...It's bad enough that I gotta eat already dead things for the maintenance of my own body. And on the one hand... I do love preparing delicious, wonderful things. On the one hand, I do understand that a human body generally needs animal protein (there are PLENTY of people who are deathly allergic to all the vegan sources of protein...). But on the other hand... I really wish that it didn't require other things - plant or animal - to die in order for my own life to be sustained. But it's not something I can really help, so it's not like I've got a choice but to accept it.

...Maybe in my next life, I can be a tree someplace where there isn't logging, on a planet that isn't dying! Something like this, maybe!

...And wouldn't it be neat if someone could tie a small swing to one of my branches, and rock back and forth with the wind rushing through their ears and hair. And my joy and laughter would sing out through the rustling of my wispy, willowy leaves and blossoms. Kinda like this:

...And wouldn't it be neat if that someone sitting on the swing could be you?

...Ah... I got off topic, ahaha! Forgive me!

Anyway!!! So I left with a new hat!! Check it out!!!

...One of the eyes is on crooked. But I like that about it; it's a bit of a misfit, just like me! Ahahaha! 💖 It's not going to replace my Eevee hat; this one is a bit too warm to wear right now. If the winter gets cold this year (it should; it'll be alarming if it doesn't...), I'll wear it then.

Anyhoot. It's probably about time I wrap up today's letter; I wanna watch J play more Brave Fencer Musashi!

I love you. Please keep yourself safe out there at the Edge of Creation, okay? Please make good, kind, gentle choices towards yourself and the people around you. I'm counting on you to come back home to all the people who love you, okay?

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[golden-flute]

No one asked for my opinion on The Sun and the Star, but I’ve been thinking of nothing else since I finished the book, and I have to write my thoughts or I will explode, lol.

Fair warning: Spoilers and long-ass thought dump ahead.

Gif Originally posted by riptides

On the Themes

I picked out a few different themes that I found carried through the book:

Self-acceptance

Living with trauma

Embracing change

What healing looks like

I thought they were brilliantly approached because there was a lot of nuance for each theme. Particularly when you consider that these are pretty heavy topics for middle-reader age groups!

The biggest theme directly relating to Nico was this idea that it's possible to embrace your trauma, to accept it, and to grow around it. In his case, it's literal, with the Cocoa Puffs hanging around him now like a little parade of Walmart Ghibli Sootballs, lol.

I think that Nico was working through his trauma well before he ever heard the prophecy. The fact that he was able to accept his darkness so easily once Nyx forced him to confront it was more a mark of how far he'd already progressed than it was a big moment where he was suddenly magically healed from all of his baggage. The entire purpose of the Cocoa Puffs was to act as a physical representation of Nico's existing trauma. They will always be a part of him, but they don't define him. He's simply accepted them and freed himself from them without avoiding the fact that they'll still be there. That's such a healthy place to be, particularly because I think a lot of people tend to fall into the same trap of toxic positivity that Will did....

Many people who are natural healers and problem-solvers often fail to realize that being healed doesn't always mean that pain has totally been eradicated, hurray. In their minds, there's always some way to fix broken people. And I think that's why Will's conversation with Persephone was so important for his growth. I think he always saw Nico as someone who needed to be fixed, and to Will, that meant that Nico must hide from his trauma, or ignore it. Will's story arc centered around his acceptance that he can't (and shouldn't) always try to heal people "his way." With Nico, he had to get on his level, see him, and accept his pain. I've known people in my life who tend to avoid negative emotions because they think it's totally bad. But hiding from the pain can often make it worse. Darkness only grows stronger in the shadows, after all.

Nico and Will's internal journeys were two sides of the same coin in that respect. I loved it. Nico was ready to accept his trauma, but in a way, Will had to accept it too.

By the time they reach Nyx, these internal struggles had been mostly resolved and simply need to have their big final moment to totally hit home. But there's another kind-of-subtle-but-also-not theme for Nyx that ingeniously ties into the idea of questioning gender and sexuality. Nyx sees things as black and white. Even her own children, who are more than their labels, have to fit into these perfect molds in her mind. She's the BBEG because she struggles to change or to accept others changing around her. Talk about a heavy topic, right? But then at the end of the book, this idea of change is also beautifully encapsulated in Nico and Piper's discussion about sexuality labels. Particularly from Piper's perspective, since she's still figuring herself out and just going with what feels right in the moment. People are beautifully complex creatures who are capable of being something new every day.

On Characterization

Over the years, I've discovered that I gravitate toward the reformed, darker characters--the gloomy cinnamon rolls, if you will. Nico. Laudna and Caleb from Critical Role. Hunter in the Owl House. Zuko. Kaladin from the Stormlight Archives. Riku from Kingdom Hearts. So on and so forth. Something about their stories is so compelling to me. Perhaps seeing them overcome their own trials is a symbol that light comes after darkness, which is a message I have clung to my entire life, because it gives me hope for myself. And that’s exactly one of the messages I got from TSATS. This time, it was Nico’s turn for a reprieve from his trauma.

Y'all. Nico's a fucking NERD. The moment we met him as a little kid, he was talking everyone's ears off about Mythomagic, and he revealed he had a pirate phase and... yeah, he's just a nerd. His carefree personality took a huge nosedive after Bianca was killed, and then he became this unrecognizable dark creature of vengeance. I know some folks felt that he was really out of character in TSATS, but I find the shift just harkens back to the themes of change. Nico's transforming before our eyes, guys. Though Apollo's series and into TSATS, he's come to a place of peace where he could let go of his anger and his darkness... or at least accept them. And that's given him the space he needed to kind of get back on an even keel. He's finally able to return to his natural progression as a hyperactive dork. That's what we saw in TSATS and I loved it so much for him.

I found Will's progression really interesting as well. He's always been seen as the intrepid healer with a sometimes-literal glowing halo around him. In this story, the tables were turned and he had to accept that he needed support sometimes too. But more than that, this is the first time we've really gotten inside Will's head. We've only ever really seen him from the perspective of Nico (his admirer) and Apollo (his affectionate father). But this time, we were able to get Will's thoughts, and he's... not as perfect as we expected. And I love it. No one is perfect, and I think that in the absence of more information on Will, people sort of developed headcanons of him that understandably made the TSATS version of him a bit jarring. But if he were this perfect pariah of a character, that would hardly be interesting. I really enjoyed that in the first half, he spent so much time complaining about the Underworld, because it just meant there were some lessons for him to learn as well. He's complex, just like the rest of the PJO cast.

Other Incongruent Thoughts

Guys, I'm dead. When we finally heard the fated prophecy, I was... really underwhelmed. It didn't feel like it was literarily as impressive in the same way the other prophecies had been. It just... wasn't very good poetry. But then Dionysus criticized the rhyme structure and called it "a bit forced" and I was like "Hang on..." Come to find out, Hades made up the prophecy to get Nico to go save Bob! Can you just imagine Hades sitting at a desk, surrounded by crumpled pieces of paper, writing bad poetry that's convincing enough to get Nico off his butt and into Tartarus? I'm deceased.

The reunion between Nico, Maria, and Bianca BROKE me, y'all. I was full-on sobbing and my eyes were swollen this morning when I woke up. I was confused by how they were there, since past books said that they'd "moved on," insinuating they'd tried for rebirth. But I saw another post someone made about how Hades (or Bianca?) mentioned that they were the barest of essences remaining. I'm not saying it very well, but it made a lot more sense, and I hadn't caught that insinuation in my read-through. But I absolutely loved that we didn't get this reunion until after Nico had already accepted his trauma. If this meeting had come before, I'm sure he would have fought to "save" his mom and sister--I mean, he even says it in the book. But by that point, all he needed was to say his piece and get some closure, and that was enough for him. It was a mark of how much he's grown, and I just... *chef's kiss*

I love Hades. He's genuinely a good dad. Well... sort of. Maybe not at the beginning of PJO. But he, too, is changing his ways and taking more of an interest in his children. Or at least Nico. I wonder if we'll ever get more Hazel/Hades content? But Nico pretty much confirmed that Hades was around when he was a kid, and Hazel said the same thing in a previous book, which is more than pretty much every other demigod can say, so there you go. By Olympian standards, Hades deserves that #1 Dad mug.

I was really surprised that it took over half the book for Nico and Will to make it to Tartarus! Don't get me wrong, there was still plenty going on, but I was so used to the idea of Percy and Annabeth dropping in at chapter 2, it surprised me!

Anyone else peep the really big typo on page 401 of the US hardcover? "My mother is Bianca di Angelo, and she loved me and my sister." I stared at that for a long time last night wondering if I was going crazy, lolol. From what I've heard, the typo has already been fixed on the kindle version of the book, but those of us with physical copies have got the OG mistake. Whoops, lol!

I'm having a hard time discerning if the "'Dam it,' said Nico." on page 352 is a typo or not, for the pure and simple reason that there were so many dam jokes in PJO. And somewhere else in the book, Nico actually says "Damn," so... was it a typo? The 'dam' joke didn't really have a purpose for being there, and it wasn't repeated later, so I feel more like it might have been another typo?

We got a little Percy and Annabeth action! And Sally and Estelle! I have to admit, I was a little disappointed that Percy and Annabeth had already forgotten about Bob. Especially since Percy's whole growth in the House of Hades was to realize how many people he'd left behind. I never expected them to join Nico and Will in their Tartarus journey, but they apparently brushed him off so fast I got whiplash! What was that about? I wonder if we'll get more on that in the short story that comes out later this year?

We got a little mention of Damasen in this story as well, and obviously if he hasn't regenerated yet, there wasn't much they could do for him. But... I'm surprised that Percy and Annabeth didn't mention him or ask Nico to keep an eye out for him as well because he was there at the Doors of Death, making the same sacrifice as Bob. Will there be another Tartarus rescue mission in the future? Nemesis told Nico that any future journies into Tartarus would be unsuccessful. While I feel like it's unlikely we'll get any more Tartarus field trips, those little asides made me wonder if Rick Riordan's got more ideas floating around that he wanted to leave open for later, just in case.

They used the words gay, bisexual, and lesbian! I don't think this book series has ever done that before! I have a sneaking suspicion that this was part of Mark's contribution to the book. RR usually tends to talk around those words--he'll make it obvious, like when Apollo talked about his love for Hyacinthus, but I don't think Apollo ever actually used the word bisexual to describe himself (correct me if I'm wrong). I think that it was a really good step forward for children's literature. If you're going in, go all in, you know?

Lil Nas X made an unbelievable appearance! Lol! Though I have to admit, the inconsistency of the timeline of references sometimes gets me. Like many books ago, some character probably dropped a reference from ten years ago, and a year or two in book time, we get a Montero reference. Like, it's a small nitpick, but that inconsistency always pulls me out of the story a bit. Yeah, you heard right--I'm totally fine with the issues everyone else had with the books, but the weird timeline of references messes with me, lol. That's where I draw the line! That's not the say the Lil Nas X reference wasn't spectacular, though, lol.

Do I... like Mr. D now? I love Dionysus from the mythologies, but Mr. D was always so... blegh. But he's like legit a decent person to Nico. He shared his popcorn! That. Was. HUGE. Hahaha.

We finally got the full scoop on Nico's first trip to Tartarus!

The nickname "Night-Light" is endlessly adorable. And then Will ruins it by turning around and calling Nico "Death Boy" lol.

The trogs were never my favorite mythological creature ever, but they grew on me in this story.

So... Menoetes and Geryon, huh? Menyon? Geroetes? What's our ship name? Lol.

Will having the hots for Persephone was not on my bingo card, lol! I did really enjoy their talk, though. It really set up Will's character arc very nicely. And I loved that Persephone seems to be taking a leaf out of Hades' book and trying to be a bit kinder towards her stepchildren. It's not their fault, you know?

I'm seeing a lot of reactions to Nico's coming out story. I agree, that's one part I felt was a little bit forced. Introverted people can have moments where they're feeling brave and don't mind an audience (Hi, I'm exhibit A), I wouldn't say it's out of character per se. But it was a little bit... shall we say out of context? Since we didn't get the actual scene, but Nico and Will's recollection of it?

I really liked Gorgyra. The random chapters of stories from Nico and Will kind of jarred me a bit, but I think they were a nice touch, but would have been too much if they'd all been told chronologically. I agree with Rick and Mark's decision to split those up.

Amphithemis was a trip! I wish we could have lingered a bit more on Nico being upset at Will for tricking him away. I was glad that Nico at least asked Hades to free Amphithemis.

I saw some complaints that Nico and Will were super cringey around one another. To that, and as someone who's ace, I say... most couples are cringey around each other, particularly young couples. Nico and Will are still feeling out their relationship, and they don't have the years of friendship that Percy and Annabeth had that made their relationship so easygoing. I think Nico and Will's relationship is a bit more realistic in terms of first loves.

I loved the frank conversations about PTSD. I eat stuff like that up, because when I read it, I can just imagine someone else who really needs that sort of representation reading this book and finding comfort in characters like them.

And I'm literally out of space. I had no idea Tumblr had a character limit, but I hit it, lol. But if you got this far, thanks for reading!

[vickyvicarious]

Renfield soothes down at the sight of the moon huh 👀

Not even necessarily the sight of the moon, just the timing! After all, he escaped out of a room with a window previously, and is in the padded room which I've been assuming doesn't have a window during at least the first part of this description:

For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself: "Now I can wait; now I can wait." [...] Three nights has the same thing happened—violent all day then quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I could get some clue to the cause. It would almost seem as if there was some influence which came and went.

The thing about Renfield that's different from the rest of the cast is that he doesn't need the moonlight to reveal the truth of the supernatural to him. He already knows. He senses Dracula's arrival and makes the effort to go seek him out, speaking in a way that makes it clear he already has at least some idea of what kind of abilities Dracula has. So, in that sense, he doesn't need or get the same kind of moonlit reveal the way the others do.

But the moon obviously seems to have an influence on him here. In that last line Seward seems to (unknowingly) suggest that Renfield's cycles of violence and calm reflect Dracula's movements. And I don't think that's wrong, especially when 23 August shows a violently struggling Renfield see bat!Dracula flying away (in the moonlight) before suddenly growing calm once again. Renfield's behavior is linked more to Dracula than solely the moon here - though still the moonlight by extension, as that marks the supernatural influence.

But the fact that it calms him down is really interesting to me. Because this is particularly reminiscent of the concept of "lunar lunacy", also known as the persistent myth that people get crazy on the full moon. In fact, the word "lunatic" itself derives from words meaning 'moon-struck' or 'moon-sick' and was originally used to mean "affected with periodic insanity dependent on the changes of the moon," a definition which sounds quite reminiscent to what's going on with Renfield. Of course, lunar lunacy is typically seen as dependent on the phases of the moon, and viewed as the moon making people crazier/more violent. Renfield is affected on a daily basis and is crazed by the lack of moonlight/calmed by the presence of the moon.

I feel like, in the symbolism of the moon in this novel, his behavior shows him as already/currently more aligned to the supernatural side of things. While the moonlight presages danger for people like Jonathan, Mina, and Lucy, Renfield feels more comfortable in it. He is already, by virtue of his madness, outside of society's typical way of viewing the world. His experiments with taking life from other creatures shows his desire to practice a supernatural form of existence. For him, the mundane/modern world as lit by the sun or lamps isn't interesting or fulfilling. He's seeking the other reality, and when he finds it he isn't surprised or distressed so much as excited. It's being denied the chance to immerse himself in the supernatural that upsets him here. And that can maybe bring us back to his behavior reflecting Dracula's movements: when Dracula is resting in his boxes during the daylight (and choosing to ignore Renfield) he's infuriated; what he wants is so close but still out of his reach. When Dracula wakes and leaves during the moonlight, Renfield can calm down while waiting for him to return.

[rattlyglitch]

Hello, you wrote that you accept requests. I hope this is still relevant? I made a request for this idea a long time ago to another person, but they are more focused on one-shot stories. So it would be great to see it in your performance. So what do you think about the idea that Silver is not a person? The idea is that the Knight of the Dawn is not a person but a selkie. Mythical creatures from Scottish and Irish folklore, sea people, beautiful seal people. One day he was caught and having stolen his skin, he was not allowed to leave. And then Silver appeared who took over the nature of his father. Almost nothing is known about selkies. Even in the time of Lilia's youth, they were no longer there. Many of Silver's kind either died in the ocean from predators or were caught by people. Most often, they were caught by sailors and forcibly taken, taking away their skins, thereby not allowing them to return back to the sea. Because of this, their kind disappeared. And they became a myth. The peculiarity of the selkies and their value was that they could become people without a potion and also in their beauty. And Silver belongs to this species. Now after so many years he is drawn back into the water. Most likely it will pass on the day of Lilia's departure, but instead of the overblot of Mellius, they have the utopian Silver who tried to. He is stopped by Ortho (or anyone else who is suitable, as you think), who saw that he was heading towards the water. Realizing that he intends to continue walking until he is completely immersed, Ortho saves him and carries him to the others for help. The others do not understand what is happening. After all, Silver never had such thoughts. In an attempt to figure it out, Lilia and Mellius somehow learn the truth. Lilia, even at the moment when she found Silver, takes the seal skin in which the child was wrapped and hides it. They also learn the reason why the selkies disappeared. And they simply cannot let him go there. They come to the decision to lock Silver away from the water and his skin. I would like more carpenter yandere Lilia and Mellius. And their thoughts about it. Starting with the utopian attempt ending with learning the truth. It would be great if Silver himself did not understand what was happening to him and instead of the truth he was deceived and forced to believe that he was not healthy. I would like the story to be from the perspective of Lilia and Mellius But this is purely my vision. You can change it as you wish. I hope that this idea will interest you.Also, if you are already tired ofSilver, it would be great to see a story about Leona.The idea is that he tries to commit suicide but remains alive. And his family takes care of him. Trying to understand why he tried to do this. His brother, sister-in-law and nephew love him very much and sometimes there can be too many of them. I'm not sure about the parents. If I'm not mistaken, they have not been mentioned yet. But in any case, I will be glad to see any of your stories! Thank you for your attention and have a good mood.

i love both of these ideas. I'll definitely write them. Their amazing and I plan to bring your ideas to life truly. My only question is the Silver idea is like canon age Silver right? I'm not sure if you know about the Silver au I have but I wanted to make sure I'm right that it's canon Silver age (which it does sound like) and find out if it is canon age are there any ships you want.

Also that Leona idea is amazing. I will definitely write that as well. I've always want d to explore the kind of dynamic I'd think they'd have.

I can't estimate a time when they'll be started or finished but hopefully it'll be started in November/December so first chapters of either or both fics will be out in those months or January because I'm working to make my Christmas oneshots in November.

I'll name you the Fairy Anon and @ that name so you know which chapters that have names belong to the fics you've requested. (They'll be added to my master post along the way)