#my beautiful glorious queen pretty poison

[mr-bugs]

stupid rat plane man

[alice-angel12x]

Death is always around the Corner

Vil + Death!Reader

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil,Idia, Malleus

Masterlist

Let's set the scene:

"Magic Mirror on the wall. Tell me, who is the fairest of them all," The Beautiful queen asked her magic mirror. " I see the figure of your fair stepdaughter. With her lips as red as a rose, hair as black as ebony, and skin as white as snow," The mirror said. " Snow White…!" The Queen scowled.

Death stood in the shadows as they watched the vain queen glare and curse the young princess.

---------------------------------------

Reading Vil's book brought back memories of the terrible women. Y/n could only hope that history is not about to repeat itself, but they knew. Just by the patterns of what has been happening around this school, they knew that was most likely.

"Wha—?! Don’t just stop and stare, Yuu! I hit my nose on your leg, yanno?" Grim groaned.

"You’re staring intently at the Great Seven’s statue, Y/n. Something up?" Ace asked.

"It's... It's strange seeing all these people. Being looked up to and aspired as such," Y/n said simply.

"Why is that? Did you know them personally?" Deuce asked.

"Not personally, but I was there to witness their prime and watch their downfall," Y/n explained.

"Really?! So what was the Queen of Hearts like?" Ace asked."

"A hypocritical tyrant. She would enforce the rules on everyone, but herself. She would even make up laws on the fly just to have an excuse to behead people. 60% of the rules in Heartsybuyl were ''on the fly'' made ruled," Y/n explained.

-----------------------------------

After that Ace and Deuce certainly had a new perspective of the queen of hearts. But school continued as normal, and Y/n could already feel the presence of a growing blot. It Has Begun.

Later that day an announcement was posted in the cafeteria. An audition for the Joint Cultural Festival’s Vocal & Dance Championship.

“Come and join us! Aspiring singers and dancers, this is your chance for stardom! You shall represent our glorious school! In the case that you are chosen to be part of the finalists. The prize money of 5 million Madol will be divided among the participating members."

This certainly caught the boy's attention. As the group walked through the courtyard expressing their excitement. They were interrupted by singing, a lovely voice too.

That voice belongs to none other than Epel Felmier. As those boys began talking, Epel noticed that Y/n seemed to be left out. Sadly before he could reach.

----------------------------------

"Goodness, Epel. Are you neglecting your lessons to talk to some pigeons?" asked a smug voice.

"Vil-san!" Epel gasped.

"Wha—?! Is he talking about us?" Grim asked nervesly.

"Who else is there? This is an important lesson for our Epel. There are less than two months before the VDC. He does not have the time to be fraternizing with lowlifes like you," Vil said with a prideful smirk. " Please do not bother him while he is doing his lessons."

"We weren’t bothering him at all—," "Vil-san, don’t shout at them! This’s—This is my fault—," Epel said, cutting Deuce off.

"Epel, how many times must I tell you to stop with that vulgar way of speaking? It is not befitting a person of your standard. Surely you do not want to be referred to as a “Poisonous Red Apple,” do you?" Vil continued.

"But I—I don’t really want to do this—!" Epel stuttered

"Have you forgotten your promise with me already? Come along now," Vil commanded.

"Hey, you. I don’t care whether you’re a Prefect or not, but you just look like you’re bullying him," Ace glared.

" H-hey, you two…! Didn’t the Headmaster tell you both not to pick fights anymore?!" Deuce said nervesly.

"Hmph, pretty bold of you nobodies to challenge me. This will be perfect exercise after a meal. Come now, I’ll turn you into mashed potatoes," Vil smirked.

Sadly Adeuce and Grim were not on the same level as Vil, so Y/n eventually decided to step in. Just as Vil was about to throw a blow at the First Years, Y/n effortlessly caught his fist.

"Abusing your authority as a Prefect is not a good look. I thought you were better than that, but I guess I was wrong," Y/n smirked as they tossed Vil into the air. Only to grab him by his collar and slam hard onto the stone below. Vil had the wind knocked out of him.

"I'd give you a... 5 points out of 100," Y/n smirked at Vil's gasping form.

"Instant kill!" Grim and Ace cheered.

"S-so cool," Epel awed quietly.

______________________________________________________

After that one-sided fight, Epel asked Y/n if it would be possible to be as strong as them. They answered "That is for you to decide, but don't focus only on the strength. Or is trying to be a muscle head the only thing about you?"

With that Y/n and the Adeuce group left. After some days of dance training with Kalim and Jamil. The group had to sign up by talking to Rook. The school stalker, who was all to happy to lurt random info on the group. Though he didn't have much on Y/n

So Y/n returned in kind.

"Greetings Rook hunt from Class 3-A, seat number 10. Your height is 177cm, whose unique magic is "I see you," Y/n smirked as Rook froze. For the first time being on the receiving end of his action.

But Rook would smile it off and tells them to come to Pomfiore in three days' time. And thankfully Adeuce was accepted into the group. Along with Kalim and Jamil.

But unfortunately, Y/n and Grim were forced to house the new VDC group. for the next 2 months, and While Grim was easily won over with money and tuna. Y/n didn't want to share their temporary home.

So with much back and forth Crowley ignored Y/n and gave the boys the green light. So Y/n was not the happiest when they came. especially when Vil starts making demands and setting down his own rules. And order them around.

Sadly not only did Y/n have to house them, but also help assist them with their training.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Of course. Manager, please play the song for us," Vil said expectantly.

"Who?" Y/n asked as they leaned against the windowsill.

"Who else is there? Didn’t the Headmaster ask you to support us? If you want to get paid, then work yourself to the bone for us, too," Vil said.

"Well, I don't need your currency," Y/n answered simply.

"What?!" Grim Gasped. "B-But my Tuna!"

"Grim I cook fresh fish for you for Breakfast and Dinner. You have no reason to complain. I even get the certain types of fish you like," Y/n scolded.

But Grim wants that money so he did follow Vil's command. As the Video was about to play an Ad of Neige popped up. And As Y/n watched they could see Vil crumble inside.

"He is very Lovable," Y/n commented, throwing salt into the wound.

"Gentlemen, stop focusing on the wrong things and watch the dance video, for god’s sake! This time for sure… I promise that we will not lose," Vil promised.

"Good. Well, I wish you luck. Don't cause trouble Grim," Y/n said as they left the dance room.

"W-where are you going?" Vil asked, but was ignored.

Practice went well, all the way to sunset, But Vil began to rear his head. As his ugly tendency surfaced.

" I… I don’t want to do it…" Epel stuttered.

"Pardon? “Meandering and girly? Are you sleep-talking, my dear? Well, even then I still will not tolerate such brashness," Vil scoffed as he grabbed and yanked harshly on Epel's ear. "Let me explain. This “meandering” dance trains the inner muscles so that our movements look clean and beautiful. Clothes and dancing should not be categorized into “girly” or “manly.” You are absolutely being close-minded if you think you shouldn’t do “girly” dances just because you’re a boy."

Suddenly Vil yelped in pain as a strong pair of fingers grabbed his ear. He was pulled down to Y/n's level by his ear as Y/n began to talk directly into it.

"And You should know that Boy or Girl, you have no right to place your hands on another individual. Or have you thrown out common human decency?" Y/n asked. "Since we're on the trend of pointing out flaws, I have many of yours to point out."

"Like how you drag unwilling people into your goals. Aren't you ashamed of forcing your dreams onto Epel? What are you incapable of reaching your goals on your own, and need someone else to succeed for you?"

__________________________________________

Y/n called the first day of training to a close. Vil wasn't feeling too chatty after that earful with Y/n.

Y/n sensing that Vil had enough, they left the group alone Till everyone went to bed. Kalim was surprised to See y/n outside. They gave Kalim a small pep talk and sent him back to bed.

Since Y/n death Didn't need sleep, they continued to do work. Like Removing Vil's curse on the baked goods Trey made. Before anyone could get hurt, reaping unfortunate souls, and Catching fish for Grim to eat.

Vil was not happy when he caught Ace and Deuce eating sweets, but was infuriated to learn that Y/n removed his curse. And Y/n would continue to be a thorn in Vil's side.

But sadly Vil's tune didn't change over the few days. And Eventually, it Got to the group. Epel quits, Deuce with a massive loss of confidence, and Ace becomes more of a jerk.

________________________________________

" Well only after a few days, you're out of a team. Seems like you are well on your way to losing after all," Y/n laughed.

"Those potatoes didn't have what it takes," Vil glared.

"Oh, just like you don't have what it takes to beat Neige?" Y/n asked with a knowing and cruel smile.

"Gaining what you want by means of pure effort is a thing of dreams," Vil muttered to himself. "And I do have what it takes, I will be the fairest of them all."

"Will you, or are just repeating words of people telling you are beautiful?" Y/n asked. " find something else to do with your time. Like becoming a better teacher or instructor."

"Do you just enjoy insulting me?" Vil glared.

"I just act how you act when you do when you are around people you think are beneath you. Time 5 of course,' Y/n said. " And yes, I do find it amusing how fail to be an influencer. Like how you fail to influence Epel into seeing the benefits of being pretty. You just Sqwaked and screeched at him the whole time."

"Then what would you do?" Vil scoffed, as he nervesly watched Y/n polish their blades.

_________________________________________

Y/n recommended trying to appeal to Epel, like helping his family with their business. This helped ease things over with Epel, and Vil was a bit nicer. And soon 2 months were a breeze.

Things were looking up for the group and Vil, spirits were high, and confidence was through the roof. Til Vil got cold feet after seeing Neige's performance. And the story of the evil queen replayed once again.

---------------------------------------------------

"Where am I?" Vil wondered as walked in the darkness.

As he did he found a backstage vanity, the lights were bright and the station was pristine. There was a book on the table, it was about Him. He read through the script-like text, and memories began to surface. And it was strange seeing it from a new perspective.

"Ah, your here Mr.Vil. Are you ready for your makeup session?" Asked a voice.

Vil turned in his seat to see Y/n dressed like a makeup artist. The boy nodded slowly as Y/n began to recline his chair.

"So what do you think of the script. Do you like the Vil Shoenheit character?" Y/n asked as they began to soak Vil's hair with warm water.

"I just wanted to stand on the stage till the very end," Was all he could say.

"Everyone one does, and you just wanted more then what you got," Y/n agreed as they began to shampoo his hair. " You didn't want to be seen as the Villain any more."

"Exactly, but no matter how much I try and Improve... I don't want to be just that, that villain character. I'm sure the Queen of beauty would look upon me with disappointment," Vil sighed.

"The queen of beauty wouldn't give a flying feather about your struggles. If she were in your passion, she would have killed Neige back in high school. And eat his heart, thinking she would gain his beauty," Y/n said as they rinsed Vil's hair.

"Do not mock the Queen of beauty, and how could you possibly know who she was?" Vil spat as Y/n conditioned his hair.

"I know you very well, I wrote the script in your book," Y/n answered.

"Y-you did. How did you know such personal details about me? Who are you Y/n?" Vil asked slowly.

"I am always near, but never quite here, I am feared by most, yet always appear. I take life from the living, with one final breath. Who am I?" Y/n asked as they rinsed and dried his hair.

Vil looked back at the mirror, but instead of seeing a style artist. There stood a black-robed figure with two razor-sharp scythes.

"Y-your Death. So... You were there during The queens time?" Vil asked as Y/n brushed his hair.

Flashes of Y/n's memories of the Evil queen appeared in the vanity mirror. Showing the queen's true color. Vil slumped into his chair as his idol, everything he knew of her... Was a lie.

"If you were to ask me, you outshine the queen far more than snow white," Y/n said as he turned his chair to face them, applying the makeup. "The queen never cared about improving her own beauty. She simply would not allow more beautiful people to live. You on the other hand worked har to improve your beauty."

"You really mean that?" Vil asked as he looked back at his book, only to see a wanted poster on top of it.

"Yes, straight from death's lips. You are everything, you thought the queen embodied. Sadly you would have never known that, because you really on strangers to inform your worth. When only you can truly know what your value is," Y/n said as they finished their work and turned Vil around to face the Vanity.

"Vil? Who is the fairest of them all?" Death asked.

As he looked in the mirror, images of his life achievements flashed in the vanity. Vil smiled as turned to face Death.

"I am the fairest," Vil said.

"Are you sure?" Death asked as they bored into Vil's eyes.

Vil stood from his chair and stood face to face with Death. " Yes, I'm very certain."

"Good," Y/n smiled as they stepped aside. "Well, you better hurry. You're going Live in 30 seconds. Your public awaits."

Vil looked ahead to see the stage doors open, as a blinding light showed through. With confidence, he stepped back into the living.

[halbravd]

thorn and blood // halbrand, sauron.

summary: the veil has been lifted. the man you loved ever so dearly and the evil you feared are one, shattering your heart in millions of pieces. two options have to be considered: leaving your people to follow the person that deceived you yet makes you feel alive, or staying behind. but when sauron is met with nothing but disappointment, things take an unexpected turn.

content warning: minors do not interact, female bodied reader, blood, mentions of death and trauma, manipulation, dubcon, p in v, biting, sauron deserves his own trigger warning.

word count: 2k

It’s sick and twisted. Lost paradise surrounded by darkness where hope and light vanished long ago. You can’t remember if what you see is real or not, you can’t even think rationally, emotionally drained. Saying no to him was a mistake, and you should have known better — You begged him to stop, a thousand times; at the sight of your lost ones, at the thoughts of them blaming you for their deaths. He was in your head, and nothing could have changed his will — Nothing, but a yes. A king needs his queen, and if you’re not able to give it to him willingly, then he will take it from you, one way or an other. It felt like tides were washing over you again and again, drowning you more and more every time without killing you still.

Tears and blood stained your cheeks, the sounds of your desperate cries music to his ears as he watched you kneel in front of him, clinging to his left leg and asking for forgiveness. You, who fought against the most powerful enemies, now reduced to a weakened soul, a brittle flame on the verge of dying. How many hours? How many days? It felt like months, years of torture. Yet, it took very few minutes to the dark lord to ruin your mind.

One knee on the ground, now face to face, he cupped your chin with his hand — a gentle touch that had you forgetting, for a second, your own downfall —, pushing back a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. The sight of your empty eyes, the pain and despair adorning your face, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in this world.

‘I’ll make you a queen— my queen. And all should bow at the sight of you’, his words taste like poison, breath fanning over your ear. Surrounded by chaos, flames engulfing earth, trees and skies, the stars are now long gone in the place he created for you with the strength of his twisted mind.

You can’t remember anything — How you got undressed, how he had you on his laps, seated on a throne you could barely see. But you weren’t wearing nothing — the crown made of thorns and twigs, sitting rightfully on top of your head, was the only attire you’ll ever need from now on. A faint gasp fell off your mouth when his cock parted your lips, pushing inside you with such ease you could have felt embarrassed if your mind wasn’t so clouded, still filled with the traumatic experiences you’ve been through. And it was so wrong, to feel at peace when you felt him bottoming out. You hated yourself for resting the back of your head on his toned shoulder, letting him do whatever he wanted with your sore body.

With your back flat against his chest and his arms keeping your legs wide open, forearms right under the fold of your knees, you were nothing but a puppet begging to be touched, to be filled by the man you oh so love and hate at the same time. Weren’t you the perfect prey? So pretty, so naive. So strong and feared by many. A perfect fit for the dark path he picked for you, a glorious toy for his own collection. An other slave willing to do anything just to please him.

Halbrand — that’s how you used to call him — started rocking his hips, back and forth, so painfully slow yet deep you had to arch your back to feel less full. But wasn’t it something that had to be done, in order to be his for an eternity of suffering? To be claimed, to be filled by him. His eyes would never leave your face, torn between pleasure and hatred.

Those eyes you couldn’t even see — thankfully. Anything but human, diving into darkness, red hue burning in the flames of hell. The whispers falling into your ear felt unfamiliar, foreign. A language as dark as the tongue spitting it out. A language that, in other circumstances, would have the hairs on your arms standing up in horror. But right now, in this very time and place, it had your eyes rolling at the back of your skull, right hand holding to his forearm for dear life. A pretty little thing, wrecked and corrupted.

Every time the tip of his cock would bump against that particular sweet spot of yours, your entire body would melt — Legs trembling, walls clamping down on him like a vice, a waterfall of tired moans falling off your mouth. It felt so wrong and so good at the same time, to stop fighting, to give up. To let your weapons fall on the filthy ground. It was nothing like someone could expect; slow and intimate, almost too sweet to be true; breaking his precious toy too fast would be way too easy, and the reward of witnessing you falling apart ever so slowly was a delightful thought, almost enough for him to cum on the spot.

‘Tell me you’ll be my queen— say it. Say you’ll rule middle earth with me.’ A soft kiss on the shell of your ear, one of his arm letting your leg go, just for his hand to travel south, nails of his —or were they claws, now?— scratching the skin of your belly, leaving a trail of scars and cuts, until his slender fingers found your aching clit.

‘I will,’ you sob, a pathetic little sound that had his lips twitching. Damn him, he even laughed at your face, and if you weren’t as lost as you were, you would have noticed. There was no hesitation in your voice, eyes struggling to stay open as heavy lids threaten to hide the burning world from you. And because you were so sweet, because you were so kind, a reward you should get. A particularly deep thrust, followed by the feeling of his middle finger rubbing your swollen bundle of nerves in slow circular motions. It has your head spinning and your entire body shaking, waves of electricity creeping up your body and fogging your cursed mind.

‘You’re mine, forever. And you’ll never escape from me.’ His teeth sink in the flesh of your shoulder, scarlet droplets falling down your arm and back, pulling the prettiest cry off your throat. A pain that had your walls clenching, fluttering around his cock as his thrusts became stronger and faster. And if it wasn’t for his arm holding you tight against him, you’d have fallen to your knees already, way too gone to steady yourself. Last strings of sanity vanishing in the air, you tipped off the edge, a firework exploding in your belly. Patches of color dance across your vision, a plethora of his name falling off your tongue like a deadly chant as you reach your high.

He lets you in your own fantasy, calling him with his made-up name, the one he won’t let you use anymore after this. He has this image of you imprinted in his mind; lost in the pleasure he’s given you, blood and dirt painted all over your body, too lost to think rationally, too scared to realize that you’ve made a pact with the devil. There’s a groan threatening to escape from his lips, too delighted by the beautiful sight of you, by your small hands gripping his — eager for his touch.

He gives it to you, the illusion of being loved, the dream of living a long and happy life with the one you’ve chosen. In one swift motion, his cock slowly leaves your warmth, bringing with it a feeling of loneliness and emptiness you’ve experienced way too many times. You could feel them, the tears creeping up your eyes, sitting so prettily on your lower lash line.

‘Sleep. Our travel will be long,’ the tears didn’t fall, but they are still there, eased by his stabbing words, for now. Exhausted, you can barely lift your head up to look at him one more time before falling head first into darkness. He’s just like he used to be — The same angel face, the same beautiful eyes. What if he changed? Foolish thoughts. But you can’t help but hold onto that hope.

Even in his most gentle moves, there’s a form of cruelty, of violence that no one could really explain. Lifting your wounded body with ease, he carries you in his arms, hiding your naked figure with a cape that barely hides anything from the world. Sauron isn’t one to care. Sauron is one to receive without asking, to get what he wants without a fight. And if he can’t love you, then you’ll take anything he could give you — Even if it means being enslaved. Even if it means losing the tiny shards of dignity you have left, as long as he sees you.

2022 halbravd

[graphicabyss]

XVII-XVIII Century Royal Queer History

Unexpectedly to myself, I got really engaged in history of Europe of XVI-XVII centuries. I never really had much interest in kings and queens and didn't know much about them but once I began to read and learn about their personal lives, I got kinda hooked. Also, I was struck by how many of them were queer and I began to write down my findings, which inevitably turned into a freaking study. I thought I might as well post it.

I'm gonna start with King James I of England who ruled in XVII century. Now there are several tumblr posts about this queer legend. Some historians think he was weak and unremarkable but he survived several assassination attempts, kept his power over 3 countries and lived to old age, which is pretty remarkable on its own. He also kept all the religious leaders at bay and commissioned the world's most famous Bible, which is still owned by most Christians 400 years later. He was also the one who created the modern wedding ritual. You know, church, vows, rings, that stuff. He avoided wars and was a patron of the arts, even wrote some books, including one about demons, werewolves and vampires. What a nerd. He was very different from Elizabeth who preceded him, so one contemporary epigram stated "Elizabeth was King, now James is Queen". Oh, also he was very gay. Or, at least, as gay as a king can get. His relationships with his male courtiers were notorious. He had several favourites who had way too much influence over him and his court really hated it.

He needs to have a movie made about him, seriously. I found only one semi-documentary film and it was The King James Bible: The Book That Changed The World (2011). While I liked the film and King James was hot, sassy and very cool, it was disappointing he was shown as perfectly straight. They could just avoid his personal life altogether, but instead they chose to show him being a perfect husband. While it is true that he was nice to his bride, by the time he met her he had a 10-year old relationship with a man 24 years his senior (since he was 14). I'm just gonna use this screenshot from the movie instead of a painting because it's too good.

Perhaps the most notorious of his alleged lovers was George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham. Starting out as a son of a minor gentleman, the 21-year old lad caught the eye of King James I and quickly became his favourite teasing him by dancing in intricate performances called masques. He made a brilliant career becoming a knight, an earl, a Marquess, and finally a duke - a title normally being reserved for members of the royal family - within just 9 years. Can you blame him though? I mean, look at that stud.

Btw, James’ pet name for Buckingham was ‘Steenie’, derived from St. Stephen who reportedly had the face of an angel.

The name Buckingham seemed oddly familiar to me but it took some time before I realized he was one of the characters in Dumas's "The Three Musketeers". Now I am someone who grew up on old pure Three Musketeers movies so when I started learning about the real historical figures involved in it it gave me a slight shock as the truth is way more weird and sinister that fiction.

The storyline I remember the most was the one where Anne of Austria, the queen of France, got in trouble with her husband Louis XIII because of her affair with Duke of Buckingham. Of course, Duke of Buckingham was never the Queen's lover, he was the King's. What's more, some historians assume Louis XIII was also queer. There is no evidence that Louis kept mistresses, but he had very intimate relationships with his favourites. He has even been described as “repelled by female contact”. There's also the issue of him struggling to have an heir. His wife had 4 pregnancies that were unsuccessful but that seemed like too few for a king who needed to secure his dynasty. After 23 years of trying, the king and queen were finally able to produce a son and another soon followed, the older son to become Louis XIV, and the younger, Philippe, to be known as Duke of Orleans.

Anne was quite the character for a dramatic story too. After Louis's death she became the Regent and made sure to clear the way for her son Louis. To ensure that Louis's younger brother will not try to usurp the power from him as it was with Louis XIII 's brother, Anne of Austria conducted an early and very wicked gender development experiment. She and her adviser, Cardinal Mazarin, set up a plan to raise the two boys very differently. Queen Anne called Philippe by such nicknames as "my little girl" and encouraged him to dress in feminine clothing, which he sometimes did even as an adult.

I'm just gonna use this quote because this shit is real: The queen and Mazarin discouraged the duc d'Anjou [Philippe] from traditional manly pursuits such as arms and politics, and encouraged him to wear dresses, makeup, and to enjoy feminine behaviour. His inclination toward homosexuality was not discouraged, with the hope of reducing any threat he may have posed to his older brother. Reportedly, Cardinal Mazarin even commanded his nephew, Philippe, to de-flower the king's younger brother.

Well, fuck. The joke's on them though, as Philippe grew up to be a fashion icon AND a fierce warrior. He participated in many battles and was immensely praised for his bravery and valour. In 1677, he led the French forces at the Battle of Cassel against William III of Orange of the Netherlands. Yes, that guy who later gently invaded England and took the throne. By the way, there are some allegations that he was also gay. Anyway, Philippe was so badass in battle that people glorified him as a hero and it made his stallion of a brother so jealous he sent him back and never allowed him on the battlefield again. Louis XIV continued his mother's effort in encouraging his brother's effeminate behaviour and putting up with his homosexual relationships, all the while waging a war of homosexuality in France. I mean, gotta preserve the traditional values, such as fucking 12 mistresses who were often married. There were even rumours Louis fucked Philippe's wife. I guess he was trying to make up for his father, brother, son, and uncle, César de Vendôme. Meanwhile, Philippe gave no fucks. He had a number of favourites and didn't even try to hide his sexuality. In fact, it is said that every time Louis pissed him off, Philippe did something extra gay and in his face. Fierce.

One guy I have to mention is Armand, the Comte de Guiche, who was said to be handsome, vain, and manipulative. Armand was Philippe’s lover, but he is widely thought to have been his wife Henrietta’s lover as well. That apparently wasn’t enough for the guy, because in 1665 he also tried to romance Louise de La Valliere, who was Louis’ chief mistress at the time. Louis exiled him in 1662 for plotting with Henrietta to break up Louis and Louise. What a glorious fucker.

But the love of Philippe's life was Chevalier de Lorraine who was basically a prince of a realm outside France. He's usually called 'Chevallier' but his name was also Philippe. He also had an older brother named Louis. Seriously, couldn't they try a little harder with the names? Anyway, when they met Philippe was 18 and Chevalier 15 and sparks flew. He was described as being “as beautiful as an angel” and was more than ready to use what his mama gave him. He was smart and very manipulative and Philippe showered him with gifts all his life, much to the chagrin of his two wives whose money and estates he often gave away.

He moved to Palais-Royal, the same palace as Philippe and his wife Henriette. Very convenient. Philippe's marriage got kinda crowded. Chevalier got so arrogant, he actually told Philippe's wife she needs his permission to sleep with him and that he could get him to divorce her. She complained to the king and he got Chevalier imprisoned and exiled. However, not for long as Philippe pleaded the king to pardon him and eventually succeeded. Henriette did not get much relief apparently as she wrote: “I see from the ashes of Monsieur’s love for the Chevalier, as from the dragon’s teeth, a whole brood of fresh favourites are likely to spring up to vex me.” Of course, Chevalier also managed to enrich himself immensely by getting Philippe and the king to give him and his family tons of perks, such as make him the titular Abbot of four abbeys, which payed handsomely.

Henriette died very suddenly claiming she was poisoned. The doctors found no evidence of that, but there were still rumours that Chevalier was to blame. Philippe had to find another wife, even if he wasn't happy about it. Chevalier stuck around. He was exiled a second time after he apparently seduced the king's son (more on that later) but was able to return again. Their relationship lasted for 40 years, until Philippe's death.

There was a recent TV show called Versailles that depicts Louis XIV’s reign and it has a fairly accurate though romanticized portrayal of Philippe and Chevalier's relationship. Too bad the show is way too violent for me to watch. They look stunning in it~

Anyway, such relationships were far from rare. In fact, apparently there were the so-called confréries (“fraternities”), which were basically gay brotherhoods whose members hung out together and set up orgies. One elite brotherhood was founded between 1680 and 1682. Apart from Chevalier, it included the king Louis XIV's cousin Prince of Conti who was once proclaimed the King of Poland, and Louis's illegitimate son, the comte de Vermandois. The latter was 15 in 1682 when at the court of his uncle Philippe, he met the Chevalier de Lorraine and his sect and apparently got very personally acquainted with Chevalier's younger brother and nephew. When the king learned about it, the group was forcibly dissolved and Vermandois was beaten before the king, exiled from court, and forced into marriage. Another such group was within the highest ranks of nobility at the court of Philippe II, Duke of Orléans, the son of Philippe and the regent at the time when Louis XV was young. They really didn't bother with names, huh? Anyway, they got involved in a number of scandals, in one of which that happened in 1722 a group of 17 noble men gathered in the palace gardens to fuck. The Regent didn't seem very bothered and even seemed to find it amusing.

The Regent, who did not stop smiling, was satisfied that it was necessary to give the nobles a harsh reprimand and tell them that they do not have the best taste [goût] in the world.

Dad would be proud.

There were also some (presumably) queer queens, like Queen Anne of England. Now you might have seen the movie The Favourite but it's heavily satirized and Anne wasn't really childlike and helpless. Actually, this image was created by Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough, after she was expelled by Anne, and stuck. However, the rivalry between the old and new favourites was very real.

Anne met Sarah when she was just 8. Sarah was beautiful, charming and very persuasive. When Anne became the queen, she made Sarah Churchill her Mistress of the Robes (the highest office in the royal court that could be held by a woman) and gave her a bunch of other really cool titles. She also made her husband, John Churchill, a duke. Thus Sarah became the most powerful person in England after the queen and the queen always listened to her advice. However, as years went by, Sarah became increasingly pushy and insensitive, using the queen to get what she wanted.

Sarah looking fab~

Then comes Abigail Masham, Sarah's impoverished cousin. Abigail was soft, caring and considerate, exactly what the queen needed. Sarah tried to get rid of her but it only angered the queen further and she eventually dismissed Sarah and her husband and banished them with disgrace while Abigale took her place. Sarah then wrote scandalous memoirs, painting the queen as weak and instable, as well as implying that her relationship with Abigail was lesbian. In mid-1708, she helped to circulate a ballad with such lyrics as: “Her secretary she was not / Because she could not write / But had the conduct and the care / Of some dark deeds at night.”

While there is no direct evidence that she and Anne had sexual relationship, there are many letters between the women that are very romantic and intimate. Sarah even used them to blackmail the queen. And you can kinda see why. “Tis impossible for you ever to believe how much I love you except you saw my heart,” the princess wrote in one letter, as quoted in Anne Somerset’s biography of Anne. “If I writ whole volumes I could never express how well I love you,” read another.

Also, like, evidence was hardly even a thing with queer relationships, since the only solid evidence of regular affairs were illegitimate children.

Finally, I really want to talk about Frederick II, the king of Prussia. Buckle up because this is gonna be long.

Until the age of 7 Frederick was growing up with his lit mother and sister. Here they are, looking gorge. I think he's in blue but tbh I'm not 100% sure.

Anyway, as he got older he was taken to his father and that's when things got shitty. His father, Frederick William I, was the model image of toxic masculinity. He was all about power and military and expected his son to be the same. And since the boy was a lot more into music, poetry, and French stuff, his father often beat and humiliated him. He didn't allow him to learn French and Latin because, like, that's so gay. Now he was a real man. With a weird kink for tall guys. He is known for creating the Potsdam Giants, a regiment of very tall men that he didn't use for battle, just dressing them up and making them march. Ultimate straightness. It is probably redundant to say but his father also hated 'sodomy' and it was punishable by death, a law Frederick would repeal.

And the thing is, Frederick wasn't even supposed to become a king. He was the third son. It wasn't even disease. The first son died because a volley was fired close to his crib (because that’s the only way to wake up a real man - canon) and the second died at baptism because the royal crown crushed his skull. And you thought your parents were bad. Poor Frederick didn't even want to be a king, he just wanted to play the flute and do his thing. In a different age he'd be writing musicals on Broadway or something.

Anyway, there are few doubts among historians the man was gay. There's this BBC documentary that downplays it but it keeps saying he grew up in an environment where he was "leading a double life" and that he once wrote to a close friend that he felt he was a mirror that dared not be what nature made it, forced to oblige what was around it. Please.

Frederick's first presumed relationship was at 16, with Keith, the king's 17-year-old page. Unsurprisingly, Keith was soon sent to a far-off frontier. Right after that, however, Frederick got real close with an officer Hans Hermann von Katte. The dude was very woke and they both loved music and poetry but shit got very real very soon. In 1730, Katte and Frederick decided to flee to Britain to escape their despotic fathers. Sadly, they got caught and tried for treason. Although the prince was pardoned, Katte was sentenced to life imprisonment, which his sick dad changed to execution and then forced Frederick to watch it. At execution Katte and Fred shouted to each other endearments in French and before it happened, Frederick fainted. That shit really fucked him up and he got depressed but he toughened up and accepted his fate.

Aged about 20, Frederick was expected to marry. After a few failed attempts, an Austrian bride was selected, Elisabeth Christine of Brunswick-Bevern. Frederick was clearly unexcited and apparently even threatened suicide. As soon as he had secured throne, he sent her away and only met with her out of necessity. They had no children. And some historians are like, "well, they just didn't get along". Well, his folks hated each other but it didn't stop them from having 14 children.

Anyway, his father finally got off his back and as a crown prince, he mostly spent his time reading, composing, watching plays and writing woke political essays. Then his dad died so playtime was over.

Now that sounds like a story of a "weak" king. A man who loved to read books and play his flute. But it's not how it was. As Fred became king, he inherited a very militarized state with a huge-ass army and he worked with what he had. He started expanding Prussia, starting with Austria, which he had old beef with. He wasn't out for world conquest, he struck swiftly and strategically to consolidate and strengthen his state.

Frederick, widely known as Frederick the Great, waged war against much bigger armies with great success and doubled Prussia's size in his reign. Which is why Hitler was obsessed with the guy smh. Would make more sense if he was into the Frederick Senior, with his militarism and his little hobby of inbreeding giants and all. He must have missed the part where he was tolerant, modest and also gay.

Frederick also had a younger brother, Prince Henry, who was also gay. He was an important general in the king's army, though their relationship was quite complicated. Henry married but like his brother, bore no children, ignored his wife and spent time with fine lads.

Look at this unapologetic legend!

When Frederick wasn't battling, he was doing lit stuff. He built a gorgeous palace in French fashion, full of Grecian sculptures and homoerotic paintings. He attracted the best intellectual minds of his time. Voltaire lived there for 3 years btw and he did not hold back to make many "wink wink" references to the king and his Grecian taste.

Speaking of which... One of his closest friends was Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf, an army private and a son of a peasant. Frederick met him as a prince and kept him by his side for the rest of his life, quite literally as he had an adjoined bedroom in his palace. He also made him a chancellor and gave him an estate, which really pissed off the elites.

Frederick is a complex character. Sure, he waged war and very successfully asserted himself as one of the top military leaders in history. But at the time Prussia was a scattered landlocked state, it couldn't just opt out of war so it's not like he could just go "peace out, bitches". But he did so much more. The guy actually believed that the king's duty was to be just and improve the lives of his people. He did some major reforms, improved education, supported art, and practiced religious tolerance, which was pretty woke at the time. He abolished torture and corporal punishment. He made governing more democratic by hiring people based on ability, not just status. Sadly, his cool legacy was utterly destroyed because the Nazi decided to appropriate him as their idol but lately it’s being reassessed. It’s hard to judge him considering how much he went through. But despite it all he became one of the best military commanders in history, one of the most woke and talented monarchs, and of course a legendary queer! 

Disclaimer: I know all of these people did some terrible shit, at least by modern standards, but I'm here to have fun so I'm not going to go there now. Sources: medium.com/@LukeBoneham/the-politics-of-desire-... thehistoryofparliament.wordpress.com/2019/02/21... www.ranker.com/list/life-of-philippe-dorleans/m... cour-de-france.fr/vie-quotidienne/sociabilite-e... aelarsen.wordpress.com/2018/07/20/versailles-th... thedrummersrevenge.wordpress.com/2007/06/22/ref... dirtysexyhistory.com/2017/09/03/a-secret-gay-br... unspeakablevice.tumblr.com/post/82525976110/lou... journals.openedition.org/crcv/14427#ftn161 Marie Antoinette's World: Intrigue, Infidelity, and Adultery in Versailles The Real Versailles - BBC Two

BBC Four - Frederick the Great and the Enigma of Prussia https://medium.com/war-is-boring/historys-greatest-gay-general-fd7d1d311464 https://www.queerportraits.com/bio/frederick https://www.spectator.com.au/2015/10/frederick-the-great-king-of-prussia-is-a-great-read/ http://gayinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/10/frederick-great-1712-1786.html https://www.history.com/news/true-story-queen-anne-sarah-abigail-the-favourite-fact-check

[ao3porcelainstorm]

poison ivy & stinging nettles 1

'A Case of Poison Ivy and Stinging Nettles'

“Very original title, John,” Sherlock snorted. John glared up at his friend, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

"The whole case was about betrayal, plants, and pharmaceuticals," he shot back. "It's a clever title." "What about chemistry? There was plenty of chemistry." "Our client was a botanist," John rolled his eyes and continued typing at the laptop. "Don't worry, there's plenty of mention of your glorious prowess with chemical reactions."

On Ao3 

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC 

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 2

Chapter 1- Amelia 

~~~

Unlike most cases on this blog, Sherlock and I stumbled into this one quite accidentally.

Sherlock had made Mrs. Hudson upset, and when I revealed that it was her birthday, I quickly ushered him to the nearest florist.

That was where we met Amelia Brenner, the first person I'd ever known that spoke the language of the flowers fluently.

~~~

Amelia Brenner disliked the rain that so often plagued London. If she had a choice in the matter, she would have been back home, probably sunbathing on the rooftop of her Brooklyn apartment. Unfortunately, life had a cruel sense of humor, and that led to Amelia's present circumstances.

She often lamented that she was the one being punished for having done right by society, but the brief periods of sunshine that occasionally peaked through the London skyline, reminded her that this wasn't the all terrible exile she'd convinced herself it was.

Today, was one of those rare, beautiful, days.

And there were two grown men in the front of her flower shop bickering over which flowers they needed to purchase to appease their landlady.

“Roses are safe,” she suggested, eyes trailing to the clear sky outside longingly. “Red and yellow are happiness and excitement. Just yellow mean friendship.”

“I didn't realize flowers had their own language,” the shorter gentleman turned around with a nervous chuckle. He looked out of place, and clearly overwhelmed, but no so much as the dark-hair man beside him.

“Perfect, that'll do,” the second man shot in, visibly annoyed at the entire situation.

Amelia was just as eager to get the men out of her shop, and quickly moved to the side of the shop where she stored her roses in a refrigerator.

“Shouldn't we get her something more meaningful?” the shorter man asked, as Amelia's fingers nearly touch the stem of the yellow roses. She froze, throwing on a bright smile and turning around.

“Do you know what her favorite flowers are? We could add them to the rose bouquet,” she suggested, a passing child and their laughing friends running by with ice cream reminded her of her urgency to close up early for the day.

“God if I know,” the brunette shrugged impatiently. “John, you remember pointless things like that. Why don't you know?”

“You've known her longer, Sherlock,” the blonde, John, shot back. “Not once, have you gotten her a birthday present?”

“It didn't seem important,” he muttered, turning his attention to the numerous displays sitting in the shop window.

“I'm sorry, my friend is a bit difficult when it comes to any semblance of intimacy or emotional attachment,” John shot his turned away friend a scowl before approaching Amelia. “Are there any flowers that mean, 'beloved friend', or something similar?”

Amelia paused, half-tempted to just grab the yellow roses, but John seemed earnest in his request, despite the difficult behavior his friend was displaying.

“You know what...” Amelia moved toward a different section of the store where she had various flowers set in plastic vases for “do-it-yourself” bouquets. “Tell me about your landlady.”

“She's an older woman,” John started, hesitating slightly. “Very kind. Always has a cup of tea ready for you on a bad day.”

“Nosy, likes invading your personal space,” Sherlock chimed in.

“It's because you do things like shoot bullets through walls,” John reminded him tersely. “She gets concerned.”

Amelia plucked a few coreopsis, orange geraniums, and a large sunflower. Grabbing a few sprigs of sage and some Queen Anne's lace for accents, she moved to the main counter and dug through her drawers for a crystal vase she'd seen laying around.

It didn't take long for her to take the random assortment of flowers and turn them into a gorgeous display of yellows and orange. The white accents of the lace, pulled the whole thing together in a practical, tasteful way.

“What do they all mean?” John asked, glancing up from the card Amelia had given him to fill out and attach to the bouquet.

“Queen Anne's lace means sanctuary,” Amelia lightly touched the small white flowers. “A short sunflower means adoration, geraniums mean true friendship, sage means wisdom, and corepsis mean always cheerful.”

“That's perfect,” John practically beamed up at her, signing both his and Sherlock's name to the bottom of the card.

Amelia rang up his purchase, giving the men a small discount because she felt a little bad about their circumstances. Especially, once John went into more detail about exactly what it was his friend had done (something about a snippy comment about the woman's sweater).

“You said a short sunflower means adoration, what does a tall one mean?” Sherlock spoke up, looking quite uncomfortable as John shoved the vase into his hands.

Amelia had to bite her bottom lip to keep down the giggle that wanted to erupt with her response. She swallowed it down, turning it into a cough before coolly responding.

“Haughtiness.”

John snorted a laugh and ushered Sherlock out of the store before the taller man could make a comment. He thanked Amelia again over his shoulder and was gone in a flash.

Amelia quickly ran to the front door, flipping over the open sign to “closed”, and locked it in place. She looked at her watch and calculated she had about three hours until the sun began to set, giving her plenty of time to sit in the green house she'd constructed on the roof, and take in a bit of the sunshine with her plants.

She tided up the shop, humming an excited tune under her breath while she cashed out the register and wiped down the counters. All was going smoothly until a very urgent visitor began pounding at her front door.

Thinking she'd forgotten an order, or perhaps John or Sherlock had dropped something, she unlocked the door and swung it open.

What Amelia hadn't anticipated was the front end of a pistol to bed shoved into her chest and a group of three men to storm into her tiny space.

The last man in quickly closed the door behind him, while the other two started pulling down blinds, the gun still trained on a stunned Amelia.

“Can I help you?” she stammered, her hands up in defense, trying to think of an escape plan through the fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. The backdoor was too far. There weren't any nearby windows.

She was stuck.

One of the men kicked down a display. Gerbera daisies scattered across the floor in a splash of color that the man quickly stepped on, and twisted his foot. He chuckled at Amelia's face, distorted in distress at the careless handling of the flowers she'd dedicated her free time to.

“The data set,” the man with the gun snarled. Amelia noticed he was missing a front tooth, and that had distracted her considerably. He fired a bullet near her feet, repeating his question.

“I have no idea what that means,” she whimpered in response. The men were working their way around the shop, kicking over display, stomping on flowers, and pouring lighter fluid over their destroyed remains.

“Don't play dumb sweetheart, it's not a good look,” he stepped closer, pressing the tip of the weapon into her cheek. “The data set with the clinical trial results. A mutual friend wants it back.”

Amelia continued feigning ignorance, despite knowing precisely what data set he was referring to. It was safely tucked away in a deposit box, across town, under an assumed name.

“I just deal in flowers,” she insisted, a small sob pulling from her chest as they continued to demolished her little shop. “If you look to the bottom of your boots, that's the pretty stuff you're destroying.”

“Don't get cheeky with me,” the man with the gun snapped back. "An American in London, setting up shop just after the biggest data breach in Chemco's history..."

“And what are you going to do about it? Shoot me?” Amelia regretted the words the instant they left her mouth. The small wave of confidence immediately fading while he moved forward. He pulled his hand back and hit her across the face with the end of his weapon.

“Am I interrupting something?” a voice asked, just familiar enough where Amelia caught her breath when she identified the source.

The king of sunflowers himself, standing in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest.

Sherlock Holmes.

“You'd be wise to turn around and pretend you haven't seen a thing,” the man with the gun aimed it toward Sherlock with a wicked grin. “This doesn't have to involve you.”

“I see,” he hummed, his eyes trailing over the scene, falling on Amelia and what she assumed was a large bruise forming under her eye. “Unfortunately, I left my mobile at the register, so if someone would be so inclined?”

The man closest to Amelia threw an elbow in her side, shoving her toward the register.

“Go on then,” he hissed, his weapon still aimed at the newcomer.

Amelia practically jumped at the touch, slowly edging her way toward the register. There was no cell phone left behind. No one had time to ask questions, because during the lull in the room, Sherlock moved.

With a crack, he smashed a large vase over the man with the gun. The goon collapsed on the floor with a grunt, the other two men moving into action with swinging fists.

Sherlock dodged the attacks, throwing one man into the counter top and knocking the other to the floor unconscious with a swift punch.

He looked up at Amelia, brow arched in question.

“Why does it smell like petrol?” he asked, an instant before one of the men tossed a lighter across the floor to Amelia's destroyed daisies.

Amelia bounded across the space in a flurry, catching him by the waist, and tackling him through the shop's open door to the busy street outside. She rolled across the ground, only being caught by the shoulder before hitting the curb.

It didn't take long for the shop to erupt into flames, the lighter fluid speeding up the consumption which the plants happily provided.

Dazed, Amelia and Sherlock gaped from outside as smoke billowed from the building.

Pedestrians screamed or stopped to get a better look. Somewhere in her muddled mind, Amelia heard someone calling the fire department.

“There's a green house on the roof,” Sherlock murmured. “Do you have fertilizer in the building?”

She sure did. Right by the register and tucked away in the workroom. She was going to bring it up that day.

Amelia's eyes widened at the realization, and it didn't take her new companion long to determine the answer.

Practically lifting her from their position, he dragged her stumbling across the street just as the first explosion sounded through the block, sending glass shattering across the area.

Dropping to the ground, covered in soot, small cuts, and dirt, Amelia looked to him and sighed.

“Thanks,” she said, resting her head against the brick building they ended on, and watching what little happiness she'd obtained burn to the ground. Go figure.

Fire sirens wailed through the block, firemen ushered passerby's out of the way, and before long, Sherlock and Amelia were scooped up by EMTs.

When she was patched up, an officer took her to Scotland Yard for a statement.

Amelia told the officers investigating that it had been a robbery gone wrong. No, she didn't know why they wanted to destroy her shop. She grew daisies and wrapped roses, why would she understand why they threw lighter fluid around the place? Of course it was reasonable that fertilizer was in a flower shop. She grew her own flowers after all.

Eventually, she was released from Scotland Yard, exhausted from the day, but with no where to go, considering her apartment was above the shop.

She had money in the bank, but her debit card and ID had been under the register when the shop caught fire. It was going to take some time before she could get what she needed to book out a hotel room. One of the officers had given her an address to a hostel they recommended to fire victims until things were settled, but the idea of something so public made Amelia nervous. She already wasn't thrilled that the news had covered the fire.

“Why lie to the police?” a baritone voice asked over her shoulder. Amelia nearly jumped out of her skin at the presence, whipping her head around and finding Sherlock standing a few meters away.

“Excuse me?” Amelia wasn't sure if she'd heard him correctly, her mind numb and tired from the days events. She just wanted a shower and a fresh change of clothes, not the second degree from this vigilante ninja detective.

“You lied to the police, you said it was a robbery,” he repeated, taking a few steps toward her, his blue eyes skimming over her face. “You're a bad liar, and that obviously wasn't a normal robbery. They were looking for something specific.”

Amelia had over heard some of the officers at the station talking about Sherlock when she revealed he had been the one who had saved her. When she asked the officer taking her statement, he just shrugged and said that he was a consultant to the Yard, but others certainly had stronger feelings about the subject.

Amelia looked around the street, largely empty aside from a few taxis and a couple walking along the sidewalk across the road.

“Fine, I'll bite,” she replied. “I'm in possession of some important research regarding a drug that's about to be finalized by the FDA and the NHS.”

“I'd venture to guess this research isn't beneficial to the company?” he asked.

“They blew up my shop and pistol whipped me,” Amelia laughed bitterly, her hand moving to touch the swollen spot on her face. “It certainly isn't rainbows and sunshine cures.”

He paused, considering her words before speaking again.

“Do you know who sent the men?” he asked, and Amelia shrugged, exhaustion continuing to creep over her. She still smelled like smoke and gasoline, her arms and clothes still ripped and black. Not that she could do anything about it.

“I'm assuming the CEO,” Amelia replied, a hint of irritation was rising in her voice as she realized how hopeless her night was going to be.

“And why would a CEO become personally involved in a bad publicity matter?” he inquired. It was a reasonable question, and Amelia might have avoided specifics but she was in no mood to play games, and it seemed this guy was going to get his answers eventually. Besides, she owed him some explanation for saving her life.

“Because she's my mother.”

Chapter 2

[jaybug-jabbers]

Flick’s Complete Bug Guide

Hi, all! Do you feel a wave of disappointment whenever you bring Blathers a bug and he spends all his time berating the poor creatures? Want to learn more about the buggy friends you find in Animal Crossing without all the snide remarks?

Look no further– this is Flick’s Complete Bug Guide! Learn about these amazing creatures from the perspective of a true bug fan!

You’re encouraged to visit every time you capture a new bug so you can learn more about it!

This guide is written in the theoretical universe where you can approach Flick during a day he is visiting and there is a dialogue option “Tell me about this!”

Upon being asked to tell you about a bug, Flick would say:

“Oh my gosh! A <name of bug>! I can hardly even gaze upon its sheer beauty and magnificence!”

“Ahem. I-I mean, um … thank you for bringing this to me!”

He would then tell you about the bug, and finish his speech with the following:

“It has been an honor to spend time in the presence of your  <name of bug>. I hope you enjoyed hearing what wisdom I could share about it!”

Now, onward to the bug guide!

Common Butterfly (Pieris rapae)

The Common Butterfly, also known as the Cabbage Butterfly or the White Butterfly, is a widespread species of butterfly with pretty white wings and black spots. A large reason this species has grown so widespread is because its caterpillars love to eat plants in the cabbage family, including kale, broccoli and bok choy, plants that humans grow plenty of. While these caterpillars are considered serious crop pests, it’s interesting to note that these little grubs will move around a lot when feeding, avoiding damaging any single part of the plant too much. This may be to avoid predators from easily spotting the caterpillars, but they also might be trying to share the crops with us! With that in mind, maybe we can learn to share our crops with the butterflies, too.  

Yellow Butterfly (Colias erate)

Ever wonder about a butterfly’s wing? Such delicate, beautiful structures? Well, the scientific name for the family of butterflies and moths is ‘Lepidoptera,’ which means 'scale wing.’ Butterfly wings are coated in thousands of teeny, tiny scales made of chitin. These scales help insulate a butterfly, as well as allow butterfly wings to get their coloration through pigments or iridescence. The scales also allow for a very neat trick– if a butterfly gets captured in a spider’s web, there’s a good chance some of the scales on their wings will detach, allowing the butterfly to slip away. That’s why if you handle a butterfly, sometimes you hands are covered in a fine powdery substance. That powder is some of the butterfly’s scales rubbing off on you. I have to admit, I envy butterfly scales a little. They seem much more beautiful and functional than my own lizardy scales.

Common Bluebottle (Graphium sarpedon)

This vibrant black-and-blue insect is a type of swallowtail butterfly, and lives in tropical rainforests as well as some drier, subtropical environments. Like most butterflies, they feed on flower nectar, but Bluebottles are also commonly seen drinking from mud puddles. This helps them take in salts and minerals from the ground. In search of nutrients, Bluebottles may even occasionally feed from animal droppings or dead animals! Although this may change your image of butterflies as sweet, lovely insects, it’s actually a really smart move for the butterflies. Good things can come even from wastes!

Tiger Butterfly (Papilio machaon)

The Tiger Butterfly is named for its dramatic yellow and black-striped coloration. It’s also sometimes called a Yellow Swallowtail, because of the long tails on its hindwings that resemble the tails of swallows. When Tiger Butterflies are caterpillars, they are covered in brown, white and black spots– ingeniously camouflaged as bird droppings! As the caterpillars get older, their colors change to a lovely green with black and orange markings. They also gain a new defense against predators, called the osmeterium. This is a forked, retractable organ that the caterpillar can inflate when feeling threatened. The osmeterium releases a foul odor, warding off ants and other predatory insects. As you can see, caterpillars have all sorts of tricks to avoid being eaten– which is a good thing, because that means more beautiful butterflies!

Agrias Butterfly(Agrias claudina)

This superb little butterfly is considered one of the most beautiful species to exist, and with its iridescent pink and violet set on a black background, I find it hard to argue. The glorious colors you’re witnessing are thanks to the teeny, tiny scales that coat the butterflies’ wings. Male Agrias Butterflies also have small yellow patches of scales on their hindwings, and these patches are special. They’re actually made of something called androconial scales. These scales help release pheromones for attracting a mate. Butterflies communicate with each other through these pheromones, as well as those colorful, glittering wings. Of course, with such eye-catching looks, these butterflies may gain the unwanted attention of predators, too, but they’re in luck: Agrias Butterflies are incredibly swift and agile fliers. It takes a lot to get ahold of one of these little gems!

Queen Alexandra’s Birdwing (Ornithoptera alexandrae)

Oh, wow! You caught a Queen Alexandra’s Birdwing? Those are rare– they’re an endangered species! They live in rainforests, but habitat destruction from oil palm plantations has really damaged their populations. (It didn’t help that a volcano erupted around the 50s, destroying much of their habitat as well.) These days, it’s illegal to trade this species worldwide. Hopefully, with habitat protection and captive breeding programs, the species will make a comeback. It’s a really special species– did you know it’s the largest butterfly in the world? Its wingspan can reach up to 9 inches or larger! The females are the larger of the species, while males are smaller but more brightly colored. They love to fly quite high up, and have few natural predators due to their size. That fact gives me hope! I want to see these birdwings thrive once more.

Emperor Butterfly (Morpho menelaus)

The charismatic Emperor Butterfly– also commonly known as the Blue Morpho– is a wonderful example of iridescence. The shimmering cerulean shades of this species do not come from pigment but instead from wing scales that have a special microstructure, reflecting the light in a special way to produce the color. As the butterfly flies, you get flashes of bright blue, and other times see the dark wing undersides. It makes for quite the dazzling display. This butterfly’s wings don’t only look lovely, but also are able to repel water. As a result, it’s one of the few butterflies that will fly in the rain! Because of its beauty, the Emperor is popular with collectors, but over collection and habitat destruction threatens this species. It’s essential that we protect and preserve nature and its incredible insects, so future generations can enjoy them as well!

Rajah Brooke’s Birdwing (Trogonoptera brookiana)

The regal Rajah Brooke’s Birdwing is the national butterfly of Malaysia, and it’s easy to see why. This butterfly makes for an impressive sight; it has a wingspan over 7 inches long and has shimmering, electric-green and black wings. It dwells on rainforested islands where it feeds from flowers such as orchid trees. Interestingly, the males love to gather at hot mineral springs to sip the water, while the drabber-colored females are seen far less often, living a more mysterious life in the trees. The caterpillars of this species are white and brown, covered in defensive spines called tubercles. These larvae feed on the poisonous leaves of vines, storing the poison in their bodies so they are toxic to predators that try to eat them. Laws have been made to protect this popular species, attempting to limit the trade and export of these butterflies. Unfortunately, people sometimes still try to smuggle this species to sell to collectors. It’s an important reminder that we need to protect and respect these beautiful creatures, and not let collecting get out of hand.

Great Purple Emperor (Sasakia charonda)

The Great Purple Emperor is Japan’s proud national butterfly, due to their refined beauty and their wide distribution across Japan. They are black or brown butterflies speckled in white and yellow, with the males covered in a gorgeous purple sheen. They like to dwell in the upper canopy of trees but will come down to feed, sipping up tree sap and occasionally seeking minerals from animal droppings or animal carcasses. They are quick, strong flyers and are said to look like birds when they fly. The caterpillars of this species are adorable green larvae with a pair of horns that I think makes them look absolutely charming. These caterpillars enjoy the leaves of hackberry trees, and when winter comes, the fellows will turn a brown color and crawl to the ground and hide among the roots and fallen leaves. When spring arrives, they immerge from hiding and continue to feed until they are ready to pupate and become adults in the summer. Then they take flight with their strong wing beats– truly the kings of the summer forest!

Paper Kite Butterfly (Idea leuconoe)

The Paper Kite Butterfly is known for its slow, graceful flight, looking much like a handkerchief drifting in the breeze. With their silvery white wings, decorated in dramatic black stripes and spots, it only adds to the loveliness of the picture. However, it’s important to note this species is not simply beautiful; it’s also highly poisonous. The caterpillars of Paper Kites feed on a number of toxic vines, and store the poisons in their bodies as they eat. This poison remains when they transform into adults, so any birds that happen by and try to eat this butterfly are in for a nasty surprise. The bird usually survives these encounters but learns a valuable lesson– avoid snacking on these elegant creatures!

Peacock Butterfly (Papilio bianor)

The Peacock Butterfly is a type of swallowtail butterfly, which means its hindwings have extensions that look very much like the tails of swallows. These colorful 'tails’ are actually great defensive mechanisms. If a bird tries to attack the Peacock Butterfly, it may focus instead on the eye-catching tail. This may end up with a bird grabbing a chunk of wing, but the butterfly’s vital body parts are still intact, and it can escape. Next time you’re admiring the gorgeous sparkling tails of the Peacock Butterfly, you can appreciate they aren’t simply for show but can also help protect these insects!

Monarch Butterfly (Danaus plexippus)

This particular butterfly is well-known for its epic migrations. Because Monarchs do not tolerate the cold, each year when winter begins to approach, they migrate en masse southward to Mexico, where they overwinter. They do this by taking advantage of air currents and thermals, traveling amazing distances in the process– sometimes up to 3,000 miles! During this migration, when the butterflies are resting, they gather together in large groups to roost on trees, huddled for warmth. A group of migrating monarchs is a truly incredible sight to behold; the air thick with fluttering wings, the trees absolutely covered in bright black and orange. Once winter has passed, the monarchs begin a return migration, but this one is different, as it spans multiple generations. The butterflies that eventually return northward in the spring are the grandchildren of the ones that left in the winter– in fact, it takes 3-4 generations for the monarchs to return to their northern territories again! Their journeys are truly inspiring.

Moth (Order Lepidoptera)

Time for a little lesson! Want to know the difference between butterflies and moths? A lot of people might think the difference is that moths are nocturnal and rather duly-colored, while butterflies are colorful and active during the day. But the truth is, there are actually a lot of daytime-flying moths, and many of those species are extremely colorful! A better way to tell them apart is to look at their antenna; generally, butterfly antenna are thin with 'clubs’ at the end, while moth antenna are fuzzy or feathery and lack clubs. Also, you can look at their wings when they’re at rest: butterflies usually like to hold their wings closed when they rest, while moths usually hold their wings flat. However, these are just rules of thumb, and there are exceptions. Ultimately, they’re both very closely related insects in the order Lepidoptera, and both equally enjoyable creatures.

Madagascan Sunset Moth (Chrysiridia rhipheus)

It is positively euphoric to gaze upon the Madagascan Sunset Moth, with its wide wingspan of 3 to 3 and a half inches, its eye-catching tails, and its glittering kaleidoscopic colors of red, green, blue and black. This day-flying moth species sips nectar and flits about the forests of Madagascar. Their caterpillars, white larvae clad in black spots and stripes, like to feed upon highly toxic shrubs, and then store the poison in their bodies. When they metamorphose into adults, they retain their toxicity, so predators quickly learn to avoid these dazzling insects. This species is considered one of the most beautiful moth or butterfly species in the world, prized among collectors and sometimes used in the making of jewelry. Of course, I feel the best way of appreciating this moth is the same way you appreciate a sunset; just be present for the moment you’re living in. Thank you for sharing this moment with us, Sunset moth.

Atlas Moth (Attacus atlas)

What a beautiful creature! The Atlas moth is one of the largest moths in the world. Do you see how its wings are massive compared to its little body? And here, the tips of its wings have these large extensions that look like the head of a snake! When potential predators disturb this moth, it flaps its wings and uses these false snake heads to try and spook animals away. It’s a clever tactic, because the Atlas moth must be careful about conserving its energy– it cannot afford to fly great distances. Why? Because it has no mouth. Adult moths simply never eat and live off of the fat reserves they built up when they were feeding as caterpillars. Like the bloom of a flower, the life of the Atlas Moth does not last long, but our worlds are all the richer for having them in it.

Rice Grasshopper (Oxya japonica)

The Rice Grasshopper is considered by people to be an agricultural pest, because it loves to eat crops, especially rice crops. However, the Rice Grasshopper is also considered by people to be, um … a very tasty snack. I have a sad story about Rice Grasshoppers. I was a pretty young hatchling at the time, and I was playing outside. I had been chasing a grasshopper for over an hour. When I finally captured it, I was so excited and proud! It was a beautiful Rice Grasshopper, probably a female, since it was quite large. I brought it back home to show my father. I … I gave it to him so he could look at it, and . . . he ate it in one gulp… . I cried a long time after that. He hadn’t realized I wanted to keep it. But, um … yeah. We don’t always get along so well. I can’t possibly imagine wanting to eat such beautiful, amazing creatures.

Long Locust (Acrida cinerea)

This fantastic-looking grasshopper has an incredibly long, triangular head, with two long antenna on top. They also have amazingly long hind legs, which they use to bound away from predators. They feed upon various grasses and especially have a taste for rice plants. The females of the Long Locust are much larger than the males, and can often be mistaken as a separate species. In Japan, these grasshoppers are known as Shouryou-batta, or “Spirit Grasshopper.” Because the grasshoppers appear in summer and autumn, around the time of the Bon Festival, and the grasshoppers’ bodies are boat-shaped, they remind people of the boats used during the festival to carry the souls of the departed. Quite an honorable reputation for this little locust!

Grasshopper (Infraorder Acrididea)

Grasshoppers come from a family of insects that have ancient roots, all the way back to the Triassic period. They have been chomping away on grasses and other plants for a very long time! They have powerful hind legs they use to spring into the air in order to evade predators. In the moment they leap, they may also flash their brightly-colored wings to startle their enemies. Since you’ve captured this grasshopper, I’m sure you know how surprisingly far and fast they can jump. Actually, if you and I could jump as well as a grasshopper, we could leap the length of a football field! Grasshoppers are also known for their chirping, which they produce by rubbing their powerful hind legs against their wings. Those impressive legs are thus useful for a variety of purposes. To be honest, our legs are pretty boring in comparison.

Migratory Locust (Locusta migratoria)

Locusts are a type of grasshopper that can engage in an absolutely fascinating event: locust swarms. Normally, locusts live a solitary, humble life; green insects that slowly creep about, calmly feeding on grasses and generally avoiding fellow locusts. However, if locust populations start to become too crowded, especially due to high rainfall increasing the food supply, then locusts change rapidly. Their appearances change and they gain bright, colorful markings; also, their behavior switches to being highly gregarious, which means they are drawn to each other in large crowds and they start to act as a single group. They begin to reproduce rapidly and eat voraciously, and will travel over long distances, stripping the land of vegetation. These swarms are sometimes called locust plagues, because they can devastate farmer’s crops and even cause famine! There is some consolation, though … locusts are a good, protein-packed food for people to eat.

Cricket (Family Gryllidae)

The soothing, relaxing song of crickets is produced when crickets rub their textured wings together– this is called stridulation. They sing to attract mates and to mark their territories, and some crickets even have a specific tune they sing after a successful mating. These musical insects are also affected by temperatures; most crickets chirp faster as the temperature increases, and they can be so reliable that if you count the number of chirps, you can estimate the temperature. The language of crickets is actually quite complex and compelling! Crickets hear each other through ears located on their front legs, just below their 'knees.’ Cricket hearing is very sophisticated, actually, and may even rival our own hearing. The next time you hear that gentle chirping in the night, you should stop to really listen to it. Who knows what secrets they could be whispering to you!

Bell Cricket (Homoeogryllus japonicus)

Like most insects, the Bell Cricket has two pairs of wings; the hindwings are membranous and meant for flight, while the front wings are leathery and protective. Bell Crickets make a beautiful chirp by rubbing their front wings together, and many people liken the sound to the chiming of bells. These crickets can change the sound of their songs by vibrating their bodies as they chirp, making the sound of each cricket unique. These lovely musicians are popular pets, traditionally kept in bamboo cages. What’s more, there’s actually a Buddhist temple that raises thousands of Bell Crickets each year, so that people can go there to meditate to the melodious sound of Bell Cricket chirps. It sounds divine to me!

Mole Cricket (Family Gryllotalpidae)

Mole crickets are remarkable little critters, adapted perfectly to a life underground. They use their powerful shovel-like front legs to dig rapidly in the dirt, excavating tunnels in search of food such as roots, grasses and worms. The males will construct horn-shaped tunnels and then chirp inside them, so the tunnels resonate the sound of the chirping. This means while you may never have seen a mole cricket before, you’ve likely heard one without realizing! Mole crickets do occasionally leave the earth, however, and can fly or even swim, if needed. Generally they come to the surface at night, so if you’re particularly lucky, you may get to see one!

Mantis (Order Mantodea)

The mantis is a mighty ambush predator, stalking their prey before seizing them with their spiked, raptorial forelegs, using lightning-speed reflexes. They have huge compound eyes, and their heads can turn 180 degrees as they survey the world for food. They feed upon many insects, and can even take down hummingbirds and rodents! Their hunger will sometimes even extend to eating their own kind; it’s not unheard of for female mantises to consume the heads of the males after mating. This is perhaps not as terrible as it sounds; the male’s sacrifice helps provide nourishment for his future offspring. Still, I must admit, if I am to be reborn as a mantis in the next life, I’d probably prefer to be born a female mantis.

Orchid Mantis (Hymenopus coronatus)

This resplendent mantis is perfectly disguised as a white and pink flower, down to the very petal shape itself! The camouflage helps protect it from predators as well as draw in potential prey. The mantis lies in wait among the bushes and flowers for an unsuspecting butterfly or other insect to wander by, and then snatches it up. Such deadly beauty– a clever mistress of blossoms! These mantises are so skilled at disguise, they can even gradually change color to reflect their environment. To be honest, I feel a certain kinship with the orchid mantis’ camouflaging ways. Perhaps someday I will master the art of flower mimicry, just as they have!

Honey Bee (Genus Apis)

The humble honeybee, a hard-working partner of ours for thousands of years. Cave paintings up to 10,000 years old show people eating honey, and beekeeping in clay pots began around 9,000 years ago in Africa. Because of this long-term relationship, we know quite a lot about our buzzing friends. For example, bees communicate with each other through the medium of dance! When a worker bee finds a great patch of flowers and wishes to tell her sisters about it, she returns to the hive and performs a waggle dance. The dance tells the bees the direction of the flower patch and its distance from the hive. As an artist, I can empathize with the bees. Words often pale in comparison with other methods of expression. Truly, the bees are not only diligent workers but brilliant performance artists.

Wasp (Polistes rothneyi)

Wasps! One of the most misunderstood and amazing families of insects to exist! Did you know there are over 30,000 species of wasps? They come in all shapes and sizes, from the fairy wasps that are around the size of an amoeba to the massive asian giant hornets that are almost two inches long. While some are well-known for constructing papery or mud nests and living in hives, many other species are solitary and live in single, tiny burrows. As a whole, wasps tend to be predatory, preying on a wide range of insects, including many species considered harmful to crops. Wasps also dine upon nectar, however, and can be important plant pollinators. It’s difficult to try and summarize the sheer variety and glory of wasps, but know that they play vital roles in the ecosystem and are truly wondrous creatures!

Robust Cicada (Hyalessa maculaticollis)

Aaaah, the sweet, sonorous cicada. Nothing quite says “summer” like the hypnotic sound of cicadas singing. Cicadas are well-known for their loud, rhythmic songs, but how do they make these sounds? The answer is the tymbals– drum-like organs in the abdomen that males flex back and forth. The sound then reverberates throughout the cicada’s abdomen, magnifying the sound. Robust Cicadas in particular are known for their especially loud chirps. I find these musicians to be deeply inspiring, and it’s always a transcending experience to hold witness to one of their performances!

Gaint Cicada (Cryptotympana holsti)

Did you know that cicadas are seen as symbols of rebirth and immortality in Chinese lore? Just as the cicada lives underground for many, many years and then rises, reborn from the dirt, we hope to emulate such glory. Cicadas were also seen as creatures of high status, as they subsist on dew and perch upon their thrones in the treetops. Because of this symbolism, Chinese royalty has borrowed fashion ideas from the great cicada. Even their crowns were decorated with the image of a cicada, eyes shining bright! A fitting homage to this noble bug.

Brown Cicada (Graptopsaltria nigrofuscata)

While most cicadas have transparent wings, the Brown Cicada sports opaque, brown wings, so it’s pretty easy to recognize. Another recognizable trait is their cry, which is often compared to the sound of hot oil sizzling. These bugs are fond of sipping the sap of trees, including fruit trees. As a result, some people consider the Brown Cicada a pest. Hah! Imagine having the audacity to call these little marvels a pest! The cicadas are only doing what comes natural to any of us– eating to survive. I’ll gladly share the fruit trees with my insect brethren for that.

Evening Cicada (Tanna japonensis)

The males of Evening Cicadas sing a mournful song in the mornings, at dusk, or when the weather turns cool or cloudy. Among the many different cicadas, the sorrowful song of the Evening Cicada is possibly my favorite. But why do cicadas sing? Are they expressing some deep-felt sentiment? Actually, yes. They are expressing perhaps one of the most deep-felt sentiments there can be; loneliness. Evening Cicadas, as well as their cicada relatives, are calling for a mate. Males usually pack into rather large groups and call together, creating quite a large collective sound. Females can hear these calls from around a mile away! It’s a nice thought that because of their mournful cries, the Evening Cicadas are able to happily unite with each other.

Walker Cicada (Meimuna opalifera)

While some cicadas are associated with summer, the song of the Walker Cicada traditionally marks the end of summer and the start of autumn. It has a very characteristic cry, which in Japan is heard as “Tsukutsuku … boushi!” However, the song of this species actually differs depending on the region it is in. That’s right– insects have dialects! Speaking of dialects, the Walker Cicada is actually native to China, but it’s believed it hitched a ride on wooden brooms and was imported to Japan. Now it’s widespread in both countries, in addition to Korea and Taiwan. I wonder what a Walker Cicada would sound like with an Australian dialect? Or an Indian one?

Cicada Shell

This is truly a treasure– a perfectly intact cicada shell! These shells are proof of a wondrous transformation that cicadas undergo. You see, it all begins when a female deposits an egg in a little groove on a tree. The young feed on the fluids of the tree for a while before dropping to the ground and digging their way to safety. They then spend years underground, exploring the depths and dining on roots. Eventually, the young rise from the soil, finally seeing daylight once more, and climb the trunk of a tree. There, they shed their skins, emerging as glorious, winged adults! This shell represents their touching life journey. I hope that it might inspire you, as it does for me.

Darner Dragonfly (Anax parthenope)

Dragonflies are one of my favorite species! Did you know dragonflies were some of the very first winged insects to evolve and have been around for millions of years? Ancient dragonflies had wingspans of up to two feet long! The Darner Dragonfly isn’t that large, of course, but it’s still an impressive creature. They’re powerful predators, capturing their prey mid-flight, kind of making them the hawks of the insect world. Their flying skills are fantastic, and they can fly in all directions, hover, and even fly backwards, so they have unparalleled agility. Because they hunt by sight, they also have amazing eyes, among the best in the insect kingdom; they have up to 30,000 lenses in those enormous compound eyes pointing in all directions, and can detect light in color spectrums well beyond what we can see. If you want to have some fun, just sit back and watch the dragonflies hunt for a while!

Red Dragonfly (Sympetrum frequens)

Ever wonder why dragonflies are usually found near water? They love to hunt in these environments, snatching up and devouring midges, mosquitoes, moths and many others. But dragonflies are also fond of ponds and lakes because those are their breeding grounds. You see, dragonfly larvae are aquatic. The female lays her eggs on plants near the water or will skim the surface of the water with her abdomen, dropping eggs into the water. The nymphs that hatch are active, hungry hunters, devouring mosquito larvae, other aquatic insects or worms, and even tadpoles and small fish. The nymphs enjoy their aquatic lifestyle for a long time, up to five years, occasionally climbing onto a reed to shed their old skins and grow, before eventually molting one last time into a winged adult. Because of their reliance on these ecosystems, dragonflies are great indicators of the health of our wetlands!

Banded Dragonfly (Anotogaster sieboldii)

There has been a very wide range of associations with dragonflies among different cultures. European cultures have historically viewed dragonflies in a very negative light; some have called them “devil’s darning needles” and folklore casts them in villainous roles. Fortunately, other cultures view dragonflies in a very positive way. They are celebrated in some Native American crafts and may symbolize pure water or swiftness; in Japan, dragonflies are strong symbols of courage, luck and happiness, as well as signs of autumn’s arrival. Dragonflies have been used in traditional medicine as well as for food, so some cultures simply associate them with a meal. It’s actually really hard to summarize the many different ways people view dragonflies. Personally, I admire dragonflies’ incredible flying and hunting talents, their sheer beauty, and their tenacious spirits. What do dragonflies mean to you?

Damselfly(Ischnura senegalensis)

The Damselfly is a close relative to the dragonfly, but damselflies tend to be smaller, thinner, and hold their wings along their body at rest. You can also tell by looking at their eyes; damselfly eyes are always separated while most dragonfly eyes are touching. Like the dragonfly, damselflies are talented predators, nabbing flies, mosquitoes, moths and others right out of the air or plucking them off of plants. Males display elaborate courtship dances to impress females. If the male is successful, the damselflies will mate in a complex shape called a mating heart or mating wheel– which is the shape their abdomens make when they curl around each other. The female then lays eggs along the stems of underwater plants. The young that hatch live under water, breathing through feathery gills on their abdomens and feeding on aquatic insects, sometimes molting so they can grow larger. When they’re ready, they immerge from the water and cast off their old skin to immerge as graceful, lithe adults. The coloration of dragonflies and damselflies can range from just about every color of the rainbow, and they often shimmer beautifully in the sun. The next time you’re by a pond or marsh, keep an eye out for these quick, flittering gems!

Firefly (Family Lampyridae)

Fireflies are appealing little beetles with an extraordinary ability: a beautiful bioluminescence located on their backsides. The lights that fireflies produce are chemical reactions that take place inside their transparent abdomens. This light is cool to the touch and is yellow-green in color. Fireflies control their luminescence at will, and will flicker their lights in rhythmic patterns that are unique to each species. This helps males and females locate each other for mating. While many fireflies feed on pollen and nectar, some are carnivorous. Sometimes, females of these carnivorous fireflies will use light signals to their advantage, mimicking the patterns of particular firefly species simply to lure them in so they can eat them. These are femme fatale fireflies, so males need to be careful of them– the mesmerizing displays of fireflies can be a complicated language!

Pondskater (Family Gerridae)

This graceful bug skates effortlessly across the surface of the water, a magnificent feat that us silly vertebrates can only dream of. The pondskater’s body is carefully built to transfer their weight perfectly across their long, slender legs, which are lined with hairs that help repel water. The insects will row across the water with their middle legs and steer with their back legs. Their front legs are shorter and have claws, to help them seize insects that have fallen into the water. They pierce their prey with a proboscis to feed– all while staying on the surface of the water! Pondskaters do pretty much everything on top of the water, even mating. They communicate with other pondskaters by creating ripples in the water; some ripple frequencies are threatening signals while others are mating signals. They are truly masters of their craft. I’d prefer to watch the pondskaters’ dances rather than an ice skater any time!

Giant Water Bug (Family Belostomatidae)

The Giant Water Bug is indeed very large– the largest true bug, which can grow to be around four inches long! They have flattened, oval bodies, with oarlike back legs for swimming and raptorial front legs that are designed for seizing prey. They also have tubes on their abdomen that they breathe through, much like a snorkel. Water Bugs stalk and capture a wide variety of prey, including fish, frogs, and insects, and may even grab turtles and snakes! Once they capture something, they inject it with venomous saliva, then wait for their food to digest before sucking up the liquefied remains. Although these bugs are efficient and aggressive predators, they’re also caring parents; in some species, the female will lay her eggs on the back of the male, and the father will carry them about until they hatch! It’s nice to see father insects taking an active role in parenting as well.

Diving Beetle (Family Dytiscidae)

Diving Beetles are sleek, flat beetles that cruise through the water with ease, using their powerful, hairy back legs to paddle.  Although they’re aquatic they still need to breathe air, and actually store air bubbles under their wing cases before diving, breathing the air through tubes in their abdomens. The Diving Beetle is an active predator, hunting a wide variety of prey including insects, tadpoles and fish. The young of Diving Beetles are also carnivorous predators, and are sometimes called Water Tigers. When the larvae are ready, they bury themselves in the mud to pupate, and immerge as adults. Adult Diving Beetles are surprisingly very capable fliers, and will take off at night in search of new watery habitats. They search for the bright reflection of moonlight bouncing off of bodies of water to help guide them. If you ever find Diving Beetles in a small pond or puddle and wonder how they got there, that’s how!

Stink Bug (Family Pentatomidae)

Aww, a Stink Bug! I love these fellahs. Stink Bugs are a great example of true bugs. Technically speaking, a lot of things we call bugs aren’t really bugs. All bugs are insects, but not all insects are bugs! So what makes a true bug? Well, true bugs like Stink Bugs have beaklike mouthparts called proboscises. They use them to pierce plants (or animals!) and suck up their food. Unlike butterfly or honeybee mouthparts, true bugs can’t roll up their proboscises. True bugs also often produce a pungent defensive spray, like Stink Bugs! People argue over what stink bug spray actually smells like– some say it’s very earthy, others call it woody or oily, and some say it’s bitter and fruity. Although it’s designed to ward off predators, I have to admit I’ve grown quite fond of the smell.

Man-Faced Stink Bug (Catacanthus incarnatus)

The markings of the Man-Faced Stink Bug are bright and colorful, and some people think these markings look like a face. With such an appealing, dramatic appearance, you’d expect these bugs to be popular pets, but actually, people have had a little difficulty raising them in captivity. The challenge is in raising the nymphs. What exactly are nymphs? Well, some insects undergo what’s called complete metamorphosis– for example, butterflies first hatch as caterpillars, then transform into pupae before immerging as adults. Other insects, such as stink bugs, undergo incomplete metamorphosis. Their young are not grubs, but instead are nymphs, which are basically miniature versions of the adults. Our hope is to eventually raise these baby Man-Faced Stink Bugs to full adulthood. If we succeed, we can share the joy of stink bugs with more people!

Ladybug (Family Coccinellidae)

These bright red little beetles actually come in a variety of colors with a variety of spots or stripes. Many cultures consider the ladybug a symbol of good luck, and if one lands upon you, good fortune is sure to find you. Part of the reason they are seen as lucky may be because of their voracious appetites for aphids. You see, aphids are tiny little bugs that love to eat people’s crops, but ladybugs eat aphids by the hundreds and help keep crops safe. Thus, some cultures consider ladybugs to be a divine gift. Next time a ladybug lands upon you, try making a wish. Whether you get the wish or not, you’ll be blessed by the presence of this charming little friend!

Tiger Beetle (Subfamily Cicindelinae)

Tiger Beetles are named because they are powerful predators of the beetle world. But it might be more accurate to call them Cheetah Beetles! The fastest Tiger Beetle can run 5 miles per hour, or 120 body lengths per second. A Cheetah, in comparison, can only run 16 body lengths per second– so when you really think about it, Tiger Beetles are the clear winners. In fact, Tiger Beetles move so fast they have to stop in the middle of running several times to reorient their vision before running again. Even when stopping in the middle of a chase, the beetles have no problem capturing their prey!

Citrus Long-Horned Beetle (Anoplophora chinensis)

The Citrus Long-Horned Beetle has a glossy black body with white spots, and has an impressively long pair of antenna. You’re likely to find it hanging out among the trees, as it’s fond of dining upon the leaves, stems and bark of a wide range of tree species, including citrus and hardwood trees. The females will drill little holes into the bark of a tree to carefully deposit her eggs, one at a time. When the eggs hatch, the larvae will dig into the tree, feeding on the nutritious inner bark. To be truthful, the Citrus Long-Horned Beetle is not very popular among a lot of people, because it’s capable of killing many healthy trees when it feeds and reproduces. Of course, there are natural enemies of these beetles that can help keep populations in check, such as parasites, ants and fungi. Nature does try to keep things in balance!

Violin Beetle (Mormolyce phyllodes)

This elegant beetle has a very narrow neck and head, a wide, flat body and marvelously curved wings, looking very much like a tiny violin. In truth, it is probably not imitating a violin but a brown leaf, which helps it blend in with its environment and avoid predators. Its flat body also helps it slip in between layers of mushrooms and tree bark, where it actively hunts for other insects, especially larvae. If startled, this beetle can release toxic fluid as a defense. This is likely to deter anything that tries to stuff it into their mouths! The Violin Beetle lives in tropical rainforests in Malaysia and other islands, and is threatened by the destruction of its habitat. We must strive to preserve our rainforests so precious creatures such as the Violin Beetle can thrive.

Jewel Beetle (Chrysochroa fulgidissima)

This dazzling little beetle is named after the splendid jewel-like shine to its exoskeleton. This coloration is known as iridescence, and the colors shift depending on how you look at them. Like little drops of sunlight, Jewel Beetles are so prized among people that their shells have been used in jewelry and other crafts. There is also an expression in Japan, tamamushi-iro, that refers to the ever-shifting colors of the Jewel Beetle, and the term can also refer to language that can be interpreted in multiple ways. Personally, I draw a great amount of artistic inspiration from the Jewel Beetle, and from my efforts to capture their ever-changing rainbows of power and vitality!

Rosalia Batesi Beetle (Rosalia batesi)

This enchanting long-horned beetle is a beautiful shade of blue, is covered in black polka dots and sports an impressive pair of antenna that can be almost twice as long as its body. Its entire body is also covered in a velvety, fine hair, including cute little tufts of hair on the antenna. The adults enjoy eating pollen, fruits and sap, while the larvae rely on dead wood for food. While Rosalia Batesi bothers some people because it may feed on crops, many people adore this beetle for its attractive appearance, and it’s commonly featured on stamps and other designs. I think if we all learn to share the land and its bounties, then we can be very happy to share the world with this sprightly spirit of the forest.

Blue Weevil Beetle (Genus Eupholus)

The Blue Weevil Beetle comes in many stunning shades of blue and green, and are so bright and beautiful that some people will use them for jewelry. But beware! These sparkling hues are actually warning signals! The Blue Weevil uses its long beak to bore into leaves, and builds up toxins in its body as it feeds. Anyone who’s hoping to chow down on these effervescent insects will end up getting poisoned. It’s far better to respect and admire the Blue Weevil than to eat it!

Dung Beetle (Familes Geotrupidae, Scarabaeidae)

Dung Beetles come from a number of insect groups, including the earth-boring dung beetles, the scarab beetles, and the small dung beetles. What they all have in common is that they feed upon dung!  This is an incredibly important job, believe it or not. Without dung beetles and other feces-feeding insects, we might be buried up to our necks in animal droppings! The Dung Beetles break down these wastes and return nutrients back to the earth, recycling these materials. Many of them do this by shaping dung into a carefully compacted ball, balancing on top of it, and rolling it away to a safe place so they can feed. Dung Beetles like to roll in straight lines with their balls, and they use the sun and moon to help them navigate– and even the bright stripe of the Milky Way! It’s no wonder many cultures respect and even revere this talented beetle.

Earth-Boring Dung Beetle (Family Geotrupidae)

Like some of their scarab brethren, the Earth-Boring Dung Beetle has a glittering, jewel-like luster to its exoskeleton. This is a very special kind of color! Unlike most colors in the animal kingdom, called pigments, the shells of Earth-Boring Dung Beetles are colored by iridescence, or teeny, tiny structures that bounce light in a particular pattern. The result is stunning to gaze upon! As these beetles spend much time burrowing into the soil, spotting them is truly like finding buried treasure.

Scarab Beetle (Family Scarabaeidae)  

The sacred scarab! Truly, you are fortunate to have come upon one of these little deities. You see, scarab beetles were revered by the ancient Egyptians. When the scarabs rolled balls of dung for their precious young to feast upon, the Egyptians saw them as symbolically pushing the orb of the sun across the sky. In fact, the Egyptian sun God, Ra, was believed to have taken the form of a scarab beetle, named Khepri, and pushed the sun across the sky just like a ball of dung. The Egyptians even placed amulets shaped like scarab beetles over the hearts of mummies to protect them in the afterlife. Scarabs are protectors, bringers of light and of life itself!  

Drone Beetle (Pseudotorynorrhina japonica)

These handsome creatures are a type of scarab beetle, a powerful group of beetles revered by the ancient Egyptians as sacred. The antennae of scarabs are special, and can be folded out gracefully like a fan to better detect odors, or folded back up into a club shape to serve as a weapon! We can only dream of possessing appendages so adaptable and so magnificent in design!

Goliath Beetle (Genus Goliathus)

This mighty beetle is named after the legendary giant Goliath, and it’s easy to see why. This beetle can grow over four inches long, making it one of the largest beetles in the world! It also can weigh over three ounces when it’s a larva, although the adults are only around half that weight. The reason for the difference is because the larvae gorge themselves on decayed leaves, wood and proteins, preparing for their metamorphosis. As adults, they enjoy a lighter diet of tree sap, fruit juices and other sugary substances. To help with foraging, each of this beetle’s legs ends in a pair of hooked claws that are great for climbing and clinging to trees. If one of these beetles happens to attach itself to you with these feet, you’ll need to gently guide them off. If you just grab and pull, the claws might remain attached, and we don’t want their little feetsies to get hurt!

Horned Elephant (Megasoma elephas)

This hefty beast is absolutely gigantic when compared to most beetles– in fact, it’s one of the heaviest beetles in the world. Males have big horns on their heads, which they use mainly to battle with other males for mating privileges. Another feature you might have missed is that their bodies are covered in fine, delicate hairs, making the beetles appear yellow in color. Sometimes, when I’m feeling anxious, I, uh … I pet the Horned Elephant beetles. It’s very soothing. You should try it sometime!

Horned Dynastid (Allomyrina dichotoma)

These proud warriors have heads shaped like a samurai helmet, and make good use of those horns for battle and for digging. While embroiled in territory disputes, a male Dynastid can actually launch its competitor straight into the air! When they aren’t fighting, they can be found calmly hanging out on trees, sipping sap or drinking from ripe fruits. Their young live underground, eat rotting wood, and take a long time to mature– around a year. Then they immerge, as a fresh new batch of warriors of the woods!

Horned Atlas (Chalcosoma atlas)

The Atlas Beetle is named after a titan from Greek Mythology who held up the heavens on his shoulders. The comparison to a Greek God is appropriate, as the Horned Atlas can reach sizes of up to five inches long and can carry hundreds of times its own weight. That makes it one of the strongest animals on the planet, for its size! Personally, it would not surprise me if we found out that a great celestial Atlas Beetle has been holding up the skies all of this time.

Horned Hercules (Dynastes hercules)

The Hercules beetle is named in honor of the roman god Hercules, famed for his great strength and heroic feats. I can think of no greater name for this heroic beetle. The Horned Hercules can carry up to 850 times its own weight, and can grow to be 7 inches in length, making it the longest species of beetle in the whole world. A lot of that length is in its massive horn, which males use to challenge each other to win the affections of female beetles. Once they have mated, these massive beetles produce, as you could guess, massive babies. In fact, the young of Hercules beetles are probably the largest larvae in the world!

Rainbow Stag (Phalacrognathus muelleri)

Oh! My eyes have been blessed, to be allowed to gaze upon the splendor of the Rainbow Stag. This beetle appears to change color depending on the angle you view it, shifting from emerald greens to ruby reds to glittering gold, all with a luscious metallic sheen. This magnificent color fades when the beetle dies, just as a rainbow will fade in the sky. I like to think the Rainbow Stag reminds us of the ephemeral nature of beauty and life, and teaches us to value things while we can.

Golden Stag (Allotopus rosenbergi)

The Golden Stag’s exoskeleton is a breathtaking, metallic gold, making it highly prized by bug lovers and collectors. The shimmering beetles live in tropical jungles at high altitudes, using their short, sturdy mandibles to dig into wood and dine upon tree sap. Collectors have struggled to breed this stag in captivity, as it’s sensitive to temperatures and the young have strict dietary requirements. However, in recent times, there has been more success with captive breeding. Personally, I derive deep joy and satisfaction simply basking in this creature’s presence, regardless of how long it lasts. Come. Let us enjoy this golden moment together.

Cyclommatus Stag (Genus Cyclommatus)

The mandibles of this stag beetle are staggering, often as long as their body. These amazing jaws are used to mine tree sap as well as fight other stag beetles for the right to mate. In fact, males will often throw each other off of trees in their competitions! However, do not be too intimidated by the Cyclommatus Stag; it can be tender as well. They chew through decaying wood to lovingly craft a home for their young. I’ve actually been considering taking inspiration from this stag and adding more rotting wood to my bedroom. I think it would give it a cozy touch.

Miyama Stag (Lucanus maculifemoratus)

This handsome stag has a thick, bumpy exoskeleton and powerful-looking mandibles. However, despite its tough appearance, the Miyama is a gentle beast. In truth, you can easily injure one if you mishandle it, so care should be taken when interacting with this delicate soul. Miyamas are popular with children, and are widespread in their native lands, in both mountainous places as well as plains. Actually, one of my very first friends was a Miyama Stag. They helped me learn the deep and mysterious art of communication with insectkind. Thus, I will always have a soft spot for these gentle giants.

Saw Stag (Prosopocoilus inclinatus)

Saw Stags are popular pets in their homeland, and it’s easy to see why. Those handsome reddish brown shells, those magnificent saw-like mandibles, those curious little eyes, those hook-like claws! As they grow, that pair of jaws grows along with them, gaining more teeth and a larger curve. You needn’t fear, though; this beetle is unlikely to bite you unless you stick your finger directly into its mouth. In fact, when this beetle feels vibrations, it may freeze and feign death as a defense mechanism. They clearly prefer to avoid a fight unless it’s necessary. The Saw Stags that I take care of certainly will never have a reason to fight– I spoil them rotten with all the bananas and beetle jelly they could possibly want!

Giant Stag (Dorcus Hopei Binodulosus)

The Giant Stag is probably the most popular stag to keep as a pet! They’re very large, docile, easy to breed, and live quite long for a stag beetle, up to five years! People also find their mandibles to be very appealing, which have a single tooth on either side. They will rarely use these jaws to bite, unless you go out of your way to bother them. In fact, these are shy beetles, and they will spend a lot of their time just hiding away in holes inside of trees. They will peacefully sip tree saps and fruits, and prefer to be active at night. In the wild, Giant Stag populations have decreased due to over collection, although fortunately people are turning more and more to breeding in order to keep wild populations safe. This serves as an important reminder– bugs need to be treated with care and respect, even when we’re acting out of love!

*Giaraffe Stag

Walking Stick (Order Phasmatodea)

Walking Sticks are excellent examples of the art of camouflage in its purest form. Not only do they mimic twigs and branches, all the way down to the very knots in the wood, but as they walk, they mimic the sway of branches in the breeze. They have truly become one with their environment. I hope to achieve this level of focus in my own life someday, as I surround myself with all that is arthropod.

Walking Leaf (Family Phylliidae)

These incredible insects have taken camouflage to the next level. Their bodies so closely resemble leaves that they include the veins and even nibble-marks on leaves, and they can even fool leaf-eating insects! As they walk, they sway back and forth, imitating a leaf blowing in the breeze. They enjoy munching on leaves, because the Walking Leaf not only disguises itself as leaves, but eats them as well. They are truly immersed in leafhood.

Bagworm (Family Psychidae)

Bagworms are not really worms, but are the caterpillars of a special kind of moth. These charming little larvae construct themselves beautiful 'bags’ made out of silk and bits of things they find in the environment– twigs, leaves, lichens, sand, and even bits of plastic! They wear these protective bags as disguises as they crawl about and feed on leaves or lichens. When they’re ready to pupate, the bags serve as the perfect cocoon! Males will immerge from the case and spread their wings and fly away. Females, however, are a different story. Bagworm females often are wingless, and may spend the rest of their lives inside their childhood casings. Males will visit the females in their bags to breed. Imagine being so attached to your mobile home that you never leave! Considering how artistic some of these bags are, I guess I can’t blame them.

Ant (Family Formicidae)

The extraordinary ant, a species that has existed for millions of years and currently lives in all corners of the globe. These creatures form complex colonies, often made up of hundreds or thousands of individuals, and have a division of labor: worker ants, soldier ants, fertile male drones, and an egg-laying queen ant. It would be erroneous to think of ants in individual terms, as really, individual ants come together to form a super-organism, the ant colony. They always cooperate for the wellbeing of the colony as a whole. Individual ants are marvelously talented in the ways of chemical communication, and they produce all kinds of scents to help communicate with their sisters; signals to signify food, warnings signals for enemies, and so forth. This is how ants are able to act together as a group. With this kind of communal power, ants can accomplish amazing things. They’ve been known to build bridges with their own bodies for their sisters to cross; some species will create and tend to underground fungus gardens; other species will herd and tend to honeydew-producing aphids as if they were tending cattle! Ants teach is something very important– the power of cooperation.

Hermit Crab (Superfamily Paguroidea)

O-oh! It’s a Hermit Crab! These aren’t insects, but they are arthropods. What defines an arthropod is that they are invertebrates with segmented bodies and jointed limbs, as well as a chitinous exoskeleton. That means Hermit Crabs and insects are relatives! And they’re very charming relatives, too. Hermit Crabs have ten legs, inquisitive stalk eyes, and soft bodies protected by a shell. But these crabs don’t grow their own shells! Instead, they borrow empty shells they happens to find, which are often sea snail shells. As this type of crab ages and grows larger, it must find new, larger shells to borrow. Sometimes, when a Hermit Crab is looking for a new shell, and finds one that’s too large, it will sit and wait by the large shell. Other hermit crabs will pass by and join the first, waiting in an orderly line. Then, when a Hermit Crab passes by that is a perfect fit for the shell, all the crabs will quickly exchange shells in sequence! All that shell-trading may be a lot of work, but in the end, it’s worth it for such a cozy home.

Fly (Musca domestica)

Aah, the common house fly. While this species of insect is rarely adored by people, the fly still has plenty of things to admire. This little scavenger plays an important role in breaking down wastes and organic matter, returning them to the earth. But the fly feeds on liquids, so how does it eat feces, carrion and rotting fruits or vegetation? Well, it regurgitates saliva from its stomach, which helps dissolve the food, and then sucks it up! You might also have observed that flies like to wander around a piece of food quite a bit before feeding. They’re likely tasting the food with their feet! This is also why you can often see flies carefully cleaning their feet. They need to stay tidy so their taste and tactile receptors work well. True, the fly can transfer diseases to human food by landing on something contaminated and then landing on human food. Yet there’s no denying they still play an important role in waste disposal– not to mention a vital role in the food web, as they’re food for many, many animals!

Mosquito (Family Culicidae)

Little mosquito, oh how your reputation precedes you. This tiny fly is known for being a blood-sucker, but did you know only the females suck blood? The males feed upon nectar. The females seek a blood meal so they can produce eggs. Female mosquitoes are able to narrow in on a person or animal by detecting body heat and the carbon dioxide of their breath. The mosquito then lands, inserts her long proboscis, and injects saliva into her target to help with blood flow, and feeds until she’s all filled up. The itchy bite that she leaves behind is actually because of the mosquito’s saliva. Now, mosquitoes can transmit some bad diseases when they bite people, there’s no denying. But mosquitoes are also very useful to scientists, who study the germs that can live inside mosquitoes. By studying them, we can learn to better control the diseases that they can cause.

Flea (Order Siphonaptera)

Fleas are teeny, tiny parasites that hunger for a blood meal. They have smooth, flattened bodies that help them move through fur or feathers with ease, hooked claws to help them cling to their hosts, and extremely powerful hind legs for jumping. A flea’s jump is incredible, and they can propel themselves around 200 times their own body length, making them one of the best jumpers in the world. While many flea species are very picky about their hosts, some fleas are generalists and may feed upon a variety of animals. Females will lay their eggs on the skin or the bedding of their host animals, and they will produce hundreds to thousands of eggs in their lifetime. The eggs hatch into little wiggling larvae that feed upon organic matter and their parents’ feces. When they mature into adults and take a blood meal, they can mate and begin the cycle anew. I can understand why people wouldn’t be terribly fond of fleas feeding on them, but luckily for me, fleas don’t care for reptile blood.

Snail (Phylum Mollusca, Class Gastropoda)

Our slithering, slime-coated companions are not actually insects! Instead, snails are mollusks, close relatives of clams, oysters and other shellfish. They have soft, mucous-coated bodies– the underside of the snail is actually one big 'foot’ of sorts that pulses rhythmically to propel the snail forward. The slime that coats a snail helps it glide efficiently along the ground, and also stick to surfaces. Additionally, this slime helps protect snails from a number of hazards, such as harsh sunlight, sharp objects, and even bacteria! I’m actually a little jealous. Being coated in slime has an awful lot of benefits, as it turns out!

Pill Bug (Order Isopoda, family Armadillidiidae)

Oh yes, the Pill Bug is something special! They’re actually not bugs at all but land-dwelling crustaceans– related to crabs, lobsters, and shrimp. They still retain their fondness for damp environments, so you’ll often see them under rocks or in tree stumps. In these wonderfully wet and dark places, they go about their business, eating decaying plant material and playing a vital role in decomposition and returning nutrients to our great earth. If you try to pick one up, it’s likely to roll into a ball– its plated armor allows it to curl into this protective posture. Wait a little while, and the Pill Bug may stop feeling shy and uncurl again, and you might get the chance to feel its many little legs walking in a gentle rhythm. It kind of tickles!

Wharf Roach(Ligia exotica)

Wharf Roaches are not actually cockroaches– they’re not even insects, but instead are isopods, relatives of crabs and lobsters. They love to wander along rocky coastlines and harbor walls, and scavenge organic debris and algaes, acting as little beach cleaners. You might already be familiar with a close cousin of the Wharf Roach, the Pill Bug. There are some quick and easy ways to tell them apart, though. The Wharf Roach doesn’t roll into a ball, and the Wharf Roach has large, bulging eyes and lovely, long antenna. Another fun fact about Wharf Roaches is that often, the females will carry around their eggs, holding onto them with specialized egg-carrying appendages. If you have appendages custom-made for parental care, you know you’re gonna be good with children!

Centipede (Scolopendra subspinipes)

My multilegged little marcher! The name 'centipede’ means '100 legs,’ but a centipede doesn’t actually have exactly 100 legs. Instead, it has anywhere from 30 to 354 legs, with one pair of legs per body segment. But because they always have an odd number of leg pairs, they never reach 100 exactly. Centipedes also have a pair of modified legs on their heads called forcipules, which inject venom into their prey. Be careful when interacting with centipedes, though! The centipede may bite more than just prey– it can bite anyone that it feels may be threatening them. This bite isn’t usually fatal, just painful, but it does mean you should respect the centipede’s boundaries, as with any creature. While centipedes can be aggressive, they can also be very kind; a large number of centipedes are very attentive mothers, wrapping their bodies around their eggs and remaining until they hatch. That tender, maternal embrace … those baby centipedes are very lucky to grow up so loved!

Spider (Order Araneae)

The bewitching arachnid! With their eight legs and eight eyes, their fang-tipped chelicerae and their wriggling pedipalps, how could you not fall in love? Spiders can produce silk, an amazing substance that’s flexible yet strong, and very versatile– they often use it to weave wondrous webs they wander like wizards, detecting the faintest vibrations when an insect has been captured. Other spiders are ambush predators, and can chase prey down at great speeds. Whatever method a spider chooses, they are truly masters of the hunt.

Scorpion (Order Scorpiones)

Behold, the scorpion! This dapper predator is an arachnid, which means it has eight legs and two body segments. Scorpions also have pinchers for grabbing prey and tails with venomous stingers. Fear not, however! Of the 2,000 or so scorpion species, while all are venomous, only a handful of about 25 or so have venom that is any real danger to humans. Even with those species, if you treat them with care, you should be safe and sound. The truth is, scorpions simply want to go about their lives, roaming around at night and finding insects to eat. They’re excellent hunters, and also excellent eaters! They can eat a great deal in one sitting and store food, so they can survive for long periods without food if needed. Scorpions are also caring parents. The females give live birth, carefully cradle their newborns, and then carry their babies on their backs. It’s honestly adorable.

Tarantula (Family Theraphosidae)

I’m told that a lot of people fear this sublime arachnid, due to its imposing size and its many legs. But tarantulas are actually very gentle, easygoing spiders, overall. While they do have venomous bites, those bites usually aren’t any worse than a bee sting. In fact, you should be more careful about their urticating hairs– that is, itchy hairs on their abdomens that they will fling at predators that frighten them. If you don’t give the tarantula a reason to fear, though, then they will leave you alone too. Actually, quite a few people keep tarantulas as pets. They like to dine upon insects, although they’ll occasionally eat larger things, like frogs, mice and even birds. Tarantulas are very good at sneaking up on their prey because each of their legs are tipped with furry, adorable little paws, which help them climb and sense their prey. Eight little fluffy paws! That’s four times the adorableness that cats and dogs have!

This is a repost on a new blog. The original post was on Aug 13, 2020.

[ofhelens]

HELEN WORTHINGTON: AUDITIONING FOR THE ROLE OF LADY MACBETH

oh boy. okay, so without rambling too much..........originally, i wasn’t going to have helen audition for anyone. why would she? with the possible exception of lady macduff, macbeth is full of characters who are totally unlike helen & anyone she’s played up-to-date. plus, the subject of the play is just a little too on the nose for her - and given her self denial at the moment, that isn’t a can of worms she’s looking to open. however, as i was writing this, it became clearer and clearer to me that helen playing lady macbeth would go really well alongside her general trajectory in the roleplay (downhill, like a damn roller coaster) and i could definitely see the “out damn spot” monologue playing well alongside some juicy orson reveal stuff :) also poetically...seeing “the ingenue” go from basically being the embodiment of an angel to playing one of shakespeare’s darkest heroines is...chefs kiss.

 it’s strange to say that my character surprised me...(because im writing them?!) but yeah...helen surprised me!! she’s absolutely terrified by the idea of playing someone who is a little darker, a little stranger - but that’s exactly why she should do it!! i also genuinely think it’ll help her grow as an actor, which is something i really want to see happen. helen is pretty mediocre - but she doesn’t have to be!!! the only way we can grow as individuals is by challenging ourselves - something i’m keen to see heidi make happen.

having said that, i am not ride-or-die for lady macbeth and do not expect her to be cast as her at all!! if orson was casting, helen would be lady macduff without a question (we stan a self aware queen!) - and now that she’s made that point explicit to heidi, i feel like the latter will be way more inclined to cast her as anyone-but-that. if not lady macbeth, i could definitely see her playing one of the witches. essentially, i just need helen to play someone with a little more meat, someone who is darker; meaning that as she tries to nail their characterisation, she’s forced to confront some ugly things about herself and almost deal with the darkness in a therapeutic way.

“Helen Worthington.” She had expected stepping out onto the stage to feel more poetic. There was supposed to be sorrow in finality, grief in endings. And this was it. This was the final time she would audition for a play as an Alderidge student - perhaps her final audition all together. Whilst her peers clamoured for the limelight, she would have been perfectly comfortable making this her swan song. A moment passed. “I’ll be auditioning with Cleopatra, Act 5, Scene 2.” She could still hear Zahra’s words of encouragement in the back of her mind, quelling any doubts.

A brief look of surprise crossed Heidi’s face, she glanced down at her paper, as if trying to match the person she saw before her with words on a page. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Alright...am I to assume you’ll be auditioning for Lady MacBeth then?”

It took a moment for Helen’s mind to make the connection. She shook her head firmly. “No - no...no. I could never play Lady MacBeth...she’s...” Too monstrous. Too big a part. Too much like everything I never want to be. Settling on diplomacy, Helen sighed. “I could never do her justice.” 

This seemed to interest Heidi. “Why not? Looking at your previous roles - “ She shuffled the papers in her hand “- you seem to have done a standout job with Celia. Lady MacBeth isn’t such a jump. Lines wise, at least.”

Helen shook her head, adamant that Heidi see what she did. “Playing Celia isn’t hard. She’s soft. Dreamy. And a character in a comedy.” 

Heidi frowned. “So it’s Shakespeare’s tragedies you’re opposed to? Or being challenged?”

She was so unlike Orson that Helen had to blink twice, just to be sure her senses weren’t tricking her. “No. I don’t like tragedies. Everyone dies. I love theatre because it’s an escape - because it’s a chance to live out someone else’s stories. But why would I want to live like...like Lady MacBeth? She’s a terrible person. She’s a monster. I’d hate to even feel an inch of who she is.” Because what if I’m good at it? What if it’s easy to become her? What does that say about me? About what I’ve done? 

“And being challenged?” A dog with a bone, Heidi continued to tug at the remaining loose thread. “Is it a fear of letting people down? Are you afraid that you’re not talented enough?”

Back against the wall, Helen was forced to confront some uncomfortable truths. The purest of which was this: she never had been challenged. Any malevolent thoughts were packed in dusty boxes at the back of her mind, never to be opened. She was practically adored by her peers. Orson had never dragged her out of her comfort zone. She had no idea what being challenged was like. All she knew was that she didn’t want it. “I don’t know.” She conceded, sighing. “I’ve only ever played Celias.”

“And you want things to stay that way?”

Helen closed her eyes. Her mind was awash with a thousand memories - hanging out with Chandler in between As You Like It auditions, kissing Jonah backstage, laughing with Harry, cooking with Julian...she didn’t want things to ever change. That was why she poisoned Orson, wasn’t it? So that they could stay in a glorious summer, where no one ever got hurt. “Yes. Why fix what isn’t broken?”

Heidi shot her a thoughtful glance and opened her mouth as if she was about to ask another question, before shutting it abruptly. “Alright Helen -” She said slowly, nodding. “The stage is yours.” 

Now nervous about her audition piece, about what it said about her and about whether she’d be able to deliver; Helen closed her eyes. She had never been to Egypt, never even left the country - but conjured the sensation of balmy evenings, a heart full of love and a crown weighing you down. “Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have immortal longings in me - “ Perhaps she and Cleopatra weren’t so different. She understood what it was to long for immortality of another kind. You could have even said she was desire itself. It was those parts of Cleopatra Helen chose to emphasise. 

Pretending to shuffle on a robe, Helen stared out into the audience. Cleopatra saw a kingdom.

“now no more the juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act; I hear him mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath: husband, I come: now to that name my courage prove my title!” The love between Antony and Cleopatra, Helen had decided, was ugly. It was brutal. It should not be celebrated. But she also thought she understood it - the sensation of being bound to someone, of loving them so intensely you would do unspeakable, regrettable, things in their name. If someone dared lay a finger on Antony, would Cleopatra burn them to the ground? Helen was sure she would. As she came to understand Shakespeare’s heroine, she began to lose herself in Cleopatra’s skin in a way she never had before.

Opposite her, but unseen by Helen, Heidi sat up a little straighter. 

“I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.” Her kiss brings death. It was a terrifying kind of beautiful. Against her better judgement, Helen’s mind began to wonder...to remember. A wine glass. A toast. Poison. A deceitful smile concealing burning hatred. Who was she to judge Shakespeare’s characters...when she had wrought such destruction...

Lips trembling, Helen paused - momentarily unable to continue with her performance. See, this was why she hated Shakespeare’s dark and decrepit creatures. They drew something carnal out of her...they overwhelmed her, threatening to seize her voice and take it as their own. To be on stage was to be exposed...and this was one reflection she refused to peer into.

Why did Zahra encourage her to use this piece? Did she know something? Or did she just want to see her falter?

Ten seconds later, she regained her composure. Her break did not go unnoticed by Heidi.

Kneeling on the floor, Helen took Iras’ imaginary body into her arms, cradling him as he took his last breaths. Childish and impulsive she may be, but Cleopatra had heart. She wasn’t wholly wicked. Maybe in her performance, Helen could find her a kind of redemption; a thousand years too late.

“Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, the stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world. It is not worth leave-taking.” Was Cleopatra brave to watch Iras take his last breaths? Was she a coward for letting Orson die alone? Panic’s familiar sensation threatened to take a hold of her. Breath quickening, her last sentence was slightly slurred as she raced towards the end, to the moment she could be done with Cleopatra, toss her aside and never wear her face again. 

Her story was not Cleopatra’s. She and Jonah were not Antony and Cleopatra. She was just a role. It was all make believe. 

“See -” Helen began, gentle, but sad. “There’s a reason I don’t get cast as the Lady MacBeth’s of the world.” 

Wearing an expression equal parts confusion and sympathy, Heidi returned her smile. “It’s not your fault you’ve never had an opportunity to dig deeper with your characters. Now that isn’t to say that his comedic characters don’t have depth - but it’s like the other side of a coin. If you want to excel as an actor, it’s important you learn how to play both kinds. Life can’t always be sunshine and rainbows.”

Why not? Knowing better than to vocalise her disagreement, Helen swallowed her words. Idealism never...carried well with people. They thought she was a child, head in the clouds, living in a world of fantasy. Had she been a crueller person, she would have asked them why they were so adamant to continue living in a world of grey. So instead, she nodded politely. “Thank you for letting me audition.”

"Thank you for coming in Helen. And props for choosing something we wouldn’t expect.” Glancing down at her sheet, she tapped her nails against the paper. “You still haven’t told me who you’re auditioning for.”

Her first instinct was to steadfastly refuse to audition for any of them - and let the chips fall where they may. Or even to ask to be moved down a year, to the third year’s comedy. “Orson would probably cast me as Lady MacDuff.” It was the only character she ever could have volunteered herself for. Domestic bliss, it was something she embodied easily.

“Well - “ Heidi said, inclining her head, “I’m not Orson.”

No, Helen thought, you’re not. May that be a blessing, and not my curse.

“Would you toss your hat into the ring for Lady MacBeth?”

No, Helen thought. Not a chance in hell. But then, betrayed by her mouth, she nodded. “I’d consider it.”

As she exited the stage, Helen couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

[nyctophilicbish]

To the person who told me I looked like a sunset,

Do I? Is that true, my dear? In the plethora of a billion sunsets that I laid my eyes upon, not one of them captured this very picky heart of mine. Sunsets never really send dancing goosebumps in my arms, but to be true, sunrises do. I’ve always loved the sweet and captivating hope of having to see the light once more. I love how the sun goes back up in the sky like the queen of the heavens, bringing the shadows of the night, the moon and the stars to bow at her magnificent wake. Doesn’t it sound like such a magic, Louis?  I may sound silly to you but indeed, sunrises really make me feel that magic of a feeling.

Anyways, how’s the world out there, at your part of town? I hope your chickens are fat and fine by now. My marigolds withered up and died last week. I guess they didn’t like mellow music as much as you do, which is kind of weird because I really fancy the songs you told me to listen to. Maybe not everyone in this town does, but I do. I really do. I had “The Simple Things” by Michael Carreon playing on my speakers all day nearby the flowers and the next thing I knew, the marigolds weren’t that gold anymore.  

But really, I don’t blame their demise on your taste of music, I guess I just didn’t water them that much or that I just totally forgot about them when I went to your basketball match last Thursday.

You must be bored at reading this letter by now. I’m sorry but I’m just not good at doing these kinds of things. I’m not much of a writer myself, Louis. Speaking of which, you are. You really are a great writer, Louis. I’ve read all your compositions in English class and I felt every single magic you hid in every word in all those stories of yours. Can you teach me your skills sometime, mister?

A sunset? Really, Louis?

You really had me thinking if it was my yellow dress or if it was just me. I just couldn’t quite believe that those words would come from lips of your own kind. Or did you just call me that because I had something in my face that time and you just didn’t want me to know so you and your friends can laugh about it? Or was it because I smelled of wildflower and you hated wildflowers so you called me that as a reverse psychology to make me go away? I’d be so embarrassed if those were your real reasons.  But nevertheless, I really didn’t have a care in the world but you at that moment.

I had all my eyes on you. And oh, was it one of the greatest over-the-counter decisions this 17-year old girl has ever done? Yes. Yes, it was.  I couldn’t forget how your eyes caught a glimpse of the warm afternoon August sun and glowed like amber. Who gave you eyes like that? Who said you could keep them? They looked like orbs of crystallized honey and I couldn’t help but look away to avoid drowning from your enchanting stare. And how could I ever forget the detail that makes you stand out from every other guy in this paper town, the unique mole near your right eye that only adds to the never-ending list of things I love about you. Oh, how can I get enough of your beauty, pretty boy?

Have I ever told you that the moon and I talk about you almost every passing night?  And that even the farthest of stars would come join our little tea party just to hear of my tales about you. Have I ever told you that your gravitational pull on me is a little too strong? Have I ever told you that I’m furious at you for making me feel this way? Have I ever told you you’re a firework in my lonely town? Have I ever told you the star in your eyes shine brighter than Polaris? Have I ever told you that you seem to put a spell on me everytime you flash that ever-magical smile of yours at me? Have I ever told you our hometown skeptics called it witchcraft? Have I ever told you you’ve got beauty even Saturn and Venus can’t compare? I bet I didn’t, Louis.

“What must it be like to grow up that beautiful with your hair falling into place like dominos? My mind turn your life into folklore. I can’t dare to dream of you anymore.”

You’re so beautiful, Louis. You’re a prize I’d cheat to win. You’re the purple-pink sunset I’ve been long waiting for in my life. You’re the portrait I’ll use all my best colors on. You’re the greatest poetry I wish I could write. You’re the only thing I’d wish to look at if I’ll go blind. You’re the only thing I’d want to dream about if ever I’ll be put to an everlasting sleep. You’re the only fairytale I’d believe if ever the Fairy Godmother asks me to choose one. You’re the only bottle of poison I’d purposely pick knowing that I’d be lying breathless on the floor moments after. You’re the only speck of glitter I’d want in my face even if it irritates me to the bones. You’re the only rose I’d pluck from a garden of sunflowers knowing I’d be in pain afterwards.

You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Even just the thought of you-a pigment of you. You.

You see, I also came to love sunrises because of you. Because of that picture of us I have next to my bed together will all my all-time favorite books-that picture we took when we danced together at a friend’s party back then, remember? Ever since, it never failed to paint a hopeful smile in my face everyday when I slowly blink my eyes open to the sound of birds and chickens just outside my bedroom window. I’ve always woken up to that magic of a sight, to that magic of a feeling. I’ve always woken up to you, dear.

You might despise me after you read all these. You might stop exchanging messages with me. You might stop suggesting the most beautiful songs my eardrums has called blessings for a long time now. You might stop giving me the smile of my century. You might not tell me when your next basketball match will be anymore. You might stop being in the same picture with me. You might stop reminding me to water my plants everyday. You might stop going out and drinking milkshake at the park with me on Saturday nights. You might not want to be in the same midnight train with me anymore. You might not walk me home afterwards. You might leave me.   But I want you to know, you can.

You can if doing all those things is worth throwing away all the memories we had on willow street, if doing all those things is worth breaking the golden string we both kept after our ride home from that midnight train, if doing all those things is worth deleting all the late night conversations we both enjoyed, if doing all those things is worth forgetting all the secrets and inside jokes we both promised to keep only as ours, if doing all those things is worth turning all our lessons into weapons to point at my deepest hurt, if doing all those things is worth leaving me crestfallen at the wooden floors of my gold rush dreams of us. You can, if doing all those things will bring out the best in you. You can, if doing all those things will make you any happier, Louis.

I won’t-I can’t stop you from doing what you want, from what you need to do. You are my person but unfortunately, I’m not yours. I am not but you are. You are your person, at the moment. You are yours’ before you are anyone else’s. So take care of yourself, love yourself, dear. Whether you, the sun or the moon may like it or not but I will never forgive myself if you ever find yourself in hurt and pain. Live the rest of your days in joy but never be afraid to also let sadness wash over you sometimes, my beloved. Always deem that you are more beautiful than my marigolds that dried up, you are more beautiful than Saturn and Venus combined, better off, you are much beautiful than all the galaxies in this bewitching yet treacherous universe we are in. You are that beautiful in my eyes.  But calling you beautiful would be the greatest understatement of this century, Louis. You are ethereal.

By the time you receive and read this, know that I’ll be in that same yellow dress you saw me wearing that afternoon. I’ll just be here in my hospital bed listening to Elton John’s “Can you feel the love tonight?” with a cup of cookies and cream milkshake from that park we loved to hang out at. My cancer cells acted up again. I don’t get it why these cancer cells want to get rid of me so fast. They always have me doubting if I could still wake up to another sunrise with you. I don’t know if I’d still make it out through today, through this week, through this month, through this year. The doctor once told me I’d meet the angels pretty soon. Doesn’t that sound so magical, Louis? Well, it may sound sad to think that I’m going be leaving you-leaving pretty much everything in this world too really soon but alas, it is life, my dear. It is what it is.

But there will always be light at the end of every tunnel, there will always be happiness at the end of every story, right Louis? Mine may be nearing to an end and yours may still be going off to a start, promise me to remember these lines from this Taylor Swift song I find so beautiful:

There’ll be happiness after me

But there was happiness because of me

Both of these things I believe

There is happiness

In our history

Across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

From the dress I wore at midnight

Leave it all behind

And there is happiness.”

Before everything else, I have one favor to ask of you.

Love yourself and be happy, my beloved. I’d die to see you happy.

Goodbye or not, you’re still the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever woken up to, Louis.

Marigolds and Sunsets, Millie

[nodesiretogrowup]

alrighty, review time!

Do you think Donald wrote the song? He did write a song when he was younger and the lyrics fit him best

I love that Donald is the sane man of the Caballeros

Why did you choose the bathroom? That’s really weird and kind of perverted

I love the picture of a rubber ducky in a top hat on the wall

Just how big is that bathtub? Four grown men were able to fit in it at the same time

Never mess with a man who has a demon-ghost butler

“That’s the FOURTH rich guy’s bathroom we’ve been kicked out of.” I...I would like to know about the other three. And again, WHY THE BATHROOM?!

“We just need someone to listen to us!” Donald giving us the theme/moral of the episode

Was Louie just waiting out there?

Louie looks like a drug dealer. He also looks a bit like the reboot version of himself from that poster in Quack Pack

“And you’re willing to do whatever I say, at any cost whatsoever?” “Well, not any...” “QUIET, DONALD!” Guys, you should listen to Donald, he knows Louie better than you

Poor Donald, the only sane man here

I love the stickers on Louie’s laptop. I wonder if he actually knows how to hack

I love the stupid “it” trends. Hats-Hats and Invisible Piercings, what will they think of next

Of course Dewey would keep up with an IT list. He actually cares about his image/how his peers view him

The lead singer of the Feather Weights looks like a punk girl version of Drake. I’m gonna go with them being related somehow. Or they used to date. Or they go to the same hair stylist. THEY ARE TIED TOGETHER SOMEHOW

Yo-yo tricks were more of a 2000s thing, Dewey (seriously though, does anyone else remember when yo-yos were SUPER POPULAR for some reason?)

Panchito is so ridiculously EXTRA and I LOVE HIM

“These are my people.” Oh sweet Dewford, they wish they were on your level

“Internet fame-the most important fame of all” Well it’s the most achievable

And then Dewey just rolls off screen

“If only someone had a super-elaborate scheme to get in...KA-BOOM!” Dewey’s not the only showman in the family

This show LOVES some big boards

Why/when did Louie plan all of this? I mean he did want the Caballeros to make him their manager so he could get a cut, but why?

Already you can see that Louie’s pride is gonna get in the way

Again, Donald is being the responsible one

I love their signatures. Panchito’s is like a 12 year old girl’s, José’s is curvy, and Donald’s is the least showy. And I love that Panchito thought “Don” was enough lol. He is close to Launchpad levels of ditziness

The pictures Louie uses on his board are GREAT! I love fridge-raiding Panchito

Agent Dewey-License to Chill. Dewey, that was two episodes ago

“I have a very special job for you.” “Oh-ho ho-ho, special.”

Luis P Canard. Is that a false identity Louie already had or did he make it up for the party? Or is there an actual Luis P Canard?

Huey looks SO CUTE! Though he should have known something was up when Louie asked him to forge a signature. Do you think Huey has forged other documents with or without knowing it?

Louie looks good with that black “lipstick”

“Welcome to the scheme.” “What scheme?” “Nothing.” “TELL NO ONE.”

Gyro Gearloose-Kid inventor. Does that mean he was a child prodigy or that he LITERALLY invents kids? Or both? The possible clone’s tube had K.I.D. on it. I bet this will be explored more, probably next episode

I love how they all stare at the earpieces when Gyro says the DEFINITELY won’t explode 

I love that the lion statues have sunglasses and there’s a statue of a ballerina hippo from Fantasia

OUR QUEEN HAS ARRIVED

How do ducks whistle if they don’t have lips?

Daisy-smiles, Donald-I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

I love Daisy’s fake laugh

With both of them in tuxes you can really see that Dewey and Louie have different body types. Louie has broader shoulders.

“I’M GONNA DANCE DOWN THE RED CARPET.” No Dewey, that’s for the after party

It’s the PEP guy! I feel like he’s gonna become a villain with how much he’s been embarrassed (and he already LOOKS like a cheesy superhero show villain)

GRAVES IS BACK, BABY

Dewey has made a LOT of enemies

“New plan-Dewey is NOT going to the party!” DAMN, THAT’S COLD

“This is the Dewey-est party in town!”

“Oh, WHY was I cursed to be so FLASHY and UNFORGETTABLE?!” I love my dramatic son

Why did the Caballeros have to switch hats?

“SO TIGHT. !”

WE NEED MORE DJ DAFT DUCK

Ok, real talk? That party looks boring as fuck 

I like that there’s sweat when Dewey pulls off his helmet. It’s the little details

“Everyone listens to my plan.” Dewey looks PISSED

“The plan to wow Glamour with our haunting melodies.” Panchito is Drake/DW if he was a Latin Lover. THEY NEED TO MEET. IT WOULD BE HAMMY AND GLORIOUS

“You mean our SICK dance beats!”

Donald is like “girls, girls, you’re BOTH pretty”

But seriously, they need to decide what direction they want to go with their sound

Donald is ALWAYS the voice of reason (except in The Town Where Everyone Was Nice, he got a bit caught up in that lie)

“I will charm my way on stage with my golden voice.” #youtried

That smirk José gives him, beautiful

“Easy, grownups.” YOU JUST GOT DISSED BY A 10 YEAR OLD!

“So I’ll dazzly Daisy with my hip, cool yo-yo tricks.” I would have liked to see how that played out

Does Louie have some kind of dirt on Jane? Why does she keep helping him out? Why does she call him “Mr. Duck?”

Glamour is a BITCH. And it seems like Daisy might share the same luck as Donald and Della

SERIOUSLY, WHAT DO YOU HAVE ON HER, LOUIE?!

Donald was posing all cool

Why send Donald in to do the most important part of the plan? At least have someone with him. Louie should have gone with him so Donald could distract Daisy and Louie could use his pickpocket skills to get the pass. Louie did not account for the variables

“Ooooh PHOOEY.” I love that all of the Duck family say Donald’s catchphrase

POOR DEWEY!

I love Louie’s other distraction ideas-explosion, food poisoning, SET FREE A WILD MONGOOSE, ghosts, ANOTHER explosion 

LET DAISY SAY FUCK

I’m pretty sure Donald got a boner when he saw Daisy DESTROY that vase (I also found it hot). He was scaroused

OUCH. That HAD to have hurt/broken SOMETHING

How did Louie get that picture of Webby? Hell, how was that pic taken in the first place?

“WHEEEEEEE” Webby knows what’s up

“MY FAULT! It’s...your bag.” Oh Donald

LET DAISY SAY FUCK

“My band is sorta...crashing the party.” DONALD YOU ARE TOO CUTE

The yo-yo just rolls away

Louie, you hurt Dewey’s feelings! Also, your plans are pretty ridiculous too, including the one you are currently trying to pull off. There had to be a better idea than a harpy

Listy-er

GLAMOUR MUST DIE FOR WHAT SHE DID TO LOUIE! IT’S A GOOD THING DONALD WASN’T THERE OR ELSE SHE WOULD BE

“I don’t want to be at Funzo’s forever.” “Why not?” Oh Webby, so innocent to the horrors of minimum wage jobs. Also it’s nice to see Webby being able to have an ordinary conversation with someone

FALCON’S EYEBROWS ARE MESMERIZING

It’s equal parts cute and sad how long Dewey takes to count

MANNY IS FUCKING SWOLE

Manny is 0 for 2 when it comes to being the muscle (I’m counting him vs Mega-Beaks as well)

“That was odd.” You have no idea

Donald sees Daisy as the GODDESS she is. GET YOU A MAN LIKE DONALD

I KNEW IT! I KNEW SHE WANTED TO BE A FASHION DESIGNER! It was like the only guess I got right so let me have this

“Nobody listens to me either.” Awww

“They don’t understand me.” AWWW

“Well that’s weird, I understand you perfectly.” MY HEART!!!

I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH! And when it changes into how Daisy hears him...chef’s kisses. It reminded me of Remember Me from Coco and I Love You Too Much from Book of Life

Real talk-the song really got me. I feel a lot like Donald. A lot of times it feels like no one is listening or understands me because my thought process is a bit different. Or they can understand but they don’t care, like how Daisy feels. When Donald sings for her, I teared up because I want to be comfortable enough with someone to let down my guard like that. Music is a big part of who I am so I would love if someone sang for me even if they don’t have the “perfect” voice. I want someone to feel comfortable enough with me to let down their guard and be real

Daisy is a woman of ACTION

Do you think she’s been stuck in that elevator before?

“My kids!” “Wait, you have kids?” Whenever Donald calls them his kids I gain 5 years to my lifespan. I can’t wait for Daisy to officially meet the kids

“Oh no, not again!” Starting to rethink your life-choices aren’t ya?

I love Mark. He’s so stupid and out of touch with the real world

“Oh Gravesy! Long time, no crime.” GRAVEBEAK LIVES ON!

I love Mark’s hoverboard crashing and catching fire in the background. And then it chases Slash

Haha, Mark’s name is Markus. What a dewb

I was rooting for rich lesbian aunt, but mom works too

Graves is SO DONE with these people

Dewey is all of us

Poor Louie. His self confidence is the most fragile of the kids

Nerp

“Just listen to me for once.” WE ALL NEED TO LISTEN TO EACH OTHER, THAT’S THE THEME OF THE EPISODE

THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS! And Mark seemed into it ;)

“I want to look away but I can’t” CALLING IT NOW, THIS LINE’S GONNA BE A MEME

I want Dewey’s yo-yo skills to be a reoccurring thing

That’s one of the things he has in common with his uncle-being a performer even if they aren’t the best at it

Louie’s face as he sneaks away is great

“The failure of it is ridiculous...and BEAUTIFUL!” Gonna use that to describe myself from now on

Dewey is IT. SO FABULOUS!

Daisy, maybe you should let the man get rid of them

DOUBLE BADASS ONE-LINERS

LET DONALD SAY FUCK

HE’S SO PROUD OF HIS BOY

I like the “totally not Pirates of the Caribbean” music that accompanies José when he’s fighting

“Nice singing.” “Nice moves.” NOW KISS

“Oo, nice dagger.” Webby, not the time for that

There is NO WAY that the scene with Gabby and Webby isn’t foreshadowing SOMETHING

“I gotta get out of Duckburg.” Jane starts a GoFundMe page to get out of Duckburg when she gets home

BATTLE COUPLE!

DAISY WILL FUCK YOU UP

DON’T MESS WITH HER MAN

It was then Donald realized that he had met his future wife

DONALD AIN’T GONNA TAKE THAT SHIT FROM YOU

It was then Daisy realized she had met her future husband

“LOVE YOUR BLOG” Who knew Manny kept on on the latest trends

Glamour probably realized those fuckers were crazy so she should back off

SILENT M’MA CABRERA!

OMG EVEN THE TREE HAS FUCKING SUNGLASSES

Manny is one suave motherfucker

Glamour playing with the yo-yo while Mark acts like a spoiled brat

DEWEY IS PROUD OF HIS DADNALD!

IF WE DON’T GET DEWEY’S DOZEN AT SOME POINT I’M SUING

“Our brotherhood is the greatest scheme of all!” SO FUCKING WHOLESOME! MORE LOUIE AND DEWEY PLOTS

“HEY, YOU’RE MESSING WITH MY MOJO!” Don’t be a hater, Manny!

“I could listen to it all night.” DAAAAAWWWWWWW

GAAAAAAHHHHH THIS EPISODE WAS SO GOOD! I love that there was a common theme of feeling like you aren’t being heard. Daisy felt like she was too unimportant to be listened to, Louie doesn’t listen to Dewey because he feels like Dewey isn’t serious enough, and NO ONE listens to Donald because his voice is hard to understand. In the end they all get heard, with Donald and Daisy getting the bonus of finding someone who understands them. The two of them really are relationship goals. I cannot WAIT for more wholesome Donisy content. This one bumped Quack Pack down from my favorite so far.

[fanficsaremylifeline]

Hi. My name is Peter Parker. You might know me from such hits as “local idiot accidentally poisons himself” or “resident disaster human being gets his girlfriend lettuce, thinking it were flowers”. (Luckily, both these happenstances went over without too much of a hitch. But you probably already guessed that, otherwise I wouldn't be able to tell you all this, now would I?)

This is the story of another time I – albeit with the best intentions – really messed up.

It all started about ten days ago. I was at home, just minding my own business, when the doorbell rang, followed by my Aunt calling out: “Peter, you have visitors!”

After putting down my comic book, I walked out to the living room, to find Mr Captain America, Mr The Winter Soldier White Wolf and Mr Falcon standing there.

“Uhm hi.”

“Heya, Queens”, Mr America smiled. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah, Brooklyn”, I grinned back. “What brings you by?”

“We could do with your help on a mission.”

“What kind of mission are we talking about here?” Aunt May eyed the Avengers quite sternly, and it was almost funny to see the superheroes, that had fought in World War II shy back in fear. Totally understandable, though, I don't think there's anyone that warrants more respect than Aunt May. Ok, maybe Pepper Potts. And most definitely MJ. MJ, that's short for Michelle Jones, she's my girlfriend the absolute best, most wonderful person, ever. Like, she's so smart, she's really badass and doesn't take anybody's shit. And she's so pretty, like really beautiful, inside even more so than out, although that's not even possible. And when she laughs... The whole room lights up and my brain's entire bio-chemistry just blows up. MJ is the absolute best, perfection incarnate and I realize that I maybe may have trailed off a bit there... Sorry 'bout that, let me get back to the story.

Where was I?

Right, Mr America, Bucky, Sam, a mission and a stern Aunt May.

“It's nothing military”, Steve explained. “It's Tony's birthday coming up and we'd like to get him something special.”

“That's why we need your help”, Sam continued. “You do know him better than we do, after all.”

“And you probably have the best idea what to get the guy that already has everything”, Bucky finished their pitch.

“That is a really wonderful idea”, May smiled.

“Yeah, it's totally awesome”, I agreed. “And I might just have an idea what to get him...”

For purposes of dramatic story telling, I won't share the surprise we got for Mr Stark just yet. Rest assured though, it is a good one.

Spending the afternoon together was a lot of fun. After having gotten the surprise, we all went for doughnuts. The Avengers couldn't stay too long though, they had appointments back at the compound, some sort of meeting, that I am happy to miss out on. Seriously, those Avenger meetings are boring as hell!

So I did what I love doing in my free time: I went out on patrol.

Oh right, that's something else you need to know about me first. Do you see that red figure, swinging through the streets, doing a flip and landing right over there on that rooftop? Yeah, that's me. For I am a superhero! But not just any old superhero, I am the one and only Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man, vigilante par excellence and part time Avenger. As little as I enjoy showing off, I have to admit that this is pretty awesome. I'm super strong, can climb up walls, walk on ceilings and my newest suit update even made me bulletproof! (Well, not me directly, but to quote the one and only Ironman: “The suit and me are one”, so you get where I'm going with this.)

That particular day there wasn't going on too much, though. Few pick-pockets, a car thief, but other than that it was slow, crime-wise. The problem with days like these is that it gives my mind plenty of chances to roam, especially around that one thought: I still hadn't found the perfect birthday gift for Mr Stark myself. Which yes, sounds ironic, given that I had found the perfect thing for the other Avengers to gift him, but not the right thing for me to give him. You see, our relationship started out as this sort of mentorship, where he helped me with the suit, showed me the way around an engineer's lab and is always ready to help out during patrol. By now he's more like my family. And yes, I found this pretty funny shirt, with that graph having a bunny and a duck as the x- and y-axes. No, let me rephrase that, it's not pretty funny, it's freaking hilarious. But it doesn't really say how important Mr Stark and our relationship is to me.

But what do you give the guy who is kind of like a Dad to you?

Unfortunately, even though I'm pretty smart, this thought process took a lot longer than I'd have liked. Even with the help of Ned and MJ, the smartest and best people I know, I got jack with a side of squat. The best thing they came up with was for me to cook a nice dinner for Mr Stark and Pepper. Which would be a wonderful idea, if I could cook something other than toaster-waffles or microwave-popcorn. And, as delicious as either of those are, neither really make for a fancy dinner fit for my father-figure's fiftieth birthday.

“Come on, you can make him a cake at least”, Ned mumbled, clearly caring more about my issue than the Spanish Test we were supposed to be taking right now. And that is the exact reason why he's my best friend and why I love him so.

“Fine. You know how to make a cake?”

“That's what the internet's for”, MJ hissed over.

So that's where I ended up (after getting detention for talking during a test), in front of my computer, googling how to make a cake. But just a cake wasn't enough. It was like a nice entrée, but the main course had to be so mind-blowingly amazing, showing Tony how much he means to me.

At this point of the story I'd like you all to burn into your mind how pure my intentions were and you have to agree that all I'm doing is the most amazing shit. Right, now that we're in agreement that I'm a wonderful, charming person and a delight to have around, let me continue to where everything started to go downhill.

Regrettably, all my fantastic ideas didn't really hit until the night before, which brings me to my first mistake: me thinking I could plan the most wonderful and amazing gift for Tony in about one night. Needless to say, I didn't really think all of it completely through (Mistake 2). And, for added motivation, I ingested an interesting and possibly quite dangerous mix of coffee and redbull (Mistake 3).

At first everything started out perfectly fine. The recipe was simple enough, I barely burned the damn thing and the parts that were a little dark were easily enough covered in chocolate. Some blueberries on top and I even managed to fit 50 candles on top.

Oh, you should have seen Tony's face when I carried it into the compound, he was so happy!

“Peter, that looks so delicious! I'm not sure I'm that old, though.”

“Sorry”, I shrugged and barely bit down my grin, but it's just so much fun to rile up Tony, especially when it came to his age.

“Yeah, yeah”, he grumbled and, with his arm around my shoulder pushed me to the living room, “let's jump ahead before you say something that might make me throw you out of my house.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“How was school?”

Oh fuck. After spending all morning in the kitchen, there might have been something I might have forgotten... (Mistake 4). Shit, May was so going to ground me.

“Nothing unusual”, I lied. (Mistake 5 – never, ever lie to Tony Stark, no matter how big or small the fib). “MJ and Ned wish you a very happy birthday.”

“Thank them from me. Now, the official party that is supposed to be a surprise starts in an hour.”

“Which of course you know about”, I grinned. It was virtually impossible to keep anything from Tony in this building.

“Naturally”, he grinned back. “Wanna sample a taste first, though?”

“I would love to try this perfection of palpable divinities.” (Misplaced confidence and hubris – mistake 6).

“Right.” It was with a roll of his eyes that Tony got a knife out. “So, the trick is to cut out a small slice from the middle, push the sides back together and...”

“Yeah, yeah, what do you take me for?”, I shot back, “I'm not too dumb myself.” That statement will soon be disproved, but let's revel in the beauty that is this moment where everything is still alright.

And for a few glorious moments, everything was perfect. The cake was delicious and Tony seemed to think so, too. Until he started clearing his throat. And again.

“You alright?”

“What's in that cake?”, he coughed, loosening his tie. “Not walnuts, is it?” (And that would be mistake 7).

“Uhm yeah?” Well shit. “Please don't tell me...” Of fucking course Tony would be fucking allergic to my birthday cake. “FRI, tell Bruce we're on our way to the medbay.”

“It's ok”, Tony choked, “I'll be...”

“Yes, you'll be fine.” I tried my all to sound not too panicked, I'm honestly not so sure if I succeeded, what, with my focus being on trying to get Mr Stark some help. Admittedly I all but carried him to the medbay, which he probably didn't appreciate as much as I hoped he would, but well. Safety first. (And maybe, next time, figure out what allergies the people around me have).

A shot from Bruce later, it was ok again. I would love to say it was great, but well. The admittedly disgusting looking swelling around his neck went down, and he even managed to sort of breathe again, but it still didn't look all that healthy. In short: it fucking sucked.

“Hey kid, it's alright, lived through worse.”

That might have been true, but then it hadn't been my fault. And it had been on the battlefield, not within the safety of his home and the comfort that was supposed to be his birthday party.

“And you didn't ruin my birthday”, Tony continued; apparently now able to hear every single one of my thoughts. “It doesn't matter if I look a little puffy on the pictures. It's still gonna be a fantastic party.”

“Of course he knows about the party”, Bruce scoffed. “Who blabbed?”

“Nobody did”, Tony made clear, “I'm a genius, remember?”

“Yeah, so are the other people present.”

Not that I felt much like a genius at that very moment. And Mr Stark was definitely in worse shape than “just a little puffy”. The rash had gone down a bit, but under normal circumstances Tony wasn't that red unless when wearing his iron suit and he tried not to let anything on, but I was pretty sure that whatever Tony would try to eat would be immediately thrown up again.

The other Avengers thought the whole thing to be hilarious. Which it really wasn't. Trust me. I know I wasn't the one who who almost died, but almost killing my father-figure? Being the person responsible for taking down Ironman?

Given the – hopefully understandable – embarrassment, I'm going to skip telling you about the teasing, the comments, the jabs, the laughter and everything the Avengers dished out. Well, as luck would have it, my actual present was still to come and that just had to blow everybody's mind enough that they'd forget my poisoning of Tony.

So not too long into that horrible party, I happily excused myself and headed straight for mistake number 8: letting my frustration motivate all my next moves. It would probably be best to tell you what I envisioned for my proper gift: personalized fireworks. Before you say anything, I now know that it was a horrible idea. There is probably no need for me to tell you what happened next, is there? To put a painful story short there was a loud bang and then things around me go dark.

If I'm being perfectly honest, I couldn't tell you much more details about that very situation if I wanted to, it's all a little hazy and Mr Dr Bruce say it's to blame on me hitting my head when that explosion threw me across the workshop. That we know thanks to FRIDAY, the Stark AI, having recorded it all and it would have been quite nice to remember that because the footage looks rad.

Anyways, I survived. Yay! Aunt May threatened some workshop-restrictions and a bit of grounding, not so yay, and MJ called me a dumbass, which is MJ-language for 'I'm glad you're not dead and I love you'. So, yay on that as well.

At the end of the day it was just Pepper and Tony cuddled on one couch, Happy and Rhodey decidedly not cuddling on another and me with my head on Aunt May's lap while she put her fingers through my hair, which is just the most soothing feeling in the world.

“I don't want to kill the mood, but mind telling us why you first tried to kill me and then yourself?”

“I didn't try to kill anyone. I just wanted to give you the perfect birthday gift.”

“That is the absolute sweetest thing”, he smiled. Well, I think he smiled, his face was at that point still weirdly swollen. “But you do know that every gift from you is the perfect gift, right? Even those ridiculous shirts are worth more than any Gucci suit.”

“Well, if you're bringing it up...” With that bruise on my face my smile looked probably similarly skew and messed up as Tony's. “If the cake was the entrée and the fireworks the main course, this is dessert.” From underneath the couch, where I had hidden it, I got out the last present. It took me probably an hour to wrap that damn t-shirt, suffered countless paper-cuts, invented half a dozen new swearwords and it still looked like it got caught under a steamroller. Maybe giving gifts just isn't my strong suit...

“This doesn't blow up if I open it, does it?”, Tony grinned.

“I didn't expect the other two to go that disastrous, so who knows?”

It didn't blow up, in case you were wondering. And Tony loved it, in case you were wondering about that.

So there we are. I am an idiot, yes, I know that, Mr Stark knows that and you know that, but I believe I'm an adorable idiot. It's been a few days since Mr Stark's birthday, I'm all healed, as is Tony. Of course I have not yet lived it down; the Avengers unfortunately aren't forgetful when it comes to idiocy and therefore I have repeatedly been gifted walnuts over the last few days and will continue to receive them for a long time to come.

But that's alright. The best gift, as it turned out in the end, wasn't for Tony, but for me: at his latest press thing, Mr Stark actually wore the shirt I got him. An official SI press conference, with the most prestigious papers and news outlets from all over the world and he showed up not in a fancy expensive suit, but in the damn science-pun shirt about rabbits and ducks. And all the explosions and near-death experiences can go to hell, because the very picture of Tony wearing MY shirt adorned all the newspapers this morning. And that's the best present anybody could ever get.

The End

Oh shit, wait, I totally forgot to tell you what the Avengers got Tony! You're going to love this. A little hint: Pepper wasn't all that happy about it. Yeah, you got it: a giant plush-bunny! Exactly, it's amazing.

Huh, maybe I'm not that bad at having gift ideas after all...

[mirsfa]

dangerously (iv)

Genre: Uhm. Kinda everything, from angst through fluff to smut Word count: 17k (i am so sorry) Pairing: Prince!Jaehyun x Mafia!Reader Warning: Cursing, underage smoking, drinking, use of drugs, even more cursing, smut in upcoming chapters. There’s a lot and I might have left some out oops. Summary: You were polar opposites. He was royalty, you were a criminal. You hated him, he hated you. This mission was the last thing any of you wanted, but you had to make it work. But could you?

a/n: heii people. first of all i apologize that it took me this much time to finish this bunch of shit ahahahah. there is no excuse, only that im graduating and i am slowly but surely dying. figuratively. that was a shitty joke im sorry. anyways, thank you all who were patient enough to wait for this, i have added a ‘read more’ label and hopefully it will work for everyone!! 

“It was a scratch, no need to panic, Z.”

“Yeah but what if I died?”

Doyoung sighed, yet again, at least the thirteenth time during the past hour – the time you had been awake. He had been there the second you opened your chapped mouth and croaked for water. His eyes followed all your movements, cautiously, as if something could really go wrong by drinking water. Your fingers were shaky, yes, but the second he reached towards you to help holding the cup, you hissed at him, and he knew better than to stick to his decision. The room you were in was a lot like a hospital’s – clean, white sheets with even brighter walls and equipment. The first few moments you opened your eyes it blinded you almost, giving you a sting in your head and a wish that you should have stayed passed out.

“Die from a scratch?” he placed his head in his palm as he stared at the neon lines of your heartrate.

“I mean,” you murmured, fidgeting with the string attached under the skin of the back of your hand, “I did pass out from it.”

“I think you over-reacted,” he squinted at you then, “like you do most of the time.”

You would have thrown your hands up in frustration if it wasn’t for the things in your arms, quite literally tying you to the machines.

“It was mental, really,” he said then, voice lower and somewhat softer, “after you passed out and the other gang ran away it was just – crazy. A mess. The special forces arrived and when they saw that there was no one from the opposite team…they went full commando.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you struggled to put the pieces together. You shouldn’t have asked him to tell you what happened afterwards.

“They thought we set the whole thing up.”

He nodded, and his Adams apple bobbed, casting his glance away from your searching eyes and raked his bony fingers through his hair. The charcoal locks fell into his eyes in a soft mess.  

“They wouldn’t let us go, Z,” he said, his voice barely a whisper but still filled with hatred and a sort of calm, hidden fury. “You were…you were bleeding so much, and they kept on stalling and stalling and I- “he took a deep breath as his voice wavered.  You reached out for his hand and took it into your own, squeezing softly. He glanced up then, his eyes distant, hazy with the recent memories.

“Prince Jaemin refused to leave your side. Not even for one second,” he chuckled, and you let out an amused huff, “Yukhei almost blew his ass up but I think he was somewhat thankful.”  

You averted your gaze and let out a smile.

“Prince Mark and Renjun were the ones who talked some sense into those meatheads – honestly their captain was such a jerk,” Doyoung continued, irritation shadowing his tone. You just shrugged and poked the infusion in your wrist, letting the string attached to it wiggle.

“At least I’m alive,” you proclaimed, letting out something that sounded like a bittersweet chuckle. He just shook his head and exhaled gently.

“Taeyong was out of his mind when the special forces kept us there. I’ve never seen him this disoriented before.”

“Except when Jisung walked in on him when he – “

“No! Please don’t remind me.”

You grinned as Doyoung’s face twisted into a mix of terror and disgust. It only disappeared when a low, gentle knock resonated in the clean, white room. Both him and you glanced over at the figure entering slowly and quietly, and since your vision was still somewhat blurry, you squinted, trying to put a name to the face.

“Prince Jaemin,” Doyoung said, and emerging from the chair he was lounging in before, he bowed. For a second, panic took over the young prince’s features as he waved his hands in dismissal.

“No, please, I should be the one bowing.”

Glancing over to your sitting form on the bed, something like a small, careful smile made its way on his sharply shaped lips.

“Miss Z,” he said, with a voice sweet as sugar, with eyes glinting gently, “How are you feeling?”

You adjusted yourself and let the corner of your lips curve upwards.

“Better, Your Highness,” you inclined your head in thanks, but he just grinned, and lowered himself down next to you on the bed.

“I came in yesterday, but you weren’t awake. I wanted to thank you for what you did.”

“Your Highness it was-“

“Call me Jaemin.”

Doyoung smiled and so did you.

“Jaemin, it was my job. That’s what we were hired for.”

Jaemin just shook his head, as if he was trying to dismiss your words, as if they were no more than pure bullshit. Which they were. You knew it and Doyoung did too. You would have done it anyways – protecting younger ones, kids.

“My brothers and I are all thankful for you, but I’m sure you already know that,” the prince glanced at Doyoung then, who let out a grimace.

“Yeah, about that,” he drawled out, “Z, the King and Queen wanted to do some sort of fancy-ass ball in appreciation of us.”

You drew your eyebrows together at the sheer idiocy of the idea.

“We legit just stalled the idiots and beat them. And I got stabbed. Nothing great about it, it happens almost every time?”

“No, you were scratched. And yeah, I know it’s nothing special, but it seems to be something ceremonious for the Royal Family,” Doyoung then glanced at Jaemin perching on the edge of the bed, “No offense, Your Highness.”

Jaemin just waved, the graceful movement of the royal “I-don’t-give-a-fuck”.

“You’re right. We are overdramatic.”

“Great, one more thing in common with Z.”

Reaching out in Doyoung’s direction you grabbed a fistful of his hair and he let out a high-pitched whine. A crooked smile left your lips.

 It took you nine days, twelve hours and thirty-seven minutes to get out of the blindingly plain infirmary room. You were pretty sure you were held hostage for no apparent reason. Royals would do that kind of shit, wouldn’t they? You walked the ivory white hallways alone. The empty beauty of the walls and the handcrafted statues of previous rulers left an empty feeling in your heart. Glamorous it was, but where was the life? Your steps echoed in a painful sting and you thought of thorns made of diamond. Then his eyes flashed into your brain for splitting moment.

Hurrying your steps, you chased the thought away and continued to walk down through the glass-corridor.

What a continuous and tiering war was it, chasing someone’s gaze away from one’s brain. Feeling a familiar sort of burning sting in your brain, you thought of the younger princes, in an attempt to chase the pair of eyes from your thought. Poison, it was the worst kind of poison. During those five days you spent in the white room recovering, you had received regular visits from the young, and occasionally older princes as well as your own family. You weren’t sure if it was a crooked sort of display for gratitude, or they didn’t have anything better to do, but nonetheless, in some hidden part of your heart you were glad to see the youngers. Surprisingly, Doyoung did too.

His eyes lit up every time one of the kids came up, the same way it did when he was talking with Jeno and Jisung. Speaking of the two devils, they have also bonded with the royals in their ages. Often, they left your room together, with half-hearted apologies and excuses, but you didn’t mind. Having so many people at the same time in your room tended to be a little overwhelming at times. Out of the five days, you spent only one sleeping alone.

There was only one person, however, who did not visit you.

“Jaehyun is busy nowadays,” Johnny explained with something like guilt in his voice. You wanted to crack up.

“No-one is obligated to visit me,” you mused, tilting your head. A careful, unsure feeling swept through his face.

“Yet here we are,” murmured Yuta from a chair next to you, his voice dripping with sickeningly sweet honey. You wanted to vomit and laugh at the same time.  

Johnny decided to ignore the cold-livered tone of his brother and turned to you.

“We have a room for training. It’s filled with equipment, gym and a stash of weapons.”

You lifted your eyebrow.

“Well, for that cabinet you need someone to be there with you. Prince or trainer,” he added quickly. You didn’t talk about Jaehyun again.

A couple of hours after that, Jeno and Doyoung came barging into your room. Their arms were flailing around, and incomprehensible strings of words flew out of their mouths. You understood nothing, and the volume of their blabbering did not help either. So, you waited until they calmed down, their voices lowering to a buzz.

“The training room is a fucking heaven – “

“Language, Jeno.”

 The rest is history, and you walked the glorious, ivory covered corridor on your own. The clicking sound of your steps resonated and so did your thoughts – you had to turn left here, right? Smoothing your hair out of your face, you glanced around the corner. Empty, not even a soul, a servant or a guard rushing by you.

Hesitantly, you stepped towards the only door that was not made of finely carved oak, but instead cold, cruel metal. You could feel its iciness seeping through your skin and the hair rose on the nape of your neck. The promise of a new thing, you thought, should be exciting. Why am I so goddamn nervous then?

Twirling the key slipped into your palm by Johnny an hour ago, you stepped closer to the metal door. Your palms were sweating, and your breath was heavy, but you pushed the key into the keyhole, and before you could change your mind, turned it. The door made no sound as it opened. You checked your back again, then stepping through the threshold you pushed the piece of metal shut.

What you saw, amazed you to the point where you just let your jaw hang.

The room was huge – bigger than the whole of the bar back at home – and its walls filled, almost overflowed with all range of weapons. The steel shone with a molten golden colour in the early afternoon – in your eyes it was the soft tell-tale of all that youth, all those lives that had to be paid in battles.

Kicking your shoes off, you stepped onto the sea of tatamis on the floor, the familiarity of the dry but soft material under your feet washing over you. You weren’t even sure where to start – hell, you weren’t even sure if it was some kind of loyalty test, if there were hidden cameras somewhere else, watching your every move. Slowly, you turned around, your eyes running over every possible surface, memorizing the possible escaping routes –

Stop.

Stop stop stop stop.

You had had enough of paranoid thoughts, you were the bad guys, you were not supposed to feel the urge to run away and hide.

You were the ones who made others’ blood run cold, turn the other way.

Forcing a block onto your distracting thoughts, you lifted three throwing knives and five shuriken.

The weapons’ weights were light – you had to remind yourself there was something in your hand, so you wouldn’t forget about the familiarity of the icy feeling. Throwing them onto the ground you searched for a Straw Man, a figure you could aim at.

You found it on the other side of the room, about fifty steps away from where you were standing. Perfect. Lining up your body, you spun the first knife in your hand.

Then you threw.

You threw and threw and threw, up until there was nothing in your hand, and when you retrieved them you continued where you left off. You continued until that specific sore feeling returned to your body, with the familiar veil of exhaustion raping over your senses, and like you have always done; you did not listen. You spilled all the bitterness into your movements, you aimed at head, heart, liver and stomach, you aimed and retrieved and started again.

And when you thought you had enough – not caring how long it has already been, an hour? Two? Three? - you picked down three other weapons.

Swords and long-knives and axes, anything that got near your hands.

You battled, moved with the Straw Man until your head was nothing but an empty balloon, free of any thought, any pain, any memory.

Your throat burned, your muscles screamed, and you smiled. Through pain and tears, you smiled and stroke again and again.

The sun already set when someone spoke behind you.

“Who are you fighting against?”

You spun around, your mind foggy, mind hyper-alert, arms ready to throw the knife in your hand.

Then all the mist cleared when you looked into the familiar pair of eyes. The sweet colours of warm chocolate stared into your own, with nothing but the purest kind of curiosity.

Breathing heavily, you dropped the knife in your hand and plopped onto the light green tatami.

“Many people,” you answered, and inspected his movements from underneath your eyelashes as he walked closer. His cheeks were tainted a slight pink and his hair was ruffled and his clothes couldn’t look more casual - yet he still managed to look composed and put together. His hands were deep in his jeans’ pockets as he lowered himself down onto a chair on the edge of the tatami-sea. A safe distance from you and the weapons scattered in an organized mess, something like a satanic pentagram.  

“Many people?” he repeated, his velvet voice tinted with amusement. Huffing, you lowered your head and stared into your toes.

“There are many people who had wronged me and my family.”

Lifting one of his – most likely plucked – eyebrows, he chuckled.

“Are they still alive?”

Something close to laughter bubbled up in your throat but you fought it back down, keeping your expression icy. You just looked up at him from under your eyelashes and let out a smallest of crooked smiles.

“I barely think so.”

He grinned again and inspected the steel around you.

“I see you have found the training room,” his voice was low. Soft and careful, testing the seas. Relaxing yourself, you lowered onto the tatami, huffing in exhaustion. A little break won’t hurt. He watched you carefully, inspecting your movements and when your eyes met, you saw the faint colour paint his cheeks.

“Yeah,” trying to sound casual, you shrugged and leaned back on your hands. “I was given the key by – “

“I know,” he interrupted and pursing your lips, you fell silent. “I have questions,” he said then, his voice strong but his eyes somewhat vacant – unsure. Squirming on your butt, you reached for the closest weapon, and started cleaning it with the soft material of your shirt. Something to keep you distracted – something to keep you on earth.

“I’m listening.”

Clearing his throat, he leaned back on his chair.

“First off…I know we started on shaky waters, and I think that is mainly because I was an…arse.”

“An arse?”

Uncomfortably, he glanced sideways. Then nodded. Puzzled, you lifted an eyebrow.

“I’ve genuinely, honestly, never heard someone use that word before.”

He squinted his eyes, eyeing your face suspiciously.

“You seriously don’t know what ‘arse’ means?” his voice was dumbfounded, amused. You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, you were certain he was messing with you one way or another and you felt the need to grab that shiny shuriken by your ankle.

“No. Am I missing out on something?”

“It means…you know. Someone’s backside. But lower.”

“An ass, Your Majesty means?”

“…yeah.”

A loud, hoarse laugh erupted from your throat and you didn’t even try containing it. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you felt your lungs burning in need of oxygen. The sound echoed in the spacey, empty room and you were sure you saw him flinch before looking around uncomfortably.

“So, you’re saying you were an asshole,” your voice was strained as you wiped at your cheeks.

“Yes, but can I finish?”

“Go on, Your Majesty.”

Taking a breath, he inspected his sneakers.

“I – shouldn’t have drawn conclusions so easily and fast about you and your…” he hesitated, but you interrupted anyways.

“Family. They are my family.”

He looked at you. Really looked at you, with eyes wide and curious, glowing with something you couldn’t quite grab. You felt yourself tense under his inspecting gaze, heat rushing to your cheeks. What the fuck is going on? You were uncomfortable, uneasy, your fingers were itching with the need to grab something and fidget with it. It wasn’t the kind of gaze Taeyong would give you and Yukhei every time you came back from Gods know where, with clothes half burned, half torn off, with eyes glinting with everything but regret. It was a whole other level than when you perched on a rooftop with the icy graze of the wind through the relatively thick material of your shirt and jacket. You didn’t feel it on your skin, no. You felt it in your bones, your flesh, your soul.

Keep calm, Y/n. Keep calm. It’s your period coming. Your hormones are fucking with you.

You soothed your senses with the sweetness of the lie.

“Yes, family. I wanted to thank you. For saving my little brother.”

You were about to wave him off, the uneasy in your stomach tightening, but he held his hand up.

“No, I mean it. I know it’s your job and I know you’re most likely gonna say it was not that big of a deal, but I want to clarify the fact that you have been wounded while fighting,” he took a deep breath to continue but you interrupted anyways, quickly.

“I was gonna say that I accept white chocolate as a prize.”

You saw his breath getting caught in his throat, his ears flushing a sweet, bright shade of pink.

“Ah…ehm…white chocolate?”

You shrugged, “Yeah. Those are the best shit on the global market these days.”

Nodding, he cleared his throat again and inspecting the ground he asked you, “Why do you hate us so much?”

Your stomach coiled again, not sure whether it was the mention of the white chocolate that drove him to dive into deeper, personal matters, or the question had been on his mind for days. He certainly didn’t beat around the bush for long. You decided on the latter.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Majesty.”

“You know exactly what I mean. The rest of the boys, your family, had warmed up to us, pretty much. Except maybe the other assassin, Doyoung. And the short one who always looks like he’s either about to slit someone’s throat or spill the darkest of your secrets – “

“Oh, Ten always knows the latest of the tea. Believe me, you don’t want to be there when he decides to spill it. It’s a catastrophe,” you tilted your head and sighed, a sort of endearing smile playing around on your lips.

“That’s not what I meant. Look, it is obvious that there is something that holds you back. I just…I don’t even know. I just wanted to know why.”

He grew quiet, his voice becoming unsure when you showed no reaction. He was swimming amongst dangerous tides, far deeper and darker than he could imagine. Your head was spinning, shards of pieces of memories cutting into your skull, you didn’t want to remember. No. He wasn’t ready for the truth, and neither were you. Neither were any one the Diamond Snake, and it was going to remain that way. So, brushing aside your honest answer, you replied with another.

“It isn’t entire the best feeling in the world, Your Majesty, when you are the only female working in this place, surrounded by men at all times. I hope you understand why I prefer to remain closed off.”

He didn’t believe you.

It was obvious, when sheer doubt took over his features. You didn’t question it though, didn’t push it.

Huffing out air, he nodded, strands of caramel brown hair falling into his eyes as he did so.

“Of course, I understand. I will try and find a solution, if you would like me too.” He stood up then, and before you could utter a word of objection, he bowed his head. His gaze avoided yours, and suddenly you felt like you have made the worst decision, not telling him the truth. So, you brushed your hand over the steel blade of a knife by your knees and pressed your mouth together.  

“Goodnight, Miss Z,” he murmured, and you snapped your head towards him when you heard the smooth, velvet voice.

You didn’t answer and the next sound you heard was the slam of the metal door. The tears came after that.

 Two weeks, every day, from morning until noon. That’s the amount of time you have spent in the training room, with other members visiting, sparring, getting beaten and then storming out of through the metal door, bruises already blooming on their skin.

You weren’t in the best mood.

You weren’t sure what was going on inside you, neither was your environment. After four days, Jeno came to you in the training room to let you know about the findings of the blood sample taken from under your nails and knives, and when you showed no signs of care when he did so, neither him or the rest of them bother to try and get you back on that one. You were more than thankful for that.

Yukhei, however, did mention that you were having the glorious week of your period – he did get his ass kicked a minute or so later – but it has been almost a month since you have gotten back from the ominous mission with the younger princes.

You saw more of them, and perhaps it warmed your heart. A little.

“Why did you become an assassin?” asked Jaemin one of the many afternoon’s with sweat running down along your brow. Gulping heavily, you squat down in front of a weapon stack, your back to him.

“There was no other offer of profession at the local employment office.”

He snorted behind you and after a couple of seconds you heard the low thumps of his steps on the tatami. He lowered himself next to you.

“Liar,” he smiled and watched you expectantly.

“Obviously. People like me don’t say the truth.”

Shaking his head, he laid down, and fixated his gaze on the wooden ceiling of the room. When he sensed you did nothing other than shifting your attention back onto sharpening a random knife you found, he patted the tatami next to himself.

“Come lie down with me. You have been training for four whole hours now.”

“No thanks.”

“I didn’t wait for an answer. It’s an order,” he flashed his teeth in a grin, and you whipped your head back at him. The young prince and you became closer to each other for sure, during the past month, to the extent where he begged you to treat him as a common boy, instead of “throwing his status in his face every time you talked.” He was younger than you for sure, but it never stopped him from biting back equally snarky comments at you every time you shot him off with your own.

Dropping the knife away from you, you slowly leaned back, just to stare at the ceiling.

“I swear to god, you need to start dating with pretty lil’ princesses so you can do shit like this under the stars,” you croaked.

He shrugged and quirked the edge of his lips.

“I sure would be a ladies’ men, wouldn’t I?”

You let out a low chuckle and nodded, your elbows poking into his ribs. Jaemin was for sure one of a kind, the type to try no matter what hard to make a person smile. Pushing the long sleeves of your training shirt – which you have received plenty of the past few weeks and you’re not entire sure whether you have been happier in your life – and relaxing your facial features, you closed your eyes.

“It wasn’t entirely a choice, Jaemin. Sometimes, I mean, hah, most of the time, people have not a lot of chance to do things. Sometimes they are forced to live with things that were not intentional. Situations, lives they were…pressured into.”

You inhaled, applying force on your eyelids, as if you could block your sight from memories that came out every time you closed your eyes and purred about your past.

Jaemin was already staring at you by the time you glanced sideways in his direction, with even eyebrows furrowed together, gaze hazy with thoughts. He was about to open his mouth, most likely to ask something, however, before he could utter a word, the loud bang of the metal door from behind you crashed all hopes he had to speak.

You didn’t even need to look back to know who just entered the room.

“Holy shit this place is DOPE!”

You would think you have already gotten used to Yukhei’s booming voice. You didn’t. And if you drew consequences from Jaemin’s jump and saucer-wide eyes, he did too, have a long way to go.

Jeno was walking behind Yukhei, with something like the shadow of a smile on his lips. When his gaze met yours, his eyes turned into half-moons as he chuckled to himself.

“What’s up guys?” with a low huff, you hoisted yourself up from the ground. Yukhei looked around the training room with an admiring glint in his eyes.

“Boss asked us to find you. Apparently, he has something to tell you. He’s with princes.”

You lifted an eyebrow as you shot a questioning look at Jaemin.

“Which ones?” you asked.

Yukhei shrugged as he continued to inspect the weapons stacked up all around the walls. “The ones that make you look like you have a spike shoved up in your ass.”

Jaemin let out a low, dramatic gasp and Jeno dropped his head into his palm.

“Ah,” was all you said as you picked up the leather jacket you dropped onto the floor after entering, and grabbing the pair of sneakers in your hands, you strode towards the door.

“Better place it back in then,” you threw back behind your shoulder before the metal door shut closed.

 You didn’t really bother knocking on Taeyong’s door before kicking it open barefooted. You were quite a sucker for entrances and to be honest, and it kind of ran in the family.

“I heard you needed my spiked-up ass!” you hollered into the room before throwing your shoes in the corner and hanging your jacket. Ambling into the suite’s living room, you found Taeyong, Doyoung and Kun with the three oldest princes, Johnny, Yuta and Jaehyun.

Jaehyun’s and your eyes met for a single second, but you diverted your gaze just as fast.

You hated how you memorized the way he looked at that moment, with his soft his hair looking perfect even though you were completely sure he had not brushed it and you really hated that you caught the way his ears were tinted a slight shade of pink.

Suddenly you regretted that the words “spiked-up ass” ever left your mouth.

Taeyong covered his mouth before he let out a tiny cough - you were more than sure of the fact that he had a shit-eating grin on his face – and Doyoung let out an obvious eyeroll.

“Well now that you are here,” began Kun, “we can get down to it.”

“Get to what?” you quipped, and massaging your left wrist, you took a seat on one of the cream coloured sofas by the floor-to-ceiling glass window.

Your gaze raked over the three princes. Johnny sat on a dark rose-coloured plush sofa, with his two brothers perching on the arms of it. You didn’t look them directly in the eyes, no. You didn’t dare, not after you have seen the flash of bare emotion in Prince Jaehyun’s eyes.

Your mind kept repeating the minutes, hours he had spent watching you in the training room during those two weeks. You didn’t talk, didn’t make eye-contact. Just like then when you entered the room, you avoided his gaze, the sheer curiosity shimmering in those orbs.

He didn’t bother you.

Didn’t say a word, didn’t make a noise, and in some distant part of your mind, you were certain he hardly breathed. Some days, you saw the edge of a black notebook poking out of his pocket. You decided not to pay any special attention to it. Or to him, for that.

“Doyoung have told you a couple of weeks ago that there will be a dinner for us, in thanks to dealing with the…problems that came up with the young princes.” You nodded as you listened to Kun’s soft voice. He stood behind Taeyong, looking at you and the three princes with eyes glinting in an odd way.

Frowning, you straightened your back.

“But that’s not it, is it?” your voice was cautious, you felt like there was an elephant in the room, and everyone knew about it except for you. However, when you glanced at Doyoung you saw a puzzled look taking over his features, unlike Taeyong, who silently inspected the tip of his shoes, slightly faded crimson hair falling onto his forehead.

Doyoung’s and your eyes met. Kun cleared his throat before he continued.

“And additionally, we have found a trail to who might be behind the attacks.”

You nodded, remembering Jeno coming into the training room the tell you before you chased him away.

“We were able to trace it back to Mr. Kim.”

A beat of silence.

“There is like one million Mr. Kims you dipshit,” Doyoung drawled and Taeyong and you choked on your laughter. Kun shot a look at the raven-haired assassin who then quickly rearranged his facial expressions and instead glared on the flower - tapestry.

Johnny cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair.

“Kim Seokjin is a high-ranked official and advisor, working for the Crown,” he said matter-of-factly, keeping his gaze on you and the others. “He has been through more battles than me and my brothers combined, and he used to be believed one of the most loyal objects for my father and mother.”

“Seems like he’s gone rogue,” Taeyong marvelled and Jaehyun nodded.

“We have tried to look into his activities for the past couple of months, but we have found nothing,” Jaehyun continued and glanced at Taeyong, carefully avoiding your gaze. “We need your hacker’s help.”

Taeyong inclined his head and reached for the crumpled cigarette pack lying on the crystal-clear glass coffee-table.

“Z,” he spoke up, his voice gravelled and snapping your head back, you caught the pack he threw at you. Your eyes met for a couple of seconds and that was when you saw it; that glint that appeared almost every time when something was about to come up. Something that you might not take well.

The cigarette pack he threw at you was a warning, then.

“Is there something else?” Doyoung asked, obviously bored out of his mind. He tended to do that a lot when something was not revolving around him.

“Yes, there is,” Johnny admitted before starting off. He didn’t look at you, he kept on staring at the carpet in front of himself. Unlikely of an eldest royal who is used to speak in front of and to people on a regular basis. “He will most likely be present for the dinner organized for the Diamond Snake. Which can mean two things in this case; first of all, he was one of the few officials who had strongly disagreed concerning the…hiring of your gang. If he decides to come to the gathering – “

“Then he wants to eliminate us,” you ventured, cutting him off. Yuta’s head snapped towards you in warning, but ignoring him, you leaned forward with eyes fixated on lighting the cigarette dangling from your mouth.

“That’s right. We know a couple of things already, for example the fact that he finds beautiful woman, a good drink and gold irresistible,” explained Johnny, and Doyoung eyed the prince’s features cautiously. Taeyong’s gaze remained on your face, which you carefully kept stone cold neutral.

Everyone went quiet and you inhaled the smoke, relished in the soft sting, the familiar smell. You felt another pair of eyes on you, molten caramel, the smoothing rays of the afternoon sun. You avoided that too.

Your brain caught up on the prince’s thinking, and it did not take long for you to figure out what they wanted to ask from you, why Taeyong was so goddamn nervous and why he lit one cigarette after another. Doyoung was still in the dark.

“Your Majesties,” Taeyong croaked then, exhaling a large amount of smoke which he kept inside for way too long. “I will talk about you request with Z alone.” he gave the princes a half-hearted incline of his head.

Kun nodded slowly.

“It is best if we talk about it amongst ourselves,” he agreed and Doyoung huffed.

“Talk about what? Can someone just tell me what’s going on?!”

You rose before drawling, “they want to whore me out to Mr. Kim,” with eyes as dead as your voice. You didn’t see the realization and disgust flash in Doyoung’s eyes for you rose from your seat, your gaze dead set on the oldest prince.

Taeyong then sprung up and with a single movement, stood in your way. Without your heels on you he was taller than usual, and he did not seem inclined to let you go. Kun moved from behind the sofa and with a tiny but respectful bow of the head ushered the princes out.

You didn’t see the look in Jaehyun’s eyes before the door slam shut behind his back.

And then you let it all out.

“What the fuck did you think, Tae?! Huh?!” your voice rose dangerously, and with a hand, pushed Taeyong in the chest who staggered a single step back. He lifted his arms in defence, but you paid no attention as you threw the half-burned cigarette into the ashtray.

“Z, listen to me – “

“Fuck about listening to anyone in this goddamned shithole, we were hired to gather information, to figure out who is behind all this shit, kill that bastard and then move the fuck along. I’m not going to play their fucking games, Tae!” you snarled but you felt the suffocating veil of desperation and fear creep up on your senses.

“Z, they don’t want to – “

You choked out a sob and grabbing the front of his black t-shirt you pulled him close.

“We talked about this. I told you I will never do anything like that again, I told you I told you I told you,” your voice hitched, lowered from a vicious hiss down into a weak whisper. Kun slid out of the room and closed the door behind him quietly. Taeyong put a hand on the back of your head, smoothing your hair, your back. He didn’t say anything, he held you and you let the first tear fall. Torn pieces of memories zipped through your mind and you tightened your grip on his shirt, held onto it like a lifeline.

“They will not whore you out, Z. They wanted to, but I told them they shouldn’t expect you to do that.” He murmured as his hand trailed through your locks.

“Would the Royals go that far?” Doyoung piped up as he laid down on the couch, placing his feet on the arm rest.

“Take your shoes off, Doyoung,” Taeyong deadpanned and the assassin threw his shoes off into the corner of the room with a dramatic sigh. You straightened up and wiped your glistening cheeks with the back of your shaking hand.

“Sorry for reacting like that,” you grumbled and Taeyong rustled your head with a sigh.

“I didn’t expect anything else.”

“Are you saying I’m a crybaby?” you murmured and Taeyong let out a low laugh.

“You should see your face every time someone says they want to use the fact that you’re a woman.”

Fuming, you threw yourself into the chair in which Johnny was sitting before. Taeyong pushed Doyoung’s legs away and sat down, posture slightly stiff. Wiping your nose into the sleeves of your shirt you pulled your knees close to your chest.

“So, what did the princes want me to do if not using me?” you asked, placing your chin on your arms.

“They do want to use you in a certain way, but,” he held his finger up before you could utter a word. You closed your mouth. “They wouldn’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. You see, Seokjin has no idea how you look like. We didn’t show ourselves in front of generals or officials, only the princes and the servants who were there. That means – “

“I will pretend someone I’m not,” you caught up and Taeyong nodded. “What is the information we need to gather from him?”

“We need to make sure that Seokjin is in relation with that gang who attacked us or the Black Spade.”

“And how the hell am I gonna do that? I’m not a spy and I have no clue how to act like a fucking lady!” you threw your arms up in the air and Doyoung sighed.

“We been knew.”

Your head snapped towards him and your hand reached for the nearest object you could throw at him, the diamond ashtray, but Taeyong snatched it from your hand before you could hurl it at Doyoung’s head.

“The princes offered to help you.”

“All of them?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? Probably. They will be in the Grand Ballroom tomorrow at ten in the evening. You will meet them there.” Taeyong said then and you let out an exasperated sigh. Guess, you were gonna have to learn the waltz.

 It took Winwin 17 whole minutes to convince not to go in your training tunic, but instead something more comfortable and socially (and royally) acceptable.

“Listen, Z, you need to get something like a shirt, or I don’t know, not that black fucking bodysuit… No, no absolutely fucking not, Z, put the stilettos back.”

You groaned as you threw the pair of shoes at Winwin, who caught them and chucked them on your bed.

“I don’t want to go around pretending I’m a cute little lady who does pretty bows, and smiles like a brainless idiot,” you protested, placing your hands on your hips. You were still in underwear and you were ready to throw the hacker out of your room, but he insisted on not making a fool out of you. Pity. Would have been a nice warm-up.

“Z, you’re just gonna learn the basic behaviour when you’re around high-class people, come on…No oh dear god put that knife back, girl you’re going to walk with fucking books on your head, Jesus everloving Christ,” Winwin raked through his blond hair and with a quick movement put it in a manbun.

“Yeah but we always need to be ready. Just a small one?” you held up a pocket-knife, and widening your eyes you put on your best puppy-face.

Winwin sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands.

‘I’m gonna call Jisung – “

“He’s playing Fortnite,” you quipped, and he raised his eyebrows.

“At nine in the morning? He woke up this early?”

“Nah. He just didn’t go to sleep.”

“Taeyong’s gonna gut him,” he pondered, and you shrugged. Giving in, you reached for the only clean white shirt you had along with a soft, flary pair of pants. You were about to reach for the high-heels but Winwin grabbed your arm in an attempt to stop you.

“Come on, I’m so fucking short,” you whined, shaking your arm out of his.

“You’re gonna be tripping and falling, do you really want to make a fool out of yourself like that?” he retorted, and you gave in after a second of thinking. Damn him and his rational thinking. Huffing, you pulled on a pair of sneakers, making as much fuss and noise while doing so as possible. You knew that the calm, forever-collected hacker won’t give a single shit about it, you can also jump out the window to get to the meeting faster – he would just shrug and text about it to the groupchat, to let the others know.

His story is a quirky one, filled with broken hearts, neon-screens and cold slices of pizzas.

It was Doyoung who recruited him. They met in jail, both of them waiting for their friends to bail him out – only Winwin had no one he could really rely on. It was you who went to grab Doyoung, back when you were 18.

Both the receptionist and the guard were corrupted by the already slowly building empire of the Diamond Snake. It took no convincing and a lot of money and Doyoung was out. But he didn’t wasn’t to leave.

“Wait,” he said, and you glared at him from behind your sunglasses, its size reminding him of a fly’s eyes. There was a faint bruise on the corner of your lips, and he knew you were frowning behind the darkened glasses. “There is someone,” with a quick movement he inclined his head in the direction of his cell, “I think we should get him out as well. I talked with him. He will be of use, I promise.”

“You know what Tae thinks about picking people up.” you murmured. Shooting a hesitant look towards the guard who started to get impatient, you licked your lips quick and then whispered, “alright I’ll get him out. But you go into the car now. Yukhei is already there, behind the building.”

Without another look, you shoved him towards the door before fixing your glasses and reaching for another stack of money.

A blackeye and Winwin’s dumbfounded expression richer, both of you blasted out of the jail and hurried towards the getaway car. Doyoung snorted as he examined your blackeye and murmured, “well seems like money wasn’t enough.”

For some unknown reason, the guard is fired the next day.

 “You are still that troublemaker you were when I first met you,” Winwin’s deep voice mutters before sinking down on the bed. “It’s hard to imagine you doing courtesies and waltz around the room like some goddamn princess.”

“What are you talking about?” straightening up from fixing your shoelaces you place your hands on your waist. “I am the fucking Queen, not the flimsy princess.”

He let out a chuckle and ushered you towards the door.

“Hurry up, you’re already late. They might punish you by wearing lacey dresses with corsets.”

You pouted.

“Lace is hot but only in the bedroom.”

You proceeded to avoid the shoes he hurled at your head before ducking out of the room, the remains of your laughter echoing in the empty hallways.

 You weren’t exactly sure what to expect when you stepped in, maybe a teacher with spectacles and way-too-tight corset, maybe a lady-in-waiting or even the Queen herself.

What you didn’t expect was eight princes, four out of them shrieking and hooting…spanking each other? You halted for a second, waiting for your brain to process the view of Prince Yuta throwing Prince Renjun over his shoulder with a victorious holler. Johnny, the only reasonable out of all of them, was unfortunately missing and suddenly you felt like you have made the worst possible decision on agreeing to learn etiquette with them.

You cleared your throat and the room went still as death.

Renjun peeked over in your direction from Yuta’s shoulder, Donghyuck slowly removed his hand from Mark’s butt, Jaemin smoothed down Jungwoo’s hair and Jaehyun let go of Chenle’s collar.

“I’m…sorry for being…” a glance down at your phone, “two minutes and thirty-four seconds late.”

Jaehyun stood straight up and smoothing his caramel hair back, let out a crooked smile, one that showed his dimples off discreetly.

“It’s – it’s alright. Please take a seat,” he said and Jungwoo whipped out a chair out from somewhere behind them and spun it right in front of you.

Feeling the tiny bubble of nervousness grow in your stomach, you lowered yourself on the chair and just to show you’re not as barbaric as is might show occasionally, you crossed your legs. As you let your eyes scan over the princes standing in a half circle in front of you, you gave a silent thanks to Winwin for not letting you out in high heels and an edgy outfit. Most of the princes in front of you were wearing branded hoodies and shirts with jeans or sweatpants and sneakers. Were they even allowed to do that?

Under the inspecting gazes of the royals suddenly you became aware of the fact that you left your hair in a hazy ponytail with a minimal amount of makeup.

“You might wonder why we are your teachers instead of a chaperone of a sort,” Yuta started with a steely gaze and you straightened your back, “you see, I don’t know what kind of plan you’re cooking for the gala in honour of you and your gang, but no one can be aware of that. So, we will be looking after your education in basic royal etiquette,” he announced before giving a mocking bow, and you swore you saw Jungwoo roll his eyes.

“You make it sound so serious,” the younger prince said, “we were going to help her out anyways.”

“What about the guys? Like Yukhei?” Chenle quipped in and you let out a small smile.

“We already told them the basic stuff,” Mark sighed, “plus people don’t pay attention to men. The spotlight is on…” he made a grand sort of hand motion in your direction, “the ladies at all times. Especially the ones who seem like they want to stab someone in the throat,” he turned to you with a deadpanned expression and murmured, “you might want to work on that general expression of yours Miss.”

Yuta snorted and looked over at Mark.

“She has the ultimate resting bitch face in case you haven’t noticed it.”

“Something you guys have in common,” grunted Renjun from beside Yuta and the older turned to him with a shocked expression but before he could retort anything, Jaehyun interrupted.

“How about we start, we don’t have much time. Five days, brothers. Focus.” His sweet baritone washed over you and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

Jungwoo nodded and cracked his knuckles.

“Lesson one, Miss Z…”

“Please just call me Z,” you interrupted quickly, and he inclined his head.

“Lesson one will be sitting. Crossing legs is not okay if you are sitting in front of people.”

You quickly uncrossed your legs and listened to his instructions and tried not to get distracted with the softness of his voice.

“Imagine your knees are being glued together,” he started, and you brought your knees together, slightly frowning at the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, “and that some old nasty perverted paparazzi is trying to have a shot of under your skirt.”

“A shot of what?!” you exclaimed, and it was Jaemin’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Tilt them a little, like this,” he bent his knees as if he was sitting and turned them to the right. You imitated, and they nodded in satisfaction.

And then you learned how to hold a teacup and a wineglass, you learned how to get out of a car and how to hide your cleavage when bending down. You greet people you know with a kiss on the cheek or a firm handshake and you hold your handbag in front of you at all times, in your hand.

The princes made an excellent job at teaching you – even though Yuta snapped at you multiple times and Chenle let out that laugh with a frequency higher than Yukhei’s. Winwin wasn’t wrong, you did indeed need to walk with a bunch of encyclopaedias on your head – and when you did, you silently thanked yourself all those gym sessions with Yukhei because if it wasn’t for them you would have most likely broke your neck under the weight of the books.

“You need to imagine that your spine is a cord,” explained Jungwoo as he rolled his sleeves up, “that cord is your spine – “

“And you straighten the fuck out of it,” finished Yuta.

A beat of silence.

“Why the fuck do you need to swear in every single one of your sentences?” Jaehyun’s voice resonated something like an ever-lasting suffer, with his eyebrows shot up until his hairline. From the corner of your eyes you saw Renjun silently bury his face into his hand.

“Who are you to talk, you just said ‘fuck’!” Yuta retorted before squinting his eyes towards his younger brother.

You let the bare thought of smile playing around the corner of your lips.

“I didn’t know princes were allowed to swear,” you chuckled carefully so the encyclopaedia placed on the crown of your head won’t fall. Yuta shrugged and placed his chin on the top of his hand – which would have been a sweet gesture if he wasn’t looking like he wished you were dead at all times.

“The forbidden fruit is the sweetest,” was all he said with a sort of melancholy in his voice. You glanced at your feet and took a deep breath.

“So, straighten the fuck out of the cord, right?” you forced a smile and Yuta hid a grin.

With aching slowness, you lifted yourself up from the chair, cautious of the books atop your head. Spreading your arms, you searched for your balance, bit your lip in concentration.

“You’re doing great,” murmured Jungwoo, his voice sweet yet distant, reminding you of an early summer breeze. You took a step, the books stable. The princes remained silent, watching you carefully, not daring to disturb the concentration on your features. After five steps you dared to open one of your eyes. Your shoes made no noise on the polished marble as you walked agonizingly slowly towards the end of the room – touch the wall, girl. Touch the wall. After another five steps you arrived next to Jaehyun – the prince standing farthest away from you, barely participating in the teaching.

Throughout the firing instructions and shouts to get you to learn the proper etiquette, he stood and observed – occasionally letting out a huff of amusement.

You felt his gaze on you during the two hours you have spent there, and it took every fibre of your being not to let heat rush to your cheeks. He has gotten the worst out of you, reminding you of adolescent years, broken hearts and flushing cheeks from the tiniest of touches. Suddenly the books on your head became heavier and you became even more alert of the gazes that followed and inspected your every movement.

He only came close to you once the princes decided it would be a good idea to be done for that day. His steps were silent, cautious as he sauntered closer to you as you placed the last book off your head.

“There is something I haven’t quite be able to stop wondering about,” he said, his voice as casual as it could get. Arching one of your eyebrows you encouraged him to keep talking. “Doyoung said that it might take you some time to incline to follow the proposal from us about Kim Seokjin – “he corrected himself rapidly when he saw a warning glint in your eyes, “not that you had a lot of chance to do anything else. I’m – sorry about that.”

“Don’t beat around the bush with me, Prince,” you purred, and you saw his Adams apple bob for a second.

“No, I was just wondering what the reason for that quick acceptance was. I would have completely understood if you needed more time like a week or something, but…I’m not sure I can figure this one.”

His voice lowered into a murmur and you cocked your head to the side, for some reason not really taken aback by his questions.

“You see, women don’t have that sheer brutality when it comes to violence. We aren’t inclined to go head first into situations,” you found Jaehyun searching your face while you talked, and you forced yourself not to flinch or retreat a step. You smoothed the edge of your nails on the skin of your wrist. “But we are good at other things, things that are underestimated by males who have not met with one of us. Who have not experienced our ways of handling situations. Instead of testosterone and bruised knuckles we have cunning, we have the strings to the puppets in the games and – “you brought your fingernails away from your wrist and lifted it, moving it towards his chest, stopping only a millimetre away from the fine material of his sweatshirt.

You heard him suck in a breath and for a second you let yourself relish in his reaction. “- and we have the power of seduction,” you continued, lowering your hand, “a power which is just as fun as dangerous to play with. It’s sort of a game, prince, with rules that you need to be stuck to. Like glue. Or else the cost is your life,” you let out a shaky breath and the echo of a sad smile, “seduce or be seduced, Jaehyun.”

The similar rhythm of your phone’s buzz shook you out of your reverie from the direction of Yuta’s hand, signalling the arrival of a text message. (The prince snatched it from your hand before you could place it on the ground somewhere in the corner of the large room, and to your dismay he kept it in his lap throughout the lesson.)

Jaehyun tilted his head to the side as his eyes narrowed at you. His face was void of any visible emotion other than a single dimple that played on the edge of his lips.

“You got a message from… Winnie The Pooh?” his voice changed from exasperated to confused as he glanced at your back turned to him. You pushed down the urge to spin on your heels and grab it from his hands. Containing your instincts, you cleared your throat.

“Yes. His name is Winwin. Our hacker,” your voice was barely above a whisper and slowly took a one-eighty turn. Yuta pouted dramatically and nodded.

“The blond with the manbun?” he asked, and you blinked slowly.

“Yeah.”

You snatched the phone with a quick movement and left the room with quick steps after he let out something similar to a genuine smile.

 “We need to create a fake identity for you,” said Taeil the third day you arrived back into Taeyong’s room which has grown itself out to be a sort of common lounge for the Snakes.

“Yeah?” you huffed as you dumped your high heels on the burgundy carpet and reached down to massage your aching heel. To hell with the waltz. Grabbing a scrunchie that perhaps belonged to Winwin you hastily tied your hair up and sat down across from him.

“What do you have in mind?”

He nodded as he pulled out his usual notebook, the one he used every time when he planned something.

“Yesterday after your training I talked with Prince Johnny and asked about the families that are well known in the castle and in the circles of the high-status people,” he opened the notebook on a page filled with his messy but still somewhat organized handwriting. You leaned closer as he continued, “there is an orphan heiress of a nearby territory, she never gets out of her villa and she doesn’t care at all what’s going on inside. She hasn’t stirred any drama and people acknowledge her enough to be aware of who she is and all that.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you looked at him.

“Orphan?”

“Yes. The family was attacked one night, murdered in cold blood during their dinner. The murderers slit Lord Jung’s throat and stabbed his wife but for some unknown reason they left their daughter alone. Her name is Jisoo.”

“And I’m going to be Jisoo.”

He nodded with a solemn look on his face, “you are going to be Miss Jung Jisoo.”

Lifting your chin, you remembered the lesson about presenting grace and patience, about displaying your full interest concerning a matter. You placed your hands folded lightly into your lap and angled your paralleled knees towards Taeil.

“Tell me more.”

 Jaehyun reached over to Johnny to angle back his crooked tie.

“You think she will do well?” the older prince levelled his voice down, so the maids rushing around them with oversized buckets of flowers won’t hear a thing. Jaehyun saw flashes of that young woman with encyclopaedias on her head and hellfire in her eyes. He let out the faintest smile.

Johnny sighed, “We taught her everything she needs to know,” as he adjusted his navy suit over the black turtleneck shirt. Jaehyun pursed his lips, his eyes glued to an arrangement of flowers in the corner, by a Corinth marble statue.

“I don’t know, she seems pretty stubborn. She was.”

Johnny cut him a glance.

“Wouldn’t you know that, brother,” he drawled, a new kind of amusement glinting in his eyes. Jaehyun fought the urge to cringe and instead pluck a flower from a bucket which passed him, the maid almost invisible behind the gigantic arrangement.

“This ball will be something else,” he murmured to himself, “I have a feeling that all this decoration adds the feeling of…feeding the pig before cutting it down. Don’t you think?”

Johnny was silent for a second.

“Listen…even though we taught her the basic etiquette and even though there will be heavy security…they are a gang. They thrive on illegal stuff and violence and I’m just not entirely sure whether all this was a good idea.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed as he listened to his brother.

“You were the one holding us together with your positivity. Don’t start having doubts now or I swear to God – “

Johnny cut in before he could finish, “No, it isn’t like that. What I’m saying is…” his voice dropped down, barely audible over the murmurs and buzzing of the servants, “they are not accustomed to this life. Who knows whether there will be trigger that makes them turn against us?” Shaking his head, he smoothed the hair out of his eyes.

“I think it will be alright,” Jaehyun muttered, “if they were to turn against us, they would have already done it. Hopefully the night will go smoothly.”

  “For the fifth time, take that thing out of my hair it makes me look like a fucking garden,” you pleaded as you reached for the flower crown arranged into a pink disaster on top of your head. It has been one and a half hour since they bathed you – they were in there with you and they scrubbed your everything even though it was supposed to be a relaxing bath. You were everything but relaxed – before they placed you in front of a wide, rose gold vanity.  

“Listen young lady, we were ordered to make your appearance appropriate and fitting for the theme of the dinner.”

The woman, Ms Seol, who was responsible for your look, was a bitch. Her white hair was filled with pearls and other ornaments and she was wearing a disturbing amount of makeup to hide her wrinkles. And that enormous hooked nose. Its sole purpose was to lure you into punching her square in the face. On top of that she kept ordering you around and considering the fact that she had no clue who you actually were and the industrial number of maids coming in and out of the room they took you – you had no chance of getting out of here without looking like a complete idiot. You regretted all your decisions not only about agreeing to play a role but about accepting the proposal of the Royal Family.

Take a deep breath every time you feel like screaming, said Kun in the morning before you were taken to literal Hell, and count to ten.

Don’t lose your temper, Z.

Don’t lose it.

You forced a glittering smile.

“Ma’am,” you mused with a voice filled with glazing honey and venom, “I was invited to this dinner because of my status and looks, and the palace hired you to strengthen the latter – not to destroy its complete existence.”

She blinked twice, and you remembered Prince Renjun’s words: “You need to speak with authority with people whose status’ are lower than yours, even though you’re lying. Believe what you are saying yourself, place yourself into that situation and the others will believe it, too.”

You inhaled deeply, not breaking eye contact with Ms Seol and with renewed authority and pride in your words you said, “I am planning to get highly intoxicated on the alcoholic beverages offered tonight and finding a fairly handsome bachelor who will later blow my back out for I will be too irresistible for him and his lower, manly body parts,” you flashed a thousand-watt smile, “if you know what I mean.”

Her face contorted from surprise to contempt then into complete disgust all the while looking at you, sporting a soft pink bathrobe and a grin.

You flipped your hair above your shoulders and opened your mouth to add to her horror but the monotone and yet still cheerful voice of someone stopped you.

“My my, I knew the lady was trouble but what I just heard completely succeeded my expectations,” the maids in the room parted to give space to the newcomer, an ebony haired beauty with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “what a warm welcome.”

Her hand was resting on a black suitcase and a leather sport bag, her companion – all four female – stood behind her in suits and portable dress carriers packed with gowns hidden in their bags.

The woman pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead and flashed you a grin.  

“Miss Jung,” she pronounced the word with an enough amount of sarcasm for you to know she was aware of your secret and had an exact idea on who you actually were, “I am you stylist. Your actual stylist.”

She levelled her gaze onto Ms. Seol with enough contempt to discourage the woman in every way – you shivered.

“Your services are no longer needed Ma’am, and neither is the rest of the staff.”

It took them a couple of seconds and a few fuelled glances to be outside the door.

Placing your knee on the bejewelled and soft armchair, you turned around to face your saviour of some sort. Her hair fell down on her back in soft curls and her lips were tainted devil red. She was the only one wearing pants with matching blazer and a white t-shirt. The most mesmerizing thing about her, though, was her darker complexion - Her honey skin shone in the daylight and the golden eyeshadow brightened the glow in her eyes.

“My name is Tan, pleased to meet you, assassin.”

You tilted your head with an equally wide grin.

“The honour is mine, stylist,” standing up, you let her run her eyes over your body and shape and you felt an odd satisfaction when she nodded her head.

“I wasn’t entire sure about your complexion. It’s not like I can find a proper picture of you on the internet,” she clicked her tongue and shrug her blazer off, “would you feel uncomfortable if you were naked in front of us?”

You arched an eyebrow. She smiled.

“For research purposes.”

Your let out a low snicker before undoing your robe and letting it fall to the ground, revealing your naked figure.

“Perfect,��� was all she said before turning to her companion and exchanged a few words in a language unfamiliar to you. The female staff unzipped a couple of bags before pushing the wheeled carrier towards Tan.

“I was hired by Johnny,” she said as she looked through the dresses hung up, “he had a feeling that his parents will give you the stylist which will cause the most headache,” she clicked her tongue again with distaste, “she obviously had no taste.”

You picked up the robe before placing it on your shoulders.

“You know His Majesty well?”

She snorted before glancing at you, “He’s my childhood best friend. I was engaged to him, but you see,” she flicked her wrist towards you and two of the females gestured for you to sit back down, “I fell in love with a girl.”

Your eyebrows arched up again as you stared at her from the reflection of the vanity. If she was engaged to the eldest prince, then she must herself be royal as well. Tilting your head to the side you let the two females undo your previous, disastrous hairdo and each of them grabbing a hairbrush and an ironer, started to straighten your hair.

“I know what you are thinking,” Tan said as she unzipped a bag completely but the dress in it remained hidden from you. “I was only 16.”

Her voice remained neutral, levelled out. Your nose crinkled as the burning heat of the iron came a bit too close.

“Something happened,” you murmured, your own voice careful, and your eyes met in the reflection. She knew you weren’t asking, and her lips curled up in a sad smile.

“It didn’t quite work out between me and her eventually,” her voice remained emotionless and you weren’t sure whether that was true or not, but you kept yourself from pushing her. It was not your place to know. And you just met.

“16 is an age when changes happen,” you said instead and looking at yourself in the mirror, you got lost in your own reflection for a second. “Usually they are not for the best.”

She didn’t look at you, instead she pulled out a device and plugging it into the nearest connector she turned it on. Her nails were tainted red and you noticed that her bottom lip was slightly plusher than the top.

“What happened to you?”

Her question took you by surprise and you flinched. The burning iron missed the skin of your ear by only a couple of millimetres. When you looked back up, your gaze met with hers. You teared your eyes away from hers and stared into your own instead.

“I fell in love with the wrong person.”

Your voice was so low you thought the wind carried it away, out through the window into the sky. To be lost and forgotten. But it wasn’t.

“It cost you something, didn’t it?” her voice was soft but not weak and you could only nod. When she shivered, it was like she came out of something like a trauma before she clapped her hands.

“Us girls, we need to stick together and help each other,” her voice was lively now but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “too bad Ms. Seol wasn’t able to comprehend that.”

You chuckled, and she turned to the remaining two of her staff and instructed them in that foreign language she used before. Your skin tingled, you felt like she knew every fibre of yours, even though it has been less than half an hour since she stepped into the suite.

“Is her hair done?” she turned to you shortly after. The females behind you stepped back and nodded. Tan lowered herself onto the vanity table and crossing your legs you stared up at her.

“Here is what I know,” her voice was calm, calculating, and a shiver of exhilaration ran down your spine, “I know that you are the most wanted assassin in the country. I know that you prefer to be called Z. I know that you were hired by the Royal Family to find and eliminate the threat imposed on their lives and I know that this dinner and ball will be a mission of yours.”

You didn’t let any emotion show on your face and she cocked her head to the side before she continued.

“I further know that in this ball your mission is to seduce Kim Seokjin, the universe’s greatest narcissist and jerk and bachelor, however what I don’t know is…” she stared into your eyes and you let her. “What I don’t know if it is your intention to destroy him.”

Your mouth curled into a devilish grin and so did hers.

“Really, it depends. I was told to get the information out of him but – I was not prohibited to have my own fun,” Tan nodded.

“What do you know about him?”

“Enough,” you shrugged, “I know that he loves women and that he is influential enough to be able to pull the strings of terror against the Royal Family.”

Tan smoothed her hair behind her ear, and she moved over to the bag in which, you guessed, was your dress.

“He likes champagne and gold as well,” she purred and pulled the zipper down and jaw dropped as she revealed the dress.

The Dress.

It was the most beautiful piece of clothing you have ever seen, you felt your eyes physically stuck the material. It was everything you were not and everything you wanted to be and you adored it. Its colour was a light shade of gold, the slightly transparent material adorned with rains of diamonds. The top was sleeveless, and the décolletage ran down to the middle of your stomach in a straight, piercing v-line, showing enough skin to make men wild. The bottom part was flowy and when you squinted to see better you noticed that it was cut up on both sides.

“I am going to turn you into everything he would ever wish for,” mused Tan and you huffed in satisfaction, “you will become the Women and the Gold and the Champagne of his life and you will succeed in your mission.”

Words got stuck in your throat as you glanced at her and you noticed that ever consuming fire, the fury raging in her orbs.

Revenge.

She wanted revenge for something.

And that is what you will have, not only in the name of the Royal Family, but in anyone’s who was ever wronged by that man.

So, you smiled with a fire burning with equal heat to hers and said, “Let’s turn this place upside down.”

 Prince Jaehyun had absolutely no clue who half of the people in the Grand Ballroom were. It could be reprimanded, yes, for he is a prince and he is expected to know and greet all the nobles and influential who had come to the dinner and ball.

Unsuspecting.

Of what was about to happen, of who they are in the same room with, of the people they innocently engage into conversations with, thinking that ‘oh that young man with a half-moon eye laugh and perfect manners must be a distant relative of the Royal Family’. How sweet.

As he nursed his tall glass of champagne, Jaehyun kept himself as distanced as possible from the guests, who were hopefully occupied with the sweet manners of Jungwoo and the small talks of Johnny. Behind him, carefully arranged flowers decorated the soft cream coloured, marble columns that towered over the people, holding the cupola shaped ceiling.

To his right, at the very front of the room, lay the grand staircase which led in the guests through the double-winged wooden doors.

Reaching behind himself, Jaehyun plucked a piece of grape and plopped it into his champagne.

“That was gross,” drawled a voice from behind and the prince turned with a slow, graceful movement. Half hidden in the shadows the master spy, Ten, glared back at him. “Oh, Ten always knows the latest of the tea. Believe me, you don’t want to be there when he decides to spill it. It’s a catastrophe”. Your words floated into his mind in a soft sweet whisper and he suddenly remembered the power hidden behind those words. Your words. The spy did not have his eyes covered by a messy fringe like Jaehyun saw most of the times, but instead it was elegantly gelled back, revealing a clean forehead and sharp cut eyes. He didn’t bother buttoning up the top three buttons on his black shirt under the blazer.

Ten tilted his head and a strand of raven hair fell into his eyes.

“I came to report to Your Majesty,” he purred and Jaehyun stepped closer, “Everyone is in place as it was planned.”

“Is it based on what we have talked about last time?” Jaehyun murmured into his champagne glass. Ten inclined his head.

“Winwin is behind the security cameras in the basement. Jeno is mingling along with Kun. Doyoung and Taeyong are up in the gallery,” Ten mused in a voice similar to the shadows behind him before he glanced up at the private, veiled area and the lounge for the highest nobility and the princes. And now the assassins.

„Yukhei is over there,” Ten made a discrete head movement towards a waiter with a silver tray, packed with champagne glasses. As if arsonist knew the prince and the spy were talking about him, he turned around and sent a wink towards them. “Taeil and Jisung are lingering outside and well…”

The corner of Ten’s mouth curls upwards in a smile that promises nothing but chaos, “Z has yet to make her grand entrance.”

Jaehyun sighed into his champagne before he placed it onto Yukhei’s tray, who had gotten there in the meantime.

“What about my brothers?”

Ten leaned back into the silver coloured wall-fresco and Yukhei slowly placed new glasses onto his tray.

“Princes Johnny and Yuta are mingling as you see,” from the corner of his eyes, Jaehyun saw a female with lipstick that was so strong anyone would have seen it from the other end of the castle, bat her eyelashes at Yuta. “Prince Jungwoo is up on the gallery with Doyoung and Taeyong. And I believe Mark and Jaemin are on the balcony. Chenle and Donghyuck are with Winwin, down in the basement,” the spy’s voice then dropped into a whisper as he added, “thank to all the gods above. That young prince of yours, Donghyuck, is the devil incarnate.”

Jaehyun nodded with a small smile and Yukhei dropped a macaron into his mouth.

Grimace veiled over Ten’s face as he ran his eyes over the guests.

“I pay all my respect to you princes for being able to live surrounded with this much pretentiousness,” he drawled and scrunched his nose when he noticed a female tugging the cleavage of her dress lower before slipping in Johnny’s way, “do you know have some sort of limit to the people you let in here?”

“She,” Jaehyun lifted his champagne towards the female, no, girl, attempting to flirt shamelessly with the oldest prince, “is the youngest daughter of one of my father’s financial advisors.”

Ten snorted and Yukhei choked on his second macaron.

“I mean call me a savage but even I know that she ain’t supposed be acting like that,” the spy said before smoothing the loosened hair back onto his head.

Before he left, he turned to the prince with a serious expression, “You know what your role here is, right Your Majesty?”

As soon as Jaehyun nodded, the spy was nowhere to be seen.

“Your Majesty,” Yukhei mumbled before placing the last glass of champagne on the tray, “Is it your first mission?”

For a second Jaehyun was taken aback, and with eyes wide he scanned the taller male’s frame,

“I believe it is. Why?”

Flicking his bowtie, Yukhei shrugged.

“Was just gonna say that if you remember everything we have talked about, nothing can go wrong, y’know?”

With a cheeky grin that stretched across his face, giving his eyes a fiery sort of glow, the arsonist said, “Good luck prince. Try not to get lost in the flow!”

Jaehyun swirled his second glass, the words of the arsonist echoing in his mind.

Flow.

Try not to get lost in the flow.

Suddenly, he remembered crystal clearly what Taeil, the logistic said as a warning to him and his brothers.

“Once things get going – once all hell breaks loose – it will be easy to forget who we are and what we are supposed to do. We panic, and the rush of adrenalin, the Fight or Flight, will be the one dictating our actions. Not our brain.”

Jaehyun swirled his champagne again, his other hand curling in the pockets of his pants.

“Set your mind on your goal – turn it into something that you don’t only want with your brain, but with your instincts, your very core. That way, you won’t be washed away with the flow, as we like to call it.”

A brush of material pulled him back from his reverie, and a familiar, musky sent filled his nostrils and he knew who it was before he even had the chance to turn around. He grinned into the rim of the champagne glass.

“Hello there, Tan,” he mused, and the faint noise of her chuckle reached his ears and reminded himself of old memories, reminded him of tiny feet scurrying along the marble floors, reminded him of shrieks of exhilaration. Reminded him of his childhood.

“Hello, Woojae.”

“It’s been some time,” keeping his voice low, Jaehyun glanced at his friend, took in the familiarity of the shade of her skin, the lines of her eyes, the arch of her eyebrows. He saw little difference from what he remembered from…” ten years, right?”

“Something close to that.”

Her voice still had the edge, that stinging tone which reminded everyone that she was from another land, that her mother tongue was a language completely different to his own.

Tilting her head, she smoothed over her dress, an elegant black piece with just enough ornaments to make it look out of the ordinary. Her lipstick reflected some of the chandeliers’ lights as her mouth pulled into a smile.

“Quite a mess you got yourself into.”

It wasn’t entire a question. He just let out the tiniest of sighs. Her eyes raked him up and down.

“You’re really tense. It’s way too obvious,” placing her own glass of champagne down she placed herself in front of Jaehyun.

Only that, with that smooth movement, her body collided with someone else’s.

“My dear, my apologies it’s my fault – “she started but words got stuck as her chest tightened at the sight of the spy. Jaehyun remembered the young man’s name, heard it being called enough times in the Diamond Snake’s suite, which has grown itself out to be more of a residence, camping site.

“I mean yeah it kind of is. Better be more careful next time,” Jeno purred with a wink before continuing his way into the crowd. Jaehyun caught the warning glint in the spy’s eyes. And kept his mouth shut.

“Who does he think he is,” Tan murmured more to herself than to the prince, “looking that good?”

Jaehyun choked, “sometimes I forget that you are almost three years younger than us.”

Shrugging, the stylist sipped from the glass as she raked her eyes over the guests and judging from her frown, she was quietly evaluating the dresses.

“This party is a disaster, was it the grandma that dressed these people? Speaking of her,” Jaehyun felt her eyes search his face, “I had quite a guest today, did you know?”

Jaehyun gulped, his eyes searching for Johnny. He knew who she was talking about.

Tan continued, “she is a tough little thing. I like it,” taking a sip she thought a little, “you find her intriguing, don’t you, Woojae?”

“Why would you think that?” his voice wasn’t as confident as he hoped it would be.

“Maybe we have not seen each other for a long time,” Tan purred, her rich accent weaving through her voice, “but I will never forget your compassion towards unusual things.”

It felt like his heart had let go of its strings, falling free. The breath got caught in his lungs and suddenly the only thing he wanted to do was sit on the balcony, surrounded by stars and darkness. Focus. He has to focus, he has to follow the plan.

“You can’t have compassion towards things that are unusual. Broken,” he murmured, as if saying it out loud would make him believe his own words. Tan placed lowered her head slightly when a young man bowed in their direction.

“She’s not a thing. She’s human, just like you or me.”

Jaehyun turned to her, his face contorted into confusion. Does Tan even have any idea what she does?

Tan didn’t have to look at him to know what his question was going to be.

“Understand before you judge,” her eyes searched for something or someone in the crowd.

They didn’t have much time before the assassin arrived, he had to have Johnny near him.

“Tan, do you know what is about to happen?”

The stylist nodded.

“Johnny told me everything,” her voice softened, “I also know the role you need to play. You can do it, believe in yourself.”

When the door above the main staircase opened, he knew it was time.

But a little part of him fell apart when he glanced upon who entered.

His heart stopped beating for a short time and he was sure he was not the only one.

When Johnny slipped next to him, unnoticed by the nearby nobles whose eyes were glued on her, on top of the staircase, Jaehyun almost couldn’t hear the words that left the oldest prince’s lips,

“All hail to the queen of Hell.”

Tan smirked, her blood-red lips painting a cruel, beautiful line on her face.

Your steps were confident as you descended the stairs, your movements a whirlwind of gold and crystal and fire. The champagne coloured dress showed off the expanse of your legs through the cuts and the back of the dress flowed behind you as a cape. A queen indeed.

“Kim Seokjin is right there,” Johnny whispered into his ear then, and Jaehyun snapped out of the momentary trance he fell in. His eyes followed the direction of the nod and he spotted the young, influential noble with eyes stuck on the assassin. A hunter, and a prey.

Only, it wasn’t the young man who led the hunt.

“Go, brother,” Johnny murmured, and the younger prince straightened, and placed the expression of a royal, of an heir. A veil that no one could see through. A mask that was forever stuck on his face. People stepped out of his way, and soon there was a narrow corridor between him and the assassin who was almost at their level. Her hair was straightened out and half of her hair was braided into a bun on the back of her head – he had to admit, she took the air from his lungs. Soon enough, there was no other sound in the room than the soft clicks of her golden stilettoes.

They reached the bottom of the Grand Staircase at the same time.

Her hand, adorned with thin, golden bracelets and rings, rested on the ivory railing.

When they locked gazes, he swore he could feel the universe expand.

“Your Majesty,” she said then, with a voice clear like a crystal, and lowering herself almost to the ground, curtsied. Reciprocating the gesture, he bowed before taking her hand.

“My lady,” his voice was quiet but confident, and he felt the slight dug of her manicured nails on the back of his hand.

The polish wasn’t black, but a glowing shade of gold; he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. Whether he was used to the drastic change or not.

He led her anyways, into the middle of the dancefloor, with bronze leaves and curling figures carved deep into it. The guests backed up then, giving Jaehyun and the mysterious lady place. He looked at her.

Really looked at her, capturing her face into that moment, the slight bewilderment striking him in surprise – it was quite the opposite to what he was used to; the opposite of the always sly, always calm and collected glow in her eyes, that forever remained cold. Void of all emotions, unless she was with the Snakes.

He saw it, once.

“Say,” Johnny said one afternoon, leaning back in his armchair, “are you really as bloodthirsty as it is known in the country?”

It was one of the many occasions when the princes and the Snakes got to sit together and go through plans for the night of the ball.

When Jaehyun saw her and Taeyong exchange an all-knowing glance, he knew they were in for a treat.

“Bloodthirsty?” Z purred, and a Cheshire cat grin appeared on her face, “I have a story with bloodthirst, right, Yukhei?”

The arsonist smashed the ice-cream tub fiercely against the glass of the coffee table and Jaehyun cringed.

“Z, don’t,” Yukhei warned, his deep voice laced with grumbling laughter. The assassin’s eyes sparkled as she threw her legs over the arms of the sofa and leaned her head back, locks of hair tumbling down on the other side.

“I don’t know if this counts but,” she started and Jeno placed his head between his knees, his shoulders shaking violently, “our dearest Yukhei here, tried to…court a woman and the fact that she was going through her…monthly inconveniences didn’t deter him from doing it anyways.”

A beat of silence.

Then the roar of laughter echoing through the room and disbelief dripping from the royal princes’ expressions.

“She said it was fine?” Yuta grimaced and scooted further away from Yukhei who was hitting his knee in both amusement and embarrassment.

Z nodded, “she was into it as well,” and that was it for Jaehyun, who joined the others as soon as the surprise wore off.

When he caught her eyes, he saw galaxies shining in them.

Even though it was not the first time they danced and so held hands, the roughness of her palm never failed to surprise him. Callouses lined the expanse of her hands and arms and still, she carried herself as if she was the finest of diamond, the smoothest of velvets.

Pride, perhaps.

Pride of a criminal.

He spun her in front of himself, the memorised steps making both of their movements fluid and graceful – dancers in top of a lake. She faced him with her chin high up, a light fierce determination glowing in her gold-rimmed eyes. Jaehyun forced his heart into a steady rhythm, and when the music started, they danced.

 It was hard really, ignoring his cologne as he led you around the dancefloor, his eyes unreadable and yet still glowing with the warmest of lights. You were certain that if he wasn’t holding your waist you would have collapsed. This was not what you were used to – it was farm from the familiarity of the shadows and house roof tiles and in a twisted way, it frightened you to the bone. Not only a week, but even ten years’ worth of training wouldn’t have been able to ready you for the amount of attention aimed into your direction. It felt confusing – like being in a war with yourself, by living up to expectations but remaining true to yourself. The two were lightyears away from each other and you dreaded it.

But there was a plan.

And your job was to follow it.

Be the pretty lady that everyone expects you to be, Taeil’s soft-spoken voice sounded in the back of your mind and you swallowed, forcing yourself to meld your expressions into something soft, something endearing as you gazed into Jaehyun’s face.

His palm tightened on your waist in validation.

His fingers gazed the narrow slit on your waist, showing your skin off, although that small amount was nothing compared to the two giant slits that showed almost the entirety of your legs off.

Just enough so no one will have a glimpse on the dagger hidden beneath the fabric. A lady can never be safe enough.

“Seokjin is on the edge of the crowd by the pastries,” he murmured into your ear, his breath blowing the hair on the nape of your neck. Goosebumps erupted along your spine. With an elegant movement he led you so that you could take a look at the governor.

He was there, with ebony hair swept back, showing off his forehead and eyebrows – both of them beautiful and incredibly elegant. A scarlet-gowned female with breast spilling out of her dress tried to get his attention but with no success. As you turned the other direction, you felt his gaze following you, into and around the dancefloor with Jaehyun.

But you spun and twirled with Jaehyun, his santal-wood smell invading your senses, filling them, reminiscing.

And then Johnny came.

And the music stopped along with you and the prince. A wave of murmur tremored through the guests, some of them glaring, some of them whispering, some of them standing, confusion evident on their features.

Curtsying deeply, you didn’t look the eldest in the eyes, but you didn’t need to in order to know the silent fury burning in his orbs.

Yet his voice was as cold as the frost on top of a leaf as he said, “brother, I believe it is mine turn now.”

For a second Jaehyun’s fingertips lingered on your skin, but then he inclined his head. Lifting your head slowly you glanced at the two brothers, glaring at each other, letting tension rise in the Grand Ballroom.

“The music hadn’t stopped when you intruded, so I am going to need you to let me finish the first dance,” was Jaehyun’s reply, and you shivered at his icy tone. From under your lashes you glanced at Seokjin, and the elegant swirl of the champagne caught your eyes. As he stared, he tilted his head. Interested. Fascinated.

He likes the cat and mouth game, Yuta’s voice resonated in your mind, he likes the chase and the sheer idea of conquering something or someone that is desired by many. Makes him feel triumphant.

You didn’t dare questioning his knowledge about the young governor.

As you tore your gaze from him, you found that Johnny was still in the middle of the dancefloor, middle of the attention as he slowly but surely, towered over Jaehyun – who did not back down. The soft-spoken prince was biting back words colder than ice, a side of him that you had not seen before. The guests didn’t need to hear any of the words spoken between the princes to figure out the reason of the sizzling tension between them.

You didn’t despise it as much as you thought you would.

From your hidden earpiece came a static sound and then Winwin’s baritone, “he is on the way, Z, do not turn around,” and straightening your back, you brought your hands together and began to massage your fingers together.

Show vulnerability but have your back straightened at all times.

“Excuse my intrusion, Your Majesties,” the voice that purred not far from you made your muscles tensed, senses sharpened and mind clearer.

Kim Seokjin was tall, almost as tall as Johnny, who towered over most of the guests. Your diamond earrings reflected all colours of the universe as it reflected the chandelier lights; his eyes seemed to gleam in a similar way when you turned around to look at him, up close.

If you have not dealt with models and men with incredible looks you might have fainted right on spot.

You didn’t even attempt to deny the fact that he was beautiful.

Something like triumph glinted in the princes’ eyes as they glanced at Seokjin before giving him a court nod. The low chirps and murmurs of the guests slowly but steadily rose again.

“Mr Kim, how are you enjoying the ball?” queried Jaehyun, with a smile that emphasized his dimples off and melted ice. The governor bowed and his plump limps quirked upwards, into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“I find it pleasant, My Lord, although,” he added and suddenly you were hyperaware of his gaze as it slid along your body, reminding you of liquid silver and snake scale. Cold and smooth. “My breath is quite taken away.”

It was easy, really.

Way too easy in your opinion but the faint whisper in the back of your head nudged you along, to follow the plan. The cooling touch of the blade on your thigh helped you with keeping your bubbling adrenaline on the low.

You swore you saw something in Jaehyun’s eyes before he stepped away from you, along with Johnny – whose smile was close to the shade of the moonlight when it hits the ivory walls of the castle. Cool. Dark. Ever-knowing.

“Apologies for the little scene, ladies and gentlemen,” the eldest’s voice was now louder, less hushed and hurried, and his smile radiated nothing but victory, “Miss Jung is all yours, Mr Kim.”

And you danced again.

Seokjin’s hold was confident, a sort of distinct force that proved he knew he was better than everyone else here. That was what his eyes told you too. The shine of satisfaction gave everything away, and the more you stared into them, the brighter, more evident it became. Flattery. Maybe that’s what he needed.

“You are a good dancer, sir,” you mused, with a voice reminiscing of unkept promises and the softest of bedsheets. And he liked it. His lips, plump like the petals of a rose and, perhaps, with the touch of them, widened into a smirk as he gave a little bow of his head.

“You are too, Miss Jung, was it?”

As you spun around the dancefloor in a confident manner, more people started to fill the dancefloor, people with champagne bubbles in their blood and laughter in their eyes. You fought the urge to scrunch your nose. You have never wanted a cigarette more in your life.

“I am, sir. You must be Mr Kim Seokjin,” you tilted your head as you smiled at him, as honest as it could get, “I have heard about you.”

You felt his shoulders tense as he straightened himself even more, puffing out his chest like a bird before a mating dance. Men. Ridiculous, and the same.

No, not all, some distant part of your brain laughed at you and you ignored it.

“I believe I have heard your name before as well, Miss Jung. About your past, more like,” his voice was somehow apologetic, “a tragedy, really.”

You shook your head before you let him spin you out of his arms then back again, in sync with other dancers.

“It is in the past. I barely remember any of it. I grew up with the people who were entrusted with my upbringing,” you said, and he nodded in understanding.

For a while you didn’t say anything, just danced, for one round, then two and by the third your chest was heaving, and strands of your hair loosened out of the jewels adorning your head. You let his hands wander lower with each round, let his breath caress your neck, let him whisper in your ears.

And in turn you pressed your chest against his, danced your fingers on his suit-clad bicep, flashed the brightest of smiles that glowed as vividly as the crystals and gold on your fingers, around your neck, in your hair.

And you talked, and talked and whispered and giggled, until both of your ears were bleeding from it.

He spun you and you laughed and widened your eyes, so the chandelier lights reflected in them, making it seem like they were twinkling in joy, instead of calculation. He seemed enamoured and you gave yourself a mental pat on the shoulders.

It was after the fifth dance, while sipping champagne, that you said, “I need a bit of air, should we go out to the balcony?”

Walking in front of him, you put somewhat of a hot-blooded sensation in your steps so your lower back would swing more, and you practically felt the burn of his gaze as he walked behind you.

Goosebumps erupted on your skin when you stepped out on the balcony and the breeze got caught in your hair. There were not many people outside, only a couple and in the farthest corner you noted Jaemin and Mark, with their back to you. If they memorised the plan well then, they will be aware of the fact that you are there too.

Placing your elbows on the edge of the balcony, you gazed out onto the garden, filled with trees and flowery bushes, adorned with clear-white fairy lights. Seokjin leaned next to you, but with his back to the marble parapet. He sized you up and down, yet again, and pretending you haven’t noticed, you kept on sipping your champagne.

“You know,” you mused, staring at a couple behind an apple tree, “I find it so ironic, that the Royal Family arranges a ball like this,” you made a flick with your wrist, referring to the celebration, to the shrill laughs, to the liquid lies spilling out of nobles’ mouths, “for a couple of gangsters only.”

He scoffed and you dared a glance.

His thumb brushed over his tulip lips before turning to watch you, your eyes and lips with a gaze that reminded you of madness and molten gold. He was supposed to be working for the King directly. Sure.

“Not for long,” he purred before leaning closer. You leaned with him, and you were certain that Mark and Jaemin shifted closer as well.

“You know,” Seokjin continued, “I find their presence incredibly disturbing. My office is not far from the Wing they live in…and for some reason I keep on hearing crashes and these terrible curses!” his voice went over into something like a whine and you tried to pull the most sympathetic smile you had.

“Oh, dear God!” you exclaimed before placing your bejewelled hand on your chest, “You hear those people?!”

He nodded vehemently before reaching out to twist a strand of your hair around his pinkie finger. You tilted your head so he wouldn’t see the tiny, transparent earpiece, hidden by the olive-branch shaped golden ear jewel.

“I hear them, almost every day,” he whispered, “I hear everything, see everything and I might just know how to get rid of them.”

You shuddered and your earpiece sizzled.

“You do?” you spoke equally low, and let your breath mingle with his, let him near your lips with a predator’s patience.

“I do,” he then looked straight into your eyes before purring, “and I might just think about keeping you alive.”

You stilled.

Jaemin and Mark stilled.

The whole world seemed to freeze into a moment of silence and calm and the only thing you heard was the beating of your own heart and the sizzling in your ear.

Then, for the first time that night, you heard Winwin’s voice.

“Z get the fuck out of there,” his voice was urgent, and you swore you heard a crashing noise from inside the ballroom.

Shit, shit, shit.

Your mind seemed to have gone blank and your eyes were searching in Seokjin’s to find that one sign that would lead you on, that would give you exit.

But the only thing you found was that ever-knowing glint, that confident smile which you have mistaken for arrogance.

This is not good.

“Z, are you there?” Ten’s voice resonated then, and you dared to look at the two younger princes who stood frozen, with their eyes glued on you. You tore your eyes away from them and calmed the thrumming of your blood. Or at least you tried. A whole night worth of adrenalin started to climb itself back into your brain and you swallowed. Don’t go with the flow. Don’t give in. Be the master. Be the superior.

Seokjin’s finger was now completely twisted in your hair, and you felt him grabbing the nape of your neck.

Another crashing noise.

And then the screams started.

Voices filled your ear, not only through the earpiece, but from the ballroom and you were just sure that chaos has erupted inside.

Mark and Jaemin started towards the double-winged glassdoors of the balcony and you bellowed.

“No! You two stay out here!”

They halted and maybe it was the force of your voice or the sheer terror in it that made them listen to you. You didn’t care.

This was a trap.

This has been a trap all along.

“Let me go,” you said then, your voice carefully veiled with calm and venom, and he smiled, that irritating, confident smile and you swore you have never wanted to punch someone so hard in the nose before.

As he let go you stepped away immediately, following the screams and chaotic noises into the ballroom.

You didn’t look back at Seokjin before throwing the doors open and stepping inside. Most of the people fled, a couple zipped past you with champagne stains on their outfits. Then the doors crashed close, trapping at least fifty people inside, along with yourself.

And the Snakes and Princes who were inside the ballroom.

It all went down in slow motion.

The dancefloor of the gigantic room cleared out, the remaining guests pushing themselves up against the walls. Pure terror was written all over their faces, at the scene that played in the very middle of the room.

Prince Chenle stood there.

With a knife at his throat.

And at the end of the knife, the person who was holding it…

Junhui.

You stopped breathing as you took in his face, took in that familiar, sharp smile.

As your eyes met with Yukhei’s from across the room, you were certain he was horrified, just as much as you.

They were here.

The Black Spade was here.

[moved202347]

Hekate / Hecate

(from my old amino before I got banned 😂, pretty much copy n pasted for reference)

Dogs/puppies [from https://hekatecovenant.com/resources/symbols-of-hekate/dogs/] -The dog was connected to spirits, the home (as a guard), a friend of the family, also symbolising an easy birth and fertility.  Represents the earth element. Also known as the 'black bitch'. Originated in ancient hymns, writings, ancient Greek pottery, stone carvings and statues. Its first symbolism came from the Trojan Queen Hekabe who leapt into the sea after the fall of Troy. Hecate took pity on her and turned her into a black dog which became her familiar. In some Greek towns, black female dogs were sacrificed in Hecate's honour, usually at night. Cerberus, the three-headed hound who guards the entrance of the Underworld is additionally connected to Hecate. In American + European folklore, dogs have always been seen as supernatural in the nature of what humans can't see. Black dogs are thought to roam the locations Hecate holds sacred; desolate roads, moors, cemeteries and the crossroads. Dogs attend her as she roams these desolate spaces. 

Dragons [credit to https://hekatecovenant.com/resources/symbols-of-hekate/dragon/]- There are loads of epithets of Hecate. One of her epithets comes from the name 'propylaya' meaning 'she who stands before the gate'. Her hound is believed to be the three-headed dog Cerberus who guards the gateway into the Underworld and some myths believed that dogs replaced dragons. There is imagery associated with Medea with riding her flying chariot escaping from Korinthos after the murder of the king Kreon. Her dragons were a pair of winged, serpentine dragons. 

Black lamb - A preferred sacrificial offering to Hecate. In modern times, it would be more suitable to have a representative of a black lamb such as a statue or photograph , or somehow getting a living black female sheep into your house without wrecking havoc in front of your altar (I don't recommend having a living animal on your altar!). 

Fire breathing Horse or Bull - Represents the fire element. It was symbolic of Hades fiery soul. Hecate is often seen in images crowned with bull-like crescent horns. Black bulls became heavily associated with Hecate as sacrificial animals in necromancy rituals. It is a constant reminder of her powers as creator and destroyer symbolised by the phases (waxing and waning) of the moon and seen in the crescent horns of a bull.

·🖤·

Hydra headed snake or serpent [https://archetypicalwitchcraft.wordpress.com/2014/01/24/understanding-hekate-part-5-the-meaning-of-her-ancient-symbols/]- A solar and underworld symbol. Represents the water element. It was an ambivalent symbol just like the dog, it was connected to the sun, healing and regeneration. Yet there was also a link to the spiritual side, the underworld too. There was old folklore which believed spirits would appear as a snake to bless the house. Snakes, like domestic animals was said to be able to see and feel the presence of spirits, so they were used in necromancy and magic to figure out if there was spirits around. 

·🖤·

Other associations are: frogs or toads; black bulls (draped in wreaths of yew and was then slaughtered in her honour);belladonna (poisonous herb!), cypress; dittany; mandrake; honey (anything sweet), dark chocolate (modern interpretation!); red wine (of course only if your in the age to use it, though your not going to be drinking it!);  torches;  infernal spirits; dagger; ebony; knives or daggers (obviously be safe and don't do any silly things with it!); twin torches; magickal brewing (so potions); silver; grey; bats; rope; black; mental health; hearth and home; dreams; divination; cauldrons; fate. MORE HERBS:  hazel, black poplar, cedar, willow, garlic, thyme, almonds, myrrh, mugwort, mint, dandelion, cardamom, hellbore, belladonna, hemlock, mandrake, hecateis (aconite, wolfsbane [poisonous]) opium poppy, verbena, sage, purple honeysuckle, camomile. Any hallucination herbs (be careful obviously and know your stuff and even then check it with someone who also knows their stuff). Owls, bears, ravens, cats (possibly) and donkeys. 

She is associated with yew, garlic, all poisonous herbs (use representations, so little tiny mushroom statues), oak, white, red, purple, ferrets (polecats), healing, healing herbs (more of the stronger ones and notorious ones), keys (Knowledge, unlocking wisdom, seeing the truth), mandrake, lamps, saffron, sandals in bronze or gold, whips, iron, the wolf, mullet (the blood-coloured goatfish), the new moon, twilight (best time to do rituals with her).

·🖤·

Also MORE epithets ("An epithet is an honorary and praiseful descriptive title used as part of a name."), all taken and sourced from http://www.patheos.com/blogs/matauryn/2017/07/19/many-epithets-hekate/. 

Adamantaea ‘Unconquerable’, ‘Untamable Goddess’

Admêtos ‘Indomable’, ‘Unconquered’

Aenaos ‘Eternal’

Agallomenen Elaphoisi ‘Rejoicing in Deer’

Agia ‘Sacred’, ‘Holy’

Aglaos ‘Radiant’

Agriope ‘Wild-eyed’, ‘Fierce-faced’, ‘Savage-watcher’, ‘wild-voiced’

Agrotera ‘Huntress’

Aidônaia ‘Goddess of Hades’, ‘Of the Underworld”

Aimopotis ‘Blood-drinker’, ‘Murderer’

Aiônos ‘Eternal’

Aizêiοs ‘Vigorous’

Aktinochiatis ‘Radiant haired’, ‘With Rays for Hair’

Aktiophis [Of Unknown Meaning]

Alexeatis ‘Averter of Evil’

Alkimos ‘Powerful’, ‘Strong’, ‘Stout’, ‘Brave’

Amaimaketos ‘Unconquerable’, ‘Raging’, ‘Invincible’, ‘Unapproachable’, ‘Uncontrollable’

Ambrotos ‘Immortal’

Ameibousa ‘One That Transforms’

Amphiphaes ‘Circumlucent’

Amphiprosopos ‘Double-faced’

Amphistomos ‘Double-mouthed’

Anassa ‘Queen’

Anassa Eneroi ‘Queen of the Dead’

Androphonos ‘Killer of Men’

Angelos ‘Messenger’

Antaian Theou ‘She Who Meets’

Antania ‘Enemy of Mankind’

Aôroboros ‘Devourer of the Prematurely Dead’, ‘Devourer of the Untimely Dead’

Apanchomene ‘The Hanged One’

Apotropaios ‘Averting’, ‘Averter’

Aphrattos ‘Unnamed One’

Arêgos ‘Helper’

Archikos ‘Royal’

Ariste ‘The Best’

Ariste Cthonia ‘Best of the World’, ‘Best in the World’

Arkuia / Arkyia ‘Spinner of webs’, ‘Entrapper’

Arrhetos ‘Ineffable’

Astrodia ‘Star-walker’, ‘Star-Courser’

Atala ‘Tender’, ‘Delicate’

Atasthalos ‘Pretentious’, ‘Reckless’, ‘Presumptious’

Athanatos ‘Immortal’, ‘Of Immortal Fame’

Autophyês / Autopheus ‘Self-generating’. ‘Self-begotten’

Azonos ‘Without Borders’

Azostos ‘Ungirt’, ‘Without a Belt’

Baridouchos ‘Barque-holder’, ‘Skiff-holder’

Basileia ‘Queen’, ‘Princess’

Bolos ‘Far-Thrower’,

Boôpis ‘Cow-eyed’

Booporos ‘Ox-Herder’

Borborophorba ‘Eater of Filth’

Boukolos ‘Ox-Herder’

Brimô ‘Angry-One’, ‘Terrifying’

Buthios ‘Abysmal’, ‘Of the Depths’

Charopos ‘Ferocious-aspected’, ‘Fierce’, ‘Grim’, ‘Flashing’, ‘Bright, ‘Having blue-grey eyes’, ‘of the Sea’

Chthonia ‘Chthonic’, ‘Of the Earth”

Chrysôpis ‘Golden-faced’

Chrysosandalos ‘of Golden Sandals’

Chrysosandalaimopotichthonia ‘Goddess of the Lower World Wearing Golden Sandals and Drinking Blood’

Chrysostephanos ‘Golden-Crowned’, ‘Crowned with Splendor’

Chrysostephês ‘Golden-crowned’

Dadophoros ‘Torchbearer’

Dadouchos ‘Torch-bearer’

Daeira ‘The Knowing One’

Daidalos ‘Cunning’

Damasandra ‘Dominator of Men’, ‘Subduer of Men’

Damnamene ‘Means of Constraint’

Damnodamia ‘Subduer of Subduers’

Damnomeneia ‘Dominating Force’

Dasplêtis ‘Horror’, ‘Frightful-one’

Deichteira ‘Teacher’, ‘Revealer’

Deinos ‘Terrible’

Despoina ‘Lady’, ‘Mistress’

Dione ‘Goddess’

Doloessa / Doloeis ‘Astute-one’, ‘Subtle’, ‘Wily’, ‘Cunning’

Drakaina ‘Serpent’, ‘Dragon’

Eidôlios ‘Phantasmal’, ‘Ghostly’

Eileithyia ‘Nurse of Childbirth’, ‘Goddess of Midwives’

Einalian ‘Of the Sea’

Einodia Thygater Demetros ‘Daughter of Demeter, who is of the Road’

Ekklesia ‘Of the Assembly’

Ekdotis ‘Bestower’

Elaphêbolos ‘Deer-huntress’, ‘Shooter of Deer’

Elateira ‘Driver’, ‘Charioteer’

Ellophonos ‘Fawn-slayer’

Epaine ‘Awe-Inspiring’, ‘Glorious’, ‘Sublime’

Empousa / Empusa [Of unknown meaning, related to the monster Empusa and the idea of phantoms and specters]

Empylios ‘At the Gate’

Empyrios ‘Empyrean’

Enodia ‘Of the crossroads’, ‘Of the Roads’, ‘Of the Path’

Ephodia ‘Traveling Expenses’, ‘Provisions for the Road’, ‘Traveling Supplies’, ‘Resources’

Ephoros ‘Guardian’ ‘Overseer’

Epigeioi ‘of the Earth’

Epiphanestate Thea ‘the Most Manifest Goddess’

Epipurgidia ‘on the Tower’

Episkopos ‘Guardian’, ‘One who Watches Over’, ‘Overseer’

Epiteichea ‘The Stronghold’, ‘Fort’

Epi-tymbidia ‘Sepulchral’

Eranne ‘Lovely’

Erannos ‘Lovely’

Ergatis ‘Energizer’

Êrigeneia ‘Daughter of morning’, ‘Early-born’

Erôtotokeia / Erototokos ‘Bearer of love’, ‘Producing Love’, ‘Who Bore Love’

Eukoline ‘Good Tempered’

Eupatepeia ‘Noble-born’

Eurippa ‘Horse-finder’

Geneteira ‘Mother’

Genetyllis ‘Birth-Helper’, ‘Goddess of Childbirth’, ‘Midwife’

Gigaessa ‘Giant’

Gorgo ‘The Grim’, ‘The Gorgon’

Hecatoncheires ‘Hundred-handed’

Hegemonen ‘Guide’

Hêgemoye ‘Queen’

Helike ‘Revolving’

Hersechthonia ‘Speaking From Below’

Hexacheira ‘Of Six Ways’, ‘Of Six Hands’

Hiera ‘Holy One’

Hieros Pyr ‘Holy Fire’

Hipparete ‘Horse-Speaker’

Hippokyon ‘Mare Bitch’, ‘Horse Dog’

Hippoprosopos ‘Horse-Faced’

Hypolampteira [Of Unknown Meaning – possibly related to light or brightness]

Iocheaira / Iokheaira ‘Arrow-shooter’, ‘One who Shoots Arrows’

Indalimos ‘Beautiful’

Ippokyôn ‘Mare-Dog’, half dog/ half horse

Ippoprosôpos ‘Horse-faced’

Kalkaea ‘Wearer of High Boots’

Kalligeneia ‘Bearing Beautiful Offspring’

Kalliste ‘Fairest’

Kapetoktypos ‘Tomb-disturber’, ‘Causing the Noise of Lamentation’

Kardiodaitos ‘Heart-Eater’, ‘Feasting on Men’s Hearts’

Kareia ‘of Karia’, ‘Kraus’

Karko ‘Lamia’, ‘Child-Eating’, ‘Nocturnal Spirit’

Katachthonia ‘Subterranean’

Katakampsypsaychenos ‘Bender of proud necks’

Kelkaia [Of Unknown Meaning]

Keratôpis ‘Horned-faced’, ‘Horned Looking’

Keroeis ‘Horned’

Kthonia ‘Of the Underworld’, ’Of the Earth’

Kleidouchos / Kleidoukhos ‘Key-holder’, ‘Key-keeper’

Klôthaiê ‘Spinner of fate’

Kore ‘Maiden’

Kourotrophos ‘Child’s Nurse’, ‘Nurse of Youths’

Krataios / Kratais ‘Powerful’, ‘Dominator’, ‘Of the Rocks’

Krokopeplos ‘Saffron-Cloaked’

Kunolygmatos ‘Doglike Howler’, ‘Who howls doglike’

Kydimos ‘Glorious’

Kynegetis ‘Leader of Dogs’

Kynokephalos ‘Dog-Headed’

Kynolygmate ‘Howling Like a Dog’, ‘Who Howls Dog-like’

Kyôn ‘Bitch’, ‘Dog’

Kyôn Melaina ‘Black Bitch’, ‘Black Dog’

Kyria ‘The Powerful’, ‘The Supreme’

Laginitis ‘Of Lagina’

Lampadephoros ‘Lamp-bearer’, ‘Torch-bearer’, ‘Who Warns of Nighttime Attack’

Lampadios ‘Lamp-bearer’, ‘Torch-bearer’

Leaina ‘The Lioness’

Leontoukhos ‘Holding a Lion’

Leukophryne ‘White-Browed’, ‘Of the White-Browed Hill’

Limenitis ‘Harbor Goddess’

Limenitikos ‘Of the Harbor’, ‘Harbor Goddess’

Limenoskopos ‘Of the Threshold’, ‘Watcher of Havens’, ‘On the Harbor’, ‘Watching the Harbor’

Liparokredemnos ‘Of the Bright Headband’, ‘Bright-Coiffed’

Liparoplokamos ‘Brilliant-Braided’

Lochias ‘Protector of birth’, ‘Goddess of Childbearing’

Lykaina ‘She-wolf’

Lyko ‘She-wolf’, ‘Wolf-formed’

Maera ‘Shining’

Mageus ‘One who Kneads’ [Possibly related to Magi]

Makairapos ‘Blessed-one’

Medeousa / Medusa ‘Protector’, ‘Guard’, ‘Gorgon’

Meisopomenos ‘Laborer of the Moon’

Meisoponeros ‘Vice-Hating’

Megiste ‘Greatest’

Melaine ‘Black’

Melaneimôn ‘Black-clad’, ‘Wearing Black’

Melinoe ‘Soothing One’

Mene ‘Moon’

Moira ‘A Share’, ‘Fate’

Monogenes ‘Only Child’

Monoprosopos ‘With One Face’

Mormo ‘She-Monster’

Munychia [Of Unknown Meaning]

Nekuia / Nekyia ‘Goddess of death’, ‘Mistress of corpses’

Nerteria ‘Infernal’, ‘Subterranean’, ‘Nether One’

Nerterios ‘Infernal’, ‘Subterranean’, Nether One’

Nerteron Prytanin ‘Mistress of the Dead’

Noctiluca ‘Light of the Night’, ‘Night Shiner’

Noeros ‘Intellective’

Nomaios ‘Pastoral’

Nychia / Nykhia ‘Nocturnal’ ‘Nocturnal-One’ “Goddess of Night’

Nyktairodyteira ‘Night Riser and Setter’, ‘She that Rises and Sets by Night’

Nykteria ‘Of the Night’

Nykti ‘Of the Night’

Nyktiboos ‘Night-Shouter’, ‘Night-Crier’

Nyktipolos ‘Night-Wandering’

Nyktophaneia ‘Night-shining’

Nymphen ‘Bride’

Nyssa ‘Goader’, “Goal’, ‘Beginning’, ‘Turning Post’, ‘Ambition’

Oistrophaneia ‘Manifester of Madness’

Oistroplaneia ‘Spreader of Madness’, ‘Causing the Wanderings of Madness’

Oksyboê ‘Shrill-screamer’, ‘Shrieker’

Oletis ‘Destroyer’

Opaon ‘Follower’

Opheôplokamos ‘Coiled with Snakes’, ‘With Snaky Curls’

Oriplanos ‘Mountain-roamer’, ‘Mountain-Wandering’

Oroboros ‘Tail-Eating’

Ourania ‘Celestial’, ‘Heavenly’

Ouresiphoites ‘Wanderer in the Mountains’

Oxythymia ‘Gallows’, ‘Quick to Anger’

Paggennêteira ‘Mother of All’

Paiônios ‘Healer’

Pammêtôr ‘Mother of All’

Pandamateira ‘All-tamer’, ‘All-powerful’, “All Subduer’, ‘Master of all’

Pandina [Of Unknown Meaning – Possibly related to ‘whirling’ or ‘rotating’]

Pandôteira ‘All-giver’, ‘One who gives everything’, ‘Bestower of Everything’, Bounteous’

Pangaios ‘World-wide’

Panopaia ‘All-seeing’, ‘One who sees everything’, ‘Panorama’

Panta Ephepousa [Of Unknown Meaning]

Pantos Kosmou Kleidokhos ‘Keeper of the Keys of the Cosmos’

Pantrephô / Pantrophos ‘All-nurturing’, ‘All-sustaining’, ‘who feeds all’

Parthenos ‘Virgin’

Pasikrateia ‘Universal Queen’, ‘All-powerful’, ‘who dominates all’

Pasimedeonsa ‘All-guarding’, ‘All-protecting’

Pasimedousa ‘Ruling Over All’

[gottaenjoythelittlethingzz]

OC Music Playlist

This is not a playlist that you, the writer, relate to your characters or WIPs. This is a list of songs that your OC in the novel listens to regularly (or would, if they do not have access to modern day songs/tech).

Rules: Compile a list of songs that you believe your characters listen to or perhaps keep in their phones. Format the lists in any way you see fit for as many characters as you can and briefly explain why the character likes the song or what they relate the song(s) to. 

Music is extremely important to my MC’s character design. Schuyler views the world through music and it is her primary source for connecting with people in her life. And so, I’m giving a little look into the songs that she does (or would depending on the year) personally listen to and what events or people in her life she relates them to.

--------------

Schuyler’s favorite songs - Crazy Bitch, Buckcherry; I Almost Told You That I Loved You, Papa Roach; Pepper, by Butthole Surfers (due to the fact that she was born in Texas); Closer, by The Chainsmokers (specifically the tattoo line); Mobb2it, by clipping (her favorite song to rap); Anti-Everything, by DED; Ex’s & Oh’s, by Elle King (she loves to travel); Eminem is her favorite rap artist; Kill the Lights, & So Much Love to Give, by The Glorious Sons; It’s Not You, by Halestorm; Whore, & Roots by In This Moment; A.D.I.D.A.S, by Korn; Bad Kids, by Lady Gaga (specifically the line about smoking cigarettes); Closer, by Nine Inch Nails; Blame the Bible, by Pansy Division; Country Song, by Seether; Beneath the Savage Sun, & The Dissident, by Slash (as she is an activist); All Men Are Pigs, by Studio Killers; Blow, & RX (Medicate), by Theory of a Deadman

Edward (her father) - Johnny B. Goode, by Chuck Berry (her father taught her everything she knows about music and he explained the history of this particular song to her); American Pie, by Don McClean (also the history of this song; Bodies, by Drowning Pool; I Heard it Through the Grapevine, & Addicted to Love, by Garth Brookes; I Like it Heavy, by Halestorm; Deal with the Devil, by Pop Evil; Fat Bottomed Girls, by Queen (the ringtone Edward had for Samantha, so she heard it a lot, but she also just likes this song); Raised by Wolves, by U2; Every Rose Has its Thorns, by Poison (he has a beautiful voice when singing this song)

Samantha (her mother) - Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked, by Cage the Elephant (as Oldlady to the President, she is willing to do anything it takes to protect her family); Any Slash song reminds her of her mother as he is her favorite artist; the Grease sound track as it is both of their favorite movie

Beau (her best friend) - More Than a Memory, by Garth Brookes; All My Ex’s Live in Texas, by George Strait (Beau’s a ladies man and a heartbreaker); If I know me, & Check Yes or No, by George Strait (this is Beau and Christy’s ���song”)

Her club (one or more brothers and family) - Wanted dead Or Alive, by Bon Jovi; Speakers on Blast, by The Game; Workin’ for a Livin’, by Garth Brookes; S.O.S, & My Poor Heart, by The Glorious Sons; I Get Off, by Halestorm; Band of Brothers, by Hellyeah; Lifelines, by I Prevail; Element, by Kendrick Lamar; David, & Family, by Noah Gunderson; I’ll Be Okay, by Nothing More; House on a Hill, by The Pretty Reckless (in reference to her god kids); Most Shinedown songs; Prayers for the Damned, by Sixx A.M; Young, Wild, & Free, by Snoop Dogg (specifically in reference to Juice and the prospects; younger brothers); Better Days, by Uncle Kracker; Actions & Motives, by 10 Years

Telford - Heaven, Julia Michaels; Sex Type Thing, by Stone Temple Pilot; Unholy, by Hey Violet

Trager - Pleasure and Pain, Bullet for my Valentine; Satisfied, Hamilton sound track (as his first name is Alexander even though she does not call him this); Dick of Death, by Pansy Division (I know what you are thinking, it’s actually for the chest hair line)

Both Telford & Trager (her partners) - New Modern Love, by Halestorm; Love Make the World Go, by Lin-Manuel Miranda; Heaven, by Kane Brown; When We, by Tank; Follow Me, by Uncle Kracker; Cherry Pie, by Warrant (because equality!); Skin, by 3 Pill Morning; Does Your Mother Know, Mamma Mia sound track (which is ironic because she doesn’t like younger sex partners and her partners are quite a bit older)

---------------

*I’m going to be honest, I mainly wanted to make this game to showcase the songs that are related to Schuyler’s partners because I’m vibrating with the force of how endlessly funny I personally find them to be.*

And while I’m at it why don’t I offer the option to turn this into a tag game? If you have OCs that you can create playlists for then feel free to create your own lists and explain why they are important to your characters.

Tagging: @focusdumbass, @themildestofwriters, @disoriented-writer, @writingonesdreams, @thatfizzyyyy, @boredwriter-16, @snowdropwrites, @agentorange-writes, @annelaurant-writing, @alonelywriter-me, @allforconniebonacieux, @thegrimlyreaper, @lillayalightfoot, @allisonilluminated, @alixismad, @inexorableblob, @randomestfandoms-ocs, @ahotpeaceofshit, & anyone else who happens to see this 

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Prologue

Note: Thanks to @edream93 who gave me the “crazy” suggestion to stop lagging on one of my old fics and do something new and for encouragement in this beginning prologue. This is going to deal with more potential fae problems in Auradon and the villain’s dire living conditions on the Isle. Hope you enjoy. 

2 weeks after Cotillion 

“Everyone shut up!” Queen Nerissa commanded loudly banging her fist on Queen Grimhilde’s table so that the assembled villains would pipe down about how they were missing their latest soaps or needed at their shops.

She surveyed those present. Each with their own skills and ruthlessness that would be useful when the time came for them to invade Auradon.

At her right, sitting on her throne since she refused to sit at the dinner table with the rest of the villains was Queen Grimhilde, filing her nails.

At the head of the long, dusty, unused dinner table was Dr. Facilier in a heated debate with Ursula next to him. Going over past grudges and insults no doubt. They’d had a complicated history since Ursula’s accidental pregnancy resulting in twins.

Further down the table next to Ursula was Morgain Le Fey conferring with Circe. They were newcomers to the Isle. Just arrived six months ago as part of King Adam’s second crackdown following his spawn’s coronation so neither showed the signs of defeat and neglect in their appearance as other villains had. Both were impeccably dressed, the rot of the Isle had not touched them when it came to physical beauty. Their long black locks were free of tangles and they managed to maintain the velvet robes that they had come with so that the patches and faded material were not visible. And their skin remained perfectly pale and smooth.

Which was more than Queen Nerissa could say for Mother Gothel who sat across from them scowling enviously. She looked reminiscent of a gargoyle with her frizzy hair and wrinkles that were deeply entrenched into her forehead despite her vigorous use of a anti-aging cream that she had found among the Auradonian’s leftovers.

Next to Mother Gothel were three of Agrabah’s formerly most powerful sorcerers, Jafar, his sister, Nasira and Mozenrath. Jafar and Mozenrath had been going at it, arguing over who was more powerful and who humiliated Aladdin more while Nasira sat in the middle of them rubbing her temples at their infantile fighting.

Squished between Dr. Facilier and Mozenrath was Yzma, the former advisor of Emperor Kuzco and formerly a kitten before her banishment to the Isle. She seemed to be praying for a bottle of wine if she had to deal with these people and was mumbling something about cow potions under her breath.

At the other end of the table was Queen La, impatiently tapping her ragged nails on the table. She hadn’t aged so drastically as the others- keeping fit by hunting animals in the Isle’s jungle area allowed her to look almost pretty in her skimpy hyena fur bikini. But age had taken its toll on the immortal Atlantean too, crow’s feet were creasing her angry cyan eyes.

The villains immediately quieted down at Nerissa’s action but still harshly glared at the interruption of their tirades. 

Queen Nerissa paid the glares no mind. They were harmless, just delusional blowhards still yakking about their evilness even though none of them had their magic anymore. Or even muscles to punch someone to the ground. They were pathetic, aging mortals griping about their glory days.

Well that was all going to change.

Giving a steely glare back at them, Queen Nerissa looked at each of them in the eye as she began her explanation for why she had brought the 11 of them to Queen Grimhilde’s castle.

“If any of you cared to figure out why I’ve called you here, look around. We all have something in common here. Something that no other villain in this forsaken place possessed.”

“More brains than Gaston?” Yzma suggested, rubbing back the wilted flower attached to her hat. She had a recent confrontation with that lug head when Dr. Facilier made her pick up Zevon from Dragon Hall after Gaston Jr. mummified him with his own leather coat and stuff him in the garbage pile. It was humiliating to have such a louse for a son. And pummeled by an idiot like Gaston’s spawn!

“More evilness.” Jafar half-heartedly guessed, slouching in his seat and rubbing his hungry stomach. He wished he could be back at his shop with some moldy baklava.

Dr. Facilier took a discreet glance around, absentmindedly his useless shadow cards in his hands. “Hmmm” he hummed, his voice transitioning to its infamous velvety tone, “I believe what la reine is implying is that we all had magic.”

“Yes.” Queen Nerissa cut in shortly with a curt nod in the voodoo man’s general direction, “We all had magic before we were sent to this hellhole.” “So what?” Ursula interrupted.

Queen Nerissa tensed, glaring at Ursula until the hefty sea witch rolled her eyes and made a dismissive “continue” motion with one of her tentacles. “King Adam may have stopped us from using magic with his little dome around the Isle, but Maleficent and Ursula’s brats have done something useful. They have broken the barrier twice. They have weakened it enough so we may have a chance to gain some power back.”

It was almost comically that at her last claim, all the villains leaned forward in unison waiting for her to explain.

“I have invited you all here to join my coven. With the barrier weakened, little spurts of magic can come into the Isle and we can practice here, growing and combining our powers until we can break the barrier from within. And from there, we invade Auradon for a glorious, bloody new reign.” Queen Nerissa exclaimed proudly.

The other villains looked toward each other, evil smirks spreading across their faces, minds alight with visions of revenge.

“We can have King Beast grovel at our knees!” Circe gasped. She had been particularly vengeful toward the former king for throwing her on the Isle despite various Auradonian citizens vouching for her to stay in the U.S.A. and that she had reformed. 

“And his head decapitated on a ship mast.” Ursula added, protectively touching her stomach where Prince Eric once stabbed her.

The only one not joining in the happy atmosphere was Queen La. The former queen was stonily glaring at Queen Nerissa as if assessing for the best way to rip out her jugular.

“Your coven?” she growled, slicing the excitement to dead silence. The other villains’ happy grins faded away s they realizing the meaning behind that possessive word and Mozenrath and Morgain Le Fey got up, looking ready to fight.

“I meant, my coven as in it was my idea.” Queen Nerissa began to explain.

“I will not work under your coven. I am the Queen of Opar.” Queen La got up, fists clenching as she strode towards her. Mozonroth sat down with a satisfied smirk at the thought of the coming catfight. 

“Was queen!” Queen Nerissa cut in but Queen La continued her furious complaints. 

“I am Queen. I magicked my own kingdom. I brought rain. I had an army of leopards who when they rebelled, I disintegrate into dust. I fought Tarzan three times and he, not once, was he able to kill me.” 

“Just put your soul into a rat body.” Yzma snickered.

Queen Nerissa began backing away to Queen Grimhilde’s throne as Queen La reached throat-grabbing distance, “I was not defeated by a little princess by losing my balance and falling off a building. I will not work under someone who is my inferior!”

Queen Nerissa didn’t bother to defend that she had been stabbed before falling off a building as Queen La’s sharp nails aimed at her face when Queen Grimilde threw a box in between them.

The shoe box clattered to the ground and out scurried a small purple lizard.

“What is that!? Is it poisonous?” Mother Gothel screeched, getting up on the table with Circe and Nasira.

“That’s Maleficent.” Queen Grimhilde answered, shoving between a momentarily shocked Nerissa and La.

“Can we keep this meeting moving along? I need eight hours of beauty sleep a day.” Without a big display, Queen Grimhilde pulled out a vial of bright pink liquid and threw it at the lizard that was running under the table causing several villainesses to screech with uncharacteristic fear. The lizard began to grow and morph into the familiar, formerly petrifying figure of Maleficent.

“So our magic potions can work?” Yzma whispered joyfully.  

Flinging her head back so that her horns almost stabbed Dr. Facilier’s hat, Maleficent stretched and cracked her bones before turning to face Queen Grimhilde. “About time!” she huffed and turned her attention to the other villains.

“Scared of a common lizard, no wonder you were defeated by royals. You’re just as soft as them.”

“Hey, I have a right to be scared. Didn’t Nasira’s daughter almost die from some lizard bite last month?” Circe questioned.

“It wasn’t a poisonous lizard, it was just the infection from the bite. Though I think she was being a bit over dramatic about it if you ask me.” Nasira said, “Just because I don’t have medicine to treat a wound doesn’t mean she was “dying” or whatever.”

Maleficent snorted derisively to signal a topic change, “And La, you were defeated by a half-witted gorilla man and his British twat of a wife. Your soul was in a rat’s body before you came here. You don’t have the staff that allowed you to have a kingdom or bring down rain. You don’t have any claim to being someone’s superior....Now as for the coven, it will not be ruled by Nerissa, it will be ruled by-” 

“Not you.” Queen Nerissa moved next to Maleficent, away from her safe spot next to the throne. “You’ve been gone for months, Malfi.” 

She smirked at Maleficent’s clenched scowl, “You’re no longer the Queen of the Isle and with your daughter turning out to be as big of a goody goody as Aurora I don’t think you have any claim to being the Mistress of all Evil.”

“Exactly.” Queen Grimhilde agreed, glaring at Maleficent to respond, “As a coven, we shall have no ruler. Just a common goal. Bring King Adam to his knees and kill the royals that have foiled our plans and ruined our lives far too many times.”

“How do we know you won’t try to take the power for yourselves?” Jafar challenged.

“How will we know that you won’t?” Queen Grimhilde shot back.

“He’s too weak to be able to do such a thing. He’s nothing without his cobra staff.” Mozonroth said. “Why you-” Jafar reached to strangle him when Morgain Le Fey waved her arms and the two dueling sorcerers split apart with a force pushing them to the walls.

With a satisfied smile Morgain Le Fey confirmed, “We can use some of our former magic. And as the only one here who has been in a coven before, you should know that covens work without a ruler. Just one common goal as Grimhilde said.”

The rest of the villains seemed to begrudgingly accept that explanation so Morgain continued to talk.

“Even without our wands or staffs, we can still use alchemy. Ursula, your powers are derived from the sea right? You don’t need your necklace.”

Ursula nodded, “I would prefer to have my necklace but yeah I can do it.”

“Jafar? Nasira?” She turned to the Agrabahans.

“We can try to go back to the old fashioned magic until we can have our objects back again.” Nasira answered as Jafar got up and shuffled back to his seat, wiping himself of imaginary dust.

“La?”

“Queen La. I’m fine without my staff. I was a High Priestess before I became queen.”

“Mother Gothel?”

“I can use old spells.” Mother Gothel answered.

“Good. Then we can all be useful in this coven.” Morgain said. “The most powerful magic users on the Isle. And soon to be most powerful rulers of Auradon.”

“What about Madam Mim? If we are going to have all the magic users, shouldn’t we include her?” Dr. Facilier questioned.

“A coven either has three people or thirteen people.” Queen Nerissa said, “Besides do you really want to work with that madwoman?”

None of the villains volunteered to continue with that suggestion.

“No leader?” Maleficent hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re saying that we’re all equals.”

“In the coven at least.” Queen Nerissa said, “I was thinking on the Isle...we can be at the top of the food chain. After all, we have powers. The others don’t. They should all bow to us.”

Maleficent smirked, “That would be good.”

“So we’re all in agreement. We work together until we take over Auradon. In the meanwhile, dominate the Isle.” Queen Grimhilde clapped her hands and some of Maleficent’s goblins came in carrying trays with unfermented wine.

When Maleficent looked at her incredulously, Queen Grimhilde just shrugged, “You were gone. So I took them.”

The villains took their seats at the table, and clinked glasses to their coming takeover of Auradon.

[drsilverfish]

Castiel’s Adventures in Forbidden Fruit, or, what a truck-load of Djinn venom does to an angel (13x16 fan-fiction gap)

The road was hot and dusty and many of the dwellings along the way were crumbled and broken. Castiel, once a soldier of Heaven, knew he was entering a place suffering the ravages of war. There were molecules of blood on the wind and, if he spread his consciousness high above the plains, he could see the bombed hospitals, the dogs with their ribs sticking out. He shoved his hands in his trench-coat pockets and sighed. Why did Chuck, that bastard, create a universe so full of torment?

The town lay in what was once a part of Mesopotamia, and is now in modern Syria, in the Tigris and Euphrates river basin. A place within the so-called fertile crescent, the lands seasonally well-flooded enough to keep the desert at bay and to bear date-palms. This was the ancient settlement of Thelasar, and here, still cloaked by the Word of God, was Edinuu, the Garden of Eden. 

There was no angel guarding the entrance. After Michael’s war in Heaven, Castiel’s own disastrous turn as Godstiel and the great fall precipitated by Metatron, angel numbers were severely depleted. His brethren had either scattered in disarray or retreated sullenly to Heaven with their wings still broken. Cas breathed a sigh of relief, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with some righteous stick-up-their-ass seraph. 

He spoke the words of entrance in Enochian...

crouched against a toppled brick wall as the noonday heat approached, and pressed a little of his grace into the invisible wards. The air gave way, perhaps surprised to see an angel after all this time, and Cas stepped through into the Garden,  

He was instantly assailed by a myriad glorious scents. The air was heavy with sensuous hyacinth, cardamom and passion fruit. A clear stream trickled through the foliage. He knelt and splashed his face with water. He could feel the green shoots singing at his fingertips and sense the wind of the void in the canopy above. How beautiful this earth is, he thought again, with a strange ache in his ribs. After all the centuries he’d lived, God’s creation had never felt more alive to him than it had these last few years. He stood up and headed east.

The Djinn Queen smelled him a mile away. “Angel alert!” she hissed to her nest. “Do any of you remember how much venom is needed to take down an angel?” They sharpened their teeth, and the blue tattoo-lines on their skulls glowed in anticipation. It had been a long while since they’d fed on angelic life-force. Truly, a feast was in store.

Cas wasn’t expecting Djinn in the Garden. He didn’t have a silver blade, or the blood of a lamb to hand. The whole hungry crew pounced in a horde, just when he was in sight of the Tree of Life and full of anticipation at the culmination of his mission. Bitten all over, and thus venom-injected simultaneously by at least sixty of them, he staggered and almost went down. Of course, he was an Angel of the Lord, powerful and full of grace, and he exploded several with the touch of his hand. But, in the end, the sheer intense quantities of the poison took him down.

When he woke up, he was back at the bunker and it was the middle of the night. He found himself descending the cold stone steps to Dean’s new “Bat-cave”. 

“Dean, are you there?” he called out, cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m here buddy. So, you’re back, then? How’d it go?”

“Well, I think,” Cas said cautiously, setting his hessian sack of dark ripe purple fruit on the side, in the low yellow lighting.

“Great, excellent work, Cas, wanna join me for a beer?” Dean said jovially, reaching for the mini-fridge. Cas nodded and Dean offered him one of the reclining chairs and settled himself into the other one, a cold beer for each of them in hand.

Cas noticed that Dean was wearing a white shirt, and that enough of the buttons were undone so that he could almost see down to Dean’s navel. He tried not to look, and instead, squinted awkwardly at the jukebox.

“Why don’t you... play me some music?” he suggested.

Dean was more happy to oblige.  “I know just the one,” he said, “nothing like a little REO Speedwagon, huh?”

Cas sipped his Kingdom beer and leaned back in his chair to let the music Dean loved wash over him.

“I’m going to keep on loving youuuu, cuz it’s the only thing I wanna do.ooo..” 

The male voice sounded very sincere, with the clashing of cymbals and the grandstanding of the keyboard in the background. Cas thought how perfect the song was, how it expressed his own sentiments in relation to his companion very well.

He dared to turn his blue eyes to Dean, and found himself blurting out, “That’s how I feel... about you...”

He had a terrifying moment of vertigo, when he expected Dean to shut him down, to guffaw and brush it off, but Dean got up from his chair, and said, “Oh yeah?” Then he came over to Cas and sat down on the angel’s lap, facing him. His legs straddled Cas on either side, so that Dean’s wide open white shirt was inches from Cas’ face.

Without thinking, Cas took hold of Dean’s waist firmly with one hand and began to undo the remaining buttons on the shirt with the other. Dean smiled down at him. Cas could feel himself trembling at the thought of touching the bare skin of Dean’s stomach, and when he did so, it felt so good it was like a bolt of electricity running all the way up his spine. He gave a little gasp. All the molecules of Dean’s being danced at his fingertips.

Dean gave a low laugh in return, as the music continued to croon, and he pulled his shirt all the way off. Then, he leaned down with a twinkle in his eye, and put his mouth on Cas’.

Cas had thought about this, in a deep, dark recess of his mind, about what it would be like to kiss Dean, and he had tried, most of the time, to lock that thought firmly away. It was a mortal sin, according to angelic lore and custom. Moreover, Dean was clearly only interested in kissing women, wasn’t he?

Apparently not... Cas was nervous and inexperienced, but Dean opened his mouth, just a little, into their kiss, and Cas felt their tongues skim. He let his own mouth open a little more, following Dean’s lead. Dean pressed against him, torso to torso, groin to groin, deepening the kiss. Cas couldn’t help another small sound of pleasure escaping from the back of his throat. Dean’s light-body, the lattice of his soul, thrummed against Castiel’s vessel, making his true-form sing. 

Dean said, “C’mon, let’s get that trench coat and fricking tie off you!” Dean was smiling and his deft fingers were at Cas’ throat, unknotting the blue tie from its usual moorings. 

Cas was beginning to feel warm and loose in his groin and belly in a way he’d never experienced before. He looked up at Dean and he was so happy to find Dean meeting his gaze without reservation. “I love you,” the words spilled out of him, simply because he couldn’t keep them in his chest any longer. 

He reached up and put his fingers firmly in Dean’s hair, ready to pull him close again for another kiss. He was rewarded with a flash of excitement in Dean’s own amber-flecked eyes. Cas had the sudden realisation that his angelic strength, applied judiciously and consensually, might be a bit of a turn-on. He was, after all, as big as the Chrysler building. Then they were kissing again, and this time, both of them were naked from the waist up. The feel of chest pressed on chest, stomach rolling on stomach, was incredible, and Cas felt his trueform reach into Dean and softly touch the ventricles of his heart. His eyes fluttered into the back of his head with the sensation of it.      

When he woke up, it was dusk in the Garden, and all around him lay Djinn, either dead or sleeping and satiated. 

Cas groaned, and sat up gingerly. He had a banging and very un-angelic headache. Djinn venom, he thought, fuzzily. Through the fading light, he could see a figure, sitting regally at the foot of the Tree of Life. She had long blue nails and dark almond eyes. Silver anklets at her feet tinkled in the evening breeze.

“Well, what a tasty treat that was, Castiel,” she purred. “My name is Asherah, Queen of the Djinn in these parts. I was once a goddess in this land, long ago, before your God came and insisted there was only one.”

“Asherah of the Canaanites?” he asked her, astonished.

“The very she,” she replied in a sultry purr. 

“What have you done to me?” Cas said angrily, attempting to stand, and falling back, with a decided lack of dignity, on his ass. 

“Don’t be afraid, little angel. We may have feasted, and feasted well, but you are otherwise unharmed. The effect of the venom will wear off.... eventually.” 

“You made me do... unspeakable things!” Cas was flushed with shame and embarrassment. He looked down at himself, but saw with relief that he was still fully clothed in his trench-coat, shirt and tie. 

“Only in your mind, my dear, only in your mind. None of my Djinn touched you, other than with their fangs. Nor, I assure you, did we put anything in your head that wasn’t already there. We feed on desire, Castiel, not illusion.”

“I should smite you all,” Cas growled. 

“You smote a few,” she said, honey dripping in the timbre of her voice. “But come now, smiting me won’t undo what’s in your heart, will it, oh winged one.” 

Cas licked his parched lips anxiously, echoes of REO Speedwagon still resounding in his skull.

“I confess I’m intrigued,” she said softly. “An angel in love with a human? I haven’t seen that since the archangel Gabriel confessed to Mary. He is exceptionally pretty, your human, I grant you that. But perhaps it’s you who should be worried about a smiting? Don’t your people frown on such unions? What fools the angels are!”

Cas ignored her questions. “Since you have so rudely ambushed me,” he said, trying to re-gain a modicum of control over the situation, “perhaps you will allow me to gather some of the fruit hanging above you? I have need of it, for a quest.”

“Pomegranates from the Tree of Life?” she said silkily, standing up and reaching to pluck one from the branches.

“And what will you give me in return?”

“I won’t kill you,” Cas said, through gritted teeth.

“Come now, angel, you are still venom-weakened, and I was a goddess once, don’t forget. I am not so easily dispatched. How about we strike a bargain instead, you and I?”

“What bargain?” Cas enquired sulkily, trying his level best to remain focussed on the present, rather than getting lost in mortifying flashbacks of naked fantasy Dean.

“If you promise to wed me for a year and a day, I will give you all the sacred fruit you require.” She put a wicked finger to her lips, “I will also swear that I, and my subjects, will keep your secret. We will not breathe a word of your love for Dean Winchester, either to Heaven or to Hell.”

“I’m not at liberty to marry a Djinn,” Cas said stiffly. Asherah burst out laughing. 

“Come now, the marriage does not require carnal knowledge of any kind, I promise. I can quite see you belong, body and soul, to another. You must simply promise me, during the year and a day of our marriage, that if I call on you, either to feed or for aid, you will come. I will not abuse the privilege, I swear it.”

Castiel admitted defeat. This Djinn queen had him at her mercy. He needed the fruit and he was too weak to fight back. He nodded, abruptly. “I give you my word. But, a year and a day and no more.”

“Done! Come then, husband,” she purred, holding out her hand to help him to his feet, “let us gather this forbidden fruit together!”

By the time Cas returned to the bunker, clutching the sack of juicy scented pomegranates from Eden, the Djinn venom had mostly left his system. He descended the steps to Dean’s Bat-cave gingerly, with his heart pounding like gunshot in his chest. What if his face somehow betrayed him? What if Dean could tell instantly that Cas had fantasised about undressing him in this very room? Cas steeled himself with all the soldierly training he could muster from his days in the garrison and called out gruffly, “Hello, Dean?”

But Dean wasn’t sitting in one of the reclining chairs, listening to REO Speedwagon. Instead, to Castiel’s consternation, he was in the television with Sam, in cartoon form, drag racing Baby against some kind of hippy vehicle.

The pomegranates fell from Castiel’s hands in slow motion, as he leapt forward into the screen to save them.

And that, is how Castiel, angel of the Lord, found himself blurting out the words, “A killer stuffed dinosaur in love,” to a talking dog and his friends. 

He prayed that his cartoon cheeks were only turning the deep, ripe, red of forbidden fruit in his imagination.    

[deepintoforestwego]

Oblivion at bay

The Prince has worse day.

To explain, to those unaware- Lost Prince can only have worse days, because every day is bad day for him. Never does smile cross his features, never does laugh find it’s way from his throat, never does ache leave his bones, never does he find motivation to do anything but languish. Sometimes he spends centuries sitting in one spot, frozen silent, frown marring his face, and not a sound comes from him, not a twitch of muscle. Nothing can move him- world could burn, planes could break, and Prince would sit there, apathetic and uncaring.

So he can only get worse. There are days, ages he spends cupping his face and sobbing (none know for what, and perhaps neither does he), curling in ball and screaming, fainting from exhaustion and tearing his immortal flesh in panic (there is no blood, just darkness and dust beneath ever healing skin). His followers know this quickly- when pale, faded world around them goes gray, when kingdom that is always faraway no matter where you are going from becomes utterly hidden, when sky rains leaden tears, when broken tower starts falling apart even more, when abandoned corpse of city around it rots into dust, when shadows wail, and each inhabitant feels a gap inside themselves, something no food or treasure or person can feel, when ravens mourn and black earth bleeds.

(A note, to remember about lands of Faerie, which you may call First World, Feywild, Elphame or however you prefer- you can judge mood and fate of ldest lords by their domains. Some will tell you that power of archfey is so great that it forces capricious realms to bend to them and their feelings and wishes, others will claim that minds and lives of shapers are intervened with their kingdoms. Third will yet say that Lords and Ladies are but avatars through which land speaks, while fourth yet claim that holdings of Feywild’s almost-but-not-quite gods are just pieces of them thrown up outside. Perhaps none are right, or maybe they all are at same time, or it depends on Lord in question. It doesn’t  explain quite bit about mercurial and whimsical nature of their servants-it isn’t easy being dryad in world where sunlight and seasons depend on your ruler’s relationship stability, which is also why all of them meddle in their monarch’s personal lives far too much to be safe or sane).

As first strangled whine left his mouth, so did each thing, a fey and mortal and demigod and beast (no plants, not anymore, not safe enough) cry out in horror and warning, and rush towards throne room- which is never in same place, and in these situations tends to hide away, to shield away Melancholy Lord from prying of others, and from it’s deep seated fear of him maybe ever getting better- after all, it is house built on mourning, and abandonment, and fact there is only one being that sees value in it’s shattered walls and broken roofs. Recovery would take it away.

Still, those fresh and mortal to this land of loss and pity still hope and pray to deities so far away, that they will soon fully leave, that land is not part of Prince, and that it can be convinced to reveal him, for neither does it want him to suffer and harm himself, or if tower is a part of him that there is piece of Prince that wants to be helped, so they run and hope.

Girl who arrives, without realizing at first, is mostly human, with bit of touch of Outsiders- grandmother of her grandparent’s grandfather was a banshee, who grew too close to her clan ( it could make him some sort of divine Father, she thinks, for they say banshees were screamed in existence when Lost Prince realized his mortal followers died, bound to watch and mourn their descendants).  Her head is bald, her eyes gold and silver, her clothes wildly colourful, as if she was wearing carnival tent, and there are vials of poison around her belt, and deaths on her blade, innocent and guilty both.

,, My Lord. How can I help?’’ She asks, kneeling low before man who would look almost pretty and wholly  gaunt and mostly human if not for red markings ghastly burning on his skin, like coal slowly dying (they like to believe those are symbols, that there is meager joy left in him that they can light up again) and empty eyes, holes filled with void that predated cosmos.

‘‘Get lost!’‘ He snips at her, words as bitter and painful as taste of nightshade, a barbed wire, or thorns sinking in veins.  there is force in them, though they are quiet and cold, that makes skin ripple and wind whip at her face. She doesn’t care- Lost Prince never has kind word for anybody, but what it matters when he feeds you, helps you bury your sisters, finds you home, saves you from prison, all in different unremarkable guises until you put together pieces and find way into Feywild and beg yourself in his service.

‘‘ My Lord, what do you need?’‘ She asks again, watching man in front of her, whose age she can’t really guess, somewhere between sixteen and fifty ( in appearance at least), who is breathing harshly,  muddy tears running down his cheeks and burning and melting stone below, barely hanging on his throne, hair messy and hands around knees. It is worthless question, but still she asks- they tried everything, brought therapists from every plane and time, but nothing could help this sorrow that existed for itself, that had no name and no history. Still, they have to hope.

‘‘To leave me.’‘ He almost spits, after what might have been minutes or hours.He doesn’t know he doesn’t see, he cries and is lost in fading memories, but he can’t remember name, anything before this tiredness and pain, nothing else.

‘‘‘...I see. If you need us...’‘ he is rude, and cold Lord, but each member of his court has been saved in secrecy, and never has he tried to claim credit for that. Who knows how more he has actually saved, who never realized that. There is no creature here that wouldn’t die for him, whether in battle or by hanging themselves after his despair seeps in them too.

‘‘I won’t. Now please leave me alone.’‘ He begged them, commanded them, go, leave, leave me and this awful cursed place alone, but they wouldn’t, they insist on thanking him, on serving him, as if he wanted that, as if he would have hid his identity if he wanted to call in life debt (how many has he amassed, and let slip through his fingers as ones he saved lived good and happy lives, unlike his peers, who would have bound them unto eternal service).

,,And...sorry.’’ he whispers as doors close, and word spreads through his domain, and girl gets idea.

‘‘You are not one of mine. Not yet. Why are you here?’‘ The Green Mother asks, her bark skin perfectly chiseled, her dress of thorny vines creeping and moving, flowers growing and withering on it. She is beautiful, in way old tree near her former home was, in way flowers bursting through pavement are. Not a grandiose, elevated beauty that is glorious and frightening and overloads senses, but patchwork of ordinary and pretty thing cobbled together in something alluring and subtle. But she is a wooden statue, green thorns growing from her, with hands strong enough to crush skulls, and magic even greater.

‘‘Your Majesty, I am here to bring you information.’‘ The Feasting Flower is one of queens of Faerie. Not like Tiandra, painted by greatest artists with summer’s sun in her palm and costly spear tinged with blood of thousands, or Queen of Air and Darkness, whispered about by frightened mothers and weary travelers, winds searing through night at her command, thousands murdered by winter’s bite at her glance. She is thing of fields and deep woods, sang in ballads of peasants and bored, thief of babies and owner of hundred mortal lovers, not goddess bestowing favor upon virtuous knights and forcing Feywild to bend beneath her scorching fist, not plotter of frozen heart that topples empires, unleashing armies of dark upon world.  And not any lesser and safer for that. Just smaller and more common interest. Which may in fact be more awful.

‘‘Are you? Then go on. I hope it is worth my time-you may be rewarded for that.’‘ Or punished otherwise. They call her in mortal world many things, sometimes slut and succubus’s sister and temptress. But carnal acts of lust and seduction are just an aspect of hers. She is intrigues woven in caves beneath earth, growth and decay of plantlife, the charming appeal of evil. Even her seduction is more of that of venus flytrap. She is hungry for secrets as she is for flesh and hearts, in literal and metaphorical meaning equally. Her tight smile is that of mafia boss, of information broker, and she is covered in green and red, like emeralds and blood.

‘‘My Lord-The Lost Prince- is feeling worse then usual. Me and several others have thought that maybe..’‘‘ The thorns writhe and dance, and trees burst in fruits and sap flows freely as girl suffocates from pollen, and Green Mother smiles wide and bloody. The Eldest of fey have lived for long time, and been many things to each other.  The Green Mother has bedded each of them, and found sour and sorrowful Lost Prince worst and hardest-for hardly it could be called sex, as she laid over  his bare and unmoving body, and he stared in emptiness. Seductress she is, and creature of pride, and she vowed she will show him pleasure that will snap him out of his melancholy. A obsession and hunger that slowly twisted in need to have him adore her, to possess him by whatever means possible.

‘‘Oh? Really? Lovely, perfect in fact. Well then, that is useful information. I would be glad to help- as for you, no poison of your planet’s herb will work on you, nor shall thorns cut your skin, and neither will treants or similar raise a branch against you, and dryads will know you as friend.’‘ The girl’s eyes are wide, but she nods and quickly mutters something in gratitude (not thank you, never that, she isn’t stupid) before running away, moving through still trees, which aren’t taller then mountains or full of diamond flowers and impossible fruits, but are still thick and would tear her apart in heartbeat if their capricious mistress demanded so.

It is truth of life that it always adapts. Lost Prince’s sorrow wrecks the tower, and they learn to live around it. Some leave, some die, some remain, more come, for still Prince helps as he cries. It is one day that they feel arrival, something old and powerful and wild tearing through magics hiding their joyless kingdom from all others, forcing Feywild to reveal demiplane of Crumbling Tower to it.

The doors of tower-one of them- are old wood, rotten and broken, and realm they were grown at is not there anymore. Parts of it turn to dust, others to black mush, held together by rusting metal, but they burst open, wood stretching and shifting, growing younger and greater, rejecting it’s chains, warping until it is young and healthy and alive, with heavy crowns and roots tearing apart stone.

‘‘AND MAMA HAS ARRIVED!’‘ Voice shouts so strong every creature, from giants to microbes knows it. Green Mother stands at entrance, waving, fueled with strength of joy that still can’t make her smile seem warm or her eyes soft, each movement obvious and overly dramatic. She struts along, roots and thorns growing in her steps, cloud of pollen spreading and making everybody cry and choke and flail until they are red in face, and withering once she passes away, not decaying as plants do, turning orange and brown then drying out, but crumbling in dust in seconds, for Green Mother is creature of desire and energy, sensuality and growth, and neither can be found here.

‘‘Hello. What do you need?’‘ Lost Prince asks once it becomes clear she won’t leave, when flowers bloom from his throne. He doesn’t call her by her name, or title, but in language of archfey elder then sylvan, a set of images and impressions describing her.

A dank cave, filled with dirt and clay and dust, stench of decay of decomposing plants, ready to give birth to new life, spiders crawling across walls.

A flower rises from earth. Brilliant and soft red-green, petals wide and spotted, full of pollen. Bees and butterflies come to it, and when they fly down they can’t leave, and it swallows them whole, as it does same to humans and fiends and fey.

There is man, and he is beautiful and wealthy and liar and has voice like honey, and he plans and plots and weaves his webs, and baits unhappy wives and daughters and sisters to his bed, because he has wild urges he will never let go unsatisfied, and he makes them pawns, and he becomes king and there is sea of blood and tears and so many lost, so many unmarked graves, oh the orphans...

‘‘Me? Whatever is needed at the moment. Now, only your smile and affection, my dear.’‘ She moves slowly, but swags and shakes her body (and who knows how it may seem to him, and he to her- for archfey know the truth of each other’s forms, even as they shift themselves in strangest ways. He thinks it reasonable to her to model herself after elves and dryads, for she is closest to them and has had hand in their history many times, and she finds it quaint and sweet how he makes himself in human, for they live so short and but a few will be known and remembered). And him too she calls by his nature.

A historian, old and grey, stands alone in library combs their way through artifacts found beneath ruins of civilization whose name nobody knows, and they takes books of their predecessors and colleagues and pick information from them, and travel through past, recalling what they know and have learnt about symbols found inscribed at walls.

They called children insane, called them abnormal and weird and unnatural, because their brain was missing few steps and didn’t work the same and it was easier to scream then to figure out way to accommodate, and so they made them mad, screaming and broken and crying and never speaking, when all they needed was rest, to calm down and clear mind and filter out so many emotions.

There is a queen, and she keeps her tears inside even as her grief crushes her, for she thought her  beautiful husband loved her, but he is cruel king and liar, but she must make her  family, her line, all who came before her proud, so she swallows down her pain and lets herself become symbol of loss and pain and strength, lets people put her on pedestal as he screams and hits and cuts her, only as long as she can keep pieces of his rage away from people...

‘‘You won’t find it then. You have wasted your time.’‘ He still breathes unevenly, and cries, and his episode weight heavily on all, even on her, who would have almost shuddered from pain and loss and something like shadow of regret if her power wasn’t as great, if her hunger wasn’t as deep, and if she didn’t remember  time before this, when he could be happy. It is thankful that archfey can speak to each other by mind and meaning, for he wouldn’t be able to get a word out as much as he cries.

‘‘Are you sure? I’m good at digging out things people don’t even know they had.’‘ She shakes her body and puts her hands around his neck. Subtlety is lost on one such as him, and if she had human ideals she would have been ashamed of acting like some unskilled, fresh strumpet, but she is hungry thing and means never matter. She looks at him, and wonders whether he has sexual or romantic desires at all, which would mean she would have to make herself his best friend or surrogate sister or something. It is hard to figure him out, when he has desire for nothing, only some strange duty to help the helpless and remember forgotten. It is awful and makes her leaves turn brown at thought of help without debt, without betrayal and regret, but that is why it is so alluring-perhaps he could teach her something too.

‘‘Like this! A great kingdom, known all over it’s realm-now nothing but dust, because it’s emperor became lich, called upon Old Ones and tried to ascend to godhood. You know, classic. But I preserved it’s capitol. Only for you.’‘ She hands him a glass globe, and inside is truly beautiful capitol, and he holds it and watches ruined buildings, watches bodies covering them, hands of dead clutching each other.

‘‘ I see... I think I heard of this. Some centuries ago-yet already ti is gone from memory. had some very unusual trees.’‘ She smiles wider, grasping for compliment, feeling proud of herself, as he stares on thorns and brilliant red flowers covering city, as he stares on all dead families and destroyed buildings.

‘‘I will gift you for this. Now leave my domain.’‘ he stops crying, and she counts it as win, as he stares at globe, hands shaking. With a mimicked kiss she leaves, planning how to continue this ‘‘romance.’‘

‘‘My Lord?’‘ An old woman comes, dressed in colourful clothes, eyes silver and gold. Prince says nothing, just goes over and hugs her, tight and strong, face frowning and eyes narrowed, hands cold, but he isn’t crying as he puts his head over hers, as he gives her globe and says look.

She doesn’t regret it.