#the skulks desertation

[thecatspasta]

Paranoiac Intervals/Body Dysmorphia - Of Montreal

[aurelion-solar]

Legends of Runeterra March 2023 Expansion Priestess of Desert Light - Generous Gemcrafter - Banana Blaster - Ceaseless Sentry - Skulking String-Puller - Serene Sky-Singer - Blocking Badgerbear - Mischievous Marai - Formula - Winter’s Touch

[anghraine]

I was talking to my students and then some family members about how the death of Elizabeth I and succession of James was necessarily an occasion of upheaval, even when it wasn't necessarily violent or flirting with treason or whatever. For one, the death of a monarch that will lead to a new dynasty (even a related one!) is not quite the same as a familiar figure inheriting the country's rule from their parent or grandparent. It's usually a bigger change, with dynamics of loyalties and affiliations shifting around—that's part of the reason Elizabeth delayed acknowledging James as her heir.

Typically, you'd see courtiers etc deserting a dying monarch in order to signal their loyalty to the new monarch, even if the old one wasn't actually dead yet. Elizabeth's reluctance to share royal power was fundamental to her reign and her public image, so it's not at all surprising that she would be loath to encourage that kind of desertion in any particular direction.

Of course, another thing that complicates the Elizabeth -> James succession is that she had reigned for a long time (44 years iirc). By the time she was dying, a good number of English people had few personal memories of life under any other monarch, and those who did would remember the abrupt and unstable reigns of her predecessors, Edward and Mary. So James's accession came with uncertainty about what exactly it would entail, and a lot of late Elizabethan/early Jacobean drama in English is very concerned with questions of what obligations the governed owe to their monarchs (obedience? loyalty? are those always the same thing?), but also what obligations monarchs themselves have to their people.

This seemed especially pertinent to Lear, in which multiple characters defy capricious orders from a monarch or other authority out of loyalty: Kent challenges Lear and is banished, so skulks around in disguise to continue serving him, Edgar also skulks around in disguise after Gloucester renounces him and ends up offering what comfort he can to his father, and Cordelia returns to Britain with the French army in her ultimately futile attempt to help Lear. Meanwhile, Lear loses everything, is driven to take shelter in a peasant hovel, and starts to contemplate how his own failures as a king resulted in, well, peasant hovels.

Anyway, now I'm thinking about what a wild figure Elros must have been as, specifically, a monarch to the Númenóreans. He lived for five hundred years. Even his own children (also half-Elves! sort of!) and other descendants who benefited from his lifespan didn't live as long, and most Númenóreans during his earlier reign wouldn't have come near to it. Undoubtedly there were Elves who had known Elros in the First Age who were baffled at him choosing mortality and DEATH, and meanwhile on Númenor, there are all these people living out their extended lifespans under the reign of a half-Elf king who was ruling their people at their birth and would still be ruling after they died of old age. We know Elros retained his half-Elvish characteristics as well, so they've got this visibly Elvish, barely-aging, eternal king who looks like Lúthien as part of the fabric of life for centuries.

Yes, he's literally the first king—but for a lot of earlier Númenóreans, he's also the only king they will ever know. It takes him an incredibly long time to weary of the world as other mortals do. By the time Elros finally gets weary of Arda, and willingly lays down his life and passes to the unknown fate of mortals, Tar-Amandil is stepping into some very big shoes.

[mochegato]

Devil of the Narrows

Marinette burst through the door, pulling a bubbling Adrien behind her.  “So smart.  So sexy.  That dress…” he paused to picture it and got lost for a few seconds.  “My heart can’t handle it.”

“Go on,” Marinette purred, “tell me more.”

Out of the fog filled abyss, a deep voice floated toward them.  “I would very much appreciate if you didn’t.”

Marinette let out a small scream and jumped away from the ledge just a bit further than Adrien who jumped then immediately lowered into a defensive position and glared at the edge, prepared for whatever came over the side.  When nothing happened for a few long seconds, they looked at each other apprehensively and back to the edge, not wanting to take their eyes off the threat for too long.

Finally, Adrien bobbed his head toward the door back to the building and safety, but Marinette scrunched her nose and removed her shoe, wielding it like a bat as she inched toward the edge of the building.  Adrien groaned quietly, dropping his head back in annoyance, but followed her grudgingly.  If she was going to try to threaten someone with a shoe, the least she could do was have a stiletto on, at the very least a platform shoe, something with a bit of weight or a sharp heel, not a flat.

When they got to the ledge, he held up three fingers, slowly lowering them one at a time until they were all dropped and they poked their heads over the edge, freezing at the sight.  Whatever they were expecting to see on the other side of the ledge, a man, clearly one of the vigilantes, sitting back against a rather macabre looking gargoyle and eating a burger was not it.

Alya would never forgive Marinette for not knowing which of the vigilantes it was.  He was obviously one of the bats, because there was a rather large red bat splayed across his broad, armored chest.  She just couldn’t tell which one it was. There were like twenty of them.  It was hard to keep track.

What she could tell was he was easily as large as her papa, which meant he would absolutely tower over her if he stood and could knock her out with one punch if he decided to get violent.  He was probably an amazing vigilante.  She couldn’t imagine anyone seeing him and wanting to continue whatever felonious activity they were committing rather than running away as quickly and cowardly as possible.

“What the f…” Adrien muttered.

“Who are you?  What are you doing up here?” Marinette called out before she could stop herself.

“How did you get up here?” Adrien added, more rhetorically than actually expecting an answer.

He gave them a flat look and held up a grappling gun in one hand and his burger in the other.  “Saving the day makes you hungry.”  He motioned toward her with his burger.  “Is that a shoe?  What were you planning on doing?  Cobbling me to death?”

Marinette slowly turned to her arm, seemingly as surprised as them to see it still upraised and ready to throw.  She looked away as she lowered her arm, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as she lowered it and put it back on her foot.  “I used what I had.  It’s not like we were expecting to have to defend ourselves while on top of a skyscraper,” she grumbled.  “We were expecting it to be creepy but deserted like it usually is.  We were not expecting any cryptids skulking on top of buildings.”

He ran his tongue over his canine and clicked it as he studied her.  “Didn't mean to disturb your make out session.  But please... do not ignore me and continue.  In fact, feel free to go somewhere else for that.  I’d prefer you not besmirch my favorite spot and desecrate my friend to your depraved behavior.”

“We were not coming up to make out!” Marinette exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch and volume.

“Besmirch?” Adrien asked.

The man gave her an exceptionally unimpressed look and kept eye contact as he took another bite.  “We weren't!” she insisted in utter affront.  “We were coming up to discuss the best approach to him asking out his crush, if you must know.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked between the two of them.  “I did not.”

"Interesting that you thought he did," Adrien noted, his mouth quirked up in an amused smirk.

Marinette gave him a wide-eyed, pointed look.  “Shut.  Up,” she hissed.

“But, just do it.”  The vigilante leaned forward, bringing his face into a sliver of light cast by the roof lights.  “You’re probably overthinking it.  It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture or choreographed.  The result is almost definitely going to be the same whether you do something over the top or simple and simple is almost always from the heart, which is usually appreciated.”

“Yes!” Marinette exclaimed.  She motioned toward the vigilante.  “See?  I tol…”  She turned back to him instantly, trying to make sure she was seeing what she thought she saw.  “Are you… are you wearing a scarf as a mask?”

He leaned back into the shadows.  “…Yeah.  Gotta protect the identity, sweetheart.”

She continued to stare at him incredulously for a few more moments.  “Who are you supposed to be?  Daredevil?”

He scrunched his nose and bobbed back in surprise.  “Who?”

Adrien leaned over the ledge and quirked his head to the side to check him out from a better angle.  “Charlie Cox was hotter.”

She quirked her head to the side in exact imitation of Adrien to study the vigilante.  After a moment she shook her head and glanced back at Adrien.  “That is objectively false… but very funny.”

The vigilante leaned forward again; face scrunched in annoyance.  “Who the f…”  He jumped up instantly when the skyline was rocked with an explosion.  “Get home,” he ordered firmly as he pulled out his grappling hook.  “And ask them out.  Life is short,” he added just before he jumped into the void.

><><><><><><><><>< 

The aftermath of the explosion kept the entire team busy for the next few days; chasing down leads, tracking henchmen, finally capturing the Penguin, returning him to Arkham again, and keeping a heavy watch on other criminals trying to take advantage of the distraction.  So it was a while before he was able to return to his spot, but as soon as he settled in, full meal in hand, a voice floated over to him.

“Daredevil!  You're back.”

He let out a long sigh and shook his head as though his lips weren’t already quirking up in amusement.  “This is my spot.”

There were a few moments of silence during which he was able to take his first bite before he looked up to meet her arched eyebrow.  “I've been coming up here every night for the past few weeks.  You’ve only been here once. This is not your spot.”

“I've been coming up here since I was 13,” he scoffed, cheeks puffed out from his bites of hotdog.  “This is my spot.”

“That seems like you abandoned it,” she shrugged.  “I found it, nurtured it.  So now it's my spot.”

He narrowed his eyes and pointed his hotdog at her.  “I was on a mission.  And I didn't abandon it.”  He motioned behind himself.  “It was being watched over until I returned.”

She hummed and examined him closely, eyes skimming him over from mask to boot before returning to meet his eyes with an accepting nod.  “Glad it turned out well...I guess.  It was a good thing, right?  Your mission helped not the jerks?”

He snorted a laugh, almost spitting out half his hotdog.  “Yes.  The mission was to stop some very bad guys.”  He leaned toward her with a smirk.  “And we succeeded.”

She smiled back but then let her gaze drift to the skyline, allowing them to sit with each other in silence, only the wind whispering between them for a while before she returned her attention to him.  When he’d finished with his first hotdog, a self-satisfied grin spread across his lips.  “You just going to keep staring at me?  I mean if you do, I understand.”

Instead of scoffing or stuttering like he had expected, she cocked her head to the side.  “I don’t understand,” she stated, motioning toward him.

He looked down at his armor and especially the bat emblem on his chest and nodded in understanding.  “Not everyone understands becoming a vigilante.”

“Oh no, that I understand,” she waved him off like the assumption was ridiculous.  “I mean,” she motioned toward him again, or more specifically, motioned toward his head, “it doesn’t make sense.  It’s contradictory vibes.  You have,” she motioned toward his suit.  “And then you have,” she motioned more pointedly toward his head.

“Like,” she indicated his suit, “high tech,” she indicated his scarf, “low tech.”  She pointed to his suit, “impeccably made,” his scarf, “I think the person was drunk,” his suit, “thoroughly thought out,” his scarf, “I honestly think you might have just grabbed that as you ran past some tourist.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times until he finally huffed out a breath through his nose.  “I have a mask, you know.”

“You do?  Where is it?  Can I see it?” she demanded more than asked.  She was almost jumping in excitement as she looked all around him to try to catch a glimpse of it, only settling when he held it up for her to see.

“But as you can see, it doesn’t allow for things like eating or drinking.”  He looked at her from the side.  “Doesn’t really facilitate conversations either.”

She couldn’t stop the eyeroll she gave him.  “You’d hardly come up here if you wanted conversation.”

“Maybe I came up to converse with you.”  His smile was just on the right side of teasing, infectiously so.

Marinette shook her head with a brilliant grin.  “You said you’ve been coming here for years and a week ago was the only time you’ve seen me.”

“I’m an optimist,” he shrugged.

“You’re certainly something,” she chuckled as she looked away to collect herself.  When she looked back at him, her gaze was curious.  “I know why I come up here.  I work here and the roof is the only place to get away from people.  But why do you come here?  Why this spot, I mean.”

His grin shone even in the dim evening.  “Best gargoyle in the city right here,” he crowed, patting the gargoyle behind him.  “He kept me company many a night when I was a teen.  One of the best conversationalists I’ve ever met.”

She looked at him, amused by how proud he was of his gargoyle friend.  “So you did come up here for a conversation after all.  Should I leave so you two can get to it?”

He snickered and took a bite of his second hotdog.  “He is a marvelous conversation partner and listener,” he acknowledged.  “It might be hard for you to compete.”

“Not to ruin a friendship, but technically, that's a grotesque,” she corrected.  Her eyes were narrowed, but her voice teasing.   His eyes shot to her, lips pinched and brow scrunched in disapproval.  "Gargoyles have waterspouts.  That's where they got their name," she elucidated, adding in a gurgling sound to solidify her point.  "No waterspout means it's a grotesque.  Just a statue meant to look creepy."

He turned to look at the grotesque like it had personally betrayed him before returning attention to her.  “Expert huh?  That what you do?  Architecture?”  His voice was slightly grousey but still polite.

“No,” she acknowledged, “not an architect.”

He harumphed and finished the rest of his second hotdog in one bite.  “Not an expert then.  I’ll keep my faith in my friend.”

“Kind of an expert,” she shrugged as she tried to cover her snort at his boyish pout.  “From Paris so I know a thing or two about gargoyles and grotesques.”

He took a large bite of fries, chewing it noisily while shooting her a heatless glare.  “What do you do then?” he asked when he’d finally swallowed.  “You said you work here, yeah?”

“Graphic design.  I just started at an office on the 40th floor a few months ago,” she answered with a smile.

“Ahh, a tortured artist,” he nodded knowingly.

She gasped dramatically.  “I'm not tortured.”

“Pixie Pop, you chose to live in Gotham,” he pointed out, his voice and look both equally flat.  “You're tortured.”

“You run around in a poorly tied scarf and an attitude,” she groused.  “You're tortured.”

“Never said I wasn't,” he shrugged completely unbothered as he took a long drink of his soda.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, the wind whistling quietly between them until Marinette finally broke the silence.  “You lied.  He’s a terrible conversationalist.  Hasn’t contributed at all.”

His snicker at her comment quickly become a full blown laugh, head thrown back, eyes closed and all making him miss her amused, contented smile at his reaction.  When he finally looked back at her, the portion of his face that was visible was bright.  “With all your criticisms of my mask, I almost expected you to say fashion designer.”

Her smile strained slightly and her eyes slid from his to the horizon.  “Once upon a time, another lifetime ago,” she answered flippantly.

He watched her, wanting desperately to get the story that was hiding there, but held himself back.  He was just going to have to keep visiting her until he felt like they knew each other well enough to ask her.  But until then, he needed a distraction.  “How's it going with blondie?  He man up and ask his crush out?”

All the light returned to her face.  Her lips eased into an excited smile.  “He did!  They're going on a date tonight!  You should have seen it.  He was freaking out after she said yes.  It's adorable.  But he took your advice, well, our advice because I told him the same thing, but he actually listened when you said it, to just ask her out and not overthink it.  Overthinking is my job.  His job is to look cute.  He keeps forgetting that.”

“Does he ever get upset you’re trying to take his job?” he asked before his brain caught up with his mouth.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, now wishing he still had one of his hotdogs he could shove in his mouth.

She scrunched her nose and shook her head.  “I couldn’t do his job, any of the jobs he’s done.  I love kids but I don’t think I could handle an entire classroom of them, and I definitely wouldn’t have been a good model.”

“Ohhh.  He was actually a…” he stopped mid-word and his hand flew to his ear.  “Copy.  I’ll get on it.  I’m only a few blocks away.”  He stood and shot her a two-finger salute, “Have a good night, Pixie Pop.”

She nodded.  “Be safe, Daredevil.”

He glared back at her over his shoulder, lips pursed into a thin line and maintained eye contact as he put his full face mask on with a harumph.  “You too, Pixie Pop.”

><><><><><><><><>< 

It didn’t take her long to do the exact opposite.  Less than two hours, in fact.  But it wasn’t her fault.  It was just Gotham.  It was bound to happen eventually.  And for Marinette, the inevitable happened on her walk home from work that night.

And, okay, maybe it was her fault a little bit, because she should have known better than to walk home so late at night, especially all alone.  But the time with Red Hood had pushed back her work until she had to stay late to get to where she needed to be on the project.  But in her defense, most muggers could see she didn’t have any money and left her alone.  This one clearly wasn’t as bright as the others.

“We’re going to do this quick and easy, right, darling,” the man jeered.  His knife glinted in the streetlight.

It wasn’t nearly as scary as he thought it was and she didn’t have any money on her anyway, so this was really a wasted effort on all sides.  “It would have been quicker if you hadn’t started,” she droned.  “Do I look like I have money?”

Her skin crawled at the leering, lingering looks he was giving her.  “I can take it out in other ways.”

She wrinkled her nose and stepped back.  “Ew.  No.”

“It wasn’t a question.”  There was a menacing curve to his lips as he slowly stalked toward her.

“And yet you got your answer,” a deep, chilling voice crept from the shadows.

The man whipped around; knife poised to attack right up until he saw who stepped out.  As soon as the light hit Red Hood’s mask, the mugger held his hands up and backed away slowly.  “Hey man, nothing happened.  No need to…”

He tried to dart away mid-word but ended up running head first into Nightwing’s chest.  “There’s definitely a need to,” Nightwing responded smugly.  He grabbed the mugger by the jacket and tied him up quickly, stepping purposefully between Red Hood and the mugger.  “I’ll take him in,” he said pointedly, mistaking Hood’s anger for his general hatred toward anyone who preyed on women rather than fury over the mugger having threatened this particular woman.

“You make sure the civilian gets home safe.”  He didn’t bother to wait for Hood’s acknowledgement before he nodded toward Marinette and shoved the mugger toward the other end of the street.  “Have a good night, ma’am.”

“Thank you!” she called after him, but she kept her eyes on Red Hood as she spoke.  She continued to watch him as he examined her intently, his eyes running over her, lifting her arms to verify she wasn’t hiding anything.  “I’m okay,” she promised quietly.

After a few more moments of examination, he finally released her arms and motioned for her to lead, only moving when she started walking.  She snuck a peek at him from the corner of her eye until she couldn’t take the silence anymore.  It wasn’t a comfortable silence.  He was walking far too stiffly.  “Thank you, Daredevil.”

She could hear him let out a long, tortured breath before shaking his head.  But her comment had the desired effect.  His whole body relaxed and eased into a lighter gait.  “Not daredevil.”  He might have been trying for stern but didn’t make it.

“Debatable,” she shrugged, shooting him an easy smile.

He stopped walking to turn towards her and cross his arms over his chest, almost obscuring his red bat.  “It is not.  And you can thank me by calling me by my name.”

“Oh, please don’t give me your real name,” she sighed in mock exasperation.

“I meant ‘Red Hood’.”

“Red Hood…” she repeated slowly like she was feeling how the name sounded on her tongue.

“Red Hood,” he confirmed.

She quirked her head back and forth a few times examining his upper body.  “You call that a hood?  Shouldn’t it be like Red Mask or Red Scarf?”

“No, not like…” he flustered.  “Like Robin Hood.”

A dangerously excited smile spread on her lips.  “Please tell me you also have one of those hats, the,” she motioned vaguely around her head, “bycocket hats he supposedly wore.  He wouldn’t have, by the way.  That was just a Hollywood costume designer’s idea.”

He snorted and started walking again, almost chuckling as she fell into step beside him but only coming up to his shoulder.  “Sorry to break your heart but no.”

She pouted and slumped down.  “That’s unfortunate.”

“But,” he leaned toward her and she could feel the smile hidden beneath his mask, “my best friend did.”

She gasped and perked back up, eyes wide in excitement.  “No!”

“Yep.”

She was almost bouncing.  “Show me!”

He chuckled and shook his head.  “Let’s get you home and you can look it up yourself.  His name is Arsenal, but at the time he was called Speedy.”  They walked next to each other quietly for a full block, Marinette happily swinging her arms and shooting him covert looks every few seconds, Hood, unable to see her in his periphery due to the mask, looking over at her almost as frequently, before Marinette looked a bit too hard and ended up tripping.  Hood snorted at the show of clumsiness but instantly reached out to keep her from falling, not letting go until he could verify her shoes were firmly on the ground.  “So, what happened back there?”

She looked up at him, confusion clear on her face.  He was a vigilante in Gotham, surely an attempted mugging wasn’t an unfamiliar sight.  And his tone was far too teasing for it to be a straightforward question.  “Hmm?”

He nodded toward her feet.  “The guy came at you and yet both of your shoes are firmly on your feet.  What?  Are sneakers not as good weapons as flats?”

She barked out a laugh so loud the sound echoed off the buildings around them.  “You’ve seen Gotham streets.”  She gave a dramatic shiver.  “Rather be mugged than take off my shoes.”

Hood chuckled and shook his head.  “Fair.”

They continued walking again, the comfortable silence descending upon them for a few more steps until her racing heart demanded she speak.  “You know, usually, I get a date before someone walks me home.”

“Usually, you aren’t getting walked home by a vigilante,” he pointed out smugly but all his confidence dropped when Marinette snorted.  “What was that for?”

“Happens more often than you would think,” she snarked back.  His steps faltered slightly, and he whipped his questioning eyes to her.  “Heroes though,” she added as though lost in thought and turning to face him, though she gazed into space as she spoke, “not vigilantes, and back in Paris when Paris had heroes. They at least knew my name though.”

He scoffed.  “I know your name.”  She could feel his grin under his mask.  “Pixie Pop.”

She groaned and swung ahead of him.  “That’s what you’re sticking with, huh?”

“Unless you can give me something better,” he shrugged.

“Marinette.  My name is Marinette,” she replied.

“Marinette,” he repeated, almost reverently.  “Nice to meet you, Marinette.”

She had to stop walking before her knees gave out on her.  She somehow managed to turn to face him, eyes wide at that one word and the devotion he was able to convey even through the voice changer.  It took quite a few moments before she was able to recover enough to note where she was.  “Oh, this is me.”

She walked up the first few steps to her apartment building, knees still shaking slightly, but suddenly turned back toward Red Hood before he could step up, leaving them on the same level, which she took advantage of to lean forward and kiss him on the cheek of his mask.  “I can’t believe I miss the scarf,” she grumbled playfully as she looked up at him through her lashes.  “Thank you for walking me home.”

He nodded a bit dazed.  “Right, of course,” he agreed breathlessly.  He cleared his throat lightly and shook out his shoulders, continuing on with a lot more confidence.  “Wouldn’t be much of a vigilante if I let the fair citizens of Gotham get hurt.”

She hummed and rolled her eyes.  “Just business, huh?”

She was clearly being playful, but she was now leaning away from him like she was unsure, and he couldn’t have that.  He leaned into her space to whisper, “Maybe a bit more.”

She grinned.  “See you tomorrow at the grotesque?”

“I will never call him that…” he groused playfully for just a moment before brushing a strand of hair behind her shoulder, fingers brushing along her shoulder and upper arm before falling back by his side. “But yes.  It’s a date.  I’ll bring something to eat.”

“I’ll bring dessert and some wine,” she rasped, only able to form the words after swallowing thickly.

“Can’t wait,” he nodded and forced himself to take a step back.  “Have a good night, Marinette.”  He kept looking at her for another few moments before taking another step back and grappling away.

“Have a good night, Red Hood,” she whispered into the empty night.  She then twirled around with a squeal.  She had a dessert to overthink.  She was definitely going to have to have a group conversation to plan the perfect dessert and wine combination for a date with a vigilante.

Inspired by this image. Not even sure where the person got it from

[tiredfoxtf]

Hello, I had a spontaneous stupid idea and did this.

What if. Hear me out. A Life Series season where there's only overworld, but it's all hazardous custom biomes. (i know it would be a pain to code, but LISTEN)

Heavily inspired by Pale Garden and Deep Dark we have here all dangerous in it's own way biomes in the style of "pick your poison!".

The desert will make you want to drink, and you will have to watch your sun exposure to not get fatigued and watch out for them quicksands. The snowy taiga will make you want to huddle for warmth near a fire and will deplete your hunger faster. The sea and beach are in the constant storms with a strong wind that will blow you in every direction unless you move, hide or holding crouch, also beware of the lightning! The swamp's water is poisonous and the weather's forecast is fog for foreseeable future. Forests are full of tall trees and different poisonous plants and thorns, the mobs spawn more and will never burn and it's kinda dark here. Nether corruption biome is a weird collection of some Nether biomes in one and also it has blazes. Pale Garden stays the same. All caves are now covered in skulk, sensors and shriekers, making any caving experience an intrusion.

If you complete a unique achievement attached to the biome, you will get something really cool.

But the real game changer would be a role mechanic. Yeah, you heard me, the boogieman is back. But not just the boogieman, I want to introduce a new randomly selected role - The Phantom! The phantom is a unique role that is exact opposite of the boogieman, meaning - the phantom wants to be killed. If the phantom isn't killed in the end of the session - they will lose a life. Only yellow names and higher can be phantoms, there's always only one phantom per session. If someone kills the phantom - phantom doesn't lose a life, instead the person who attempted to kill them does. Killing a phantom won't cure the boogieman curse and once phantom is killed their curse is gone and they can be targeted.

[eksvaized]

[ Previous ┃ Next ] [ All In One ] part 5, MDNI

Although tonight isn't your turn to take the first watch of the night, you volunteer. You are not tired, having spent half the day napping. Simon, however, is visibly exhausted. As he sits next to you, his weariness is palpable. You can tell by his drooping eyelids that are fighting a losing battle to stay open. His replies to your comments are sluggish. Most of the time after you say something, he just murmurs 'what', forcing you to repeat yourself since he didn't hear what you have said.

As you coax him into the bedroom, his gaze bores into you. A stern look fills his eyes, brimming with a concern that's hard to miss. "Just... just don't do anything stupid," he implores. His voice is weary yet laced with an unmistakable tinge of worry.

"You always tell me that," you roll your eyes and lean against the doorway. You watch as he unlaces his boots and places them under the bed.

Leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, he turns to look at you. His gaze is steady and unwavering, despite his indisputable fatigue.

"I simply want you to be careful," he says, his words a mere soft murmur.

You find yourself utterly captivated by the depths of his brown eyes. They possess an alluring, almost dreamy quality as he blinks slowly, trying to fight off a sleep that's threatening to claim him. You see, as his gaze drifts downwards, drawn to your lips, and lingers there. This causes your mind to wander back to the kiss-that-almost-happened-but-didn't. Neither of you dare to bring up the incident. As the days continue to pass, you both keep acting as if it's a figment of your shared imagination.

After he diverts his attention, a shaky breath eludes you. Only then do you notice the tightness in your chest and the tension you feel in every muscle of your body.

"I promise, I won't do anything stupid, and I'll be incredibly careful," you reassure him and smile. He responds with a nod and lays down. Before leaving, you click your teeth in a playful manner, tilting your head to the side. A few loose hair strands fall in your eyes but brush them away with a swift flick of your fingers. "But... can I get one cigarette?"

"Take it. They're in my duffel bag," he says, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But leave half of it for me. There's only one left, and I'll want to smoke it in the morning."

Despite your initial reservations about smoking, you found yourself gradually drawn towards it. It brings a certain novelty to your otherwise monotonous routine. Every time you and Simon ventured out to scavenge for supplies and food, you would occasionally stumble upon forgotten a pack of cigarettes. These rare treasures were akin to finding precious gems in a coal mine, providing a brief, fleeting taste of luxury amidst the stark reality. After your last expedition, Simon found a full pack. But, with the two of you sharing, the cigarettes were depleting at a rapid pace.

As you sit in the kitchen, now and then cautiously peeking through the slats of closed blinds, the night stretches out before you like a vast sea of black ink. It feels as if dawn is an eternity away. Each minute ticks by at an agonisingly slow pace. Occasionally, to break the monotony of your vigil, you wander around the dark house. Clutching the knife in your hand, you scrutinise each room. Tiptoeing from one corner to another. Ensuring that no uninvited guests have sneaked inside.

You even muster the courage to glance through the peephole in the front door. Yet, aside from a stray dog that seems to have taken to circling the house in an anxious pattern, while a few loose biters skulk around the deserted, moonlit street, there isn't much to hold your attention. The world outside is still. The silence is broken only by the distant hoot of an owl or the rustling of leaves in the wind, adding to the eerie calm of the seemingly endless night.

You saunter back into the kitchen and sit on the sturdy wooden table that is placed near the window. Placing a cigarette between your lips, you pull out an old pack of matches. As you ignite the end of the stick, for some time, the nicotine distracts you from the quiet solitude. But then something outside captures your gaze. At first, you dismiss it as a mere illusion - a cruel trick conjured by your weary eyes. You've been awake for too long, you reason, which is why you should wake Simon before you unwillingly succumb to sleep.

But, after the third time, your eyes catch a flicker of something in the distance, you grow certain that you've indeed spotted a light. The unexpected sight of it amid the encompassing darkness startles you. As the pattern repeats, you identify the silhouette of someone meandering down the street. Squinting into the darkness, you discern two figures. One of whom keeps switching on and off the flashlight.

As they edge closer, the details become more distinct. You notice the presence of a dog dutifully trailing by their side. It's the same dog that you've seen before, the one that had taken a peculiar interest in your front yard, sniffing around with an intensity that suggested it was on the hunt for something. The sight of them approaching your house sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

In a sudden burst of adrenaline, you leap to your feet. As you do so, the half-smoked cigarette clutched in your trembling fingers slips from your grasp. It tumbles down, leaving a searing trail of pain on your exposed skin as the lit end grazes you. You hiss in response to the unexpected sting, but your attention is yanked back to the window.

A wave of anxiety sweeps over you as you question whether it could be your mother. Or could it possibly be your brother? You're uncertain, but what you do know is that you need to find out. You need to get out of the house and figure out who those two enigmatic figures lurking in the shadows are.

Before you can make a move towards the door, a firm hand seizes you from behind. This sudden intrusion freezes you in place, like a deer caught in the headlights. The same hand then moves to cover your mouth, stifling any potential screams. A tide of panic crashes over you, chilling your blood and causing your heart to pound against your rib cage. In a desperate, feral attempt to break free, you bite down hard on the fingers that are clutching your face. But despite your efforts, the person behind you remains as unyielding as a stone wall. They respond by squeezing you even harder. Their fingers dig into your skin like iron claws.

"Stop. I told you not to do anything stupid." Simon's voice is low, a commanding growl that sends vibrations echoing into your ear. His breath, warm and steady, tickles the back of your neck, causing each hair to stand on end as prickles of goosebumps race like wildfire across your body.

Gradually, you relax. The tension drains from your muscles, like water seeping out from a squeezed sponge. You realise it's Simon holding you. He only releases you once he's certain you won't panic or raise your voice. Then he pushes you aside and blocks the front door with his broad shoulders. You are confused, unable to comprehend why he is behaving this way. But you don't have time to question it or explain what you saw. You make a desperate attempt to shove him away, but he remains resolute, refusing to budge an inch.

"You aren't going anywhere!" He hisses, shaking his head and glaring at you. His paranoid gaze scans the hallway and the darkness behind you.

This is the first time you've seen him act like this. You notice the sharp knife tucked behind his belt. In his right hand, he grasps a gun. You knew he owned a pistol, but he had never shown it to you before.

"I am going," you argue, desperation palpable in your voice. "What if it's my brother? My mo—"

Before you can finish, Simon abruptly interrupts, "It's not." He spins around to scrutinise the peephole once more.

"You don't know that. Move!"

Your anger intensifies, mirroring the increasing volume of your voice, now at a fevered pitch. Simon's eyes widen as he turns to face you. His hand flies to your mouth, effectively silencing you. He pulls you into his arms, trapping you in a vice-like grip that leaves no room for escape. He refuses to let go again, almost as if he is afraid of losing you. His behaviour perplexes you. You resume your struggle, kicking and squirming in a futile attempt to free yourself, but to no avail. His hold on you gets tighter, a stark reminder of his superior strength. A sinking feeling washes over you as you realise the slim chances of winning this fight.

"Whoever it is that you saw walking down the street, they are neither your mother nor your brother. They're on the lookout for me," Simon whispers into your ear, while dragging you away from the front door and into the living room. "If you keep screaming and making noise, they'll hear us. When they come, if... If you let them find us, I promise you, it won't end well for either of us."

Your mind is a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces, struggling to understand what Simon is talking about. None of this makes any sense to your bewildered head. Yet, there’s something in the tone of his voice, a certain urgency, a hint of fear, that commands your attention and makes you stay silent.

"I'm going to let you go now," he says, his breath ghosting over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His tight grasp on your waist lessens, and he takes a step back, leaving you to curl up on the couch.

Simon moves towards the window. His fingers pull back the curtain enough for him to peek outside. "If you want to stay alive, if you want to have any chance of continuing to look for your family, you will keep your mouth shut."

TAG LIST: @randointhecloset If you want to be added, let me know!

[corvid-blues]

YOOO EPIC THE MUSICAL x LIFE SERIES AU THINGGG

this post is made specifically for @patches4thechaos no one else (/j)

It’s kind of (???) like a masterpost of this AU, but like badly structured and I haven’t made good reference sheets just some color palettes next to some ok drawings I suppose (I am very much going to redraw them just not soon maybe idk) SO UH HERE ROLES AND WHY I PICKED THEM

Odysseus - Joel

Notes - Idk he was the only one I could safely use because he ACTUALLY HAS A WIFE. Also it’s fun to be different. Though using him as Zeus is also like really fitting. Oh well. You get all the trauma Joel.

Penelope - Lizzie

Notes - I’m sorry Lizzie you’re cool and badass but unfortunately you’re also Joel’s wife and Pen is Ody’s wife. I do like to dream you videotape him killing all the sutiors though.

Telemachus - Hermes 

Notes - I literally have no idea who this guy is except he’s vaguely bird-like from fandom perception and also Joel’s son. But he fits the son role pretty well from what I see. (He’s in Empires btw)

Eurylochus - Martyn

Notes - Bro needs more main roles- Like he’s the least popular Life Series winner (which isn’t a low bar all of them are like super popular) but honestly I made Ren Polities and was like “Welp the only only valid option for Eurylochus is Martyn” and rolled with it.

Polities - Ren

Notes - Ren is a happy-go-lucky joyous boy and I think more people need to recognize that like bro is walking through life confused af but dam happy about it I’ll tell you. Everyone is like “Red King angst angst angst” like he has no idea what’s going on at all times.

Polyphemus - Bdubs

Bdubs is the only viable option for Polyphemus like animal-obsessed and murderous? Who else? Also he has a giant horse demon.

Aeolus - Skizz

Notes - He seems the popular choice, and his goofy demeanor and angelic fandom traits really show why. I have a really vivid mental image of his giant angelic form flapping its wings and pushing the ships with giant gusts of wind. It’s my second favorite moment in all of this.

Circe - Gem

Notes - Actually, I can’t take credit for this one, I saw someone with a different EPIC AU who put her as Circe and using skulk instead of seduction in There Are Other Ways and I was like “GENIUS” and stole it. She fits pretty well.

Hermes - Scar

No other viable option. Especially the fandom meme of Hermes selling drugs to Odysseus, seems like something Scar would do. Also the fun beat and Hermes’s other song “Dangerous” is definitely his vibe like seriously.

Tiresias - Grian

Notes - I have so much unnecessary angsty lore that has nothing to do with actual Tiresias like he was barely twenty when he died but grew up in the underworld, he was forced into being a preist to the Secret Keeper (watcher robes and stuff) and is familiar with a lot of the gods because he’s a prophet. I also have a bunch of desert duo shit (obviously). 

Siren - BigB

Notes - Honestly an arbitrary choice, but my main inspiration was Double Life and how he “pretended” to be Grian’s soulmate. Like, this is a completely different situation but like same concept. Ha you fuck up big time B.

Scylla - Pearl

Notes - Look the giant serpent heads are Pearl’s wolf pack Joel’s head is illuminated but the blood moon reflected in the water before they dock and walk through a dark cave and like his face is bathed in the blood of the moon and in the end the blood of his comrades THE SYMBOLISM. The “drown in your sorrow and tears” LIKE DOUBLE LIFE YALL I CANT.

Antinous - idk honestly

Notes - HE’S EVIL AND A JERK IDK

Calypso - Iskall

Notes - Yoooo our one of our only non-lifers- I guess he doesn’t really count for a Life Series AU but like he was too perfect Calypso being like “Noooo why are you breaking up with me” and Odysseus being like “WE WERE NEVER TOGETHER” real Iskall and Joel coded relationship.

Zeus - The Secret Keeper 

Notes - The only problem with this one is Thunder Bringer because he seems a lot more like just a guy there (an all powerful jerk guy but that’s besides the point) and less like an omnipotent divine deity which is what I was going for with the Secret Keeper in the Horse and the Infant and God Games.

Athena - Cleo

Notes - I saw her sometimes depicted with snake hair like Medusa and ya know Athena turned Medusa into a gorgon so I thought “Hey what if Cleo was Athena and her hair turned into snakes when she’s angry” like in My Goodbye and the “hold your tongue” scene in God Games. I gave her dreads so it’s a smoother transition.

Poseidon - Etho

Notes - Another arbitrary choice! I must blame this on my Ethubs brain like this AU is actually mostly based on Last Life (or at least the relationships) so like red life Bdubs being almost killed by Joel would really piss him off. But also in Limited Life Bdubs is technically Etho’s son so you could take it as that. (Sorry Boat Boys shippers I actually really considered putting him as Calypso)

Apollo - Jimmy

Notes - Now we’re getting into the really arbitrary choices. This was mostly a color match, and Jimmy seems like the kind of guy to own a bunch of cows and throw a hissy fit when one of them is killed. 

Hephaestus - Tango

Notes - Actually, I had Tango for Hephaestus in my head for a while. Idk he just has inventor vibes that would very obviously be angry at Joel’s basically sacrifice of his entire crew.

Aphrodite - Scott

Notes - This was mostly an excuse so I could put Scott in like flowy beautiful clothing also he seems like the kind of guy to be the god of love like bro is very gay.

Ares - Impluse

Notes - I… have no good reasoning for this. Impulse in my head is actually one of the chillest of all the Lifers but he seems like he could get very scary if he was ever actually angry.

Hera - Mumbo

Notes - And here we are, the winner of all the arbitrary choices I made for this AU. Man. Idk he had that one hipster outfit and Hera gives off very 80’s hipster vibes. Maybe that’s what he’ll wear. Huh. This only came to mind like now

This was all supposed to be meant for just me so if it’s confusing then uh sorry

Bam the ok references I have you didn’t expect me to have every character did you naw I’m too lazy for that

Don’t mind the terribly scribbled notes on any of them either pfft um

a couple doodles (Scar cameo lol) (click for full image on the second one)

Looking back on it I made those references MONTHS ago Ren’s cape looks so goofy

Less of a Life Series AU and more of a Hermit-Life-Empires AU um IM STILL CALLING AND TAGGING IT EPIC THE MUSICAL x LIFE SERIES THO

And I swear if you make any fanart tag me or I will hunt you down (/lh) (Probably not gonna be fanart but JUST IN CASE)

[ant1quarian]

Ok, I have a bit of a strange question, but I made a skulk-based oc who lives in the deep dark and isn't completely human, and kinda just... yoinks players' stuff when they die? Like some kinda crow or something.

How would the witherborn (assuming there's already an established relationship) react if she passed out from heatstroke or something? (She lives in a cave, she's used to the cold so yeah she's not having a good time lol)

A very big and broad question- definitely nice seeing asks like this come through, though. You get the ones off of the top of my head

Killer is initially alarmed. He doesn't live in a SOULsand valley like the majority of the others- the nether (hell, even the desert) has to be hell for you. He's immediately grabbing you and either getting through a nether portal or sprinting at top speed towards a SOULsand valley to keep you cool. While he keeps up a charming and suave and uncaring bravado (and he cannot feel remorse or empathy), that doesn't stop him from being like "oh. oh fuck."

Dust sort of blinks twice before tilting his head and trying to figure out a way to cool you down. This... actually quite likely ends with you in his arms because, unlike the others, he is very cold to the touch. Not so much that it'd shock you and hurt (due to the contrast between heat and cold) but to the point where it may be... slightly uncomfortable? He'd be getting you to a deep dark as soon as he could- not that he's exactly well-travelled in the overworld.

Lust would likely immediately freak out and help you as well as he could. He can't say he's great at dealing with species he's unaware of- but he's trying his best. He lives deep in the warped forest, so the temperatures are slightly cooler there, but the best thing is, is the fact he has a nether portal right next to his house.

Ccino you wouldn't have met in the nether- so you'll be in a desert. His immediate reaction is actually to simply burrow underground to the much, much cooler cave systems and bring you what you need in order to aid you in your recovery. Any mob that decides to fuck around will find out.

Carrion (Birdtale Sans) has immediately dumped fire res on you and scampered to take you into the overworld once more. He's cursing under his breath about your antics- why the hell you went to the burning fire hellpit that he lives in when you're almost a creature belonging to an opposite environment. In reality, he's just really concerned.

[shanastoryteller]

Do you think you'll tackle Serene and Endymion in your Greek Myths? They are gorgeous btw. ;)

Not all titans were subdued. Not all were lost, or chained, or changed.

Some simply endured, too large and distant to be concerned with matters of titles and thrones.

Helios raged. Even bound within Tartarus, his sun burned brighter and angrier with each day, feeding off the hatred of the cursed titan. Seas turned to deserts as water was baked out of the earth. Apollo scooped up Helios’s chariot, bringing the sun to bear and returning a normal rhythm to the days and nights. Helios’s rage burns him even still, but the chariot has at least accepted its new master.

Artemis becomes associated with the moon because she is her brother’s other half in all things. But she constructs her chariot herself and it is used for races and to transport huntresses and little else.

The moon’s first goddess has never left. She has dragged the moon across the sky in her chariot of starlight uninterrupted for over a millennia.

The titan Selene did not join the fight of the new gods and the titans. She did not defend her brother nor did she attempt to save him.

But neither has she acknowledged the new pantheon. Zeus rules the sky and has demanded an audience with her many times, but she has never granted it. Zeus chases her chariot, but even riding lightning he can’t catch it when she unhooks the moon and no longer has its weight slowing her down.

Poseidon shakes his head and says, “Leave her be. I am the master of the sea and yet if I suddenly had to push forward every inch of the tide myself, I wouldn’t be left with much power to do anything else. All you’re doing is causing problems for the rest of us. Leave Selene to her work.”

Artemis agrees. If even Poseidon thinks bothering the moon titan is a bad idea, then they should listen. Usually he can’t be bothered to have opinions about anyone outside of his own wife, and even that’s rare.

Zeus gives up. Time passes, as it does, and no matter how the sun bucks and fights against her brother’s grip, sometimes going too quick and then too slow, the moon continues at the same steady pace.

Artemis grows stronger beneath moonlight. This must be because of her worshippers, or perhaps her brother’s. She never answers any prayers for tides or from people lost in the darkness, refusing every attempt to give her a power not her own, but her silence doesn’t seem to discourage anyone. Under the night sky her chariot moves impossibly fast and moonlight seems to always find her through the trees, which makes hunting difficult, but she doesn’t dare complain.

She does not want to earn Selene’s ire.

But despite her best efforts, Artemis does not manage to avoid her attention.

She is separated from her huntresses, spending the third night in a row tracking down a leopard that Demeter claims she drove mad on accident. Artemis doesn’t believe her, but the truth is irrelevant. This creature stalks and kills with Demeter’s blessing upon it, taking down all manor of creature and person.

Her temples have been filled with those begging for her aid. She’s blessed many spears, but her blessing doesn’t seem to be able to outweigh Demeter’s.

That irritates her enough that she’s seeing to this personally. She’s going to skin that damn leopard and wear it’s pelt to the next meeting of the pantheon.

One moment she’s skulking beneath a canopy of leaves, following several drops of blood she’s convinced will lead her to her prey, and the next the hair of her arms is standing on end and her heart is beating fast enough to make her light headed.

She swings around, spear raised, convinced that the damn leopard has found her first.

It’s not the leopard.

“You are the one they are praying too,” says a woman, her body soft with roundness and with the palest skin Artemis has seen on a living person. The extra skin beneath her chin gives her a perfectly circular face and the pockmarks across her face and body are a perfect echo of the moon’s many craters.

Selene tucks her ink black hair behind her ear and looks at her with equally dark eyes.

Artemis was born long after the war with the titans and she’s never ventured into Tartarus. She had assumed their presence felt much the same as other gods, that perhaps it was similar to the feeling of getting caught up in Hera’s rage.

It’s nothing like that.

Selene’s power is like a physical weight, as if they’re suddenly underwater and it’s surrounding them everywhere. Artemis lets it push her to her knees, bowing her head and trying to force her heart to calm. “Titan Selene. I swear that I did nothing to encourage them. I have not claimed any of your power.”

She should have done more than ignore them. She should have toppled temples and killed dissenters. She should have redirected their prayers. Anything to prevent what’s happening now.

“Would you like to?”

Artemis risks raising her head. Selene doesn’t sound angry and she doesn’t look it either. “I don’t understand.”

Selene gestures to the sky. “The moon is different from the sun. The sun pushes forward on its own and must be restrained and goaded in equal measure. Untethered, it will still rise and set. The moon must be pulled. It wants nothing more than to rest and unprompted it will stay motionless. If I step from my chariot for even a moment, the moon halts. It is unmoving now, as we speak.”

Artemis looks up. The moon always looks still to her. She wonders if the tides have noticed the difference.

“I have not been able to walk among earth for more than a few moments since I forged my chariot, lest all that follow the moon also go still and silent. They call you a moon goddess.”

“Please don’t make me take your place,” she says, not above begging. If the goddess traps her on her chariot, Artemis won’t have a choice.

Selene smiles, amusement making her eyes sparkle like distant stars. “You are young. You could not survive the chill or the weight for long. But perhaps you could endure for an hour or two.”

“I don’t understand,” she repeats, but some of her fear is starting to recede. Selene is not speaking like she’s going to strike her or curse her.

“There is a man,” she says, then pauses.

“Oh,” Artemis blinks, then, “Um, that’s not really my area. I could ask my brother?”

Selene laughs. “No, that is not necessary. I just need time. Will you steer my chariot each night so that I may walk across the earth unworried? Then you shall be a moon goddess in more than name.”

A titan, offering to share power for so little a reward? There has to be a catch. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll take too much?”

“I am not a goddess as you are a goddess,” she says, her derision light enough that Artemis can choose not to take offense to it. “My power neither grows nor dwindles based on the opinions of mortals. If you gain more, I do not have less.”

It shouldn’t be that surprising. All gods have some level of innate power. But not like this, not something that could alter the course of a planet, not this large and this terrifying.

Artemis decides then that Selene must be the most powerful of the titans. Anything else is too much to think about.

“I accept,” she says.

Selene reaches out, wrapping her thick fingers around her wrist, and then Artemis is somewhere else and she’s freezing.

“You get used to the cold,” Selene says, nudging her to the front of her chariot. The starlight glitters beneath her, driving home how her own silver chariot is nothing more than a pale imitation, no matter how it shines. “I drive the chariot forward with own will.”

Artemis’s works similarly. She focuses, and the chariot lurches forward, but then it jerks backwards. She glances behind, seeing the massive moon attached to the chariot with pulsing, heavy black chains. She tries again, slower, but no matter how much power she puts behind it, the moon won’t move forward a single inch.

“It’s alright,” Selene says. “I’ll help. You’ll grow stronger.”

She leans forward and spits out into space. Her saliva splits into two and then grows, until two massive, pearly white great wolves are standing at attention. Selene summons more of that strange black chain, looping it around the wolves’ chest and forming a hook to pull it through the front of the chariot before handing the ends to Artemis.

They’re heavy enough that she can feel the weight dragging her arms down. “What do I–”

Selene whistles and then wolves bound forward. For a moment they just strain against their chains, but then Artemis adds her own power to push the chariot, and then slowly, painfully, the moon is dragged forward.

“Good,” Selene says, the word settling into Artemis’s bones. “Stop when you must, but not before. I will feel the moon’s stillness and return.”

Her disappearance leaves the air surrounding Artemis even colder, but she refuses to shiver and instead urges the wolves faster with a snap of the celestial chains.

~

Endymion spends most of his nights on the tallest mountain within walking distance of the city, tracking the stars’ movements so that his fellow astronomers can check their equations against the realities of the heavens.

It takes him much longer than his colleagues and he blames it on an unsteady hand.

The truth is that his hands are perfectly steady. He has a one tablet of star positions and several rolls of linens with paintings of the moon. He’s not a very good artist, but something about it compels him, and so he spends hours each night determined to capture ever crevice and angle.

“Why are you always looking at me?”

He startles, dropping his brush, and turns on his heel to see who on earth is up here with him.

It’s a woman, with long black hair and a large body. There’s a puckered line along her cheek and he resists the urge to press his fingers against it, to follow it’s path until his fingers reach her lips. The soft pink of her plush mouth is the only bit of color on her.

Her question catches up with him and he sputters, “I’ve never seen you before!”

He would remember.

“You are always looking,” she insists, walking towards him. “What do you see?”

“I really haven’t seen you before,” he says, but doesn’t move away when she comes right up next to him. This close, he can see some faint color in her cheeks. He wonders if there are any other parts of her that tinge from pale to pink.

He feels heat rush to his own face at the thought. The bright moonlight that lets him see her so clearly is the same moonlight that’s going to give away his indecent thoughts.

But she doesn’t call him on it, instead pointing down at the crumpled linen. “Why?”

“Oh,” he flushes even more. “I don’t know. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? That’s reason enough.”

Endymion waits for her derision, the same that he’s received every time he’s gotten caught, but instead she curls her hands into the material of his shirt and says, “I agree,” and then she’s yanking him down to press her lips into his.

He tries to convince her to follow him home, but instead she disrobes right there and he can’t argue with that.

“Be here again tomorrow night,” she orders when the sweat is cooling on their bodies.

She likes to order him around. He doesn’t mind. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

“I will not answer questions that you already know the answer to,” she says, and then kisses him again before he can argue.

He means to walk down with her, to escort her home at least, but the moment he turns his back on her, she’s gone.

It takes him seven more nights with her for him to work up the courage to call her Selene.

She smiles and bites his shoulder, the imprints of her teeth a perfect circle.

gods and monsters series, part xxxiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

[sexymanxisuma]

Masterpost of all aus, fics and series that have been tagged on this blog

if you enjoy any of these, please feel encouraged to go check out the blogs tagged and check out more of their stuff! ^-^

#shep dbh au <- the detroit become human au that @shepscapades has that is in the form of comics and other drawings as well (think like doodles and wips ^-^)

#the silver sun <- a xisuma centric fic that @thathermitweirdo and art that is made inspired by the fic

#tastes like coffee <- an ethubs fic that xisuma shows up in by @thatonewatercat

#hunger au <- posts about the fic lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) by @definitelynotshouting that is a grian fic where grian goes through a lot of stuff and xisuma shows up in the fic. heavy tags

#vampire au <- so far just one post by @thathermitweirdo talking about writing vampire hunter xisuma ^-^

#it spreads au <- a comic series by @foxxology where grian becomes corrupted by skulk during s9 and xisuma shows up

#creaturfication au <- an au by @evenmoreevil & @applestruda

#sporelings au <- an au by @sporelings-au that takes place during s7 where grian is mother spore and the other resistance members are his kids and doc is his partner. xisuma shows up and is lovingly referred to as uncle egg by the sporelings ^-^

#meiy'ia <- a pirate fic and art by @kitsunespawz where xisuma is the captain of the ship. there is hermitshipping in it

#space outlaws <- a hermitcraft space au by @martuzzio that has art and a fic called my reality, yours

#starred water au <- an au by @kingscourthouse that includes both xisuma and evil xisuma

#little big hermitcraft <- a little big planet au by @slime-gods

#iris au <- an interactive au on the blog @ask-the-iris-au-hermits

#apricity au <- an au by @isolarya which includes watcher lore and traffic series

#the swap au <- a post double life au by @arthropod-concoctions where the soulmates end up swapping places. xisuma shows up during in the fic, which is called and why are you british now?

#spicy chicken au <- a fantasy au by @mojo-chojo (and their mutuals, followers and anons) with various comics and fics. this au has hermitshipping elements ^-^

#hot guy aquarium au <- a merfolk x superhero au on @officalhotguyaquarium where xisuma is the owner of the aquarium ^-^

#black rose au <- a four part series by @cobradoesmcyt that is set in s6

#diverging future <- a fic by @bunnyloverqueen where xisuma adopts grian and jimmy as children. evil xisuma is in the fic too. heavy tags.

#mini tango au <- an au by @mysteriousmoss about tango having a clone/son. evil xisuma appears in some art for the au

#void duo hero au <- a superhero au by @kiwinatorwaffles that has both art and fics. this au includes both xisuma and evil xisuma

#hc scp au <- a scp au by @rosego1dd

#daau <- a desert alien au by @stiffyck that xisuma is a part of ^-^

#tcpootw <- the curtains pulled out of the wall is a fic by @meteormoss about etho cleo and bdubs. xisuma is only mentioned in asks i believe (i haven't finished reading the fic yet so sorry if im wrong ^-^). a bit heavier fic.

#tamacrafters au <- an au by @hybbart where players spawn in as eggs and then hatch into lil creatures ^-^ this au is partially inspired by tamagotchi if i remember correctly (let me know if im wrong ^-^)

#jevin's egg disaster <- an au by @theminecraftbee inspired by the easter egg hunt that jevin put together in s9 where the eggs hatch and lil hermits run around the server ^-^

#private detective gem tasey <- a gem centric detective au by @kiwinatorwaffles

#featherweight au <- an au by @doctorsiren that xisuma and evil xisuma appear in

#featherswap au <- an au by @doctorsiren that xisuma and evil xisuma appear in

#commission competition <- an au by @stitchthesewords that is about etho and bdubs mainly. xisuma has appeared in it tho ^-^

#dry lightning au <- an au by @t3rm1n0s where an oc (koda) is created and their shenanigans on the server. xisuma appears in the au

#winter's rebirth <- a multifandom au by @mysteriousmoss that xisuma and evil xisuma appear in

#wall au <- a superhero au by @nullvoidface where cuteguy becomes the villain. xisuma appears in it. the fic is called And Now There's A Coldness (And It's Shaped Like Me)

#coastal town au <- an au by @solsearchingnights that is multi fandom. xisuma shows up in it.

#aadtd au <- an au by @sleepychaoticentity where both grian and zedaph are watchers on hermitcraft. xisuma is a part of this au

#kitsunes space pirates au <- a pirate au by @kitsunespawz where every server is a pirate ship and the admin of said server is the captain. both xisuma and evil xisuma are in this au

#odyssey craftpunk au <- an au by @gumptiomdog that both xisuma and evil xisuma are a part of

#hermitfold au <- a hermitcraft x dsmp au by @serendipitous-posts where c!jack manifold appears in hermitcraft s8 and ends up basing with zedaph. xisuma is a part of this au

#metal hearts au <- an au by @votederpycausemufins where mumbo and grian rebuild grumbot and jrumbot but as little robots, so they now have essentially 2 kids on the hermitcraft server. xisuma is in this au

#snapshot au <- an au by @doctorsiren where different hermits have been "snapped" and are evil robots (pls correct me if im wrong about this) both xisuma and evil xisum are in this au

#dadskall au <- an au by @doctorsiren where iskall is doom guy/used to be doomguy and is also xisuma & evil xisuma's dad because of being doomguy

#this is about a stuffed bird <- a fic written by @theminecraftbee where mumbo jumbo sets out on a mission to find grian after the world seemingly ends and he sees things that no one should ever see. evil xisuma is in this fic and there are mentions of xisuma

#hermit doomsday au <- an au on the @dailyxisumavoid blog where xisuma is surviving in a post apocalypse world and is finding other survivors along the way ^-^

#recks au <- an au by @wasyago that takes place in s8 with the concept of the builders are robots that the redstoners have made in a cyberpunky setting ^-^ both xisuma and evil xisuma present

#from the archives <- a the magnus archives au by @sixteenth-days that has multiple fics and has characters from multiple different smps. both xisuma and evil xisuma show up during the au.

#hermitcraft mermaid au <- an au by @remderance where xisuma is the owner of an oceanarium and ocean research center. different hermits in this au are different ocean creature mermaids like scar and pearl ^-^

#fallen london au <- an au by @redstone-sun that is multifandom and has multiple fics

#octopath au <- an au by @bathtea4 inspired by octopath 2

#SEN au <- an au by @tunastime around the fic Stretching Endless Nights. xisuma is mentioned in the fic and in some other posts about the au

[sophieeee0105]

I just want to discuss how throughout the life series, Etho’s episodes 4, 5 and 6 are always just constant fricking chaos for absolutely no reason.

third life:

Episode 4: he launches multiple missiles at the crastle, stealing his redstone back each time and is then blamed for being apart of Grian’s triple kill

episode 5 +6 (well session 5 + 6) were in episode 5: he made the Dorito walls, then death my firing squad occurred, then he made an enderporter, launched a tnt cannon at the crastle as a distraction, (also joined dowarts officially during this), and also was part of pizza’s murder, then had his castle burned down for the first time, then got sniped by Scar for tryna steal stuff from the desert (cuz his enderporter broke), and then had the entire bit of being terrified of Cleo despite being the only red in the conversation

last life:

Episode 4: Was genuinely a menance the whole episode using invisibility pots to sneak around peoples bases, and also stole the brewing stand from Cleo’s body in full view of like 4 people

episode 5: had to deal with a red roommate, no tango and also being the boogeyman, and made an enemy of scar in the process

episode 6: whatever the stack kill carnage was, bdubs boogey betrayal, tango rage crystal which became Etho’s rage crystal where he threatened 3 reds, ultimately getting skizz killed after a failed tnt cannon

double life:

Episode 4: fishing rodding the warden, near death via attempted entrance of mineshaft, death by fishing rod, murder of Pearl, near death by witch, threatening of grian and scar, becoming successful hitmen killing the ranchers

episode 5: the red army, skulk sensor trap kill, THE SHIP BURNS EVERYTHING BURNS

episode 6: red army attempt 2, literally wanting Scott dead the entire episode, Etho and bdubs cannot be separated and everyone knows that and deals with it as the server splits in two, death by trapped portal

limited life:

episode 4: green hunting day, “thank you Joel you saved me so now I can kill you”, failed attempt at trapping Scott’s bed, ETHO IS WASHED UP CONVERSATION

episode 5: blowing up bread bridge and his children, awkward family supper

episode 6: dies multiple times (mainly to his son or his own stupidity) and generally doesn’t have a good day, bucket clutches multiple times, kills scar with a fishing rod

secret life

episode 4: fails listening comprehension with Martyn, aha meme with Jimmy and becomes like an uncle tryna fit in with the kids

episode 5: be nice to bdubs day, weeping angel task causing way too many problems, somehow getting involved with the tag task because of bdubs, pearl’s hot potato book and his inability to return it to her

episode 6: bringing a warden to the surface while everyone else goes about their day normally, get set on fire but Pearl for seemingly no reason, becomes friends with Jimmy who was feral to half the server, the wither and warden fight in the centre of the server, killing 2 reds and he succeeds his hard task

[jellyfishbeansontoast]

⭒ luke’s diner - using your thumb to swipe slowly across their lower lip with sirius black

i only realised like halfway through that im pretty sure black eyes arent instant so ignore that they are now lets just say magical ones do ig

What the hell happened to you?” you jumped up from where you’d been quite comfortably sitting in the deserted common room as Sirius skulked his way inside. Everyone had long since gone to bed, but you’d waited for Sirius to return, anticipating his usual sulky self after he’d gotten caught from any pranks. You weren’t expecting him to be sporting a black eye and a cut lip - poorly hidden from you by his curls and a bowed head.

“Snivellus found me on the way back.” he mumbles, his pride is hurt and you know he’s glad the common room is empty. 

“Come here.” you sit back on the sofa, extending your arms to him. He crosses the room in a few quick paces, nestling into the space you’ve provided for him. He lies almost on top of you, just enough to not be uncomfortable, with his head hidden in the crook of your neck. Your fingers run lengths along his back soothingly. “What did you say to him?”

“How dare you! I’m a victim!” he exclaims in mock hurt. His lips ghost your neck and the fan of his breath tickles, he pauses for a few seconds. He lifts his head to look at you “I told him I knew a cleaning spell if he ever fancied taking a wash.”

“Sirius! You promised me you’d stay out of his way” your hands cup his cheeks. 

“He got in my way!” 

“Looks to me like you were in his” you push a curl out of his eye, taking in the extent of the damage.

He pouts “It hurts,” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively “kiss it better?”

“Sirius Black this isn’t funny” but you concede anyway, kissing all over his face, landing a final kiss on his lips. “Better?”

“Almost.” he connects your lips, deepening the kiss with soft passion. 

“He cut your lip up too” you swipe your thumb across the afflicted area. 

“Makes me look quite bad boyish though, don't you think?”

“I swear if you get in more fights just to look hot.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“Shut up.” you cross your arms defiantly and Sirius returns his head to the comfort of your shoulder. “You’re always hot” you admit, slightly worried about inflating his ego even further. You’re surprised to not hear a cocky response in return, only to be met by his soft snores. 

[blueraineshadows]

Heya! 💖

So first of all...I FUCKING LOVE YOUR STUFF!

God, you're a godsend and I really love all your writing. It's all so well written and I can't get enough of it!

So, I dunno if you take any requests, but after hearing this audio (and I think you know exactly what I mean 😏), I can't help but wonder if you'd write a short little FF of Leander and Sebastian getting really drunk or something and they hate-fuck each other, but it's a one time thing and they swear to never talk about it. 🥵

This has been stuck in my head for quite a while and I would love to read it in your style! 💖💖💖

Thank you 💖

Sorry it took a while to get round to it, and I hope this is alright. 🍆🔥🫠 Ao3 link

Sebastian Sallow x Leander Prewett NSFW 🔞

My Secret Desire - Part One

As the last of the customers in the Three Broomsticks began to filter out of the pub, Leander put down his empty mug and yawned, rubbing his face with his hand. His eyes felt blurry, and the alcohol thrummed through his veins. He wasn't usually in the habit of drinking alone, but Garreth was on a date, and Leander was hoping that the dorm would be empty when he got back, Garreth making his moves elsewhere. It was just a reminder of his own failed love life.

It was a long walk back to the castle, and he figured he might sober up on the way rather than take the Floo. As he turned from the bar and made his way to the doors, he almost walked right into someone else and came to a sudden stop, his eyes clashing with a familiar pair of scowling brown eyes. Leander's mouth twisted sourly. "Sallow," he muttered.

He was not in the mood to pick a fight with Sebastian tonight, and made to pass by him, but Sebastian grabbed at his arm, his face leering in close, the stench of whiskey on his breath as he spoke.

"Got a problem, Prewett?" He slurred.

Leander frowned, glancing down at the hand clutching his sleeve and shrugged himself free of Sebastian's grip, an odd shiver going up his back as he did so. "You're drunk, Sallow," he said. He shook his head at him. "You should head back before you get into trouble."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. "Didn't know you cared," he mumbled. He pushed his hand through his hair, swaying a little on his feet.

Leander watched Sebastian for a moment, his head clear enough to ponder over his fellow classmate. Sebastian hadn't been the same since his twin had left school, and then he had got caught up with the new 5th year student. While the facts weren't widely known, Leander was sure they had gotten themselves into some kind of trouble. Sebastian had been bitter and mean ever since then, but grief did strange things to people, and it was well known that Sebastian's guardian had died.

With the end of 7th year fast approaching, Leander doubted he would see Sebastian again once they parted ways to begin their new lives. Why should he even care? Though, it would be odd not bickering with him in the halls or winding him up in classes. While Sebastian had become a rival of sorts, it would be odd not to see him skulking about. Dare he admit that he would miss their banter.

Leander sighed and got a hold on Sebastian's elbow. "Come on, you can walk back with me."

Sebastian grunted and yanked his arm free of Leander's grip, his cheeks flushing red as he glared at him. "Don't fucking touch me," he hissed. "I don't need your help!"

"Fine," Leander bit out. Frustration tightened his face as he stared at Sebastian, and then he shook his head again. The bloke was like an irritating itch that you couldn't reach. "Suit yourself."

The chilly night air bit into Leander's face as he walked down the cobbled street towards the main path back to Hogwarts. The sky was clear and full of stars, and Leander pulled his collar up a little, a puff of white leaving his lips as he sighed. Some people just didn't or couldn't accept help.

The path was mostly deserted, but Leander still kept a wary eye as he walked, the moonlight glittering on the lake water, the breeze ruffling through the bare trees. Spring was a long time showing its face, and he was looking forward to warmer days.

The soft sound of gravel shifting on the path behind Leander made him tilt his head. He kept moving, and he didn't look back, but his ears pricked up to listen out for more. Perhaps he should have Apparated, or used the Floo, but he was no coward, and he kept a steady pace as he walked.

The old ruin came up on his right, the broken edges of the brick appearing pale as the moonlight reflected off the dilapidated structure. The sound of feet came again from behind him, and this time Leander turned, his fingers gripping the handle of his wand. His eyes scanned the path, but there was no sign of anyone, the walkway empty, the only shadows were those of the trees as they shifted in the breeze.

As Leander turned back, movement to his right caught his eye, a shimmer of a spell hiding a figure in the grass at the edge of the path. With a quick flick of his wand, he cast to his right, hitting the glamour with a quick stun. A grunt sounded, the glamour disappeared, and a figure dressed in black fell into the grass. Leander stood for a moment, puzzled and unsure. He could have sworn... No, why would he?

Leander grit his teeth and stalked through the grass to look closer at the figure sprawled out on the ground, his wand aimed. A sigh left his lips when he saw the mop of brown hair and disgruntled face as Sebastian struggled to sit up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Leander frowned. "Were you following me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Prewett," Sebastian groused. He shifted to his knees and planted a boot to leverage himself up. A chuckle slipped from his lips. "Did I scare you?"

Leander rolled his eyes. "Idiot," he muttered. Again, he didn't have the inclination to deal with this crap, and he turned away.

He yelped in surprise as Sebastian grabbed his arm, pulling him roughly back around. "Don't turn your back on me," Sebastian snarled.

Leander shoved him, making him stumble, but Sebastian whipped out his wand, throwing a quick cast. The drink made him sloppy, however, and Leander blocked it with ease. They began to cast at each other, throwing spells through the chilly darkness, moving in a constant circle as they dodged and parried.

Leander was growing tired of this bullshit and was beginning to regret his slight sympathy for Sallow earlier. He threw a spell out and caught Sebastian with it, just wanting this to be over so he could return to the castle in peace. Sebastian stumbled and hit an old barrel that was lying in the grass near the old ruin. He swore as he hit the ground, rolling over with a groan.

Leander stood there, debating going over against just leaving the prick to lie there, a drunken fool. He screwed his nose up, his upbringing winning out as he sighed and marched over to help Sebastian to his feet. He held out his hand, and Sebastian stilled, staring at it.

A war of expressions washed over Sebastian's face as he stared at Leander's hand. Leander felt warmth creep up his neck, the moonlight making Sebastian's freckled face pale, his full lips parted slightly as he breathed quickly. Then, Sebastian lifted his gaze to Leander's face, his eyes glittering in the dark. He reached up and took hold of Leander's hand, a smirk twisting those full lips.

Leander swallowed, the contact felt charged, different, and he almost yanked his hand away. This was too much eye contact. It made him feel strange, hot, as though his clothes were too tight all of a sudden. Sebastian adjusted his grip, fingertips grazing slightly against Leander's wrist, and Leander actually gasped.

Sebastian's eyes widened, only slightly, but enough for Leander to notice, and his cheeks grew very warm, very quickly.

A sharp tug was all it took. Sebastian pulled at Leander's hand, and he stumbled forward, the momentum making him fall to the ground. He collided with Sebastian, both of them grunting at the impact as their legs entangled. Sebastian was as quick as a snake, grabbing hold of Leander and throwing him back into the grass, pinning him down.

"What...?" Leander gasped. But his words were cut off into a strangled, muffled groan as Sebastian's mouth pressed down viciously onto his lips.

Shocked, Leander made to shove back, his hands slapping into Sebastian's chest, but the bloke was surprisingly strong. Their mouths ripped apart as they struggled, Sebastian using his knee to pin Leander down even harder.

"Don't fight it," Sebastian growled through gritted teeth.

Something like terror shot through Leander as his skin ignited into fizzing sparks, Sebastian was writhing against him, trying to pin his arms down, and Leander was growing dizzy with shock. Not at what Sebastian was doing, but at how his body was reacting. Leander lifted his head, his eyes wide and staring as he looked down to where Sebastian's hips were mashed against his, grinding against him.

Leander groaned, the fight going out of him as his cock began to twitch and swell. "Fuck," he hissed.

Sebastian met his eyes, the intensity of that stare making Leander forget he had lungs for a moment. And then Sebastian was kissing him again, hard kisses that made Leander open his mouth and take the thrust of a hot tongue, the taste of Firewhiskey and Sebastian heady and thick.

As Sebastian moved his lips over his jaw and down to his neck, Leander sucked in a much needed breath and then moaned as Sebastian bit him, teeth grazing his flesh with a sting that made his balls ache and his cock throb.

What the fuck were they doing? Leander went still, laying in the grass as Sebastian kissed and sucked at his neck, his hips grinding against his cock. His mind screamed at him to push Sebastian off, this was crazy, it was fucked up, they hated each other. Right?

He sucked in another harsh breath as Sebastian pulled at his belt, the buckle clinking in the darkness, the buttons popping open. Leander groaned, his hips flexing as Sebastian shoved his hand deep inside his pants, fingers curling over his erection in strokes that had Leander almost choking with lust.

"Seb...Sebastian..." The words were mumbled, almost incoherent as heat pulsed between his thighs at Sebastian's firm pumps.

"That's it," Sebastian said darkly. "You want it. You want me to touch you."

Leander fisted the front of Sebastian's jumper, forcing him a little closer so he could look at him. "Why?" It was meant to be a demand, but it was a strangled plea, his throat working hard as Sebastian tormented him with clever strokes.

Sebastian smirked and chuckled, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he pumped his fist faster. Leander stared and groaned, his head falling back, but his eyes still locked on Sebastian. Why was this so fucking hot?

Leander gave up trying to question it, his mind spinning out as lust took over. He relaxed back into the grass, soft moans leaving him as Sebastian shifted downwards, pulling Leander's trousers with him so that the chilly night air hit his hot flesh. Leander shivered and then cried out as he felt soft, full lips take his head in a gentle suck.

Leander had to look, he had to see this, leaning up on his elbows as Sebastian took his cock deeper into his mouth, that messy mop of hair just begging to be pulled as Sebastian fucked him with his mouth. A vibration shuddered through him as Sebastian moaned, his fingers cupping Leander's balls as he spread his tongue along the shaft, swirling over the tip to gather up the seeping pre cum.

Sebastian sucked his fingers and then began to stroke Leander's hole, teasing it gently, and Leander flexed his hips, eyes closing in bliss at the way he touched him.

"Oh fuck," Leander said. He grabbed Sebastian's hair and pulled, and Sebastian almost growled, sucking him even deeper and harder. The intrusion of a finger, slow and teasing, was tipping Leander over the edge, but he didn't want it to stop. Leander's thighs trembled, his breathless moans sounding filthy to his own ears as his hips bucked, thrusting himself deeper into Sebastian's throat.

"I'm going to cum," he whimpered. Sebastian grabbed his arse cheek and squeezed, taking him deep into his throat, and Leander felt the clench, his cock throbbing in the restricted cavern of Sebastian's throat as thick pulses of cum shot blissfully from his tip, his hole clenching around Sebastian's finger.

Leander was panting, jerking with over sensitivity as Sebastian's tongue lapped at his cock. He collapsed against the ground staring up at the starlit sky. He didn't know what to expect next, but it was not having his thighs spread wider. He looked down and gasped as Sebastian bent forward, a harsh sound coming from his throat before he spat messily against Leander's arse.

Leander had never seen anything so filthy in all his life. Cum dribbled from Sebastian's lips as he worked his mouth to spit again, spraying all the release he had caught onto Leander's hole. Sebastian was already sliding his fingers through it, his smirk positively wicked. Leander was speechless, his thoughts crashing into each other as he fantasised about licking the slick from Sebastian's chin.

"You ever been fucked before, Prewett?"

Leander shook his head. "N..no..."

Sebastian chuckled. "Don't worry, mate. I'll be gentle."

Leander hissed air through his teeth as Sebastian slid a finger deep into his hole, the squelch of his own cum and Sebastian's spit making his cheeks flood with crimson. He panted, still twitching from his orgasm as Sebastian worked at him, slipping another finger in.

"You're tight, Prewett," Sebastian said. His gaze was intense, almost feral as he glared at Leander. "I can't wait to get balls deep in there. Roll over for me like a good bitch."

Leander gulped and nodded, shifting to roll over on the grass, and Sebastian pulled his hips up. Leander felt rather exposed, arse up in the air, the cold air feeling strange against his intimate parts. But as Sebastian began to thrust with his fingers again, Leander forgot about the cold, concentrating only on the feel of Sebastian, the burn, and the tingle of each delicious invasion. His cheeks burned at the degradation, it shouldn't feel this good to let Sallow call him a bitch, but it made his cock begin to twitch again, his breath come in pants.

Sebastian shifted, and Leander heard the rustle of clothing, anticipation made his tongue thick in his mouth as he felt the silken hardness of Sebastian brush against his inner thigh. He trembled as he felt the press of a thick head against his hole. A stinging slap to his arse cheek made him squeal, the sound of it loud in the night.

Sebastian edged his way into Leander's arse, a deep groan coming from his mouth that sent shivers down Leander's spine. Leander gaped at the slow, torturous push of Sebastian's cock, stretching him out. His fingers gripped at the blades of grass, his nails digging into the dirt as Sebastian pulled back and then pushed deeper.

"Fucking hell," Leander groaned. He felt his muscles contract around that thick length, and Sebastian's fingers pinched viciously at his hips.

"Such a good bitch," Sebastian muttered. He began to thrust, lazy, teasing thrusts, and Leander closed his eyes, moaning and rocking his hips at the utter bliss of it.

It didn't stay that way for long. Sebastian began to grunt and pant, his hands gripping tightly as he began to fuck harder, his skin slapping against Leander's arse, the noise erotic and loud in the open space.

Leander's eyes rolled, filthy moans leaving his own lips as his cock hardened painfully. He reached down and grasped it, wanking himself in time to Sebastian's violent pounding. His knees scraped the dirt, his mind was spinning, but he was begging, the words pouring from his lips to be fucked harder.

A quick glance back showed Sebastian's face gleaming with sweat in the moonlight, his hair damp at the edges, and in disarray. He was like an animal, his mouth open and harsh sounds coming from his throat, a gleam of saliva dripping from his lower lip. Leander squeezed his own cock and groaned, hips bucking up to meet angry thrusts as he spurted a second load out onto the grass.

As his muscles clenched and contracted, Sebastian threw his head back, a feral sound leaving his mouth as he slammed in deep, grinding himself into Leander's arse cheeks as he found his own release.

Leander shuddered at the pulse of it deep inside of him, leaning forward to press his flushed face against the coolness of the grass, the musky scent of sex mingling with the smell of dirt.

Sebastian slid from him, the heat of him disappearing to be replaced with a chill against his soaked hole. Leander rolled over, panting, stunned, hot juices squelching out onto his inner thigh.

Sebastian was sucking in his breaths, staring at Leander, a satisfied grin on his face. He clambered to his feet, fixing his clothing and pushing his hand through his hair. "You took that well, Prewett. I'm almost impressed."

"Almost," Leander muttered. He began to straighten his own clothes. His legs shook as he stood, and he grit his teeth, not wanting to stumble in front of Sebastian. His arse felt strange, violated, but also tingled with something else. Something he never expected to associate with the irritating Slytherin before him. Pleasure.

Sebastian moved close and Leander tensed. Sebastian grabbed his jaw, having to look up at Leander due to their height difference, but the look on Sebastian's face was pure dominance.

"Open your mouth and say one word about this to anyone, and I will kill you," he said bluntly. There was no humour in that look, just pure command.

"Why the fuck would I tell anyone?" Leander frowned.

Sebastian patted his cheek. "Good boy," he purred.

Leander tried to suppress the way that soft praise made his insides twist pleasantly. He nodded and turned away, fixing his hair a little as he thought about making his move to leave. This could get awkward real fast.

Sebastian chuckled in the dark behind him as he began to walk. Leander didn't look back.

"See you tomorrow, Prewett," Sebastian taunted.

Leander shivered. He wasn't sure if he was meant to be terrified or turned on. The way he was blushing told him it was both.

Part 2

[runawaymun]

The Valar, but make them Egyptian

Varda Elentári -  as Nut, Egyptian goddess of the sky, vault of the heavens, often drawn arched over the Earth god, Neb. 

Manwë - as Horus, most notably god of kingship, healing, protection, the sun and the sky.

Aulë - as Ptah, creator-god and maker of things, a patron of craftsmen, especially sculptors

Yavanna - as Taweret, goddess of fertility, rejuvenation, and protection.

Mandos - as Anubis, god of funerary rites, protector of graves, and guide to the underworld.

Nienna - as Nephthys, goddess of grief, mourning, darkness, temple service, magic, and embalming.

Ulmo -  as represented by two wedjat eyes resting in the water. The wedjet eye is a symbol that represents protection and healing -- and Tolkien makes a point of telling us that Ulmo keeps watch over all the comings and goings in Arda. 

Oromë - as Amun, “The Hidden One”, creator of animals, patron of hunters. 

Melkor - (skulking beyond the wings (doors) of night) as Set, god of deserts, storms, disorder, and violence. 

The file’s huge so feel free to click/zoom. Some more closeups under the cut! I’ve had this brain worm in my brain for a while ever since reading more up on the heirarchy of the Valar and discovering that, conveniently, there are eight “exalted ones” + melkor, making nine, like the Egyptian Ennead. Though unfortunately I couldn’t slap them all neatly into Ennead slots, I did really enjoy linking them to their Egyptian ‘counterparts’, if you will. :) 

+ Orome focus because he deserves it, plus the reference used for his section: Ramses II (cosplaying as Amun bc all the Pharoahs did). 

[roxygen22]

Sorry I keep finding new prompts lol 😂

10 of this list with Paul Atredias plz and thank you take your time! It’s my fault for finding new ideas lol

#10: "I've gotta spit up..."

C/W: puke warning

Desert Power

In the days after Paul arrived at Sietch Tabr, he spent hours each day sparring with anyone who would practice with him. The boy/man/duke never stilled for fear of actually having to sit with the trauma wrought upon his family by the Harkonnens. He would rather stay on the move...

...until his body refused to go any further.

As per usual, Paul convinced someone to spar, though this time only Chani fulfilled his request. Still unaccustomed to the strange spices in the food, his mid-day meal did not sit well on his stomach as they practiced. He attempted to push through until Chani spoke up.

"I did not think it possible that you could get even more pale," she teased as Paul sat down on a nearby rock until she saw him swallowing repetitively. "Paul, don't let it out."

"I've gotta spit up, out, not swallow it down. I can't-"

As Paul mouth opened for the last syllable, he doubled over and puked up the contents of his stomach. Chani winced and looked away, unaccustomed to such a display from an adult. Fremen children are taught at a young age how to suppress their gag reflex to conserve their water.

Chani spun back around quickly when she heard a soft thud on the ground. Paul now laid face down in the sand next to his own vomit.

"Paul!"

Chani shook him roughly with no result and yelled for help. Two fellow Fedaykin quickly came to their aid and carried Paul's limp body to the healers inside.

When he woke, he was flanked by Jessica on one side and Chani and Stilgar on the other.

"Wha-?" he croaked, throat parched from stomach acid and the dry environment.

"Shhh," Jessica cooed, laying her hand on his shoulder to ground him.

"You pushed yourself too hard, too fast," Stilgar admonished. Chani mumbled something akin to 'idiot' in Chakobsa under her breath.

Jessica took a breath to speak next but hesitated from the catch in her own throat that had to be cleared first. "My dear one. You need to give yourself a chance to process all that has happened."

"I need revenge," Paul said flatly, slowly regaining his wits.

"Your father didn't believe in revenge," his mother rebutted.

"But, I do." Paul swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood wobbly. "For you. For her," he retorted, pointing at his unborn sister in Jessica's belly before broadly sweeping around him. "For them. For too long, they have had to endure the subjugation of their home by foreigners. No more!"

He skulked off without another word. Embarrassed. Mournful. A duke with no land and boy with no father. There was no time to lay idle and recover, earning a reputation of being sickly and feeble. He needed to cultivate desert power.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

@croatianprincess @bluizh @groovy-lady @pmak2002

[thatswhywelovegermany]

sich vom Acker machen

literally: to move oneself out of the field

to steal away, to skulk away, to slip off, to abcond

Origin: In soldiers' jargon, the training area was also called a field. Those who left the field shirked and often deserted.