#Also known as Alabaster

[temporarypasserby]

here's a small thing to celebrate Dr ratio. i don't think i mentioned any gendered pronouns for reader. reader is said to be a professor though. that's it! enjoy!

it's a known fact Dr veritas ratio wears an alabaster head so as to not be exposed to idiots. anyone who he interacts with while not wearing it is considered to be extremely lucky and smart. sadly that was not the case for you. despite knowing him for a long time, he never graced you the pleasure of seeing his actual face. you asked yourself why a lot of times. did he find you stupid? no, he usually attends your lectures and chooses works with you whenever he needs someone. you just brushed it off as your friend being a bit of weird guy.

oh, but how could you ever guess the true reason of him never taking his sculpted accessory. beneath the cool and calm looking stone face is hidden his blushing face. he can't bear to let you see him looking so unpresentable. no, absolutely not. never in his life would he let someone he holds in such high esteem see him looking like a fool. god forbid, if you also find out that you were his inspiration. his face will combust. he can't look at you without seeming like the fool in love he is. so until he's finally ready to confess, get used to the alabaster head.

#hsr imagines #hsr x reader #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio #hsr veritas #hsr dr ratio #veritas ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #words of a passerby

[malleleothreesome]

Femdom!Reader x Sub!Malleus Draconia

💚 summary: Malleus grovels before you as you sit upon his throne in the Diasomnia dorm lounge ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: afab fem reader, no pronouns (use of you/your) but Malleus does refer to you as his Queen. Malleus has two cocks, consensual bdsm scene, all actions taken agreed upon offscreen prior to starting and are within Malleus' boundaries, collar & leash, you use him as a footrest, use of good/bad boy, you slap him (it doesn't hurt), punishment: you masturbate in front of him, edging (him), orgasm denial (him), face sitting cunnilingus, vagina stretching spell, breeding, creampie, aftercare ༶༶༶ 💚 word count: 4.5k words ripped from my tortured soul

Oh, how easy it was to turn the powerful, brooding future King of Briar Valley into a needy, desperately loyal little puppy. Completely dependent on your attention—and your touch. Who could have known he would fall so deeply—and wretchedly—in love with the first girl who didn’t run away? After centuries of Malleus walking alone under the dark void of night, you came and filled the sky with bright, twinkling stars. From the very second he was met with your crinkled, smiling eyes—a far cry from the usual look of dread—he was yours, and yours alone. Without a second thought, you’ve folded him into your sweet embrace, promising eternity. You’ve taken it upon yourself to fill his days with love, companionship, happiness—things he has indeed always deserved, but all of which, until now, were missing entirely.

You were inseparable. When he wasn’t tending to Kingly duties, he could be found close behind you, clinging to your comfort and familiarity. Malleus always admired your confidence, strength, and what seemed to be sheer fearlessness. You packed a lot of spunk in that tiny, mortal body of yours. You were determined to get the other students to accept him—you would have done it by force if you’d had to. (You didn’t have to. You were far too clever for that.) 

He was your plus one, always. You introduced him with such adoration, that any preconceived ideas of him were pushed aside without much thought. If someone dared question his presence, you’d make an example of their rude presumptions. All the while, Malleus towered sheepishly behind you, blushing, and elated. You were the only one in his life who truly saw him.

Dominance was Malleus’ birthright. His ability to command inferiority and trepidation from every single person in a room was an unwanted side effect that had been passed down for generations. Dominance is a role he was forced into by his Kingdom—it’s all he’d ever known. But then, there was you. The way you stand up to and for him with no fear or hesitation. The way you simultaneously treat him like he’s Just Some Guy, and also the most precious treasure in the world. Watching you take the lead makes his heart race—and loins ache—faster and deeper than anything before. He was absolutely desperate for you to take advantage.

So there you were, sitting on Malleus’ throne in the Diasomnia lounge, in the depths of the night. Everyone else had retreated to their rooms. The Prince of Thorns was kneeling before you, his alabaster face enveloped in the faint purple and green glow that danced around the throne—the only source of light in an otherwise pitch black room. Your feet—costumed in 6-inch, dagger-like heels that might be lethal to both body and soul—rest heavy on his shoulders. If only Malleus’ ancestors could see their tyrannizing heir being used as a footrest by a common human…

Your lingerie is devoid in the places it matters most—a corset that leaves your breasts propped up and completely exposed, panties with a slit that perfectly frames your exposed, wet cunt. So close, yet so far away. A flick of his forked, serpent-like tongue slips out of his mouth. His eyes get lost in the view. For you, he would reduce himself down to just a tongue—how he yearns to be useful. His twin cocks create a prominent bulge against his tight, leather pants. You keep a short, firm grip on the leash that connects to the patent black collar around his neck. 

“What are you looking at?” You ask rhetorically, taking your right foot off his shoulder and placing the toe of your stiletto against his forehead, forcing his gaze to meet yours. You let it linger there, making a point: The feared crown Prince of Briar Valley is beneath you.

His heart stammers and he gulps, lips parted but unable to form an answer. A low moan escapes his throat, eyelids fluttering closed—this is pure ecstacy. Unfiltered submission. Total loss of control. Absolute surrender. It was intoxicating. He had no control of his body, and he could hardly form a coherent thought. His cock muscles begin to flex against his pants, as his desperation to create friction shows face.

But it’s not time for relief or release. You yank his collar, forcing his face toward you. “Bad boy!” you purr, through gritted teeth, slapping him hard across the cheek. “Did I give you permission for pleasure?” 

His eyes roll back, hand instinctively rushing to his cheek. Not to tend to the wound—to relish in the feeling of your touch. The slap didn’t hurt, but the sheer audacity of the move was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. In his long life, no one had ever dared challenge him in such a way. You loved how your precious Malleus showed his emotions so plainly on his face. A strong wave of arousal flooded your nervous system as you admired his flushed face. His eyes had gone hazy, drool glistened on the corners of his mouth, which had curled into the lewdest smile you’d ever seen. There was no doubt—he was getting off to this.

You yank the leash again, forcing him out of sexual gratification. “What a shame.” You look down at him with so much contempt that he winces. You almost wanted to break the scene and comfort him, but these were the rules. This was what he wanted. 

You continue to follow through with your punishment, reminding him of his place and purpose in the bedroom: service and obedience. You take a deep breath and sigh. "I was really looking forward to using that pretty face of yours to make myself cum. Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

You remove your feet from his body, bracing them on the seat of the throne and spreading your legs in one smooth motion. His pout transitions into a dropped jaw as your free hand crawls down your stomach to spread your labia apart. You hold his eye contact and you see his slitted pupils dilate. You begin to draw slow, sensual circles around your clit.

Every neuron fires off in delicious agony, screaming that he should be the one pleasuring you. His heart aches—he vowed to himself that his Queen shouldn’t have to lift a finger as long as he was around. Malleus was holistically devoted; your pleasure has become his entire purpose. 

He dedicated his days to chasing the high of your smiles and his nights to getting drunk off of your moans. He didn’t deserve to revel in your precious light, but you let him in without a second thought. That was just the type of person his beloved human was, and for that, he would serve you until his last breath. 

But now he had to sit idly and watch as you enjoyed yourself without him. What a beautiful torture. A fitting punishment. Perfect for stripping away his ego, forcing him out of everything he knew, all while reminding him of his subservient status. As much as it hurt him… he craved moments like these.

Malleus studies your movements carefully, internalizing every detail of how you pleasure yourself. The way you slid your middle finger up through your delicate folds, gathering the slick of your own arousal for lubrication. How you alternate between light flicks on your clit and flat, rapid rubbing with two fingers. The way you allow yourself to become absorbed in your lechery. 

You’re sure to drag out Malleus’ punishment, taking time to honor every part of yourself. You explore every surface of your body, through your hair, teasing your hardened nipples on the way back down to your cunt. What a naughty tease. How beautiful it was to watch your vulva swell as you got closer and closer to orgasm. His heart raced, breath running ragged as he became consumed by theories of what you could be thinking of to bring yourself closer to the edge. Were you thinking about him? What dirty fantasy about him would transform your pleasure, forcing you to the point of no return?

Whatever it was, you couldn’t fight it. Your eyes widened, and Malleus watched as you wrapped his leash around your wrist to grip the armrest of his throne, holding on for dear life as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Malleus made a tight fist with his right hand, digging his nails into his palm to prevent himself from cumming too, just from the sight of you. There was no bigger turn-on than seeing you receive the pleasure you deserve. It had been weeks since his Queen had allowed him to cum. His balls were desperate to release—even a nipple poking through your t-shirt was enough to feel like he was edging. 

Currently, it was taking every fiber of his being not to slip up. He was ever careful not to take any action that his Queen would consider stepping out of line, lest his orgasm be denied further. But that look on your face… every sound of pleasure from your sweet lips… every involuntary twitch of your legs and each curl of your toes—safely filed away in his mind to replay when his Queen finally gives him permission to cum.

“What a good boy you were. I know that was hard for you.” 

You sit back up on the throne, leaning towards Malleus’ face, smiling sweetly as you let your smug, cunning eyes tell a different story. You know you’re driving him mad—and you’re goddamn proud of it. You lean even closer, lifting his chin with your blood-red, manicured fingertips. You can’t help but giggle as you poke and prod, rubbing his pale, soft cheeks with your thumb, dragging your fingernail along his pointed ear. His blush deepens. You lift his upper lip up with one teasing finger, admiring his cute little fangs. 

“How adorable you are. My perfect little obedient pet. My perfect lover. I love everything about you.” 

You settle back into the chair, cheek resting on your fist, face arranged in a coy little smile. 

“You may speak.”

A faint, “T-thank you, m-my Queen” is all he can muster before dropping eye contact and falling silent again, cheeks sizzling. He doesn’t know how to process your earnest adoration.

“Aw, is that the best you can do? I can only hope you have more to say when giving a royal address, or appearing before the faerie courts. Let’s hope the domestication of a future King isn’t grounds for dethronement. By a human, no less.” 

You both know Malleus remains ever-so-diligently authoritative when it comes to his duties to his Kingdom—it’s one of the reasons you felt so honored how eager Malleus was to lower himself for both of your pleasure.

“You know, I don’t like punishing you when you’re a bad boy. I want to take care of you, too.” You yank his leash in a final act of correction, watching his upper body stumble forwards once again. “Don’t make me do it again, or I swear on the Seven you will not like what follows. Now lay on your back. I’m not even close to being satisfied.”

Without hesitation, Malleus falls to the floor. Another place you shouldn’t find a powerful crown Prince: laying on the cold, hard, dirty ground. He wears a stupid smile on his face—he knows what’s coming. Rolling your eyes, you get in position; feet framing his eager face, offering a direct bird’s-eye view of your plump, glistening cunt. Slowly lowering yourself into a squat above his face, you purr, “beg for it.”

He can smell the musk of your pussy and his cocks throb painfully against his pants. His heart races, eyes once again hazy with arousal, mouth completely agape. His body twitches—he’s already edging. I guess a month of being denied orgasm will do that.

He looks up at you, eyes watering, lip quivering, hands in tight fists as he fights the urge to touch himself. He closes his eyes, savoring the warmth radiating from your cunt, and deeply inhales your scent. A deep, warm exhale swirls around your clit—still sensitive from your first orgasm—which sends a surge of electricity through your entire nervous system. You can’t help but shudder.

The corners of his lips curve upward, his ego is beginning to show itself again. You yank his leash upwards, meeting his eyes with a narrowed stare. Malleus knows the drill. He doesn't want his Queen's kindness to turn cold, after all. He gulps, all arrogance vanishing in an instant. You relax your grip.

A pathetic whine accompanies his plea: deep, smooth, and dripping with arousal. "Please," he begins. His eyes are wide and his lip trembles, desperate to satisfy his Queen. "I will worship your beautiful body. I will show you my love, my loyalty, my devotion, with the entirety of my being. My tongue will show you my adoration and gratitude. Please..." he begs and whimpers, more pathetic with each word.

"You're drooling." You wipe his mouth with your thumb, smearing it across his lips and forcing them apart. You stick your thumb into his mouth, on which he sucks hungrily. You can't help but smile—he really is greedy for your love. "Such a filthy, desperate, pitiful, whiny boy."

His eyelids flutter and he moans, loving how your words make him feel. His cocky, confident demeanor completely dissipates as you degrade him. He's a complete mess, completely dependent on your words and your touch. The second your finger is out of his mouth, he begins begging again, more frantically. "Please. Sit on my face. I want to be useful. I want to make you feel good. Please, please, use my mouth, I want to make you cum. I want to be covered in your essence. I want to taste the sweetness of your arousal. I want to drink it up, and breathe you in. I want to be completely engulfed in the warmth of your cunt. Please, my Queen. Use me for your pleasure. Let me worship your pussy.”

"You may."

Those two words felt electric. Malleus' heart raced and his cocks leaked and his eyes rolled back, lost in the euphoria of this moment. His arms reach around to squeeze the sides of your thighs, pulling your dripping cunt to his face before you could change your mind. A demanding action like that normally wouldn’t have been allowed, but you were already losing yourself to pleasure. 

He pressed his nose into your pubic bone, licking at every inch of skin he could reach. Malleus wastes no time giving his Queen exactly what she wants. His tongue strokes up and down your pulsing pussy, lapping up your wetness and savoring every taste. His eyelids flutter in carnal ecstasy and his mind floats away, primal instincts taking over. Breathing deeply through his nose, practically drowning in your scent, a moan escapes his lips. He licks faster, swirling his tongue around your clit. He looks up, moaning again as he takes in the view: the plump undersides of your breasts bouncing lightly with every lick, fire-red fingernails squeezing your right nipple, your head thrown back in unmistakable pleasure. His moan pulsates against your soaking wet pussy, intensifying your pleasure to something even more carnal. Your pelvis—suddenly with a mind of its own—thrusts and grinds against his tongue.

He's hungry and messy, but he knows exactly how to please you. You run your fingers through his dark, sweaty bangs, pushing his hair back to expose the gorgeous scales hidden on his forehead. You hold onto his horns like a saddle, taking back some control.

"You're such a good boy, Malleus. Keep going." His long, forked tongue is immediately thrust inside of you, desperate to gather up every bit of slick from your last orgasm. You can feel his thick tongue prod against your sensitive, contracting walls as he eagerly laps up your sweet, musky juices. His tongue could do things a mortal man couldn’t dream of. You grind down harder, pushing his face further into you.

Arching your back, his tongue continues to devour you, licking and sucking with primal desperation. He licks the entire length of your vulva and then sucks his way up your labia, finishing his trail with a wet “pop,” leaving your clit swollen and throbbing. He revisits your labia with his entire mouth, sucking it taut and letting it go. The sensation of the blood rushing back is divine, and your whole body shivers. You’re so close. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your plush thighs, holding on for dear life as his adrenaline pulses through every blood vessel.

Your moans are music to his ears, and he wants more. He sucks on your clit, circling it with his tongue, flicking and licking up and down, positioning it safely between the fork of his tongue. It's too much, but you want more. He vibrates his tongue, sending shockwaves up and down your spine. Your leg muscles twitch and your breath catches. He can tell that you're almost there, and his cocks throb harder than ever. He’s desperate to cum when you do.

"Don't cum." You read his mind. "If you obey me, I'll let you cum in my womb."

He moans loudly, and his hips involuntarily jerk upward, trying to find friction in the air. His cocks are dripping, his pants soaked with clear, sticky precum. He feels so hot and needy, it's almost painful. But he loves it. The idea of finally releasing into you—his Queen. His love. His entire universe. If he could cum right now, he'd fill you to the brim, and then some. He'd give you the family you've always wanted. He'd make sure you'd never want for anything else. He'd give you everything in his universe, just like he promised.

Malleus can't help but whimper as you pull his hair, forcing his mouth back against your pussy. "Focus," you remind him. You can feel him nod, and then his tongue is back to work, licking, sucking, and flicking your clit, vibrating his tongue and moaning against your folds, the sound muffled by your flesh.

"You're such a good boy," you praise him. His eyes roll back and he moans even louder, sending vibrations up through your pussy. "Mmm... that's a good boy, Malleus. Such a good boy." He's getting sloppy, moaning and whimpering and bucking his hips uncontrollably. "You're so needy. Just a little more... a little longer. I'm close. Don't stop. Make me cum."

You feel his fingers digging into your flesh, his whole body is trembling. His face is red, and tears stream down his cheeks. His cocks ache—he won’t be able to hold on much longer. 

For his finishing move, he pulls your clit between his lips and begins to suck, swirling his tongue around, and then flicking the tip. He vibrates his tongue as hard and as fast as he can, sending shockwave after shockwave straight through you until you’re completely uninhibited. You shudder and convulse, completely lost in orgasmic ecstasy. “MALLEUS,” you scream, cumming so hard that your juices squirt into his mouth and run down his chin. He shoves his tongue deep within your pussy, feeling your walls contract around him, lapping up the sweet, sticky liquid as it releases. He's in Heaven. His eyes are closed, breathing ragged, his chest heaves. He's panting, covered in sweat. His cocks twitch, and his balls ache, but he wouldn't dare let himself go over the edge. His prize awaits. 

You crawl away from this face, legs wobbling and mind scrambling to catch up. Looking back at him, you see smudged eyeliner, swollen lips, and a face glistening in your juices. His chest heaves, cocks leaking with desperate arousal. He looks so pitiful, completely lost in the throes of carnal desire. He meets your gaze, his eyes out of focus. Small, desperate whimpers escape his lips. He's desperate for your touch—and you love seeing him this way.

You slowly undo the buttons on his shirt, one by one, taking the time to appreciate each reveal of toned muscle. He's so beautiful. Pure. Innocent. Perfect. You run your fingers down his chest, feeling the smooth, firm skin, and the rise and fall of his chest. His nipples are hard, and you can't resist. You tease them with your red, stiletto fingertips, feeling him shudder under your touch. He's so cute when he's aroused.

"M-my Queen..." he mumbles, and you know exactly what he wants. You kiss his chest, he moans. Arching his back, his hips buck forward, and a frustrated groan exits his airway. You kiss his nipples, playfully sucking, then a quick nibble. He cries out, body trembling, cocks twitching with excitement.

"Patience, my love," you coo. "You’ll get your reward."

You trail kisses down his torso as he squirms beneath you. His cocks are painfully hard. By the time you reach the waistband of his pants, his entire being is begging for you to take them off. In the same moment you’ve tugged the zipper down, his cocks spring free, bouncing against his abdomen. They're hard as rocks, covered in precum, and twitching with need. He's whimpering, and you know he can’t hold on much longer. 

Slipping his pants down, you free his legs of their final constraint. You look up to find him gazing at you through half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily. He's so beyond ready for release. You climb back up him, straddling his hips, careful not to make contact with either cock—you don't want him to cum just yet. Not before he fills you up, and makes you his.

"I want to take both of them. I don't want to waste a single drop." This is new. Usually it’s one cock inside of you while you jerk the other off or rub it against your clit. Two at once require a bit of fae magic. He nods, shuddering. Reaching up, his fingers brush against your pussy. His gasp is voracious—he felt how soaking wet you are. His hand glows green and he pushes two fingers into your tight little pussy, his magic spreading inside of you. It tingles in the best way. You feel like you're being filled up with warmth and love and ecstacy. Your body buzzes, pussy throbbing. As his magic begins to take effect, he adds two more fingers, your pussy eagerly and willingly stretching to accommodate his entire fist. Euphoria courses through your veins.

“Give yourself to me. Fill me up with every last bit of you. Make me see stars.”

Finally, permission. 

In one swift motion, Malleus removes his fist and plunges both pulsing, throbbing, needing cocks inside of your enchanted pussy. Within an instant, Malleus can't hold back any longer. He erupts, and a guttural moan escapes his lungs as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His whole body convulses, hips jerking violently, pumping his hot, sticky, viscous essence deep within your womb. Your eyes roll back, feeling his thick, warm cum paint your insides. The sheer force of his orgasm pushes you over the edge, and you cum for the third time that night, your walls clenching around his cock, milking him for every last drop. The feeling is almost indescribable—both of your aching bodies become one, pleasure and cum filling you to the absolute brim. He pummels you again and again, your eyes rolling back, jaw slack, holding on for dear life.

He's continues to cum—it's been a month, after all. His moans are desperate, his breathing ragged. His hips buck, and his body trembles. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass cheeks, pulling you flush against him. He can't get enough. His head spins thinking about how badly he wants to impregnate you. To breed with you. To have you bear his children. To make you a mommy. He imagines your beautiful, swollen belly; a physical manifestation of the love you share.

After what may have been eons, his orgasm finally subsides. His vision clears, and he's met with a glorious sight: you, above him, blissed out and dripping with cum. His heart swells, his love for you now deeper than ever. You allow him to kiss you, after seeing him yearn for it. You taste his love, his desperation, and his complete submission to you. It's divine.

You collapse, falling on top of his chest. Lay there together, breathing hard, you both come down from the most intense orgasm of your lives. His cocks soften, and slip out of your overflowing cunt. Your body shudders. It feels strange to be empty again.

“Bathe me," you command him.

"Anything for my beloved."

You both stand, legs wobbly. With a flick of his wrist, Malleus uses his magic to clean up, restoring the room to a pristine state. Before you can protest, Malleus scoops you up, and in a flash, you're back in his dorm room. The green teleportation fireflies fade as he carries you to the bath. You relax into his arms. With one, strong hand, he turns the water on, making sure it's just the right temperature, cuddling you until the water fills. Sleepily, you disconnect the leash from his collar, leaving his collar fastened around his neck as a sign of ownership.

Malleus carefully slides the straps of your corset off your shoulders, unlacing the back and letting it fall to the ground. He kisses along your clavicle, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He kneels before you, slowly pulling your panties down. Watching them fall, he can't help but blush, remembering the way he'd seen them just moments before. Your nudity is absolutely mesmerizing.

You step into the soothing water in the tub, and Malleus steps in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap. He's so good at caring for you. He washes and scrubs every inch of your skin, finishing with a scalp massage. His movements are soft and intentional—full of love and adoration. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. You let your eyes close, listening to his heart beat, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"Thank you for tonight. It was perfect," he coos into your ear.

"I'm so happy you trust me so much with your fantasies." You feel him smile as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. "Do you feel more comfortable in your submission?"

"Every time, it gets easier. I've never felt this safe or this loved. I am forever indebted to you. I love you, now and always."

"I love you too, Malleus. Now and always."

His hands rest on your lower belly. One day, it will swell with change, and you'll bear his heirs. You'll live your life together, and you'll rule his kingdom by his side. He can hardly wait—he’s already vowed to serve and protect you and your future children with every bone in his body. But for now, he takes pride in knowing you choose to be with him. To show him that his submission is not weakness, it’s power. It's a privilege. And more than anything, it's love.

You fall asleep like this, in his arms, dreaming of your future together. He holds you close, cherishing the moment. You're his everything—now, and always.

This was my first ever fic! If you enjoyed it, it would mean the absolute world to me if you told me either in the replies, in my ask box, or in the tags! Please know you have my endless gratitude for reading my fanfic — thank you for supporting my passion. I have been a long time lover of fanfic and I am absolutely honored to finally contribute to the community I care so deeply about! I hope you had a great time! 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst malleus draconia x reader smut #twst malleus draconia smut #twisted wonderland malleus x reader smut #malleus draconia x reader smut #twst malleus draconia #malleus draconia smut #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x reader #my writing

[arcan3-reliquary]

VERITAS RATIO HEADCANONS (because we need more content of him that's him-centric)

And because you guys asked. Most of these headcanons are purely based on my readings of him or have 0 basis in canon, so if you don’t like them, feel free to scroll past them!!

fighting the war on autism on the side of autism. As a neurodivergent he's very nd coded to me, especially with the fact that he's a very caring person but terrible with emotions and words. He's losing the idgaf war so badly like there's no way a neurotypical person has a temper that short over the most (seemingly) inane shit

Kind of pasty. not just like porcelain skin, like clay-sickly-victorian-boy type palor. He tries to go outside more often, but by the nature of his job he's rather sedentary and inside alooot. He's perfectly healthy, he just looks like that. Same complexion as Freminet in my head, with fewer freckles and a tooth gap he likes to deny he has.

Wears the alabaster headpiece not just to deal with idiots, but to self regulate out in public. It blocks out smells, and dampens sound and light enough for him to tolerate some of the veeery overstimulating environments he visits.

For a man that values creativity explicitly, not enough people seem to believe he’d have an interest in the arts. So I think he's into sculpting. A chisel and hammer are very comforting weights in his hand, and while he doesn't particularly care for pottery or wet clay, he gets why it's so well liked. He uses himself as reference mostly because he's most familiar with his own body and asking others can be awkward or seen as weird.

The dude has extremely obscure taste in sci-fi novels. Like he will yap on and on about why he can't stand most sci-fi and recommend the most odd shit out there if asked.

Not really a hc, but he has very brittle self-esteem. It simply comes with the territory of being labeled “gifted” or “a child genius.” For years, a lot of his perceived worth came from the quality of his work or academic validation, and now his big reason for staying in academics isn't the knowledge itself, but rather the joy of teaching and sharing the things he knows.

Somehow both touch starved and touch averse. Contact must be initiated by him on his terms, or a shutdown will happen. But when someone he trusts does this, it's the funniest thing because he thinks he's being so subtle about his enjoyment of it. (Aven played w his hair once and Veritas passed tf out like that and Aven couldn't move for an hour.)

Chronic over-explainer. Either he misreads someone's tone and thinks they need the detail, or past conflict was caused by him thinking he didn't explain enough (it was usually just people being purposefully obtuse or daft.)

Unsurprisingly terrible to deal with when sick. Non-verbal, sits under a mountain of weighted blankets, and only communicates via the notes app on his phone or having Aventurine help him.

Ratio is terribly farsighted - just genetics. Lasic surgery fixed most of it, but he still needs reading glasses and contacts.

Intimacy issues alert. Vulnerability is scary and being put on a pedestal your whole life tends to make letting down pretenses a lil nauseating. Mortifying ordeal of being known and all that.

Girl Anachronism by the Dresden Dolls makes me think of him. I can't explain it. I think it's a combo of him being hella self aware of his issues but also just kinda treating them like something of a character flaw or moral failing rather than something he can ask for help with. Just a thought

AND THATS ITS IVE YAPPED ENOUGH ABOUT RATIO. The Aveenturine and Golden Ratio posts will come soon but for now have these. He makes me insane.

#dr ratio #headcanon #hsr headcanons #aventio

[artemx746]

So y’know how 2 of the curses Percy got in HoH were a stabbing in the gut and an uncontrollable tic in his right eye.

Ethan Nakamura a boy who only had his right eye remaining got killed by being stabbed in the stomach and then he fell from Olympus.

Now here’s where I put my theorist hat on because I do not believe Ethan would curse Percy especially not with pain in his eye. But there is a character who would curse Percy, who has quite a hatred for him, who would have known Ethan as a fellow member of the Titan Army and who would’ve been there at the battle of Manhattan to find Ethan’s body.

Alabaster Torrington

Alabaster would have wanted to curse Percy especially after the tragedy that happened to his siblings finding Ethan’s body would’ve been the last straw and I can imagine him thinking “I wish it had been you, Jackson. I wish you got stabbed. I wish you had your eye taken. I wish you would feel the pain he felt.”

I also have to add that another curse he got was feeling like his body had been blown up by a blowtorch and I fully believe that was a curse from the Andromeda explosion

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #ethan nakamura #percy jackson #alabaster torrington #battle of manhattan #house of hades #the last olympian #ethabaster #Meanwhile Ethan is sitting in the underworld face-palming

[arcielee]

She Walks in Starlight

Summary: A goddess comes to ask for help to save her friends. Paring: Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone Word Count: 4358 Warnings: Mention of character(s) death. It’s HotD and Greek mythology, so there will be incest.   Author's Note: So, the whole Aemond as Hades trope has been done before BUT NOT BY ME so lets go. My inspiration came from this Aemond drawing: artist. It’s so nifty. Also, huge shout out to @aspen-carter for her ceaseless patience and helping me edit this. I am so grateful to have her as a friend because her writing is just top tier and her insight is so wonderful. ♥ Also! Gō vys is Valyrian for Under world. Enjoy! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon​ @annikin-im-panicin​ @aaaaaamond (slash means I am unable to tag you)  Series:  Act I -  Act II - Act III

ACT I

“Little goddess, you are far away from where you belong.”

This was the truth spoken, for she never before dared venture away from her mother’s watchful gaze, never pressing beyond the boundary she swore she implemented for safety. Today it was fate that propelled her soft steps to follow the trodden pathway that wove from her realm into his. 

His tone was low and voiced with authority, but she did not feel threatened despite the grim scenery she now found herself in. The Underworld seemed just a shadowed, desolate reflection of the mortal realm above; it was not shroud in darkness, mostly void of pigmentation save the veily blue hue that enveloped all around. She watched the souls make their way towards the ferryman, unaware their fluid steps were not solid against the grey sand that spread the shore of the river Styx. 

“Aïdōneús,” she used the ancient moniker, for who else would be present other than the lordship to the realm of death? She spoke his name as she heard from the hushed whispers of the mortals, who were afraid to misstate and bring unwanted attention from the king of the dead. For her, it was an ancient tongue known to the gods and it spilled like a sweet nectar from her wet lips. She pressed on the ball of her foot to turn and face him. 

Throughout the ages, many adjectives have been used to describe him and beautiful was the first to her mind. 

The contours of his face were sharp as the marble stones that the mortals would carve the gods’ likeness into and it gave a severity to his expression. She saw the left side of his face, marred from his heroism from the tales of the Titanomachy, with a gash that began above his brow and cut through, curling into his cheek. His bravery had been rewarded with his kingship of the Gō vys and a brilliant sapphire stone that was set into his scarred socket. 

Cold and stern, was often used, a firm accountability held for the laws held. Monstrous. Menacing. She assumed these descriptors were spoken by cowards, for all she could see was an esthetical deity.

He towered over her, his arms were tucked behind his back and it emphasized his broad shoulders. Silver scars littered over, brilliant streaks in contrast to the plum chiton draped over his lithe figure with golden thread knotted around his slender waist. The dark tones he wore gave a luminous intensity to his alabaster skin, like a godly beacon in the realm of grey. 

He kept his distance, but she saw his head tilt from the gleam of the red ruby set in his crown and the soft glimmer of his silver tresses that spilled forward with his subtle movement. 

“I have come to ask you something,” she continued, her voice unsteady, but her eyes boldly returned his steady gaze.

There was a haunting beauty to the mismatched coloring of his stare, his lavender eye and the glint of his sapphire eye, that caused her heart to reverberate within her chest.

“You traveled all this way to ask me a question?” His baritone continued and there was a flicker of amusement, the slight curl to his lips with his mellifluous words. “Please ask so I may best assist the goddess of spring.”

She felt the flush of pleasure. He knows who you are, the thought flutters throughout her head and she cannot stop her smile. “I wanted to ask if it was at all possible for a soul to be returned to the mortal realm?” 

A low hum rumbled in the back of his throat and he took a deliberate step to close the space between them; the flicker of amusement is gone, his expression now as cool as the marble it was carved from. “This cannot be done, little goddess,” his silver words carefully chosen for his silver tongue. “It is the fate of every mortal to die and once that threshold is crossed, they cannot return to that life.” 

Her renewed grief comes with its sickening hold, clenching her heart and the threat of tears pricked her eyes. She swallowed thickly, only then breaking her bold stare and instead she looked over the spirits that continued forward, awaiting their turn to cross. 

It should have been me.

“Who did you lose?”

His soft tone pulled her attention back and she can see his brow is furrowed. “My friends,” she refused to cry in front of the king, no matter the kindly concern etched onto his features in the moment. “They were taken suddenly and do not have the gold to pay the passage.” 

He hummed a second time, still low but thoughtful. “They are not yet lost, little goddess,” and the familiar curl of his bow lips gives her the flutter of hope. “Come back tomorrow and we can see what may be done, but,” his gaze rolled over her, locking onto her face once again. “I would advise not to return empty handed when you come to beg a favor from the king of the Underworld.” 

+ + + + + + +

He dared teased the goddess of spring and then he relished in her response to the reminder of such a timeless courtesy. The rose coloring flushed her ivory tones, her embarrassment clashed with the thrum of her vitality beneath and it brought out the sun speckles across her nose and cheeks. 

How divine the thought of his lips to kiss each one. 

She left chagrined and he was certain he would not see her again, save the movements when he would slip to the surface for a reprieve from the dead, a shadow in watch of the gods who resided in the mortal realm. He had not expected her to return the following day and with a basket she showed was filled with delicacies of cheeses, olives, figs, and more.

He saw her coming, her steps almost familiar with the pathway that led to his realm. “You returned, little goddess,”  it was a statement more so than a question. 

“I have, Aïdōneús.” 

Aïdōneús. A name long forgotten, spurned from the fear it held amongst mortals, but she was dauntless with her pronunciation, just as she was bold with her stare. It was the sweetest sound, both familiar and unfamiliar, a sound that he would spend his immortality to follow its every behest.  

Even though her tone was cool, he noted her white knuckled hold on the wicker basket. “I have returned and I have brought you an offering,” she continued, shifting her weight to rest it on her hip. “You also may call me by name or you may call me Kore, if you desire.”

Desire. There is an unbridled fervor in his gaze as it rolled over her curves, so sinfully wrapped in the peplos linen but his posture remained reserved, his arms crossed behind and one foot stanced.  

“As you wish, Kore.” 

He did not say another word and his hand reached for hers; he was pleased that she took it without hesitation and his skin prickled from the warmth of her palm. He whisked her forward and he felt her grip tighten, looking back to see her eyes wide from the abrupt movement. He pulled her closer to his chest, his other arm wrapping around her waist with a firm hold. 

He brought her to a pomegranate tree that is curled on a ledge overlooking the knolls of silver grass, decorated with aimless spirits. 

There was almost an ache when he released his hold and he kept his arms open, watching to make sure her steps are balanced on the solid earth. “I apologize,” his voice was almost sheepish with his realization. “I am so used to getting around and I forget…” 

He is grateful that she does not press him to finish his thought. Instead, he fell back and watched as she spread the cloth, the white billow of fabric that settled on the ground, and placed the basket in the center. She offered to pour him a glass of wine and only then does he take a seat, breaking the bread, while he shared that their view is the asphodel meadows where good souls reside, a neutral ground for peaceful spirits. 

He wanted to bring her here and show her. “This is where your friends will eventually be,” he finished, lifting his goblet to his lips. 

Her eyes watched the bob of his neck as he drank the wine and she admitted, “This seems so dreadfully dull for the good souls.” 

“They no longer have the tedious shackles forced on them from the mortal realm,” his lips curled upwards with his further explanation. “They feel nothing and this allows them contentment to wander these fields.” 

Her nose scrunched. “I understand this,” she breaks a piece of the bread, allowing the wine to dye it red. “That, however, does not change my initial opinion.” 

This is a moment that broke through the kingly demeanor that he carried with his every step, his every movement within the cosmos. She watched, wide eyed and rosy, as his laughter lines his cheeks with dimples, the king of the Gō vys has dimples! She savored the genuineness of this moment and she cannot help but giggle as well. “It is beautiful, though,” she continued with a shy smile. “I see why you chose this spot.” 

His demeanor darkened and he smirked. “Kore, this pales in comparison to your springly creations. I only brought you to show you the bit of vegetation that can survive within my realm.” 

She tilted her head upwards, looking at the deep burgundy of the ripe pomegranates that hung low on the branches. “Are they edible?” 

He leaned onto his side, propped up onto one elbow and his fingers traced the decoration of the gilded goblet. “It is, but without the same savory flavors as,” and he gestured towards the basket that slowly empties with their picnic. “There is a cost of their consumption,” he cannot help the edge of bitterness to his voice. 

Her eyes widen, not with fright but curiosity, to the animosity of his words. “What is the cost?”

“Anything eaten or drank chains you to the realm,” he answered, solemn, and was surprised by the glint in her eyes. 

It draws his gaze to her and, again, he can see the thrum of her ichor beneath her ivory skin, her eyes focused on him and framed with dark lashes, her stare as dauntless as earlier. 

“It is the cost to rule a kingdom,” she offered, blinking and it is seemingly gone, her expression now doleful as it looks over the silver hills that spread infinitely before them. “It is better than to be destined to be the forgotten goddess, tied to her mother’s shadow and just a decoration who nurtures flowers.”  

He was watchful in this somber moment; there was a silence that was not uncomfortable, but he felt the returned fervor from before to ask more, to understand more. There was a tingle in his fingertips to reach for her hand, to knit his fingers so perfectly with her own, just so she may remember she was not alone. 

Instead, he waited.

She pulled herself to stand and reached her hand towards him, the radiance of her smile returning, a divine glow amongst the eerie meadow. “Come and show me more of your kingdom.”

And he obliged her. 

+ + + + + + +

Time, she learned, was different in the Underworld. 

She allowed herself to tour the Gō vys, tucked so close to his side and allowing him to show his kingdom, from the Asphodel to the Erebus, to watch the passage of Acheron and learn the ferryman was men, twins who let a foolish misunderstanding result in the simultaneous slay and he offered them an alternative to serve him. She met Vhagar, the rumored three headed beast who in truth wished for belly rubs and she happily inclined. 

There was a panicked realization when she resurfaced and saw the moon bore overhead. Her steps were quick homewards, muttering prayers to Gaia, to Rhaenys, to whomever was listening and she begged her mother would be unaware of the time lost. 

“You smell of death.”

Rhaenyra was the golden goddess of harvest and fertility, her mother the very embodiment of the sacred laws of the cosmos. Her eyes narrowed on her arrival, but she managed only a hint of anger to touch her overwhelming interrogative tone. “Where have you been, Kore?”

She hummed a lie, something enough to dissuade further suspicion her mother may hold, just a silly little goddess who had gotten lost within the cosmos. She continued to add another promise she would never dare return. 

This was another lie. 

“Aïdōneús,” she greeted him the next day and was pleased with his expression, which was almost incredulous at her return. 

“Kore,” he responded with the same warmth, the curl of his lip when he reached for her hand. She allowed him to take it without thought, a blush crept over as he brought her knuckles to his lips, the tickle of his breath to her skin. “Please, I meant to say this yesterday,” he did not release his hold, his dichromatic gaze watchful. “You may call me just Aemond, if you wish.” 

“Aemond,” and she said his name with the same sweetness and reverence, enjoying her familiarity with the king and how the rose color dusts his cheeks when she repeats it. “I admit, I have come to ask another favor.” 

“More souls you wish to return to the mortal realm?” 

He regretted his words the moment they left his lips, when he saw the pain that danced across her eyes. His apology was caught in his throat, the explanation for his tasteless jest, but she already shook her head and that pain was gone. 

“I wish to show you a place that is dear to me,” but her tone is careful. “Are you able to come with me to the mortal realm?” 

I would go anywhere you asked of me, he does not say and instead he nodded, the shimmer of his silver hair. “I can leave, though not for long periods of time,” he shifted his gaze. “It is a tether to the Underworld. There is a pull, almost an ache, that grows the longer I am away.”  

A smile returned to her lips, pink and inviting. “I will not keep you too long from the duties of your kingdom,” she promised and offered her hand to him. 

Traveling within the Gō vys requires a celerity to his movements; there is a rush of wind with his quick motion from one place to the next, whereas she seems to frolick, pulling to keep him at her pace as they flit from the shadows and move towards a small isle. At first glance, it only holds the wreckage of the temple to appease the averter of evil, its ruin ironically from a temper tantrum of the gods. 

“But why here?” Aemond was curious as he looked over the cracked stylobate and the broken pillars split, with stone embedded into the soft earth around them. 

“There is beauty in the broken,” she smiled and pulled him to follow. “After Daemon and his temper tantrum, the mortals abandoned it, but I wished for it to blossom with new life.” 

He watched her climb over a fallen pillar and she peered up to him, beckoning him to follow. He dropped softly at her side, while the soft echo of her words, there is beauty in the broken, remained in his ear. Aemond saw her focus was ahead and he followed her gaze. 

His eye followed the curl of a turquoise moss that curled and decorated the stones, blooming with pastels. It continued to the reflection of the morning dew glittering off the almost iridescent petals, gleaming brilliant in the rising run; it showed the sea scheme of colors that stretched around them.

She was the goddess of spring, of vitality personified, and he is the darkness. But in this serene moment, there was an emotion, an almost tangible passion that entangled with the ichor of his veins when she reached for his hand again.

There was a spark as their palms fit together, as his slender fingers curled around her hand. “It is beautiful,” he said and his tongue wet his lips. 

She peered at him, the flutter of her own heart when she saw how his features softened in the intimacy of the moment, a satisfaction to be privy to the reserved pleasure that played on his face. There was the intrusive thought that begged her to touch his jaw, to press up to her tiptoes and dare to taste his mouth, and she wished to bring back a piece to his kingdom, just so she could relive the hint of his smile on his lips. 

“It is,” she agreed, tucking the thought away. 

+ + + + + + +

That night, she tucked herself into the athenaeum to pour over the scrolls her mother stored away, with Rhaenyra both pleased and proud of her rekindled passion for her role within the cosmos. 

Kore did not correct her. She needed her focus to return to what initially brought her to the Underworld, the fate she shelved and the growing burden with that neglect. She told herself that Aemond would be more amenable with an offering more tailored for the god of death, but in truth, she also wished to understand the growing thrum beneath her breastbone whenever she was within his proximity. 

There was a simple spell that would serve both. 

Though he would never admit to waiting for her, she was still pleased to see him on the edge of the plane, close enough for the sunlight to touch and give an ethereal glow to his chiseled features. There was a gentle breeze through his silver, silk tresses and she stopped her steps so she could admire him, the glimmer. 

He tilted his head. “Kore, what is it?”  

“Aemond,” she breathed. “You really are beautiful.” 

His jaw steeled with the compliment and she was quick to grab his hand, leading him below like a silver beacon into the blue hue of the Gō vys. Once they were in the shadowed realm, she turned to press against his chest, her softness melting against him and with her whisper, “Aemond, take me back to the meadows.” 

He, of course, obliged her. 

There was a comfort with how his arms, so strong and lined with silver scars, wrapped around her waist with a hold she knew could be trusted. The jarring movement still caused her stomach to lurch, but it was quickly replaced with the exhilarating rush and her laughter spilled from her lips. Only when she felt the tickle of the silver grass beneath her soles did he finally release his hold of her and they were back beneath the pomegranate tree. 

She curled with grace onto its roots and beckoned him to follow. He paused for a moment to appreciate how her robes nestled against her curves before he sits, close enough, with one leg up to rest his forearm on and the other arm pressing himself upright, his palm resting on the earth. His expression begs curiosity, but he is quiet. 

Kore and her sweet smile elicited his hummed response and he watched as she began to rub her palms together. A soft glow emitted between and her focus returned to Aemond, a golden goddess with the light, before she pressed her hands to the ground. Her eyes closed for a moment, her thoughts poured into the practice incantation with the wordless flutter of her lips. 

She opened her eyes and smiled again, his gaze shyly dropped to watch her hands lift and reveal the bolt of green that begins to stem upwards. He watched as its leaves unfurled and the red bulbs bunched together began to blossom.

His expression is one of awe, his jaw slack from seeing the life sprout from the grey earth and flourish with color before him. Aemond looked pained when she reached to pluck one, cupping it in her palms with a whisper, the same golden glow, before she presented him the enchanted flower, the petals unbruised and a vibrant red. 

“This will match the ruby in your crown,” she explained, shifting her weight to look at him. 

His expression was stoic, just a red reflection in his sapphire eye. “What are they called?” He asked when she opened his palm, his fingers spread as if his touch would shatter it. 

“These are called snapdragons,” she shared, her pride aglow with her creation, her validation. “They are able to handle the cooler weather, but their lifespans are not very long, which is why,” and her fingertips tickled his palm as she picked it up, careful to pin it to his chiton, “I made this one for you. This one will never wilt.” 

His gaze fell to it, his slender fingers pressed into the fabric around where she snugly fastened it, still cautious to touch. “Is this magic?”

He did not see the touch of pink to her cheeks, how she hemmed for her words to reply to him. 

She sought out this spell in the archives of her mother’s anethum, that would allow a flower to eternally hold its blossomed vibrance with a condition in place, an emotion from the spellcaster, something that hinted its existence from the day they spent together at the temple.

An emotion she felt irresolute to share now. 

She had thought it to be carnal at first. Desire, the unbridled passion that hummed within her when she first laid eyes on the god of death and his aery beauty. It was a fervor that burned within her as she drank his deliberate movements, the glimmer of his silver hair, the perpetual smirk that played on his pink, bow lips. 

This will fade, she told herself. She returned, undeterred and with purpose to save her companions, the fate that brought her to the Gō vys to begin. With her offering rested on her hip, she allowed herself to be swept away in his arms, flitting further into his kingdom. It was his touch that sparked something more, the sweet candor of their conversation, how she swore his steady gaze able to see her bones beneath. 

She felt confirmation at the temple ruins, from the moment she watched the colors of her masterpiece absorb into the exquisiteness he carried with him. She saw something, she felt something. 

There is beauty in the broken.

He was a timeless deity that had seen the fall of Titans and she was only the little goddess of spring. 

In part, she was proud of her power that grew, the vibrant glow of the snapdragon, but she also knew it stemmed from an emotion from her that he would never reciprocate. 

So all she said was, “Yes. Magic.” 

Her cheeks grew warmer still with his steady gaze, her silent prayers that he would not press for the truth of it because she knows she would never be able to lie to him. Aemond seemed to accept the words and then said, “I accept your offering, Kore. Tell me your favor and I swear I will do the best that I am able.” 

So she spoke of the fate that brought her to the Underworld. “I wish to pay the passage for two souls.” 

Her question did not anger him, but there is a sadness that crept to his features. “Kore, I would not be able to allow this,” he sighed, unable to look her in the eyes. “If I am to make an exception for you, I would have to offer the same courtesy to the rest and…” there is a pregnant pause, a moment that allowed her to choke on the emotion that threatened to break through and she saw the glimmer of silver when he tilted his head to watch her. 

“Persephone,” he said with his low baritone. “Why do you ask for this? What brought you to my realm?” 

She wore her shame like the chiton draped over her curves. Her tongue wet her lips as her mind tried for the words to express the suffocating guilt that built with her every visit. Begin at the beginning. On that day, there had been an enchanted flower that she and her companions, Baela and Rhaena, came upon. 

“A flower,” Aemond hummed, his expression unreadable. 

His comment left her feeling childish, ashamed to admit what followed. The flower seemed otherworldly, its petals glittered in the sunlight and beckoned to her, but she balked and stayed within the parameters Rhaenyra had placed. Baela and Rhaena teased at her sudden shyness, pushing beyond and dared to pluck it. 

In return, the earth rumbled to split open and swallowed them both. 

“I know that it was planted for me,” she finished, her fingers fidget with the rope tied around her waist. “What other purpose would an enchanted flower serve than to lure the goddess of spring?” Her cheeks were tearstained. “It should have been me.”

Aemond hummed again, the severity returned to his gaze and he looked away. She allowed herself a breath, the slow intake and exhale through parted lips, to relax her posture and rest her hands into her lap. He reached for her hand and she allowed him to take it.

It was with his touch that she could admit she loved him. There was a tenderness to his large hands, how his slender fingers were gentle to hold her own and the soothing gesture of his thumb making circular patterns on her palm.

“Kore,” he began and she looked up at him. “I will look further into this. I meant what I said that I am unable to return souls to the mortal realm, it is beyond my power, but I will find…” he hummed again. “Will you please come back tomorrow night?”

I will always find my way to you, but instead she only smiled, nodding her head. 

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #greek mythology hotd au #hotd au #aemond!hades #oc!persephone #slow burn #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #thanks for reading #♥

[karniss-bg3]

I figured you’d be the right person to ask this question, why is Kar’niss’ skin super pale when he was originally a drow? 🖤

I had the same question myself and I did some digging a bit ago. All of the official drider concept art I've seen has depicted driders with dark skin, so it stands to reason that the transformation alone wouldn't be enough to alter his appearance. This leaves one interesting theory at play; Kar'niss was a Szarkai.

Szarkai, which translates to "ghost spiders", are albino drow. This is a very rare mutation that affects only 0.1% of the drow population. Their skin tones are so light in fact that they are able to pass as surface elves with little trouble. Some would think that this would make them outcasts but in fact Szarkai were viewed as a blessing of Lolth, hence their namesake.

There are some interesting crossover traits between Kar'niss and Szarkai that lean me more toward this theory, such as: -Szarkai look almost identical to drow outside of the skin tone. However, they have also been known to have minor deformities. The most notable is "gnarled and claw-like hands" which we know Kar'niss to possess. Originally I thought this was due to the transformation, but now I think he may have had it prior to the change.

-They are very adverse toward combat, preferring to let others do the dirty work so to speak. When the player engages Kar'niss in a fight one of the first things he does after his multi-attack is cast sanctuary on himself, protecting himself from harm and forcing his companions to take the hits. I also saw a video where someone cast banish on Kar'niss and when he returned he disengaged, healed himself, and ran from the fight. Now this was likely a bug, but it'd be on brand for Szarkai's desire to escape a fight rather than engage in it.

-They were mostly used as spies and gathering information since they could easily blend into surface societies. While there isn't much evidence that Kar'niss has much training in this field, what stuck out to me was the professions Szarkai favored. One of them is bard, and we have at least some notion that Kar'niss is linked to one musical instrument by way of the spider's lyre. I recall someone commenting asking if the lyre may have belonged to Kar'niss at one point and while I can't say with certainty, if it was and Minthara was merely holding on to it then it'd lend credence to him being a bard formerly. That and he's super pissed if you play it poorly!

-I haven't done a playthrough with Minthara in my party so I am not familiar with all of her dialogue lines. However, she does know Kar'niss in some capacity and the lyre is used to call him. Her last name is Baenre which is one of the most notable drow houses in all of Menzoberranzan, famous for Jarlaxle the leader of Bregan D'aerthe. I say this because Szarkai seemed to be far more common in noble houses, which Baenre would be. This could, even if loosely, establish a link between them.

IF this is true, that puts a very intense spin on Kar'niss' potential history. Szarkai were protected, considered valuable, and their existence kept secret. They were removed from drow life, and even kept in far safer conditions than others. This didn't mean they were shielded from the cruelty drow are known for but it was a different kind of cruelty. Often trained from a very young age to be spies and saboteurs, and subsequently being shipped to human cities to do as ordered. It makes me wonder what Kar'niss could've done to incur Lolth's wrath to the extent she warped him into a drider. Betrayal? Failure? Weakness? Or perhaps Lolth just really wanted an alabaster pet, it's hard to say.

Thanks for the ask!

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #drider #bg3 #karniss #baldurs gate 3 #szarkai #drow #lore #answered

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Crystals: Chrysoprase

The Stone of Venus

Requested by @acovenoftwo

Chemical Formula:  SiO2

Color: Apple green, lemon

Rarity: Easy to obtain as a tumble stone, finer quality is expensive

Hardiness: 7

Type: Chalcedony

Chakra Association: Heart and Solar Plexus

Deities: Venus

Birthstone: May

Astrological Signs: Gemini, Taurus

Element: Water

Planet: Mercury

Origin: Formerly Poland, Now Australia, Brazil, Madagascar, Russia, Tanzania, USA

Powers: Encouraging development, Compassion, Tolerance, Growth, Forgiveness, Connection to Nature

Crystals It Works Well With: Mountain “jade”, Tourmaline, Smokey Quartz

How It is Created: Chrysoprase is a type of chalcedony quartz with a microcrystalline structure. Its color comes from nickel deposits, and it can be found in pale shades through to brighter green. Raw pieces have a granular appearance, similar to pieces of coconut, and a waxy sheen when polished.

History: Chrysoprase, called Stone of Venus because in antiquity it represented the goddess of divine love, the famous Venus, is a magnificent apple-green nickeliferous chalcedony belonging to the family of microcrystalline quartz. The ancient Egyptians also used chrysoprase for practical purposes such as sealing letters, but they would also wear pendants, amulets and other jewelry made of chrysoprase. For hundreds of years, the only major source of chrysoprase was a region of southwestern Poland between the Czech Republic and Germany, formerly known as Lower Silesia. This area has a complex geology and is extremely rich in all kinds of mineral deposits, including gold, silver, serpentine, quartz, marble, granite, alabaster—and chrysoprase. Stone artifacts from as far back as the Iron Age show the long history of Silesian carving and masonry. In the eighteenth century, Frederick II, King of Prussia (now part of Germany), conquered Lower Silesia. In particular, he wanted its deposits of green chrysoprase, which he used to decorate the halls of his favorite palace at Potsdam near Berlin.

What It Can Do:

Known as the healer of the heart space and helps connect you with infinite supply of compassion and love

Supports cardiac health and provides a centered peace

Helps people suffering from melancholy and manifests optimism and joy

Can be placed by homegrown herbs and vegetables to boost production

Perfect to artist as it increases creativity and talent

Encourages fidelity, forgiveness, compassion, and nonjudgmental thinking in relationships, while banishing greed and selfishness

Helps with inducing deep meditative states and promotes the love of truth

Calming and nonegotistical, creating openness in new situations

Stimulates fluent speech and mental dexterity, preventing you from speaking out unthinkingly in anger

Lifts oppressive and recurrent images, preventing nightmares, especially in children

Is said to detoxify heavy metals in one’s body and stimulate liver function

Is said to enhance fertility, reverse effects of infertility that are caused by infection and guard against STIs

Increases the absorption of Vitamin C

How to Get the Best Out Of: Wear as a necklace, bracelet, earrings or even use it in an elixir. Carrying chrysoprase for long periods attunes to the devic realm, a band of frequency found present on Earth which can connect you to nature and the planet directly

How to Cleanse and Charge: Can be cleansed briefly under running water then recharged overnight among a host of rock crystals for a few weeks. Cleanse during a rain shower for optimized cleansing,

Crystal Grid:

Healing for Children (Nightmares)

Shape: Fruit of Life

• 6 “issue” or calming stones

• 4 grounding crystals

• 2 light-bringing crystals

1. Hold your crystals in your hands and state your intention for the grid.

2. Lay the central keystone to represent your child.

3. Lay six crystals around the keystone to assist with the challenge or issue. (These crystalscan either represent a single issue, or different ones—whichever feels best to you. However,it may be more effective to address separate issues by laying individual grids.)

4. Lay four grounding crystals to anchor the grid at each corner of the “square.”

5. Lay a light-bringing crystal at the top and bottom.

6. Leave in place until the issue or issues have been resolved, remembering to cleanse thegrid regularly.

Crystals to use: Chrysoprase, Amethyst, Prehnite, Bloodstone

Sources

#witchblr #witch community #witchcraft #paganblr #occulltism #nature #witchcraft 101 #crystal witch #crystals #crystal grid #witch books #witch resources #requested #chrysoprase #geology #rocks #venus

[sailtomarina]

Don’t laugh

It took Hermione a few moments to realise exactly what had happened to her. One minute, she was walking through the portrait hole into the Head’s dorm, and then the next, she couldn’t see anything, her sight and hearing obscured.

Her hands flew up to fist the thick fabric covering her face. Just as she was about to remove it, she heard the plea of her roommate.

“Don’t!” Malfoy’s voice was…odd. Commanding, that was normal, but also frantic?

Ignoring the request, Hermione proceeded to pull off what turned out to be his jumper, which still smelled faintly of bergamot, patchouli, and something vaguely reminiscent of the sea. If not for his urgency, she might have let it stay, breathing in the intoxicating aroma just a while longer.

As it was, she let the garment drop to the floor, he could cry about it later, and trained her eyes on the figure standing in the common room. 

Draco Malfoy, topless, mouthwatering except for the fact that his skin glowed a startling shade of emerald green. His pale grey eyes stared at her, wide and anticipatory.

“Don’t laugh.”

She couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t have stopped it even if she could.

First a snort. He blanched at the sound he usually found so cute when he intentionally prompted it at any other time than now. Then, a giggle. His broad shoulders slumped in defeat, the hardened plane of his abs curling inward as he started to sink onto his haunches. Finally, the guffaw that broke him completely. Hands came up to cover his face.

“Why do I have such a sweet tooth?” he wailed.

Through the tears in her eyes, Hermione spotted the box of chocolates on the coffee table. She didn’t remember seeing them there before, but she’d recognise the bright orange packaging anywhere.

“Oh, you beautiful git. Don’t you know a Weasley product when you see one?” She walked over to read the accompanying card.

To Draco. May these sweeten your day nearly as much as you do mine. Yours, H.

“Well,” she said lightly, “look on the bright side. Now we can concoct a plan for revenge.” She flipped the card over and cast a quick revelio. Good boys. They knew well enough to include a counter-charm; had they not, her retaliation would have been merciless.

Her lips pursed as she studied their instructions. The original charm was brilliant. Neither removed by a finite incantatem, nor affected by a potion antidote, all she needed was their specific incantation and a glass of milk.

“I should have known something was off. You almost never call me ‘Draco’,” he muttered.

She had to grin at that. She only called him by his given name when under intense pressure, the kind that resulted in blinding, toe-curling pleasure.

“Wait right here.” She returned with glass in hand, pushing it into his own. “Drink up.”

As he did so, she cast the spell and watched with satisfaction as the alien shade slowly faded into his more familiar alabaster tone. It was a shame. She was curious if the colour lightened or darkened in more…private…areas. He continued to drain the glass, throat bobbing with each swallow. Hermione licked her lips. Malfoy really was delicious, green or otherwise.

“All better now?” she asked lightly, fingers trailing along the thick muscle of his thigh.

“Mmmm.” Glass set aside, he inspected his torso, the fine white blond strands of his hair flopping forward as he did so. He must have tugged at them earlier in frustration. “I don’t get why they’d try to trick me like that.” He glared at the chocolates, his wand hand twitching like it wanted to bombarda them on the spot.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Slate grey eyes turned back onto her, eyebrows crinkled in puzzlement. She sighed.

“You haven’t exactly been friendly to them, you know? Even before. And now that we’re together…” Her voice trailed off. Were they together? They hadn’t exactly put a label to it. They hadn’t been particularly discreet about their hands-on interest either. The entire school had to know by now that they were more than just co-Heads.

“Are we together?” He echoed her insecurities, adding mass to the weight expanding in the pit of her stomach.

“Is that what you want?” Hermione hadn’t intended to push him into deciding one way or another, but she wasn’t going to ignore the opportunity now that it had presented itself. “Because, you should know, ever since I saved Fred from the wall that would’ve killed him, the twins have been…grateful.”

It was wickedly fun to poke him where she knew he’d feel it.

Her words had the intended effect, the usually light irises darkening as his lip started to curl downward. Hermione wasn’t lying, either. George and Fred had indeed been thankful, demonstrating just how much the summer before her return for 8th year. They held no claim on each other. The door just remained open for either party wanted to walk back through it if so desired.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

A shiver ran through her at the drop in his pitch. Malfoy was furious. Fred and George couldn’t have picked a better colour for their little prank.

“It just means that if they see an opening, they’re bound to take it.”

In a flash, she was flat on her back, the plush rug cushioning her fall but her breath knocked out at the sudden change in position. He loomed over her, caging her in with the arms and legs that straddled her on all sides.

“There is no opening for them to take.” One hand wrapped gently around her throat, belying the harshness of the action. He passed a thumb across her lips. She parted them willingly, eagerly, flicking a tongue to the surface. His hips dropped almost immediately in reaction, grinding an unmistakable presence hard against her. He nearly growled out his next words. “You’re mine.”

“Only if you’re also mine.”

They stared into one another’s eyes, darkened silver against glinting bronze, daring, threatening, pleading. Hermione could let the moment pass with an arch of her hips and by bringing her lips to his own. That’s how most of their encounters went, any thinking silenced by doing. She relished those stretches of time where there was only them, skin to skin, the usual roaring in her mind muted behind closed doors. There were still many months of schooling ahead of them; why endanger the good thing they’d started with serious discussions about labels and commitment?

She was tensing her muscles to lean up for a kiss when he stopped her by speaking.

“I’ve been yours since our first kiss.”

What?

He took her gaping mouth as permission to continue.

“If my public displays haven’t been clear enough about my intentions, then let me be so now.” He maintained eye contact, the fingers around her neck sliding down to press against her heart. “I only want you. Now. In the future. As long as you’ll have me. I’m yours.”

And to think, Hermione had started this entire situation by walking straight into a jumper attack and a Head Boy cursed Slytherin green to match his jealousy. She’d still pay the twins back in kind, but maybe she’d also include a thank you note along with her detailed feedback on their chocolate charm. A postscript stating her relationship status should also prevent any future surprises.

“Then have me, already.”

They spent the remainder of the afternoon locked up in their quarters, the space spelled silent against any curious passerby. Maybe one day she’d convince Draco to give the twins a spin, even if only to allow them a frontrow seat to the action.

WC 1285

Written for the Twitter DramionePrompts daily prompt, “Don’t laugh”

Cross-posted to Tumblr and (eventually) AO3

I don’t know where this impulse came to dye Draco green, but here we are. Don’t laugh at him, please. He’s fragile.

#dramione #harry potter fanfiction #dramione prompt #dhr fanfiction #harry potter flashfic #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy

[the-saga-of-fate]

Long before the Gods were ever borne, when the universe was still young, there stood three beings that would weave the very fabric of the living world together. Three beings that are now known simply as The Fates.

Within these threads tells the tale of Life; the prospective ruler of all the Gods. The battles and hardships that had befallen the compassionate deity as the world continued to evolve and change.

It’s within this very thread, Life’s story, that Life is fated to die within the upcoming battle that will forever change not only the mortal realm, but the God’s as well.

This is your story.

Book Synopsis: Your fate has been cast. You are to die within the upcoming war that will plague your home. Unless, of course, you can find the three relics of The Fates; each one holding the power to stop your demise. Seems fairly straightforward. The only problem? The first relic lies within the Underworld… What could possibly go wrong with Life visiting the Afterlife?

Demo Features

A Touch of Darkness is the first book within The Saga of Fate Trilogy. It’s Rated 18+, please be aware of this before continuing! (Note: The Fates are taken from Greek/Roman Mythology, but that’s mainly where the comparisons end.)

Play as Life itself! The prospective ruler of the Celestial Domain of the Gods! Have you learned anything from your adopted father?

Customizable MC: name, gender (male, female, non-binary), appearance, sexuality, and more!

Have conversations with the various major and minor Gods/Goddesses that you can come across! As well as a few mortals too.

Will you magic be connected to plants? To animals? To people?

There are 5 possible Romance Options for Life!

Can you change the very fate that’s destined for you?

DEMO (TBA)

Morrigan [M | F] — Death

Morrigan is the God(dess) of Death; making their home within the Underworld. You haven’t seen them since you were children. Since they had been cast out upon their Choosing. You’ll never forget the look of betrayal they had sent your way as you did nothing to save them. Will you finally be able to make amends?

Appearance: Morrigan stands at around 6’6” with alabaster skin and shimmering violet eyes; speckled with gold. The pallid color of their skin brings out the inky darkness of their hair, but it also highlights the gentle kindness that always lurks within their gaze. They have a lithe/athletic build that’s always shrouded in dark clothing and/or armor. (They keep their hair long.)

Personality: Morrigan has a gentle heart and soft spoken voice that can be heard clearly across a room without the need for it to ever rise; as if the very shadows themselves carry it. They’re kindness, while not widely publicized within Odresos, is known far and wide within Odresia.

Some Notes: You have the option of having a past relationship with Morrigan, but you were always friends. The romantic aspect is completely optional.

Skylar [M | F] — The Guard

One of your closest companions for as long as you can remember. Skylar has been among your Guard since your father saw fit that you needed one; citing that he didn’t wish anything to happen to the most precious thing in his life. Skylar has always been someone that would put their life on the line for you no matter the cost. This time isn’t any different.

Appearance: Skylar stands at around 5’8” with dark brown skin and whiskey brown colored eyes. Onyx black hair is plaited to their shoulders to keep it out of their face during combat. They’re muscular physique is usually shrouded in the golden armor that denotes their position in your Guard.

Personality: Skylar is very much a no nonsense kind of person when it comes to your safety. While they do know how to take a breather every now and then, you’ve mainly only ever seen them keenly aware of their surroundings. They’re also loyal to a fault.

Talyn [M] — The Sentinel

On the complete flip side of Skylar, Talyn is a laidback individual that likes to see what happens. Unless, of course, that has to with Morrigan’s safety; then he’ll flip his tune in order to protect his ruler. While he has no qualms about interacting with you, there’s a hint of a weariness as he tries to figure you out. Will you be able to find a middle ground?

Appearance: Talyn stands at around 6’2” with bronze skin and icy blue eyes. Golden brown hair falls across his forehead in messy waves; highlighting the deep blue of his gaze. His athletic physique is commonly hidden behind his black robe and/or silver armor.

Personality: Talyn loves to take things easy when it comes to life in general; unless his Ruler is in trouble, of course. He doesn’t see the point in fretting over things that may not even happen. He likes to take things one step at a time.

Arabella [F] — Goddess of the Hunt

You’ve never gotten along that well with Arabella. Her silence, and propensity to disappear without a trace, not really helping matters in the slightest, but when your fate was revealed your father didn’t hesitate in choosing her. Not that you can blame him; Arabella is one of the best fighters within all of Odresos. Will it even be possible to get close to her?

Appearance: Arabella stands at around 5’11” with deep forest green eyes. Golden white hair, that falls to the middle of her back in loose curls, accentuates the light tan her skin naturally possesses. Her lithe body is hidden behind simple clothing to make it easier for to move without being heard.

Personality: Arabella is a hard woman to read on a good day. Her stoic face, calm voice and mannerisms, rarely giving anything away. The only time you’ve ever seen her smile is the brief instances you’ve seen with the children of Odresos or when she has her bow in her hands.

Zephyr [NB] — God of Wisdom

While Zephyr isn’t much of a fighter, their knowledge is completely invaluable. Your father saw fit to send them on the mission as you’d need their expertise. Will you be able to uncover the spirit that lies beneath the meekness that Zephyr tends to hide behind?

Appearance: Zephyr stands at around 5’6” with silver eyes. Auburn hair, kept to their jawline, accentuates the olive tone of their skin. Their slender, almost delicate, body being hidden behind their robes.

Personality: Zephyr is a fairly meek individual, but they’re one that won’t ever give up if they believe in something strong enough. They’re wisdom knows no bounds and they’re always looking to learn more, and share their knowledge with others. If they’re willing to listen.

#a touch of darkness #no demo #hosted games #demo should be released within the next two months #interactive fiction #interactive novel

[applesharonfiction]

Come Back (Come Back to Me)

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Pairing: Dr. Ratio/Aventurine

Rating: M

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55275292/chapters/140216542 (COMPLETE)

“You look ghastly,” Veritas finally says, his voice hoarser and more affected than he would like. His breath comes out in small pants as he catches Aventurine’s fingers in his own, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin around the inside of Aventurine’s wrist. “Or, is that also a part of your act?”

A punched-out laugh escapes from Aventurine’s mouth. Aventurine is close enough that Veritas can feel the hotness of Aventurine’s breath on his cheeks as the Stoneheart continues to laugh harshly at Veritas’ reprise of their last conversation.

“Didn’t think you’d have the nerve to show yourself,” Aventurine replies, following the script that Veritas had placed in front of him.

Gesturing around his own office, Aventurine raises an eyebrow as he takes in the cleanliness of the room. Veritas’ unique presence makes itself known in the alabaster bust, now abandoned on the side of the desk, and numerous Intelligentsia Guild files brought over from Veritas’ own office.

“I thought this was exactly what you wanted,” Veritas continues, trying, and failing, to keep his voice as stern as possible. “After all, I faithfully fulfilled my duties as you instructed.”

Tapping his finger against the stack of datapads, Veritas shifts forward in his chair, his face millimetres from Aventurine’s own. “Just tell me if you can't hold on any longer.”

“Oh my dear doctor, I can’t.”

Chapter 2 of 2: Scio Te

#ratiorine #aventio #dr ratio x aventurine #aventurine x dr ratio #ratio x aventurine #veritas ratio x aventurine #veritas ratio #hsr aventurine #hsr fanfic

[hsauwhere]

Homestuck AU where it's Adventure Time: Day 9

Nepeta's a Hyooman, not a human though, there are fins under that cat hat. Also yes I gave her an actual skin tone because Adventure Time doesn't do alabaster skin.

Besides that she's Nepeta, the great huntress. And Hyoomans need great people to be able to hunt, you didn't think Lubglubs went extinct did you?

She considers herself a hero, not just because she's part of her little hero club but as one who is greatly obsessed with the ancient tales of an adventurer known as "Phil the human", though the exact details of his story have been altered through time.

(No panel edit this time, I'll do a really cute one of her tackling Equius in a few days, trust me)

#homestuck au where #homestuck au #homestuck #adventure time #adventurestuck #advstuck #Nepeta Leijon

[m4gp13]

Okay time to talk about Al's hero complex and Ethan's martyr complex more in-depth because I love it so much <3

Al's hero complex is pretty obvious. He thinks he's Katniss Everdeen fighting a valiant battle against the Capitol because no one told him he's not the main character. He sees himself and those who agree with him as the Heroes (tm) while any who oppose them are the Villains of Unrivalled Evil because obviously his people wouldn't be fighting them if they were anything less. Al definitely has the overwhelming optimistic approach of a heroic paragon who believes it's impossible for him to fail because he's the good guy and good guys always win (Ladies, Gentlemen and Assorted Genders I would now like to direct your attention to "heroes never die, right?"). Which is how he ended up getting the remainder of his army massacred because he wouldn't accept defeat and pushed them on for a last-ditch attempt at victory. He's willing to sacrifice his people for the greater good, and in this way he and Percy are like the inverse of "Villains will sacrifice the world to save their loved ones, heroes will sacrifice their loved ones to save the world."

Al was the most powerful child of Hecate and as such was chosen to lead the rest of her children into battle. For such a young guy, this probably gave him a sense of grandeur, importance and self-respect which translates well into him seeing himself as the hero of his story. He had Luke and his propaganda to look up to, Mt Othrys to run things from and the Princess Andromeda to help things along, as well as a swarm of younger demigods who saw him as a hero. Now I'm not saying it all got to his head but that is pretty much what I'm saying. There's also Hecate, who is a pretty loving mother all things considered and was helping and supporting Alabaster and her children all the way through the war. With her encouragement exacerbating Al's self-righteousness instead of giving him a reality check, his hero complex could only grow until it made the Al we see in Son of Magic. He has lost everything and has never been in a worse place but he is still so sure of himself and his own moral superiority.

Ethan's martyr complex is a little more subtle but it's there if you're looking. My guy sacrificed his eye to his mother and was A-Okay with the arrangement. He was asked, from a very young age, to go through a lot of short-term physical pain with the result of a long-term disability in order to make a change in the world, which he agreed to. So he already doesn't think too highly of himself which is a great start! His mother uses him as a vehicle for her goals and he is aware of this and consenting to it. He has already relegated his own life as a tool for someone else. And then there's the arena battle in the labyrinth where he was very quick to offer Percy his own head on a platter. He was thinking very pragmatically at the time. He didn't seem to care much about "holy shit I'm going to die" and was instead just thinking "If he kills me then I die but if he spares me then we'll both die 2-1=1 so if we go with the first option then that will be one less death" HE DOESN'T GIVE A FUCK. His own life is something he can step back from, view in the context of the bigger picture and figure out how detrimental the loss of it would be to everything else going on around him. And then to further prove my point the last thing he ever does in the series is actually martyr himself to stop Kronos from ruining his mother's plans. Way to make it easier for me buddy.

As for how he ended up like this, his mother is fucking Nemesis. A hero complex and a martyr complex run antiparallel to each other with the key difference being that a hero will do whatever it takes to succeed while a martyr is all too happy to throw their life away for The Cause. In the eyes of a young child desperate to please his mother who is known for harshly punishing the prideful and arrogant of the world, being a hero who desires personal success and glory would be far too egotistical, and in order to be a hero his mother would approve of, he must be entirely selfless about it. She would despise anything else.

#pjo #percy jackson #ethan nakamura #alabaster c torrington #alabaster torrington #the titan army #Ethan be like “self-esteem? I HARDLY KNOW EM!” #Q

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

In hindsight, maybe Annabeth should have known that dragging the Titan army *general* along with her after the battle was over may have some consequences. Oh well, that's a problem for future her.

OR

Alabaster is doing not so well and is also making it everybody else's problem

Aka Camper Al au 2 and Al antagonising every person with an orange shirt as much as he can.

#pjo #alabaster torrington #annabeth chase #percy jackson #percabeth #annabaster #camper al au #my writing #pjo au #nico di angelo #katie gardner #will solace #connor stoll #travis stoll #drew tanaka #sherman yang #chiron pjo #apollo pjo #malcolm pace #rachel elizabeth dare #luke castellan #hes dead but there in spirit #jake mason

[blueiskewl]

2,600-Year-Old Temple Filled With ‘Exotic Offerings’ Found in Greece

In 2017, while exploring a sanctuary devoted to a goddess in Greece, archaeologists discovered the first traces of a monumental structure at the heart of the sanctuary.

Now, after years of excavations, the team has unearthed what has been identified as a temple filled with treasures, altars and “exotic offerings,” according to a Jan. 8 news release from the Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece, which oversaw the excavation with the help of the Ephorate of Antiquities in Euboea.

The temple was discovered “at the heart of the sanctuary of Artemis Amarysia,” researchers said. Artemis was the Greek goddess of wild animals as well as chastity and childbirth.

Archaeologists said the temple — which was built sometime toward the end of the seventh century B.C. — “held a number of surprises,” starting with is floor plan. The building was apsidal, meaning it had a semi-circular dome-like structure at one end.

This kind of floor plan, popularized during the Early Christian era between the fourth and eighth centuries A.D., was “quite unusual” for the time the temple was built, the team said.

The temple was “larger than originally anticipated,” measuring about 100 feet, according to experts. This measurement is symbolic, and several other monuments from the same period share the same dimensions.

Inside the structure, researchers found “another surprising discovery”: an abundance of hearths or altars.

Typical Greek sanctuaries of the time built these structure outside of the temple, but archaeologists said they found the stone platforms — covered with thick layers of ash and bones — within the building.

One altar, shaped like a horseshoe, appears to have occupied a pronaos — a vestibule surrounded by columns on the exterior of the temple — and has evidence that it was used as early as the end of the eighth century B.C., predating the temple, officials from Greece’s Ministry of Culture said in a Jan. 8 news release.

The team also discovered a rich collection of offerings, it said.

Among their finds were alabaster artifacts, vases, ritual water jugs, amulets, bronze and iron fittings, and precious jewelry made of gold, silver, coral and amber, officials said in their release.

Experts also identified a “finely chiseled ivory head with Egyptian features,” they said. The “exotic” object was “unrecognizable” when first identified, but it has been restored.

Evidence at the temple indicates that it partially burned down in the later half of the sixth century B.C., according to archaeologists. The building was temporarily restored with mud brick walls until it could be entirely replaced and restored at the end of the century.

EVIDENCE OF AN EVEN EARLIER TEMPLE

Beneath the foundation of the temple, archaeologists said they discovered deep trenches containing remains from a building possibly dating to the ninth or eighth century B.C.

Bronze animal figurines from the same period and a terracotta bull’s head dating to the late Bronze Age — roughly 1200 B.C. — were also found in the trenches, according to researchers. Excavations of the lower levels of remains are ongoing, but early finds indicate that the site was used by Artemis worshipers earlier than the temple’s construction.

BRONZE AGE REMAINS NEARBY

The sanctuary of Artemis Amarysia is at the foot of a hill that was occupied during the Bronze Age, experts said.

Excavations of the hill have identified “imposing walls” that likely belonged to a third millenium B.C. fortification system, archaeologists said.

A tomb, filled with skeletons and offerings, was also unearthed from the hill, according to Greek officials.

Researchers continue to explore the region to determine how the temple and sanctuary fit into the broader “ancient landscape,” they said.

Amarynthos is on the Greek island Evia, also known as Euboea, which is off the country’s southwest coast.

By MOIRA RITTER.

#2600-Year-Old Temple Filled With ‘Exotic Offerings’ Found in Greece #he sanctuary of Artemis Amarysia #Greek island Evia #temple #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #Ancient Greece #greek history #greek art

[monstersdownthepath]

So what is Jandelay?

One of the earliest and longer-running mysteries in Pathfinder was the identity of the mysterious Jandelay, mentioned only in the statblock of the Oliphaunt of Jandelay. In Mythic Realms, it remained ambiguous if Jandelay was a creature, an event, a plane, or some other mysterious entity, with the only hints about it being the poem carved into the base of the enormous Spindlethorn:

Jandelay, proof against the Maelstrom, Jandelay, of green fields and faultless spires; No sane soul born dares trespass fair Jandelay For the Oliphaunt guards you always.

But five years later, (almost) every question about the mysterious Jandelay was answered in Planar Adventures! It’s a demiplane, but not just any old demiplane! It is a bubble of pure Law floating on the surface of the Maelstrom in stark defiance of the Maelstrom’s desire to subsume all that is back into chaos. It refuses the Maelstrom’s pull and instead exploits the source of all quintessence, drawing it out as needed in order to maintain itself for its unique purpose.

Also known as the Apocalypse Archives, Jandelay is a realm of rolling green grass fields with alabaster spires placed regularly throughout... and thousands upon thousands of stitched-together, chimeric and chaotic arrangements of various biomes, architectures, and environments. Whenever a Watcher places a Beacon of Jandelay down upon a doomed world, it marks that section of the planet for collection by the plane. When the world is destroyed by the apocalypse which summoned the Watchers in the first place, every area marked by the Beacon is torn from the world and placed on Jandelay, merged together with other marked sections with little regard for whether or not the arrangement makes sense, but the magic of the plane and the attentions of the Watchers maintains these sections even when they would have logically crumbled away or annihilated one another (such as if a section of glaciers ended up next to an active volcano). Sapient lifeforms preserved by the Watchers are combined into a Collected, a form of Outsider with the minds and memories of dozens or perhaps even hundreds of creatures, bound eternally to the stitched remains of the world they were “rescued” from and allowed to wander it, but no further.

It’s not directly stated if animal life is taken along for the ride, but what IS canon is that Watchers use their perfect memories and passion for crafting, as well as knowledge obtained from the Collected, to build facsimiles of various flora and fauna that didn’t manage to get saved, using their constructs to decorate the world-sections. Despite this adorable behavior, Watchers don’t exactly make for good company, so the Collected tend to live a lonely existence. It’s not like anyone really visits.

Any knowledge about Jandelay is understandably difficult to come across. How the Runelords learned anything about the Oliphaunt or the plane itself is a mystery that yet endures, because dimensional travel straight up does not work. Any attempt to use Plane Shift or ANY other form of dimensional travel to enter, exit, or even just travel around inside Jandelay fails if the user doesn’t succeed a DC 41 Will save (something the Watchers must be innately immune to despite their statblock saying no such thing, else they can’t escape or re-enter their own home if they roll lower than 15), and Gate or similar effects fizzle automatically without allowing a save unless the caster is Mythic or the source is an Artifact.

So to even know about it, your world will already have to be on its way out the door. You need to succeed a DC 28 Will save (or be immune to Inconspicuous) to see a Watcher, NOT freak out about it, then convince it to tell you a little about itself, and then further convince it to tell you about Jandelay... and if you want to GO there, that’s a DC 41 Will save or you simply can’t without burning another spell slot or resource to try again. And Armageddon continues to breathe down your neck as you try again! And if, by some miracle, you end up there? Well, good luck getting out with any swiftness, especially since you’d need to not only have more castings of Plane Shift, but a safe destination in mind to recollect yourself as you grapple with knowing your world is gone. That kind of thing changes a person! Is it any wonder why knowledge about Jandelay is so hard to come by, when the conditions for gaining even tiny scraps are so severe? (No, you can’t just summon a Watcher; they have far too many HD for anything lower than Gate to work)

It’s not super dangerous in the archives, at least. if you wanted, you could wait to get your slots and sanity back while looking at the past destroyed worlds. Maybe even find your own. The Watchers don’t attack creatures who merely examine the exhibits--that’s what they’re there for, after all--but any attempt to damage them and you’ll find out there’s a lot more of the creepy crawlies than you know about hiding just outside your senses.

And then there’s the Oliphaunt itself. Chaos made manifest, a mountain made flesh, a storm given purpose. It’s the Oliphaunt that protects Jandelay from all intruders, its own presence the one that imposes the travel restrictions for reasons that can only be guessed at (which means that if it’s NOT in Jandelay, one can travel there without making a save! easy, right?) and the greatest deterrent to the Proteans who’d otherwise object to Jandelay’s presence. The origins of the Oliphaunt, and of Jandelay, are stated in surprisingly plain terms: the Oliphaunt created itself, and made Jandelay soon after. Then, Jandelay itself birthed the Watchers to tend to it. The Oliphaunt is stated to be the incarnated form of the idea of the apocalypse; the manifestation of calamity and destruction on a planetary scale, drawn to observe its collection of destroyed worlds for its own inscrutable reasons.

It leads me to believe it was born shortly after the rampage of Rovagug, the collective dying gasps of thousands of worlds and gods coalescing into a single being, and it created Jandelay as a method to assure no more worlds would be forever lost and forgotten; something by no means canon, but it makes the most sense to me. What also is not canon but makes sense to me is that the Oliphaunt, as the incarnation of world-destroying calamities, should not be an entity the players can reasonably fight. We’ll see how I approach this particular challenge this Friday!

#Milestone Monster #putting this in the tag so it pops up #Pathfinder

[thepastisalreadywritten]

From the bee-stung red lips to her trademark platinum curls, Marilyn Monroe was – and still is – the ultimate bombshell and beauty icon, who had a penchant for glamour that resonates with so many of us today.

On what would have been her 97th birthday, we take a look at the star’s Old Hollywood beauty routine.

She stayed out of the sun

“I’m personally opposed to a deep tan because I like to feel blonde all over,” explained Monroe of why she stayed out of the sun – despite the fact it was in “vogue in California.”

Forget the bronzers and fake tans many of us swear by today, she was all about the alabaster look.

She liked a very specific shade of blonde

If you’ve ever wondered what hair hue Monroe requested when she graced the colourist’s chair, you probably wouldn’t guess it was “pillow case white.”

According to the author Pamela Keogh, Monroe had her hair bleached every three weeks with a roster of hairstylists including Pearl Porterfield (who also tended to Jean Harlow’s pale blonde hair) and Kenneth Battelle.

To avoid washing it too much (which can affect the color), she swore by a makeshift dry shampoo – Johnson’s Baby Powder – applying every two days to keep her hair looking fresh.

A nifty makeup artist’s trick for plump lips

How to create the full, pouty lips Marilyn was so well known for? A clever use of lipsticks, no less.

Her make-up artist would apply up to five different red hues – darker, plummy reds on the outside, and lighter towards the inside – to create the illusion of dimension and plumpness.

A clever tip that many makeup artists still use today.

She knew the importance of sleep

A woman who enjoyed her sleep, Monroe took between five and 10 hours of shut-eye a night in a wide single bed.

"On Sunday? It’s my one day of total leisure. I sometimes take two hours to wake up, luxuriating in every last moment of drowsiness,” she said in an interview with Pageant magazine.

What she wore to bed

Monroe famously wore five drops of Chanel No.5 to bed, a perfume that she is also said to have added into her ice baths.

Yes… ice baths

While Wim Hof and numerous athletes have since popularized ice-cold showers and baths, Marilyn was well ahead of the curve.

It is said that she used to take ice-cold baths to keep her skin firm and tight.

How she looked after her skin

Monroe joined the likes of Audrey Hepburn in regularly seeing Hungarian dermatologist, Erno Laszlo.

Suffering from dry skin (she is rumored to have obsessively washed her face up to five times a day to ward off breakouts), Laszlo prescribed the actor a rigorous skincare routine, which differed depending on the time of day and occasion.

Her evening skincare routine began with an oil cleanse, using the Erno Laszlo Active Phelityl Oil, then she applied the Active Phelityl Cream and washed it off.

She finished with the Controlling Lotion.

All of these products are still available today.

Get the Monroe glow

While today we go wild for highlighter, Monroe got her glow in another, perhaps less tempting, way.

Deploying the K-beauty trend for “slugging,” she would apply layers of Vaseline under her foundation to help skin catch the light.

She was also a fan of cold cream, like Pond’s, and other iconic products we still use today, including Elizabeth Arden’s Eight Hour Cream and Nivea Creme, and even olive oil, which she also reportedly applied to her skin to offset dryness.

She wasn’t a natural exercise fanatic

“I don’t count rhythmically like the exercise people on the radio; I couldn’t stand exercise if I had to feel regimented about it,” said Monroe about her approach to working out.

Many of us will relate. Instead, she enjoyed a “simple bust-firming routine,” which involved lifting two, five-pound weights above her head 15 times, moving from a “spread-eagle arm position.”

She would do it bedside until she was tired each morning.

Originally published in Vogue.co.uk

#Marilyn Monroe #Hollywood #actress #Erno Laszlo #beauty routine #make-up #skincare #beauty icon