#cape fur seals

[docileeffects]

[lost-lycaon]

Cape Fur Seal doing a leisurely backstroke.

[wikipediapictures]

Brown fur seal

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Cape Town, South Africa

A Cape fur seal swims in the sea near Simon’s Town.

Photograph: Xinhua/REX/Shutterstock

[jeanhm]

[rwking01stuff-blog]

Antarctica Dream Adventure 05 - Birds and Bergs en route to South Georgia Island

[2kmps]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 18+ | 2.8k

story summary; your granduncle explains that the noises at the bottom of the lighthouse and the missing chunk out of his leg are from swimming rats. you let him think you're a fool.

story warnings; some graphic depictions that some may consider gory, mentions of biting, mentions of rats, creature in captivity, explicit sexual content, double penetration (not safe), prose + detail heavy, implied breeding, not proofread.

if you enjoyed it, please reblog + interact!!

Granduncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Granduncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, granduncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Granduncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much to at the bottom; a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brought a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

“Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by goose pimples as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

"Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n: not my best work, but hopefully passable. it's really helpful when y'all reblog, so please do so!!!

I don't really have any comments on this because I'm starting over from zero on the long-fic of the aquatic monster story bc I hated what I had lmao.

anyway, please keep in mind that is a concept piece. chances are that none of this will be present in the actual long-fic. this just helps me to explore ideas and familiarize myself with characters.

[ltwilliammowett]

The Hancock off Lahaina, Maui, 1791, by Mark Myers (1945-)

The Boston brigantine Hancock is shown surrounded by native craft as she comes to anchor at the island of Maui in Hawaii on her voyage to the Pacific Northwest in 1791. The view shows the ship off West Maui near Lahaina with the island of Kahoolawe in the right background. Based on the topography of the West Maui Mountains and the perspective of Kahoolawe, the area depicted is near Olowalu, an anchorage just slightly east of Lahaina.

Hancock was typical of the American fur-trading vessels active in establishing the early trade routes linking the Pacific Northwest, Hawaii and China. These early trading voyages would later help to justify America's claims to sovereignty over these areas. The Hancock sailed from Boston under the command of her owner Samuel Crowell in November 1790 bound for the rich seal and otter hunting grounds in the Pacific Northwest. En route, after first stopping at Staten Island to take seals before proceeding around Cape Horn, she arrived in Hawaiian waters during the spring or early summer of 1791. This arrival is depicted in the present work. During this visit a plan by local natives and beachcombing ex-mariners to capture the Hancock was discovered and thwarted by her crew. Hancock then sailed north and east, arriving off the Queen Charlotte Islands on July 14, 1791.

There she joined company with the brigantine Hope, also out of Boston, owned by Thomas H. Perkins and under the command of Joseph Ingraham. In August, 1791 Hancock encountered Captain Robert Gray and Columbia Rediviva at Masset Sound on Graham Island in the northern part of the Queen Charlotte Islands. In October Hancock was back in Hawaiian waters, again in company with Captain Ingraham and Hope. Both ships were bound for Canton with a cargo of seal and otter pelts. It is not known if Hancock and Hope proceeded to China together, but both were at Canton in early 1792.

After successfully marketing her cargo in Canton, Hancock departed China on April 26, 1792 sailing with Hope and the small sealing schooner Grace. They arrived back in the Queen Charlotte Islands on July 3. George Vancouver, on board Discovery, reported encountering Hancock at Nootka Sound in May, 1793. Further data regarding this voyage has not been uncovered. However, it is likely Hancock sailed again to Canton in the winter of 1793 before returning home to Boston via the Cape of Good Hope.

[thelifeofsharks]

New York’s hottest club is The Reef. The brainchild of new in town apex predator, Barry the Shark, this club answers the question, “Cape Fur Seal or Michael Phelps?”. Set in a disused swimming pool in Flushing Meadows, this club has everything. Thermal vents, dogfish fights, a tuna that looks like Louis Theroux, three orcas and one is on meth (guess which one), a shoal of piranhas singing tunes from Les Mis, a crying clown fish, human stationary (that thing where you take some frat boys and have turns shooting squid ink at them) and just when you think the fun is over—knock knock, who's there? It's a Japanese Fishing Trawler.

[pazzesco]

James Kivetoruk Moses - Inupiat/Inupiak, (1900-1982) - untitled, depicting a woman and a man standing in front of their home.

James Kivetoruk Moses - untitled, depicting a bowhunter, his seal prey, and a confronting polar bear .

James Kivetoruk Moses - untitled, depicting a seal hunter casting his hook.

James Kivetoruk Moses - untitled, depicting a hunter with his catch working his way across ice flows.

James Kivetoruk Moses - untitled, depicting a hunter in his kayak bringing in a seal.

James Kivetoruk Moses - untitled, depicting a man coaxing a harnessed reindeer.

"Mr & Mrs Napasuk Big Chief East Cape Siberia", depicting a woman and a man posing in front of their camp.

When strong gusts flipped a small plane landing near Teller, on the Seward Peninsula on August 14, 1953, one 50-year-old Inupiaq Eskimo hunter, trapper, and reindeer herder injuring his leg lost all means of support. “No more work, no more hunting,” he said about the event that caused a career change. “Is only way…drawing pictures.” Recovering, James Kivetoruk Moses resumed a teenage habit now leavened by anecdotes, legends, and knowledge accrued over five decades during which the land had taught and sustained him.

At heart, he remained a herder. And modest. Asked about his pictures’ appeal, he admitted lacking refinement. “Young people try to be artists,” he said. “They come up good artists, very good drawing because they were school. But no experience. Don’t know nothing [about] living.”

Untitled, depicting a shaman treating a sick man

In 1975, weakened by strokes and surgeries, Moses, with his wife, Bessie, resided in Nome, a non-Native commercial hub since Yankee-whaler days. Their cabin, abutting the Golden Goose saloon, sat a stone’s throw from black, foam-flecked Bering Strait beaches. Bessie, first acting as his bookkeeper, peddled a briefcase of Moses’ nostalgia at local hotels. She kept a percentage of the profits for herself, she once joked. For an extra five dollars she provided a handwritten summary of the subjects, of routines, beliefs, and a past beyond her clienteles’ ken.

Untitled, pen and ink wash on card stock

Accompanying this drawing is one of those five dollar handwritten summaries by the artist's wife Bessie, dated August 12, 1975:

"This pretty girl is from N. East Siberia. Her uncle and her folks were well to do family and they came across to our mainland from there every spring after spring to trade more than one skin or whole lot of them come same time all the way to Katzebue. They brought reindeer skins black and spotted skins, wolverines and wolfs skins to trade with all kinds of furs. This girl came with her mother because the father had to take care of their business. She was helpful and good to the people and everybody learn to love her every place. They want to help them on account of her wanting to marry. But since they were traveling the mother + father wouldn't leave her behind being the only girl. Hope the true happening is a good story. So long + good-by By Bessie Moses"

Postcard - James Kivetoruk Moses - "Eskimo Men & Woman" - Anchorage Museum

[docileeffects]

[lost-lycaon]

This seal has the right idea, resting in the surf of De Hoop Nature Reserve.

[great-and-small]

Hello! Have you ever heard of Ocean Conservation Namibia? They're a tiny rescue organisation along the coast of Namibia that primarily rescues Cape Fur Seals from ocean-born rubbish. They post a new video on youtube every day, showcasing the direct impact discarded fishing gear and other plastics can have on marine animals. It's really cool (and absolutely heartbreaking)!

I hadn’t heard of them but I just checked out their website and they seem like an incredible organization. Really on the front lines of the plastic crisis. I’ll be following them from now on- those videos are awesome!

[quitealotofsodapop]

Some Tang-y asks;

Both asks referencing; this previous about Tang realising his buddies are the Monkey King and the Six Eared Macaque + he's the godfather to their upcoming baby.

Tang is freaking tf out after the shock/fainting wears off. His academic career has revolved around the Journey to the West and connected mythology. Even as a lowly libarian who does mythology talks on the side, even he recognises that this is historical Iridium. He has *The People Who Were There* in his apartment (eating his chips)!!

Afterwards he has a moment of; "Oh gods, I've pretty much adopted the Monkey King." since he's been helping the monkeys learn how to read/write in modern chinese and generally giving Wukong life advice in the manner of a father-figure (all mid-twenty years of him).

And although he def shares all his secret wuxia and isekai fantasies with Macaque (fantasy nerd to theatre nerd communication); he certainly didn't expect to end up like This.

Tang knows he at least has a genetic link to the historical Tang dynasty - something he isn't really proud of since he's been kicked out by his parents. But with all the Monkey King stuff starting to pile up, he wonders...

Then he gets kidnapped by a firey toddler calling him "The Tang Monk", and is told to help out in a super specific ritual that requires the skill of an enlightened sage. Tang faints in the backseat of Red Son's mini-car when the penny drops. His frantic call to Pigsy straight afterwards is a babbling info-dump that sounds more like a cicada screaming.

Bonus ask!: Did Wukong *know* that Pigsy and Tang were reincarnations of his friends?

Sort of.

You see, after the Harbringer accidentally got sealed in Macaque (and the shadow monkey was still passed out); Wukong asked Guanyin to help him seek guidance from his old master - since he isn't exactly able to contact the Pure Lands himself. Guanyin tries calling up the Golden Cicada and... she appears to a confused, bleary-eyed Tang in the noodle shop at like 11pm. Even the bodhisattva is confused. Tang Sanzang/Tripitaka was supposed to be the last Golden Cicada incarnation. Tf is he hanging out on earth for?

Guanyin mentions this fact to SWK, and Wukong has a heart-stopping second of "Oh sweet buddha, Master is alive!!", before the goddess confirms otherwise. Wukong is super-confused, and a little disappointed, but really wants to seek out this new version of the GC even if for his own comfort. He's given a vague direction of where his master's soul is now residing, and the bodhisattva doesn't discourage him from following it. Wukong does hide his main reason for hiding in the city when Mac wakes up.

Eventually as the duo are ducking the sight of curious local demons/human (the meteorite and battle on the mountain def drew attention), Mac and Wukong bump into a strangely famililar face...

You see, after Tang literally glimpsed at the Goddess of Mercy, he became super-awake and rambled to Pigsy about his vision. Pigsy, despite being dismissive of most magic talk, thought that his suspicions of the meteor shower being a "sign" could be correct. The two went downstairs to eat/talk about what Tang's vision of Guanyin could mean.

Ironically, it's Pigsy who catches the monkeys walking down the street. He'd gone out to grab something from the convenience store and saw the two young, kinda skinny-looking, monkey demons arguing and trying to dodge the rain. The ginger-haired of the two shielding the darker-furred one with an old cape.

Pigsy has a moment of "No. No no no no. Good samaritan sh*t only gets you hurt." before he recognises something off about the two "kids" words. And with Tang's talk about having a vision of the Goddess of Mercy...

"Mihou": "This is all your fault!" "Wu": "How is it all my fault?!" "Mihou": "You put this... this thing in me! Now we've got no money, our magic isn't working, we can't go home, and we don't even have shelter for the night! I'm so..." *crying* "I have no idea what to do Wu..." "Wu", holding the other's face: "Hey, hey, it's ok Mihou. We'll figure this out." *presses foreheads together* "I won't let anything happen to you or the ki... guess it's too early at the moment. Egg, I guess?" *goofy, hopeful smile* "Mihou", sniffling: "You're so dumb."

They hear a cough beside them and turn. Wukong looks at the face illuminated by the neon of the storefront like its wearing a halo. It can't be!

Pigsy, holding grocery bags: "Hey... you kids sound like you're in a tough spot right now. If you need a roof over your head 'til the rain eases off, my restaurant is around the corner. Door's opened either way."

Wukong happily jumps at the offer, seeing the familiar glow of his pilgrim brother's soul resting warmly in the cook's body. Macaque is super sus of the situation; he kinda recognises the face infront of him but he just knows it isn't Zhu Bajie. The tired, sincere look on the demon's face is far too unalike the greedy gluttonous fool he'd seen getting his King into so much trouble. Just for now will he trust only his instincts - which at the moment wish for him to get dry.

Wukong sees it as a sign from the Buddha. Clearly someone is looking out for them. Even if this isn't Zhu Bajie, and the man inside the noodle shop isn't his master, then something in the Pure Lands or Diyu has shifted to allow them to reunite in this life - just in time for the King's heir responsibility to be brought into the world.

And then Pigsy ruffles his hair? Calls him "kid"? And then Tang is helping him with his writing? And telling him all the stories he's heard a million times in a way thats never boring?

Wukong feels queasy in a good way. He doesn't know how to describe it. He cries when he sees the silly mock shop logo he drew pinned to the corkboard by the kitchen - pinned amongst the pig-chef's most prized moments in his cooking journey. He doesn't know why he's crying but it feels like something he's been left out of for so long... thats the moment he decides that Pigsy and Tang (+Sandy) would be the godparents of the Egg. He just knows they'd all be great parents cus they already are.

[justbelievinginmagic]

ariadne's thread ⎯ pt. 2: never go that way.

pairing(s): hyunjin x fem!reader, soobin x yeonjun, jisung & fem!reader, soobin & fem!reader. series summary: when tempted by an intoxicating offer by hyunjin the goblin king of the underground, you fight against him to find your own sense of self once more while in his labyrinth. glimpse: abandoned in the desert sea, you take your first steps into your quest where you meet challenges that put your patience to the test and meet a collection of unusual folk - from a frustrating man with quokka-cheeks to a sweet tall blonde and his mysterious seal-fur caped partner. warnings/tags: inspired by the 1986' movie Labyrinth, follows majority of the movie's plot points with lore divergence, 3rd person POV, use of Y/N, some violence, pixies get squished, some mild injuries, anxiety, world building!!, strong language, faerie lore!!, amnesia, best boy han jisung being a fae menace!!! (we will learn his name later promise but thats Him!) soobin/yeonjun from txt cameo, selkie!yeonjun, changeling!soobin, goblin!jisung. let me know if there is anything else i should tag! word count: 7.3k series masterlist

The desert sea felt endless. She wasn’t sure how long she’d trudged through the dunes; all she knew was that her shoes (which had thankfully appeared on her feet when she’d been transported) were full of itchy sand. Grains in-between her toes, they scratched at her heels and her soles. It was annoying, but what was more annoying was that every step towards the walled maze didn’t seem to make it appear any closer. In fact, it seemed like it was still so, so far away. It was like an optical illusion; the little walls growing further and further despite her continuous walking. Was this some sort of torture? A brain game? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was growing more and more frustrated.

The area around her was dark; the sunspot she and the King had been transported to was only so large, and the rest of the Underground was dark. Cool and dark. There was a haunting ruddiness in the distance that reminded her of the orange-red glow of fire. As if there was an ever-glowing inferno just out of reach. It was mostly from the floating candles and large roaring fires in the tall look-out posts high above the Labyrinth, she was sure of it. But it didn’t make it less strange.

This whole place was strange. Glancing around with a sigh and a wipe of her brow, she noted the dead twisted plants that spotted the landscape in brown, dry patches. Cacti with withering pink flowers that looked like they would crumble away with a single harsh wind and the odd-shattered stone obelisks jutting out of the sand dunes every so many feet. She paused in her walking, harsh sand squelching in her shoes as she stood and stared around her.

The rockwork she had seen so far were crumbling things, mostly piles of rounded rubble as if they had been destroyed millennia ago. But the further she got through the dunes, the more they began to become sturdy and full things. The one beside her even had an engraving in it – in a language she couldn’t decipher. The letters were curling forms, intricate by design as they crawled down the rock. It didn’t look like any language she had ever seen before.

Everything felt like a dream. Eerie and off-putting with illusions too grand to be real, but standing staring at this tall rock formation… it felt real. It felt like it was historic. Was it a tombstone? Was it a boundary marker? Was it a monument for an old ruler or god? She didn’t know. She just knew it was here, chipping away under desert sand.

Glancing away in the direction she came, she had to admit she had made progress. The sunspot she had left was far in the distance and the once far away walls of the Labyrinth were finally not despairingly far. This was when she noticed another thing: everything crawled towards the Labyrinth.

Dead vines, piling rocks shimmering with magic, withered tree branches, and even the stray night flowers curled and twisted, pointing towards the maze awaiting her. She wondered why. Was it magic? The wind? It was strange there was even wind down here. She shivered as a rush of cold air caressed her skin. Her white long sleeve tunic wasn’t made for the chill of the Underground – it was just enough for the warmth of her heated house. Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued her trek towards the walls. 

Once she got there, she had to find an entrance. Surely, that had to be easier than it seemed. But even approaching the thing felt like a mindfuck. As she got closer, she noticed how tall the exterior wall towered above her. It was made of thick slabs of grey rock that didn’t seem magical. But it did seem ancient. The rock was cracked everywhere, aged by the harsh sand and winds it blocked out. The higher the walls grew, the less she could see of the interior maze. She could only hope she could figure a way once inside what seemed like a never-ending twisted path.

There were also watch points every so many feet yet she couldn’t see any guards patrolling. Maybe the King sent them away? Not one of these look-out points looked to be special. They all were of equal height with a roaring flame within the columned center of the watchpoint. Nothing to hint that she should go towards it rather than another.

Just get to the wall, Y/N.

The closer she got to the Labyrinth, the more she saw evidence of civilization. Rather than loose sand, it was packed down by foot traffic and even remnants of what looked like carriages or carts. A post stood beside some sparkling, shimmering rocks – with too many signs to count crawling up the wooden thing, pointing this way and that. Chaotic. Some of the signs had been hand-painted and eroded away until the words were unreadable. Others were carved pieces of wood that were written in that strange language from the obelisk. There was one that read, in red paint, ‘TURN BACK’ pointing towards the Labyrinth.

Great. Very reassuring.

And then, there was a well with sparkling, cracking stonework with once-intricate tiles making up its molding. The thing was full of water, teetering at the edge of the stones, but it didn’t look appetizing. It was murky dark with green algae and clover-like lily-pad structures jutting out of the surface. Small glowing blue creatures that looked like some sort of moth with transparent wings danced about the water, making ripples. 

She swallowed – her mouth felt dry. She had to have been walking for an hour?

Squatting down, she looked over the well. It was the first thing she had stumbled upon that wasn’t fully dead. The tiles were aging, but still sparkling with the magic stardust that seemed to radiate magic. Their sparkle gleamed even in the dark cave-light of the Underground. Reaching out, she wiped the dust away from a tile, the grime falling into the water and startling the glowing blue creatures away. There was a hissing sound coming from them like they were cats.

Ignoring them, she looked down at the first tile, realizing it wasn’t just a pretty tile, but a painting. Each one of the stones were a painting she noticed, telling some sort of story. The art style was loose and dreamlike with cool blue and purple tones making up the color scheme. It looked like from the only full tile that it was about a girl and a boy from different worlds. One from the blue, one from the purple.  When she blinked, it almost looked like the loosely painted figures were moving.

Scooting over, she tried to figure out the story, but each tile was too cracked and shattered. Each crack revealed a shimmering jewel like substance, almost like diamonds. It was beautiful, but definitely destroyed. She couldn’t tell if it was from the harshness of the desert sea or if it was intentional.

Pushing herself up by her knees, she stood once more and looked over towards the wall only for the thing that was once still a good 15-minute walk away to be right there, only a few feet away! Her eyes widened in surprise, stumbling back into dead foliage that crunched like dead bones beneath her feet.

She wiped her hands off on her pants as she looked back where she came and back at the Labyrinth that now towered over her. Flickering flames painted the area in a warm golden light, almost a mimicry to sunlight. But it never lost its fire-smoke hue, the world painted in an orange-red sunset haze like a filter on a movie.

But it was less dark now and she was glad for it. Walking closer to the wall, she saw no entrance. The thing was cold to the touch with no discernible entrance. Just cracking rockwork with some rotting plants crawling up.

(It made her wonder if this place ever was once flourishing. How could there be so many plants if there wasn’t once water? What had happened she wondered?)

She began to follow the wall, trailing a hand across the cool rock. Dodging white night-flowers and harsh sharpened vines, she continued onwards, hoping to find something, some clue, that would lead to an entrance to the Labyrinth.

The Runner walked on and on, her eyes not leaving the wall as her hand trailed over it. Feeling for something that would feel like a door or a secret. There was nothing, just a cool rock wall with creeping plants. She didn’t know how long she had walked onwards. Her toes felt rubbed raw from the sand but she had to keep going.

It wasn’t until she heard a noise – like someone noisily eating - that she finally looked back over at the desert sea.

There, beside a water well with red stonework rather than purple-blue sparkling tiles, sat a man. A satchel was beside him, with some sort of bread loaf resting on the fabric like it was a make-shift plate.

Someone else! Maybe they knew where to go. He looked humanesque, not a tiny bug like the blue creatures from before. There were no rules with getting help from others.

“Excuse me!” she called, rushing over to them. Optimism flashed through her.

The man turned his head, and she could see only full cheeks. Big food-filled cheeks like a chipmunk. Crumbs of honeyed-bread rested on his pouted lips. And his wide eyes blinked owlishly. Like he had been caught red handed.

“Oh,” he smacked his lips as he chewed and swallowed. “It’s just you,” he said before grabbing his food and shoving the entirety of it in his mouth before standing from his crouched position.

“You know me?” she queried, her voice stuttering.

He began to walk away, loudly chomping. She trailed behind him, brows pursed. He wasn’t super tall, but he definitely held himself with an air of someone who was tall.

He snorted, crumbs tumbling from his pout and falling to the sandy floor.

“Yeah, little human. I could smell you the moment you fell to the Underground.”

Smell? Her hand rose to her nose so she could smell her own skin. It didn’t smell like anything to her, maybe hints of her perfume or soap?

“You can smell me?”

He rolled his eyes as if she was dreadfully dumb.

“Yes, we all can.”

His foot steps quickened as he continued trekking past the wall. Her eyes flickered from him to the wall beside them. God, he was quick.

“Wait!” she called.

He wasn’t extremely tall, but he somehow took wildly long strides. Stumbling over stray rocks, she tried to catch up to him.

“What, Runner?” he sighed as he continued walking. 

“My name isn’t Runner – What does that even mean?”

“Do you need everything to be explained to you? Your scent, your title, your-“

Suddenly, small creatures, their size no bigger than a butterfly, flew out of their hiding spots (behind old dry ferns and the lily pads of another tiled-well.) Transparent milky-white wings and glowing trails of what looked like dandelion fluff trailed after them as they swooped down upon the fae-man. Tugging at his long hair, his clothes, scratching at his cheeks.

“Ugh,” the man spluttered out, hands going to swipe at the things. “Damn pixies!”

They crawled and flew over his form, five of them. A soft chittering giggling sound bubbled from the things. He flailed and whacked at the things until with they fell off him with violent ‘ugh’s.

“Fucking pests,” he cursed as he crushed one with the heel of his leathered boot.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, horrified as he smeared the magic-remnant on the dirt floor with a squish. His eyes flashed to meet hers with a raised brow. He looks oddly young with his brow pursed in such a way. Innocent, like a misbehaving kid being scolded before a scowl replaced his soft-eyed expression.

“What?” he grounded out, whacking aside another stray pixie that had tugged at his ear.

“They were just playing!” she defended, a hand going to shield one of the fallen pixies. Her gaze flickered from the smeared sparkling lavender-azure remnants of the squished pixie to the one that she shielded.

It didn’t look as human as she imagined a pixie to look. It had whisp-y white hair that faded off into blue translucent tube-like strands, the appearance resembling glowing fiberoptics. Its wings were paper-thin and an off-white shade that had small bones making up its structure. Instead of humanoid features, its face was flatter with no prominent nose bridge. Their eyes were a glassy fluorescent blue, wide and bug-like. A spider-esque mouth with black tipped pincer-like fangs bared themselves at her before biting the hand that shielded it, right at the juncture of her thumb and forefinger.

“Ouch,” Y/N yelped, jumping away from the creature that hissed out a gargle of a giggle. More monstrous than humanistic. The fae-man silenced the biting pixie with a well-place kicked, making it fly off into the distance.

“Just playing,” the fae-man repeated with a low scolding chuckle. “Are you okay?”

Her non-injured hand held the bitten hand close to her chest. It stung with the same ferociousness as a mosquito bite. Droplets of red blood pearled to the surface but it wasn’t a bad bite. His hand reached out to grasp her wrist, his skin was warm like a furnace. Not hot enough to burn but, certainly enough that if he was human, he’d be running a high fever. He looked over her hand closely and, if she had been focusing on his face, she’d noticed the fascination blurring in his eyes at her red blood. But she wasn’t she was hissing a bit at the wound’s sting.

“I’m fine… I thought they’d be sweet like a fairy?” she admitted. “Pixies are usually playful in stories, mischievous, but I didn’t think they’d bite.”

His eyes rolled before he wiped at her hand with his thumb. She noticed his nails were a painted lacquer; a black shimmering color that had long been chipped away at the edges. There was a beat before he simply looked at the bite’s holes inquiringly before dropping her wrist easily, his cool gold rings grazing her skin.

He laughed. “Sweetness? From pixies? They’re nasty creatures. Mean vermin.”

A noise of acknowledgment hummed in her throat before he turned away once more.

“Wait.” She called, grasping his wrist desperately.

He paused this time, head tilting back as he brought his free-hand dragged through his hair.

“Yes, Runner.” He answered before gently tugging his hand away.

“My name isn’t Runner; it’s Y/N,” she retorted with a furrowed brow.

“I thought so,” he grimaced as he continued to walk along the perimeter of the Labyrinth walls. Another pixie jutted out in front of him, and all he did was grab it and crush it before tossing it aside. As if it was nothing but a bug.

It was startling and a bit frightening. Everything here was like that – if she was being honest. The way he was able to do something so violent when he looked well… so sweet.

The man had a round face with softened cheeks. His doll-like eyes were the strangest shade of blue – in the flame-light, it turned a purplish shade, glistening like a jewel in sunlight. His lips were a pouty thing – with a strong ‘V’ of a cupid’s bow and puckered lower lip that was a soft pink shade. His cheeks even had a prominent glaze of the magic remnant that everything seemed to be made of. Constellations of pink, yellow, green, purple, and blue glittered through his skin, sparkling when it caught the light.

His hair was dark, long and, unlike the Goblin King, it was long in a more un-styled way. Like he simply hadn’t had the time to cut it. It laid in loose waves down his neck, covering his forehead in soft curls. Some curls were damp with sweat and plastered to his golden skinned forehead.

Hidden beneath his blue-black curls, she could see small teardrop earrings sparkling with golden chain and red rubies. But, his clothes lacked such wealth. They were simple – he wore an orange-tan vest that had been patched haphazardly in red, purple, yellow threads over the years, a white flowy tunic that was open chested and pushed up to his elbows to reveal his toned forearms that were shimmering innately with that magical dust as if someone had painted him in body glitter. Rings decorated each finger in a golden halo, sparkling in the firelight.

His pants were a paler sandy color with clear wear-and-tear on the knees and edges. A belt of some sort of leather clung to his slim waist, cinching his form in. It acted as a purse of sorts, holding what looked like a dagger with a rubied hilt in between its leathered folds, a black-woven purse he had been using as a plate moments ago, and, most prominently, a collection of vibrant jewels. Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, moonstones, and amethysts. Some of the jewels were hung by worn rope; others strong-linked chains of gold. But each one of the jewels were pretty, sparkling in the overhead firelight.

How did he come to attain them she wondered? He didn’t have the appearance of a king or a prince or any sort of royalty – despite his handsome face. He just didn’t have that magnetic lure that the King had. Power that was unspoken. Walking tall wasn’t the same as a powerful walk.

He felt. . . reckless. Like how a wolf in the wild was nothing compared to a dog kept as a pet. He prowled forward, scavenging onwards and swatting at the remaining milky-white pixies that hovered about him. One reached out to tug on his jewels, making a low growl escape his chest like he was some sort of alligator.

She reached out to swat the pixie away, not squishing or squashing it like he did but just shoving it away. His jewel-toned eyes flashed to meet hers from under his dark oil-slick blue-black curls.

He didn’t thank her, just looked at her with simmering eyes.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” she started.

“Well, you are.” He retorted quick. “You Runners are always so slow to the game.”

“Runner – you said it was my title, there have been other Runners? Are they the ones who make deals?” she queried.

“You’re catching up,” he acknowledged.

“I’m a quick learner,” she retorted back. “Just—do you know where the door to the Labyrinth is? That’s all I need to know. I need to get inside.”

“Hm,” he hummed absent-mindedly. “Oh no, do I know.”

Under his breath, he huffed and shook his head.

“You know?” she repeated.

“Know,” he agreed with a shake of his head again.

It all sounded the same ‘know’ and ‘no’, his head was shaking ‘no’, but did he actually say know? And now, Y/N was even confused.

“Gosh, it’s hopeless asking you things!” she huffed as she turned away and looked up at the sky – the reality she was in another world striking her as she saw the dark cavern stalagmites high above them.

Cracks of sunlight beamed through – shining over the Labyrinth. She realized she could faintly see… flowers. Yes, there were flowers blooming high above them. Those flowers had vines that creeped outwards through the sunlight veins of the Underground’s ceiling, crawling in and out of the stalagmites.  Hope in the middle of the darkness.

Her gaze settled back on the rock wall in front of her. In its own thousand-year-old cracks, she could see budding blooms of what looked like magnolias, peach blossoms, and desert poppies. Hope in the middle of darkness.

She needed some hope right now.

“Ask the right things maybe,” the man suggested as he sighed and leaned against the rock nearest to him. A hand rose to wipe at sweat on his brow – how could he be sweating in such coldness?

“How do I get into the Labyrinth?” she mused.

The man paused, a flicker of a grin coming onto his round face. “Now, that I can answer,” he smirked, glancing over at her before pointing with a finger.

“There,” he said simply.

Her eyes followed his pointing finger to find there was a grand gate beside two empty watch towers. The gate’s exterior was decorated with intricately carved vines, twisting, and twirling over the heavy wooden doors.

“See, not a door, a gate,” the fae man chortled.

“That’s so stupid. How was I supposed to know?” she whined.

He laughed again, the thing sounding playfully song-like. “You’ll have to ask the right questions. Think closer next time.”

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was like walking on egg-shells in this place. Taking a deep breath, she walked closer to the gates.

“Is there a key?” she murmured.

“Yes,” the man retorted, casually as he leaned against one of the watch towers. He looked awfully amused now, rather than itching to get away like before.

Glancing away from him, she looked over the gate to see an itsy-bity key hole.

“Do I need the gate’s key?” she asked again.

“What do you think?” he queried, looking at her blankly. But the corner of his lips twitched, he was about to grin.

Creeping closer, Y/N pressed a palm against the wooden gate door – and pushed.

With a puff of smoke and the twinkle of sparkling magic-remnant on the gates, the carved vines bloomed their pure-white blossoms before the doors heaved themselves inwards open to reveal the Labyrinth.

Cobwebs tore away with the motion as the plume of smoke tumbled over her and the stranger’s feet. His eyes widened with mock surprise at her before turning to crush a pixie under his foot with a stamp. There was a smear of chromatic glitter when he removed his heel.

The Runner took a soft breath in as she peered curiously into the labyrinth, not yet fully stepping onto the cobblestone path of its interior.

“You’re really going in there?” the stranger prompted, crossing his arms. A brow raised into his curled bangs.

“I have to,” she replied, licking her lips. Glancing towards him, she offered a smile. “It’s the only way to gain myself back.”

Now, that seemed to strike something in the handsome man. His eyes widened genuinely, and he swallowed, poutful lips pursing. His cheeks looked chubby, and for a moment she could understand how fae could be described as cherubic.

“You’re brave or stupid,” he muttered, ruining the moment.

She sighed out. Head falling back in exasperation. He really was pushing her buttons. Regardless, she took a step in, half-ignoring the fae-man for the time being.

Looking left and right, she couldn’t help but feel the creeping tell-tales of anxiety. Sweaty palms, heart rushing, shakiness. It looked endless. Abandoned forever-passageways that seemed to never curve or turn. Their interiors were shadowed occasionally by the flickering of the grand fire-pits high above in the watch towers and the sea of floating candles high above the Labyrinth. The light made sparkling cobblestone walls and floor glimmer and glisten.

“Left or right?” the fae man’s voice piped up again, chuckling as he leaned in and glanced one way and then the other.

“Which way would you go?” Y/N prompted him.

He was of this place – maybe he’d know.

“Neither for me.” The long-haired man snorted. “I don’t know – no point in it anyways,” his fingers reached out to pick up a sparkling rock resting on the uneven floor. Glittery and shiny, he wiped at it with his linen vest.

“You can just leave if you’re going to be like this.” Y/N snapped.

Why was he being like this? Purposely spiteful and misleading one moment, helpful the other minute. She huffed a bit as she tried to find clues to which way to go. Footsteps, signs of life, something.

“Listen,” the dark-haired creature said, taking a step into the Labyrinth after her. “I’m just trying to level with you. Even if you made it there, you’ll never escape. No one escapes the Labyrinth - or the King’s rule for that matter.”

“So, there has been others?” she queried, brows crinkling as she turned her gaze to settle on the man.

He shrugged not even looking at the Runner, his gaze locked onto the rock he found. It was certainly not a jewel or gem of beauty. It did gleam a bit and had something akin to fairy dust trapped within its glassy texture.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He seesawed.

“Have you tried to leave?” she countered, her gaze not leaving him.

It was odd, he was the only person outside of the grand labyrinth she had seen up close. And he was locked out? Far, far away from the castle. Yet he didn’t know which was to go. Was he stuck here too? Had he done something? Was he once in her shoes?

He froze at her words. The fine muscles in his throat tensed.

“No.” he answered solidly. Topic shut. “I’m not a Runner. Listen, all the others failed – I’d give up now; he’s kinder to those who admit weakness.”

The King wanted to be the all-powerful King, she saw that now as the man continued to gather this and that from the walls.

“Well, thanks for nothing.” She trailed off. “I never even got your name.”

He almost looked at her pityingly. He sighed. “You don’t need to learn names down here with your fate.”

It made gooseflesh rise on her arms and neck, and she resisted a shudder going down her spine. If anything, that only proved how she had felt in her bedroom with the King. That her wish was a mistake.

She had to win.

“You’re not very helpful.” She commented again. “Just discouraging.

“I’m being realistic, little human,” he retorted with a roll of his eyes. “I’ve seen many yous before. They all end up with the short-end of the stick.”

She frowned at him purposely. Staring with cruelly hurt eyes.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The fae-man said, hands raising in defense as he backed out of the Labyrinth.

Y/N looked back at him for a moment. He hadn’t stopped looking at her and she couldn’t help but notice the glimmer in his eye. A furrow of his brow. Not in disdain or anger but something contemplative. Before sighing a soft huff and walking off, his jewels clanking with every step.

Her own lips stretched into a gentle grimace. What a strange man. But she couldn’t worry about that now, no. She had to keep going onwards. Looking left and right again, she chose to go right. As soon as she took a few more steps inside the Labyrinth, the gates heaved shut with a groan.  

The cobblestone was raised and uneven in places like it had been laid centuries ago and never repaved since. Broken stones rested here and there in stacked piles. The same dried, dead greenery outside of the Labyrinth poked through the cracks here as well, withered roots of dead crawling up the rockwork.

Mushrooms of varying sizes burst forth from the cobblestone walls, finding their homes in the dark corners. They looked unlike any mushroom she had seen – seeming to breath with shuddered breaths of sparkling pollen.

She kept walking.

There were no entrances to other parts of the Labyrinth. There were no doors or corners or parts in the walls from what she could see. It was just a straight path. Forever. She began to run after some time as if that would help make it go faster. Her feet ached from the scratchy sand that still occupied her shoes. It was quiet here; there was only the sound of the soles of her feet hitting rock.

She ran for a while. So long that it almost felt like she was in the optical illusion this time rather than viewing the castle grow further and further. Everything felt like it was repeating. The same crippled plants. The same mushrooms in the same dark corners. The same aching feet. The same pitter-patter of footsteps.

Until she finally came across something different.

In the distance, Y/N could see it. Something in the path. Something on the ground curled over. Panting, sweat dripped down her temple as she paused a few feet away. Her stomach churned.

Lying against the wall of the Labyrinth was a skeleton. A human one she assumed. Curled in on itself as if frozen in time. If she blinked, she could see the muscles, tendons, skin, forming a shell around the stuck skeleton. It looked like her, young and female. They were hiding or sleeping or afraid.

And they were dead.

Cobwebs clung to the skull and she could see caterpillar-like creatures making the eye cavity a home. It made her shiver and run faster.

She couldn’t end up like that.

No, no, no, she had to find a way out.

Running onwards she didn’t see a skeleton again – the only reassuring thing so far. It meant maybe this wasn’t a looping path. As she continued on more and more cobwebs decorated the walls. Huge spiderwebs with intricate patterns were ahead. Sparkling shimmering quilted spiderlace that whistled in the wind. If she wasn’t feeling so frustrated and frightened, Y/N may had stopped to appreciate them or ducked under them. She just swiped at them and continued onwards.

Another spiderweb appeared a few hundred feet away.

She kept wiping at them, avoiding the spidersilk from getting into her mouth as she did so as she ran onwards.

Her arms felt sticky with webs; her feet hurt; her head ached from the repeating cobblestone. She let out a yell as she finally stopped. Panting, with a reddened face, she covered her face with her hands and screeched.

“This place is hopeless,” she scowled as she stopped. It’d been minutes of running straight and straight and straight!

Kicking the brick wall petulantly, she yelped before stumbling to her knees. Her hands went to cup her foot, rubbing it a bit as it throbbed in pain. Tearing her shoe off, sand from the desert sea tumbled out in a cup-full. Her big toe throbbed as she held it close, massaging it with her thumb. Toeing off the other shoe like an over-stimulated child, she kicked it away, making it hit the opposing wall with a thunk. Sand from it tumbled out as well into a small pile.

Wiping strands of hair away from her sweaty face, she leaned back against the wall behind her and looked to the side, heaving and panting as she felt a tell-tale pressure building behind her eyes and nose.

No, no, she won’t cry. She felt like a child. It was humiliating.

It was then she saw a plant staring at her! A plant with a million tiny eyes instead of petals and blooms. She yelped scooting away, her hands scrapping against the rough cobblestone beneath her. All the eyeful plant did was blink, all at once, eerily but not dangerous.

Tugging her hands up from the stone floor, she saw the faint scrapes and inkling of blood rushing to the surface. Another injury. Her eyes burned in frustration before she buried her head into her knees.

First, she walked ages in the desert alone, filling her shoes with sand. Then, she met a rude fae man where she watched him hurt pixies. After that, she got bit by a pixie. Now, she’s stuck walking on and on in one direction nowhere close to getting a real stab at the Labyrinth. And she’s hurt her hands after getting scared by a creepy eye plant.

It was frustrating. She didn’t know what to do and it all felt so so pointless. The scales were stacked against her. How did anyone win?

“Annyeong!”

A cheerful voice chimed and, in that moment, she looked up to see a figure, shading her from the dull light of the Labyrinth.

He was tall, far taller than the Goblin King and certainly taller than the fae she had met outside the Labyrinth walls. He had almost frightened her with how his blonde hair reminded her of the king, but the tone of his voice and the smile on his face was far different from the King’s. In fact, the man looked happy. Gentle. Dimples lit up his face as he outstretched his hand for her to shake. Or to take to stand?

“Huh?” she mumbled.

His smile didn’t cease, and he glanced at his hand with his brown eyes.

She took it to shake tentatively before he yanked her up with a strength that didn’t seem possible in his lanky form. A ‘ugh’ pushed its way out of her.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” he breathed. His smile was sweet she noted as she took him in more now that she was standing. His eyes were a deep chocolate color, and they didn’t seem to be cruel or sparkling or ethereal like the others she had met so far. They were brown, gleaming a bit in the faint golden light of the Labyrinth, but otherwise normal.

“Annie-yeo,” she tried to begin to repeat before he let out a bubbling laugh.

“No, no, annyeonghaseyo – or hi, which is close enough,” he corrected.

A gentle breath left her in relief, glad there would not be a language barrier between the two of them.

“Hi,” she repeated.

“Hi,” he breathed again. “We’ve said hi a lot now. Maybe we should continue to something else,” he teased. He buzzed with an energy, almost childlike in nature. “I haven’t met anyone in so long.”

His admittance didn’t ring alarm bells – like she thought it should. Instead, she felt… sad. His entire form seemed to be desperate in some ways. Desperate to talk to her.

“That’s alright.” She reassured. “I’m Y/N.” Her hand reached out properly to shake again.

“Y/N,” he repeated with a smile as he took her hand and shook it. “You can call me Soobie; my friends do.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, too.”

His smile was charming and gentle. The dimples made him look younger and, in some ways, she wanted to protect him. Why…? Her eyes danced over his face. He didn’t seem… well, ethereal. Not like the king nor even like the dark-haired fae outside the labyrinth. Sure, he was handsome and coated in the sparkling dust that seemed to be engrained in everything here. But there was something utterly human about him. His eyes weren’t some fantastical thing; the way he held himself didn’t feel off-putting and otherworldly. And if she looked closer, she noticed that sparkle wasn’t engrained in him like it was for the King or the Fae-From-Outside-The-Labyrinth. It almost looked like make-up?

“I’m trying to make my way through the Labyrinth; do you know the way?” she asked after a moment, glancing down the path she had been heading.

“The way through the Labyrinth… I used to know,” he muttered, gaze following hers down the path she was headed before looking back at the way she came. There was a moment as he thought. And she saw how distant his eyes became. Like, he wasn’t all here with her. In fact, his eyes looked sad, distant. As if lost in a maze. His face fell into a pout, curved lips softly parting as his breath shuddered.

His blinking slowed and she swore for a moment his breathing stopped before he blink, blink, blinked at her. His smile slowly reappeared and his eyes warmed from the deep sadness and confusion that consumed them moments before.

“Soobie?” she asked inquiringly.

“What was your name again?” he queried. As if she hadn’t given it only moments before.

The Runner smiled softly – though a bit tentative. Something was going on.

“Y/N,” she replied. “You don’t know how to get out of this Labyrinth either?”

“Y/N, pretty name,” he hummed pleasantly. Cheery, happy, content.

“The Labyrinth is my home.”

It was said solidly, truthfully.

“Your home?” she queried once more. “Has it always been your home? You spoke in Korean, right? It sounded Korean. Are you from there?”

What if it hadn’t always been his home? The Fae-From-Outside-The-Labyrinth said every Runner failed. She had seen bones, and countless dust, and what if Binnie was another remnant of a Runner.

“Korea. . . “, he breathed. She watched as his eyes faded into the distance. His long eyelashes fluttered. “I-I was from Daebu Island. I lived near the water.” His hands shook as he went to grab the necklace around his neck. It was a beaded necklace around his throat, the thing made of wrapped twine and iridescent shells, seven teardrop-esque gems, and dark-silver pearls. It complimented what looked like a hand-made white sweater. He was dressed all in white she noticed, all soft clean fabric. Like he never was walking in the dirt and grime she was now covered in. How was that possible?

His lips trembled as he continued to fiddle with the necklace. Twisting it around and soothing himself by rubbing the smooth shells and pearlescent gems between his fingertips. Anxiously, his eyes fluttered once more as he moved a hand away to wipe at his face. Glitter shifted on his skin in a streak of golden silver dust. It wasn’t underneath his skin like she had thought.

He was from her world. She knew that now. Was he human? She couldn’t tell completely.

“How could I forget? But-but Junie is here–“ He was talking to himself, rubbing his cheek back and forth. His eyes shifted to look at her again. Wide and gentle and confused. “The Labyrinth, it’s been home for a long time – come inside,” he gestured to a brick wall, that now with a closer look did resemble a door. There was even a latch and door handle made of ivy. His smile was shaky but genuine. He smiled brightly as he thought of something that seemed to distract him from his previous anxieties. “We can have tea together! Junie and I! I make a great cup of tea. It’s from night-flowers!”

“Oh,” she felt genuinely sorry. He seemed kind. There was a manipulative tone or even condescension. He was just desperate. Eager to talk to someone else. Naïve maybe. His thoughts were befuddled for some reason.

“I can’t; I’m sorry.” She apologized.

His eyes grew even sadder like a kicked puppy’s.

“I’d love to but I must find a way out of here. I don’t have a lot of time.”

“A way out,” he repeated. “But—”

“Soobin,” a voice called from within the doorway and out popped a dark-haired fae. He had something about him that felt magical – like the Goblin King. The world lit up as soon as she saw him. His gaze felt magnetic. She couldn’t help but turn towards him, focus on him.

“You’ve made a friend,” he hummed. His words felt like honey on her ears and she couldn’t help but stare. Hypnotized.

His hair was a midnight black, short, and trim in the back but swooping over his face daintily. His face was almost as beautiful as the Goblin King’s. His eyes weren’t a winter-esque blue or jeweled purple, but instead a water-soaked green as though his eyes were salt-frosted sea-glass. His lips were kiss-swollen, a softened red pout.

While Soobin wore a soft, hand-knit sweater of cream, this man wore a heavy fur-like cloak over his shoulders, hiding his shirtless form she noted as it shifted with his movements. He had remnants of magic in his skin but, unlike the crushed starlight of the King, his looked glossy wet like it was liquid honey and sunshine mixed together. If she reached out, she swore it’d stick to her.

He captivated her.

“Yeonjun-hyung,” the blonde-haired man lit up at the sight of him as well. A hand reached out for the forgetful man, and Soobin took it easily.

He hugged the fae man, and the motion sent the smell of salt-water her way. The ethereal man smiled fondly at the other before looking at the Runner again. There was that sharpness, almost an animalistic look. Like a predator hunting a prey. His fingers wound themselves through Soobin’s protectively.

“I’m looking for the way to the castle,” she repeated to the new fae, her head tilted towards the blonde. “Soobin was helping me.”

There was a flash of something dark in Yeonjun’s sea-glass eyes. Something she couldn’t quite place as he licked his plump lips slowly.

“He is helpful,” he said steadily. “Did he mention things aren’t always as they seem? The walls may seem one way but they may lead another.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, one that Yeonjun tracked with carefulness.

“He hadn’t.”

“She was going straight,” Soobin teased under his breath.

It made her roll her eyes a bit, huffing. Yeonjun smiled as he exhaled. His shoulders loosened a bit as he glanced both ways. Down the right and left of infinity.

“Things aren’t what they seem here,” Yeonjun stated simply. “So, you can’t take it for granted,” he looked back at Soobin who had leaned more and more into the older man. His chin rested on the tip of the older’s shoulder as he stared directly at the wall behind her. He smiled raising his brows before gesturing with his chin towards the wall behind her.

The Runner glanced back at the wall opposite of their ‘house’, her brow raising.

“Walk through it!” Soobin encouraged.

She turned and fully stared at the wall in front of her. It looked like a wall. No gaps, no nothing.

“But it’s… a wall,” she breathed.” She took a step forward, trying to trust these strangers. Her hand reached out slowly to find… nothing. It just looked like the wall continued for forever. Stepping through the hole, she could see clearly now. It was an opening! There was another path beyond its bricks, and surely another one somewhere else. These walls were all illusions.

She just had to look closer.

“Thank you! That was incredibly helpful!” the Runner beamed at the others as she turned to face them once more.

Yeonjun’s smile was careful, and Soobin’s equaled her beaming grin. She quickly went to grab her shoes and slide them back on, grimacing at the loose sand grains still in them, but even that couldn’t dampen her mood that was gradually lightening. This was a start - finally!

“Thank you!” she repeated gratefully as she turned to right to begin to walk onwards through the maze.

“Miss,” Yeonjun called out, the tune something so enticing she couldn’t help but pause in her step. “Don’t go that way – never go that way.”

The warning was paired with a shake of his head that Soobin copied.

“Oh…. Thanks,” the Runner grinned at them before heading in the opposite direction, finally feeling like she had something of a start.

Soobin’s sad eyes watched her leave. “I was excited to see someone,” he commented lowly, dejected, and droopy almost like an ill-watered flower.

Yeonjun sighed, his hands going to pass through Soobin’s hair sweetly. “I know, sugar, but we have to keep you safe.” He glanced back at the castle and the shadow it cast over the land. “If she had gone the other way, she would have gone straight to the castle – and the King would be at our doorstep.”

The mention of the Goblin King made Soobin’s eyes focus just a tad.

“Can’t have that.” He murmured, and Yeonjun smiled proud.

“Exactly, coileán,” Yeonjun praised as he moved one hand to release his seal-skin fur cape’s clasp.

The silky soft thing fell off his shoulders, leaving his upper body bare. It revealed what appeared to be spotted grey and white dots over his toned stomach. He pressed a kiss to Soobin’s nose, lovingly, before he draped the cape over Soobin’s shoulders protectively.

“Let’s go inside and make tea, hm?”