#(even though one is more human and one is more animal)

[terrestrialnoob]

Delilah has been transferred into the bigger and better funded Central City Zoo! Of course Danny's invited to come visit her, he's specifically one of the few people allowed to be in the same physical space as one of the worlds deadliest wild animals, specifically, the most violent and aggressive species of gorilla. All because Delilah, at some point, convinced herself that Danny is her baby and she pretty much refuses to hurt him in any way. She will groom him, and share her food with him, and sits him down to teach him her signs, and play very, very gently with her weak human baby, even though she insists, through sign, that he's very strong. The primatologists always lose their minds when Danny visits, as Delilah doesn't let any other human ape of any kind within five feet of her without a sedative. Depending on her mood, she might even try to keep Danny safe away from other humans. He's her baby, you see.

Unfortunately, the new World's Deadliest Gorilla exhibit attracts the attention of Grodd. The hyper-intelligent meta-gorilla wants to use the worlds deadliest gorilla to get vengeance on the Flash for ruining his world domination plans, and he doesn't really care if some human child gets hurt in the process. In fact, that'll probably hurt the Flash more.

[eclipsen-smiles]

I doubt any of you want to know but I love talking about them so-

Eclipse’s version (I’ll do Chai’s on my art account.)

Any variation of “I’m fine” or “it’s fine”

Basically never. They’re/we’re SHIT at verbal affection.

Also practically never, unless around either their world’s family or the bloodpack.

Childcare.

Yes. They don’t think of anything. They just can. Their human form is small and pathetic looking, they use it for pity. (I do. I’m tiny. I look young. It’s so so so easy to get idiots in trouble.)

Favourite show: ever after high. They will never mention this. Ever.

Fuckshit. Probably. Or just “GET YO ASS OVER HERE.” With their gf…… the SpongeBob theme. Eclipse is still childish at heart.

There’s actually a list.

Nothing= anon

Friend= distant.

Name = talked once or twice.

Nickname= close

Hun/bud/pal/pet names= family or extremely close. Or if they’re concerned.

It depends on the situation. It’s a weird mix. They can be very rough, but they’re usually gentle at the same time.

Random facts about mental states. Usually things that make people feel better. (Ie; fun fact, you’re face is distorted through your eyes, so how you see yourself isn’t what other people see.)

Trust me. You’ll tell. (They’re already behind them.)

People being dumb. Or people trying to insult them. (Please. Try to. It’s hilarious.)

Always. I don’t think they know how to smile naturally at this point.

With their finger. Or hand.

Home: kinda dull, calm. Work: silent, disassociated. Friends: HYPER. ABABABA. MISCHIEF. PRANKS. alone: no facial expression.

Idiots.

Memories. Others, idk.

Luna. Believe it or not, but their version of lunar is almost MORE psychopathic than them…

Panic. Not because of the person, but because they’re trapped. (One, that shouldn’t be possible. two, agoraphobia.)

1:Unknown. 2: the astals. Specifically the higher ups.

Uhh.. eye contact, I guess. They’re fine with it, but they know others aren’t.

Hilariously, normal work hours. And taking breaks.

OHHH BOY LET ME TELL YOU- (reminder: luna is a ghost.)

Bold of you to assume they only took one.

Uhh.. random facts from plants and animals to history to cooking. They’re 600+, they’ve had a LOT OF FREETIME.

Laughter.

A “dont do drugs” pencil. Responded with heavy laughter.

A break. I pled the fifth (death.)

“Your funeral”

Heavily different because of the topic of their work. Personal= eh whatever. Work= oh fuck oh shit

.. seeing luna happy actually causes the most guilt.

MONEY PRINTING. WHO NEEDS A JOB WHEN YOURE GOD?

Silence and a glare

Family/not super close friends/people who look up to them: very calm but visibly happy. Close friends/people close to them/people who don’t necessarily hold them highly: ABBABABABABABAB

…so…many

Tartarus. “Can’t kill him yet. He still has use.” But DAMN DO THEY WANT TO. (Tar is a corrupt ass in their au btw.)

Actually nothing serious. Like… nothing. Besides secrets others have told them.

Hahehakfjkwnf. One that I have. Juggling.

Excluded. They hate having people include them just for pity. Though that’s if they know. (Same philosophy as me. Just being invited is enough. Even if I can’t come or I don’t have to actively participate.)

Depends. If the person looks annoyed it’s “what an ass.” If they look neutral or uncomfortable, it’s quickly “are they okay?” or “am I too imposing?”

Unknown at the moment.

Guilt and tragedy coping. Self explanatory

They’re quick to assume people being uncomfortable or afraid is because of them. They will not mention this.

Any. Since built in language processors, but probably Spanish since is such a direct translation language.

Shoes/socks in the house. What’s the fucking point. Take em off.

Listener. Make them talk? They’re autistic. You. Will. know.

EVERYONE FROM THIER ORIGINAL WORLD. EVERYONE. they either are still on the “glad they’re dead” bandwagon or the “holy shit he(moon) killed a mostly innocent dude.” Wagon.

Girlfriend. Friends. Family. Literally anyone they know. Hey, who coulda guessed, the person grappling with their past is a people pleaser!!

Nope. Politely decline

Hhhhhh….. past morals I guess? The old belief of corporeal punishment? (they don’t now.)

“Hun” when they’re concerned.

Self explanatory (mod is a lawyer…. Eclipse is at heart..)

The blood pack or their gf. (Too much shit has happened for them to NOT believe the pack. They’re safety is top priority)

Freeze to fight in normal situations. Straight to fight in dangerous situations. Freeze to “JEESUS” in safe situations.”

Destroying worlds. It’s their job, sure, but they’d much rather stop what’s CAUSING it.

Gf usually. But she’s back on the “hub world” so probably no one.

Eating. Sleeping. Drinking…. Self care.

ALL OF THEM.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

[welcometohellfilm]

Congrats to everyone who has been working on W2H2! 🎉 If it's alright, I'd like to ask to ask 2 questions:

Is there by chance an official ref of colors for Debbie, or is it still up to interpretation at the moment?

Would you say that your personal, real life experiences within the 10 years moving from W2H to W2H2 shifted the tone/story of the series in some way? Something that I've always been fascinated with when I started looking more into W2H was the shift in Sock's character from the original comic -> first film -> second film, and Jonathan's character from the first film -> second film.

Thank you! ✨

I actually just made some 'official'-ish colors for Debbie! Her voice actor Kaitlyn wanted something to use on a banner for conventions haha... so here you go!

2. I'm not really sure how to answer this one, haha. I mean I've definitely changed as a person over the course of making each iteration of W2H. I started the comic while I was at community college, before I went to art school. I adapted it into an animation for my graduation project. And I started W2H2 a couple years after I graduated college. So there's a good 2-3 years between each attempt at W2H I've done, haha. I think a lot of my original ideas from the comic had to change because it needed to be condensed into a short film. I didn't even GET to Jonathan yet in the comic! Some things just didn't make sense to me anymore, like the idea of Sock already having a human body count. It'd just be absurd for him to be able to hide it for so long! Plus, if I made it so that Sock has only ever entertained the idea of murder, it makes his new job that much more appealing-- it's a chance for him to really lean in to this thing he's always had to hide. Between the first and second films though, I mean... I think there's been some tonal shift, for sure (I don't know about a character shift? We'll get to that haha) But basically, when I was first thinking about W2H2, my idea was "Sock and Jonathan hang out and attempt to figure out touch physics, also there's some drama about a journal Jonathan keeps." All of the hell stuff is something that came from bouncing ideas around with my friends, Michael and Neil. I was worried that sending Jonathan to hell would be too bonkers for a "2nd episode", but we all kinda agreed that enough time had passed that the fans would probably enjoy something higher stakes, so it would be fine. (I'll give everyone a moment to realize this conversation would've been happening in 2015-16... ha.)

We also kind of thought, y'know... I have no idea how many more of these there's even gonna' be, so why not go a little bigger with this one? W2H2 is a higher stakes story than what I set out to make in the beginning, that's for sure. It is interesting to compare all of them.. the employee handbook was actually from the comic and I cut that because it wasn't helpful for W2H... but then it became helpful for W2H2, so it came back! Haha. I'm curious to know in what ways people think the characters have changed though. (And is that a good thing or a bad thing?) Especially a character like Jonathan, no one's really even seen that much of him yet, I think most of the characterization comes from fandom, or like... art I've drawn, I guess? Haha... I'm not sure! I guess Sock's a little more confident and antagonistic in this one (though he'll have his moments of hesitation... we're only at Part 1 right now!), and Jonathan has had to become a more vocal/active character, just by nature of the kind of story it is, I suppose. But yeah, I'm not sure! Happy to hear your guys' thoughts though!

[asherraccoon]

Deer tracks- Radioapple- Fluff, Hurt/comfort- Centaur/Cervitaur Alastor, Human Lucifer

Lucifer liked walking through the forest. When he needed to clear his head. He hummed a song to himself as he walked. He loved the smell and sounds of the forest. He loved the sights too. The trees, moss, mushrooms, birds, squirrels, blood. 

Wait. Blood? 

Lucifer halted. He noticed some drops of blood on the grass, deer tracks right next to it. “Oh no… I hope the poor thing didn't suffer too much!” Lucifer said. He decided to follow the deer tracks.

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

It took a while, but Lucifer found the source of the blood and tracks. He pushed through the bushes and branches. “Ack- stupid thorns- Ow!” He shook his hand after pricking it on a thorn. 

Rustle.

Lucifer looked up. He saw something hiding in the bushes across the clearing. 

Tall ears, antlers, eyes that appeared to glow staring at him.

Lucifer gasped. He crouched down slowly. “Hey,” he said softly. 

The creature's ear flicked. 

“I won't hurt ya,” Lucifer said quietly. He opened up his messenger bag and found an apple. He always had snacks on him when he went out. He held the apple out. “Here,” 

The creature's ears twitched. Its eyes followed Lucifer's hand with the apple. 

Lucifer placed the apple on the floor and pushed it. 

The apple rolled across the clearing and over to the bushes the creature was hiding behind. 

Lucifer watched as a hand reached out and took the apple. He raised an eyebrow. “What the..?” He thought this was an animal. A deer specifically. But deer don't have hands. 

The creature held up the apple and examined it. It sniffed it. Then took a bite. It then threw the apple at Lucifer, hitting him in the head. 

“AH!” Lucifer winced as the apple smacked his head. “Hey! I was trying to give you food!” Lucifer huffed. “Rude,” he kicked the bitten apple away. 

The deer creature made a sound resembling laughter. 

Lucifer smirked. “You find that funny, huh?” He scoffed. He stood up and slowly walked a little closer, wanting to see this thing better.

The creature stiffened and seemed to back away. 

“Hey, calm down. I won't hurt you,” Lucifer said, showing his hands. “See? No weapons,” 

The creature's ears lowered, still wary. It stood up, making itself much larger. 

“Whoa,” Lucifer wasn't expecting that. He could see the silhouette of the deer creature now. What the hell? It looked like a human body… on a deer body..? “The hell?” 

The thing backed up more as Lucifer got closer. It stomped one of its hooves, a warning to stay away. 

Lucifer stopped moving. “Hey, I don't want to hurt you. You're the deer that's bleeding, right?” He asked. “I followed your tracks. I wanted to see if you were okay,” he explained slowly and calmly. “I don't know if you can even understand what I'm saying or if you know English,” he sighed. “But I want to help,” 

The creature hesitated. It made a small grunt and then lay down on the grass. 

Lucifer blinked, surprised. “Can… Can I see you?” 

The deer creature nodded slowly. 

Lucifer slowly walked over. He pushed through the bushes. Once he was through, he could fully see the animal and gasped. “Holy…” 

This… thing… wasn't an animal. At least… not fully. Its upper half was humanoid. The rest was a deer body. Red fur covered most of the deer body, the legs being black with red hooves and a bit of white on the belly. The human(?) Body was clothed for the most part, wearing a pale red shirt and a maroon capelet of sorts. The arms had a dark gray, almost black, gradient on them. Red fingers made it look as though it was wearing gloves. Lucifer couldn't fully see the face, as it was wearing the capelet's hood, which pushed the fluffy red hair down and covered top of the face. 

“What… are you..?” Lucifer asked. 

It didn't respond. It just looked up at Lucifer. 

Lucifer noticed an arrow sticking out of the creature's hind leg. “Oh! That looks painful,” he said. He got down on his knees. He crawled a bit closer. 

The deer creature tried to move away, but it was a bit difficult with how its body was built. 

“Shhh, calm down,” Lucifer said softly. He took hold of the arrow with both his hands. “I'm going to pull it out. It's going to hurt, okay?” 

The creature lowered its ears again.

“3… 2… 1!” Lucifer yanked the arrow out.

The deer bellowed and stood up quickly, the sudden pain scaring it. 

Lucifer yelped and pushed himself out of the way. He didn't want to get trampled by a. Half human half deer thing. 

The deer-like being settled down after a moment, realizing the arrow was no longer there and Lucifer had actually helped it. It moved its injured leg a little, still feeling a bit of pain. 

“It'll take a bit to heal… I suggest resting for a while,” Lucifer said. He looked at the arrow he had pulled out. “Whoa! It's a miracle you survived this thing!” He said. He tapped the sharp end with his finger. “These are from my kingdom. They're coated with a special type of steel that's strong enough to kill dragons!” He said. “They're very accurate and it's rare to miss large, moving targets with them. It's amazing you survived!” 

The deer's ears twitched as it listened. He limped over to Lucifer and took the arrow from him, examining it. 

Lucifer stood up. He looked over the creature's form again, in awe. “Can you talk?” He asked. 

It looked at Lucifer. It shook its head. 

“But you can understand English?” 

It nodded. 

“Well,” Lucifer smiled. He held out his hand. “I'm Lucifer. Pleasure to be meeting you… Um… Deer… thing..?” He he laughed nervously. 

The deer looked at Lucifer's hand and tilted its head. 

“Oh, uh…” Lucifer hesitantly took the being's hand and shook it. “Handshake. It's a greeting,” 

It flinched as its hand was grabbed. It pulled away once the shake was done. 

“Not a fan of touching?” Lucifer assumed. 

The creature nodded in confirmation. 

“Uh… How does… your… kind… greet each other?” Lucifer asked. 

The deer shrugged. 

“You don't know?” Lucifer was a bit surprised. “Are there not more of you?” 

It shrugged again. 

“Huh…” Lucifer put his hands on his hips. “Well… I should go back home now,” he reached for the arrow the deer was still holding. 

The red deer handed the arrow back. 

“It was nice to meet you!” Lucifer pushed his blonde hair back with his fingers. “Bye!” He waved before jogging off. 

The creature waved as well. It looked back at its injured leg and hummed. Its first proper interaction with a human went rather well. It wondered if it'd see him again. 

[crowhoonter]

The Moon Presence holds a special place in my heart in terms of souls games final bosses because of the sheer what the fuckness of it all. All of the other final bosses have some kind of build up; Dark Souls can't go one minute without mentioning Gwyn, Nashandra and Aldia are major figures in Ds2's lore, the Soul of Cinder, while never directly alluded to is another example of the converging of time and space in 3, Isshin plays a large part in Sekiro's story, and Radagon is a major lore character with Elden Beast being pretty easy to clock as a manifestation of the Greater Will.

Flora, the Moon Presence, though? She comes out of nowhere. There are maybe two lines alluding to her existence at all, those being the workshop umbilical cord and the lecture hall note. The closest you otherwise get is the references to the terrible hunter's dream, which doesn't immediately conjure the idea of her to mind.

Even better we don't even know what she really wants. Oh sure, there are plenty of theories and inferences we can make. Maybe she uses Hunters like hitmen to prevent infant great ones from threatening her, maybe she's keeping a natural order running, maybe she wants to spread the beast plague, maybe she wants to prevent mankind's evolution, maybe she just plain loves violence. In the end though, its all still maybes. Girly walks on in and her mere existence changes so much about the story, yet she refuses to elaborate on anything.

Another very interesting aspect is, and this is probably a somewhat baseless observation, we don't really know what she is. Everywhere else in the game, Great Ones have some line of text associating them with that status. Oedon, Baby Mergo, Kos, Amygdala, The Brain of Mensis, Ebrietas. All of them have text somewhere that directly refers to them with that moniker, but Flora? Nowhere will you find something calling her a great one. Hell, in the Japanese translation, she is called "Moon Demon." It is probably safe and the intended inference that she is a great one, but the thought she might not be does tickle me nonetheless.

Then there is her role in the story. The Great Ones are said to be sympathetic in spirit, and there definitely is a part of her that echoes that sentiment. The way she cradles the hunter is like that of a mother holding a child, yet she seems to be a lot more manipulative than the Great Ones we see in game. They typically cause suffering not by tricking or making deals, but by being unaware of how they affect the world with their actions. Getting picked up by Amygdalae seems like a curious child picking up a lizard, unaware that they are hurting it. Flora though, there does seem to be a certain level of maliciousness beyond accidental. Gehrman's pain and suffering is clear to see, yet she keeps him chained to the dream because of whatever bargain he made (presumably animating the Doll). She does the same to the hunter should you forgo the umbilical cords. She also doesn't seem to want a surrogate like other Great Ones, maybe settling for keeping humans as pets rather than having an actual child.

She really is one of the best Fromsoft final bosses because of the sheer strangeness and the wrench her presence throws into the game's story. We can get a concept of most of Bloodborne's story with a bit of interpretation and reading between the lines, but she will forever be an enigma. For what purpose did Laurence and Gehrman summon her? Why is she seemingly not worshiped unlike other Great Ones? Does she desire a surrogate or are humans pets good enough? We may never know, and that is wonderful.

Stay enigmatic queen, live your freak life

[thyras]

→ nightmares - one

PAIRING → halbrand | annatar (sauron) x f!oc!sabina

WORD COUNT → 2k words

WARNINGS → no warnings for this part

SUMMARY → the dark lord has met his match in mind, body, and soul in a witch with even greater powers than he. though she holds a secret, one that will alter the course of his grand plan for middle-earth.

AUTHORS NOTE → i hatched this deranged idea when i was talking to my husband about some lore stuff and it got me thinking about how close sabina (an oc of mine) is with sauron. this will be extremely dark as her story is tragic asf (even in this universe), it is very similar to those of the elves corrupted by morgoth so please please do not read if you are sensitive to certain dark themes. this series was inspired by nightmares - skyfall beats.

" i can save you from your nightmares, give me a little love "

SERIES MASTERLIST → NEXT PART

The sound of clopping hooves up the cobblestone road caused Halbrand to turn his head. A large coal-black horse came cantering through the streets. He raised a brow when he saw the fair beauty astride the beast. Her burgundy, gold, and black robes were unfamiliar to him. Some new nation that had sprung up in his centuries away?

He could feel the magnetic pull of her dark being as she came closer. She held the dark threads of any touched by Morgoth's hands. Her aura was as black as the horse she was riding. How the beast did not throw her was beyond him. When presented with such power, many animals feared the beings unless subdued by magic.

Which she had clearly done.

Her white hair was braided down her back and flopped with each movement of her horse, as did her robes. She slowed her horse and smiled at the Commander, who stepped aside for her as she walked the horse through. She lightly turned in the saddle as she shared a light conversation with the Commander. Her skin was paler than moonlight and looked as soft as silk. She was no elf. But a human woman. In his dark eyes, she put every elven maiden to shame.

Halbrand could only help but bow slightly to her as she strode past him. As she passed, he could see a beautiful golden hairpiece wedged into her hair. The golden serpents twisted and twined through her braid as their ruby eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun. “Royalty?” He thought, but what royalty had such a darkness to it? What nation held more power than he did?

None.

Her eyes turned back to him, and he felt his mortal heart thump in his chest against those crystal blue eyes set into the softly serene face of a goddess. A flirtatious smile found her lips before she inclined her head to him and stopped before the woman who had greeted him earlier as a female guard walked up to take her horse.

The woman dismounted and took her gloves off, reaching to kiss her stead on the muzzle as the guard took it across the yard. She greeted and embraced the elf before trodding off into the forge he sought entrance into.

"Who is she?" Halbrand asked the guard standing near him. He turned back to Halbrand.

"That is Lady Sabina of Enedwaith; she is a friend of his Lordship, " the guard said. Halbrand raised a brow at the thought. Enedwaith was a mostly uncontrolled territory, with only small settlements of men and no king or ruler. Surely, she held no power there to be a Lady among nothingness.

"Does she frequent often?" Halbrand asked curiously. The guard turned back around and refused to answer his question. He watched as the white-haired beauty disappeared into the building. A smile peaked on his lips as he moved to stand by his horse again.

Halbrand felt her power lingering deep inside her, a sickly sweet taste of the darkness creeping across her threads and back to him. There was no way she did not know if a being as powerful as her came across one such as him. Every inch of her body would have known.

And that was not ideal.

"Sabina," Celebrimbor said with a smile as he moved to embrace her. Sabina hugged the man gently. "I am so happy my letters reached his Lordship so fast,"

"He sent me with great urgency," Sabina said, moving to unclasp her cloak and lay it across her arm before following Celebrimbor up to his study as the smiths moved about. Mirdania returned to her duties as Sabina moved to sit in one of the open chairs amongst the great library that he had here. Each time she came, she always marveled at how beautiful it looked. Elven architecture was something to behold, just as the old Numenorean coastal estate she resided in with Olavi was. "You are requesting more ores and gemstones?"

"Yes," Celebrimbor said, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine before opening them. “I have seemingly lost a steady stream of ores to craft with." He handed her a full glass. She sipped at the tart liquid.

"Is there anything particular you are looking for?" she asked, leaning back in the chair as her manicured nails tapped against the glass.

"Gold and Silver from Valinor," Sabina nearly choked on her wine before moving to set the glass on the table. Celebrimbor moved towards her in alarm, but she waved him off.

"I apologize, my lord, but should you not be looking amongst your people for that?" She said after regaining her breath. Celebrimbor looked at her and moved to sit down across from her.

"I cannot. I have been asked to stop producing from this forge but have never been so inspired. I wish to create more." Sabina raised a brow at him. A light darkness was on the man's mind—one she had never seen before. Sure, her thinly veiled weavings were there, but this was new.

Her mind turned back to the man standing at the gate. She had smelt him from a league away. He was him. The being Olavi had sworn to overthrow and take his place as the next rightful Dark Lord.

He was weaker than she suspected, nothing like her master had said he would be like, but that's what centuries of decay had probably done to him when Adar had subdued him. But she was of greater power than he, so his manipulation and mind games would not work on her. So her mind was her own, along with the secrets it held.

The cruel irony that he had returned as a man was a little laughable to her. Surely, a being as mighty as him would choose a better casing.

She leaned forward and reached across the table to grab his hand. He flinched when she did so. "Is everything okay, my lord?"

"Yes, why on earth would it not?" Sabina rubbed her thumb across the top of his, trying to soothe the older man. But his eyes were full of unease and unrest.

"Because you are asking me for something my Lord may not be able to get, and you are unusually jumpy." It was his turn to raise a brow at her.

"I am sound of mind, my lady," Sabina nodded.

"I will see what I can do, but as payment, tell me who that man is out there?" Celebrimbor softly smiled.

"A man of no consequence." Sabina moved to retake her glass, sipping on the liquid. "He shall surely leave soon."

"He does not seem like a man of no consequence to be standing at your gate with a hunger in his eyes."

"A hunger?" Celebrimbor scoffed with an amused smile. “You have truly lived in the wilderness too long, my dear friend.” Sabina shrugged and set her glass down before sitting up to speak.

"All beings seek purpose, and this one seeks you for a purpose. Why is that?" Sabina leaned her elbows onto the table. She knew Celebrimbor was not motivated by her looks or how she fluttered her eyelashes. He did not seek the comfort of a woman. So she had learned over the years to bloat his ego and praise him for his efforts, fill his mind with praises, and seed his loyalty to her master.

Celebrimbor sighed and finally answered her question. “His name is Halbrand. He was here with Lady Galadriel recently but disappeared before he could help me—” He stopped suddenly, and Sabina raised a brow.

“Help you with what?” she asked, intrigued now. If he was who she thought he was, she needed to return to her master as quickly as possible with this revelation.

“I’ve already said too much, but Lady Galadriel asked me to promise her not to treat with him again, so I dare not.” Sabina nodded with a smile. “It has been good to see your face, my dear. I have greatly missed our riveting conversations.”

“As have I,”

“It is rare for him to let you out of that estate. How on earth did you manage to come alone?” Sabina snorted and looked back down at her glass; Celebrimbor moved to touch her hand softly. “Tell me after you have settled in, I shall prepare a room for you.” Sabina smiled weakly.

“I would love to, but he wishes me to return in a day's time.”

“Nonsense. I will send correspondence with you telling him our dealings went longer. Please stay; it is always a pleasure, and I think Mirdania would also enjoy the company.” Sabina nodded. 

“Only for tonight; I must leave in the morning.”

Sabina moved out of the forge, slipping her gloves on. She needed to get back to her master and tell him her news, but she did not want to alarm anyone after saying she was staying for the night. So she would ride out and find the lone rider sent to follow her, no doubt, and relay the message to them. But as she walked over to where her stallion, Filo, stood, she felt his gaze on her. The shadowy gaze she was so familiar with followed her; only this one was more frigid than her masters.

“Leaving so soon?” his voice called as Sabina reached for Filo's reins. She did not acknowledge his existence until he moved over to her and tried to take hold of the stallion’s headstall, but Filo snorted and pinned his ears back, pawing at the cobblestone in a challenge at the man.

“If you wish to keep your head on your shoulders, you will not touch him,” Sabina said with fury in her icy gaze as she moved Filo away; he stepped back with his hands raised and merely flashed her a smile. “He hates men,” Especially men with your aura. She thought mildly. A smile touched her lips at the memory of Olavi trying to get anywhere near the stallion when he was first gifted to him. Filo had taken to Sabina when Olavi had gifted him to her and protected her with a ferocity that rivaled a hound's protection of his flock. So his reaction to this man was anything but unordinary.

“Well, it would seem your horse is as opinionated as you,” Sabina raised a brow at him as she threw her reins over Filo’s neck, gathered them up, and mounted the horse in a flurry of red and black silk.

“I hardly think a three-second conversation tells you anything about me,” She hissed before pushing her skirts out of her saddle so she could sit up properly. A dark smile flashed across his lips as he moved just a hair closer to Filo again. The stallion's ears pinned back, and he swished his tail in warning. 

Halbrand spoke words in the foul language that only beings of Morgoth’s realm would know. It was also the language she used with Filo. To Sabina’s amazement, Filo dipped his head to the man in obedience, and Sabina swallowed hard as Halbrand ran his hand up the stallion's face, pushing his forelock out of the way. Those dark eyes were watching her intently. 

“A strange language to use,” Halbrand moved his hand up the stallion's neck, running his fingers through his black mane. “A language others never dare to utter,”

“You know nothing of who I am,” He chuckled and patted the stallion’s neck softly before moving away from them.

Oh, but I do. The Black Speech words floated across her mind. She glared at him and leaned forward in her saddle, exposing the blade strapped to her saddle. The hilt’s grip was fashioned of black leather engraved with a design, while the butt of the blade was adorned with a shining ruby encased by twining serpents that flickered in the sun.

“You have hardly the power to deal with me, so keep your tongue in your mouth and leave me be.” She snarled at him before turning Filo to the gatehouse and kicking him on. Sabina turned back to see Halbrand watching her with a slight smile on his lips. The look was so dark that she could have felt her heart flutter in response to it.

For he was a deceiver.

And she was the greatest prize of them all.

Even if he did not know that yet.

[bloodweavefangnatic]

Wyll’s remarks about Astarion, such as his comment about Astarion having nice hair, come off as more platonic or neutral. While Wyll might acknowledge Astarion’s attractiveness, something the vampire doesn’t already know 😂, there’s no indication that these comments carry the same kind of sexual tension or romantic interest that Astarion expresses toward Wyll. These remarks are more likely to be seen as lighthearted compliments, something that could be said by a friend or acquaintance rather than an indication of deeper romantic feelings.

Astarion, on the other hand, makes several flirtatious comments toward Wyll, hinting at a potential romantic or sexual attraction. He openly mentions that Wyll would have been his type before he became a vampire, — which is kind of sad because I think Wyll would have loved him more as a human than a vampire and I feel like that’s a little racist because canonically (not talking about playing Wyll’s origin run, if you want to romance Astarion go for your life) but I don’t think he’d want to do anything with him because of what his kind does and the fact that he’s a monster hunter but then again this is just my theory/HC I don’t know it for a fact but I know the attraction is definitely one-side either way it’s looked at — and there are moments where Astarion expresses clear desire or admiration for Wyll’s physical appearance. This interaction is much more overt and can be interpreted as a romantic or sexual interest. (Like the question is does he just want to bed Wyll as one night stand or does he genuinely have deep-rooted feelings for him?)

Even if Wyll did harbor feelings for Astarion, it raises the question: why was he so consistently harsh toward him throughout Acts 1 and 2? Wyll’s behavior towards him only starts to shift in Act 3, after Astarion kills Cazador and chooses to remain a spawn (which is actually understandable even because I don’t exactly like Ascended Astarion either, so kudos to Wyll 😂) However, this shift doesn’t come across as a true companionship or genuine change of heart—it feels more like a reward or acknowledgment of Astarion’s “good behavior.” (Pretty much similar as to how Mizora treats Wyll with the ‘reward method’ like a dog)

By waiting until after Astarion has undergone intense personal growth to offer any kind of warmth — which is kind of manipulative on the warlock’s part — Wyll’s change in attitude feels less like a romantic development and more like belated approval.

This shift misses the mark if the intent was to create a compelling connection between them. Instead of building a relationship over time, it feels as if Wyll’s attitude change only emerges in response to Astarion’s actions, which doesn’t have the depth or complexity expected in a confession of feelings.

Self note: Don’t get me started on the whole “well it could be an enemies to lovers thing”. Yeah, you could be right but that’s what happened between Lae’zel & Shadowheart as well as Karlach & Wyll but at least they made a truce in Act 1

Wyll repeatedly “teases” (I wouldn’t even call it that considering his tone is not animated ) Astarion about his “dietary life” even though he explicitly explains to the player/leader of the group — very early on after being found out about his true nature — “I hunt deer, boar, or kobolds whatever I can get. I’m just a little slow right now” which, now that I think about it, I honestly I feel like that’s the only part Wyll heard: ‘I’m a little slow’ it would explain why he acts this way towards Astarion either that or he’s internally panicking (not for himself) but people around him because there is a “slow” vampire who hasn’t fed yet, but is too weak to go after any animal. Thats not the worst part, Wyll, who is only a short distance from Astarion’s tent — one tent away — perhaps chose to ignored his explanation, most likely not wanting to hear to excuses or manipulation (in Wyll’s eyes) because to him a bloodthirsty vampire is a bloodthirsty vampire; self control or not it didn’t matter to him

Another thing is when Astarion mentions that he’s feeling hungry, a day or so later, Wyll instantly remarks that he should settle for “vagrant chicken,” straight off the bat and absolutely no tactfulness, as if unaware or indifferent to Astarion’s efforts to avoid feeding on innocents. This could have been especially harsh for Astarion — considering how much he resents being told what to do— a reminder of his time under Cazador’s control, particularly when he had no choice having to obey his commands (lest he gets punished for not doing so 🥺)

The dynamic becomes even more complicated when the player (save for playing as Karlach) goes up to Astarion, telling him: “You can feed on me.”. Every time it comes up, Wyll doesn’t protest or intervene, despite his earlier jabs about the vampire’s source of ‘food’. There’s no protective or disapproving response from him; instead, he stands by and allows it to happen. This feels less like a typical “enemies-to-lovers” banter and more like an ongoing pattern of unnecessary antagonism. It, to me, actually felt more like a “the ruler can do whatever they want and the person won’t interfere” thing, which isn’t far fetched to being a leader of the companions

Conclusion:

It’s important to note that Baldur’s Gate 3 is a game driven by player choice, meaning there is no definitive “canon” relationship between characters. Since each player can make different decisions and pursue different companions, any pairing, such as “Wyllstarion,” is subjective and depends on the individual player’s choices. The game doesn’t establish any specific romantic relationships as official canon, as characters do not form relationships with one another outside of the player’s actions. This flexibility allows players to experience a variety of possible relationships, and no particular outcome is considered the game’s “canon.”.

That’s like me saying “Starlach and Bloodweave are definitely canon,” but someone else might argue, “No way, it’s all about Shadowarrior — Shadowheart and Lae’zel” or “Fieryblade, Wyll x Karlach, is definitely the better option” etc. Everyone has their own interpretation of what feels right or “canon” to them. There’s no one-size-fits-all answer because the game lets you build your own story, and what feels like a natural pairing for one person might not for someone else.

More evidence that Wyll and Astarion are basically canon :p But no Wyll, no Asty kisses for you >:c Not this time.

[anundyingfidelity]

PRIMAL — Weapon X!Logan

Summary: You are right where he wants and won't escape the subject's twisted mind.

Warnings: heavy non-con smut, dark stuff, mentions of being tortured, female!reader. Read at your own risk tbh, thank you if you do though. Someone pls write more Weapon X! Logan, I'm going crazy at this point.

GEN MASTERLIST!

He has you exactly where he wants. Between the concrete and his intimidating aura. Your eyes are glossy, chest going up and down, ready to be the next victim. His last one.

You study the Weapon X subject one more time. He’s broad and muscular, strong frame with adamantium bones, claws out his knuckles as he walks to you, full in his naked glory. Stains of blood start to dry off on his chest, abdomen and shoulders. And even though in other circumstances he would make a good-looking man, he is far from being one now.

He is not human anymore, he is an animal. And you had been part of the experiments since the beginning. For some reason, he had saved you last from all the personnel of the base. A twisted and sick choice.

Logan takes the last two steps towards you, closing the distance. He can smell your fear, sense the shaking of your whole body, the beating of your heart… He had been watching you, paying special attention to you each time he could. Your voice, your silhouette, your job, your routines around the lab. Everything you did he had learned.

And now, after killing and dismantling the place, leaving a horrid trade of bodies and red around, he feels like finishing everything with you.

He doesn’t know your name, he just knows you were part of them and he fucking hates it.

How could such a pretty thing like you could bear torturing a lost soul like him? He growls at the thought, leaning until his nose is almost touching yours.

You gasp loud, the echoes of your breathing filling the empty place. Your eyes shut and you feel tears running down your cheek.

“Logan…”

He replies with a deep groan again, taking in the scent of your neck and the salty sweat covering your skin. Oh and how he loves the reactions of your body as he traces his way to the shell of your ear with his nose.

“Please… You- you’re not like this…”

Begging would do nothing, he knows it. You keep begging and begging, calling his name as he takes in the features of your face, eyes barely opening. And when you cross glances, besides the fear on your gaze, he can sense something else building on you: arousal. It’s not the first time he’s sensed it on you, but sure he will take out his own suffering and frustrations on that.

“Logan…”

Claws come close, cutting your blouse and bra off. He rips the fabric with his hands before your trousers and panties come off the same way. You squirm and cry, but don’t make any effort on pushing him away because you know he would win the same. He’s massive, stronger, and dangerous. He’s a weapon you helped to build, and compared to him, you are nothing.

Probably he will get vengeance by tearing you apart, forcing you on the smudged, cold floor. He’s all over you, not quite giving kisses but bruises with his lips and teeth on your neck, biting on your skin, legs wide as he feels your wet cunt against his hard cock.

You cry his name, more like a moan, when he forces himself inside your tight walls without any preparation. He’s animalistic, erratic, growling, almost howling, like a dog in heat.

The scratch of your nails do nothing. He pounds harder into your abused cunt, tearing an orgasm out of you. He spills himself in seconds, feeling your walls around him sucking him completely, and he continues fucking you over and over his own high, increasing the sensitive feeling between your legs. And just as you think Logan is over by how quick he keeps rutting on you, hips making an obscene noise every time he buries balls deep inside your cunt, it feels like he goes faster, harder, that it becomes too much and you cling into him with nails and loud whimpers, sore throat crying into the void.

He comes a second time with a deep moan, filling you up once again and you do nothing but take it. Slowly, he pumps his white seed into you until he fully stops inside your abused, needy pussy.

The primitive need to kill now is replaced with a more primal urge, and you would be perfect for that from now on.

[centrally-unplanned]

Though re: Look Back I am going to be FUCKING HATER and say that the Run Scene isn't good:

Yeah that is right, the scene everyone is praising, the scene that is on the literal thumbnail for the tag on tumblr.

I have two complaints, one universal and one personal. First, just, here is the scene in the manga:

The context by the way is that our main girlie Fujino (yeah, the self-insert is pretty on-the-nose here - wait until you learn about the other girl's name lol) just learned her supposed artistic rival she thought was superior to her is actually a huge fan of her work. So, being a total dork, she blows her compliments off like it is nothing in front of her and then breaks out into the above...march? Dance? Pop-off? She is like 12, she doesn't even know.

This is funny! Because it is, you know, 4 panels? You spend maybe 5 seconds on it narratively. It isn't that complicated of a joke, and someone just sort of "exploding" for a second in egotistical joy is, yeah that's believable. People do that sometimes. The inputs match the outputs here.

But this joke just can't be stretched out to an entire minute of 4 different cycles of insane run animations. They are all equally awkward, and in their diverse specificity lose any connection to the scene. What emotion is this!?

I can't tell you, no human does this for 30 seconds straight. Director Kiyotaka Oshiyama animated this scene directly, and I think he got lost in the sauce a bit here. A far more restrained approach would have hit better.

The second is that I am a Famous Anime Run Cycle Hater - anime time and again goes back to the well of having characters run on screen to communicate emotion, because it is a visually expressive thing to animate that seems realistic to the audience. Emphasis on seems because people don't actually run to express their emotions! You have never actually done that, or seen someone do it outside of like fleeing a specific individual. When you are upset you sit on the couch and scroll Tumblr and seethe; when you are happy you sit on the couch and scroll tumblr you absolute loser maybe walk like 10% faster and call up a friend to gush. If you are in the 1% who would run, you jog like a normal person.

Now I am not being some hyperrealism police here, you can break the mold of human expression, exaggerate for effect, etc. I just now have a pet peeve about the way so many anime "break the mold" in the same exact way, and sort of "pretend" that they aren't doing that via the mask of fake realism. Stretch yourselves! Show me her childish, arrogant exultation in some other way. I wanna be impressed, not see the classics on repeat.

Anyway the movie itself is quite good you should watch it.

[lady-griffin]

Interesting enough, I don’t think Jinx really dehumanizes her enemies.

Or that’s not true.

She does dehumanize her enemies, we do see that, it’s just not to the same degree as others do it. Because really, it isn’t so much a matter of Jinx not seeing her enemies as human, but more so she doesn’t care if they are – because they’re all “human.”

Morality and the ideas of good and bad aren’t factors for Jinx. Not really.

She doesn’t justify her actions in the same way other characters do, largely because Jinx is very much on her own side and that’s all the justification she needs for herself; it’s not all that complicated for her, because why would it be?

A good comparison would be Caitlyn and her utter disbelief and horror that people would dare attack a memorial – because who would do such a thing? Who would be so evil and immoral? They’re animals. They’re monsters.

But let’s say there was a memorial for Silco –

Caitlyn would 100% attack it to get to Jinx without batting an eye, because Silco and Jinx are the bad guys, they're morally evil, and obviously attacking Silco's memorial wouldn’t even be close to the same thing as someone attacking her mother’s memorial service.

Her doing it to her enemy is justified, but someone doing it to her loved one could never be justified… because of valid reasons.

Jinx on the other hand, would be furious at someone for attacking Silco’s hypothetical memorial but that’s only because he was HER loved one. Noone crossed some hypothetical moral line; they just crossed her so obviously she’s going to try and brutally murder them.

Jinx is overall very selfish and bias towards herself, so while we can see a double-standard in her thinking, oddly enough (at least for me) it doesn’t feel hypocritical.

Like, Jinx wouldn’t ask who would attack a memorial service, because she definitely would.

She would absolutely care about Silco’s and not give a damn about her enemies – because Silco is her loved one and those are her enemies – it’s as simple as that. There is no good or bad, it's just whether you're her person or not.

And as I'm writing this part out now it's just occurred to me why we see more of Jinx's double-standards and even hypocrisy when it comes to Vi specifically – because Vi is both Jinx's loved one and her enemy.

In regards to Vi and the chem-tanks, she would absolutely be thrown and very upset if some kid came in and cried over their dead parent’s body. Because now the chem-tank she just killed is as real and as human as she is.

Which arguably could be why Vi goes so hard in "Jinx is not my sister" and "that monster killed my sister," because if Jinx is indeed her sister (she is) then her enemy isn't someone she can dehumanize or disassociate her violence from, because it's her sister…

With Jinx though, I don't really see her caring or being moved by her enemy's child crying over their body. I mean maybe, she is Jinx and full of surprises. But I doubt it…

It’s not that Jinx doesn’t dehumanize others, it’s more so – they’re all monsters - including her. Being a monster isn’t good or bad – it’s just what they all are.

It was hard to put into words what I was thinking, so I don’t know if I made much sense here, but hopefully I did.

“Never thought [my sister] would orphan children.”

*Stares at Vi*

*Stares at Powder’s grenades*

*Stares back at Vi*

*Gestures wildly towards Powder’s grenades*

Vi sweetie, you encouraged her. You expected them to work one day. It didn't occur to you she could possibly kill someone who was a parent?

Don’t get me wrong, Powder wasn’t some violent, blood hungry kid, but also...

Violet she was making fucking bombs!!!

Like @embershroud108 has said many times, Vi has become fixated on an idealized version of Powder that never existed.

Though I do genuinely think when they were younger, she didn’t consider the full ramifications of the possibility of Powder killing people, because why would she? She was an angry, young teenager.

She also wasn't going to really care about those people, because those would’ve been her enemies too, so they wouldn’t have “counted” so to speak.

But seriously Vi, how do you know the chem-tanks you've killed weren't parents?

I mean it's almost like anyone, despite how monstrous they are to you or your side, can be someone else's loved one.

[uramitashi]

women really do need better class consciousness.

before you are religious, before you are a citizen of your nation, before you are anything else; you are a woman. your identity is complex but womahood is one of its first pillars. and womanhood is so important because so strictly tied, during her whole existence, to her implications: the ability to reproduce and the relative independence (ie: not having to desperately find another mate to pass on your genes + developing a physiological selectiveness) coming from it. female objectification, sex work, misogyny, female modesty, FGM, everything that hurts women stems from it. males want to control women sexuality because of it. it is therefore natural that womanhood is ontologically more important than any other label - because if you neglect it, others will surely not.

[vagun1ka]

i have finished watching g-witch and Belmeria is person I relate the most to.

[tubbytarchia]

stuff from another animation that I'll probs not finish (it is just beyond my skill level with how much human animation it requires with this god forsaken human style) sorry mizakaiers

[cuubism]

needless to say I've written many new fics instead of finishing my existing ones. and this is one of them. a strange little fic for you.

-

Something was preying on the village's children, and Hob had been elected to go out and kill it.

Alright, it wasn't actually eating the children, they were still alive and largely unharmed. But something out there was doing something to them, because children kept going out to play by the edge of the woods and coming back wrong.

Indefinably wrong. Quiet. Serious. Disinclined to play as they were before. Even the parents who'd once complained of their children's lack of discipline and work ethic were disturbed by the sudden absence of laughter and energy in the village.

So Hob was sent to make it stop. Probably because he'd spent so much time in the forest he knew it better than he even knew the village. Probably because he had no children of his own. No one to leave behind.

He'd been sent into the woods to find out what was what--or rather, to simply take the thing's head off its shoulders, but Hob was more inclined to find out what was what first, for curiosity's sake if nothing else.

It was near dusk when he reached the edge of the forest. Mist lay heavy on the tree branches, haze stole between the bramble bushes. Darker still it was deep in the woods, wet and hushed, no animal life now with the sun going down behind the clouds, only leaves ghosting down, the whispers of early autumn decay.

Hob loved this time of year, not least for the good deer hunting it brought, but also for the quiet, the last breath of settling down for winter. Everything was starting to go grey, and it was good, after the activity of the summer, and of the harvest, to fall into that cycle again, setting fires and shuttering windows, waiting for the onset of the cold.

Or, as was he wont, as he was doing now, treading silently into the forest, steps careful on the wet, leafy floor. His bow was at the ready, the grip familiar in his hand, quiver of arrows at his back. He wasn't sure where exactly he would find the thing, the creature he was hunting, though if it liked to prey on the children playing by the edge of the forest, it couldn't live too deep in the trees. Perhaps it would come for him, thinking him prey, though Hob thought he might be too big for it, in comparison to a child.

Still, he made his way into the chill embrace of the woods. In the low light the trees all started to blend together, yellow orange and brown all melting and bleeding like wet paints. Droplets fell on his shoulders, branches tugged on his hair. But Hob knew how not to draw the attention of anything but the trees.

Eventually he made it to the edge of the lake. The water was utterly still, reflecting the forest in perfect mirror. And Hob went equally still, grip tightening on his bow, for there was something crouched by the water's edge, peering into the shallows.

Hob froze in the trees, watching. It was a leggy thing, long thin limbs curled under an angular body, spine curved as it bowed before the water. Black fur--or feathers? he was unsure--ghosted along the back and limbs, though the face was pale, angular and more human-like than Hob had expected. It was a solemn, contemplative face, reflected moonlike in the water, and the overall impression was haunting but beautiful. Hob had always felt he belonged in these woods, but in comparison to this creature he was an intruder, a blundering interloper, while the creature emerged right from the mist, and could very well vanish back into it.

He knew, somehow, that this was what he was looking for.

And he didn't want to kill it. He couldn't bear to just kill it.

But at the same time, he couldn't just let it keep preying on the children. No matter how pretty it was. Wolves, too, were beautiful, but when one got too comfortable going after the sheep it was time to take action.

He crept closer. The creature didn’t seem to hear him, or was absorbed in its thoughts. As Hob watched, it shook mist droplets from its feathers, but didn’t otherwise stir.

Hob crept ever closer. He could not seem to find the usual thrill of the hunt he felt when he followed a deer or a fox. He felt sort of… sick. Like his soul was rebelling against the idea of hurting the thing by the water. Still he came closer, trying to shake off the feeling.

Suddenly, though Hob made no notable sound, that pale sharp face whipped up to look at him. Its black gaze pierced through him like a dagger, and Hob flinched—and in the breath of that flinch, it ran.

Hob’s instincts caught up to him a second later. He had his bow nocked and drawn before he’d consciously thought of it, operating on muscle memory, the ingrained motions of the hunt. He couldn’t let it get away.

He fired.

The creature dodged his first shot, pelting out of the way through the trees, but Hob was used to the erratic sprints of deer and foxes, and aimed better the second time. He caught it on a turn, just as it was... disappearing? It started to go kind of thin, kind of see-through, like mist—but Hob's arrow sliced through its thigh before it could vanish.

The creature shrieked, tumbling to a stop in the leaves. Hob chased after it, bow now loose in one hand—he didn’t want to shoot again, he still didn’t want to kill it. But he chased it, skidding to a stop by the prone body where it lay shuddering in the shadows, Hob’s arrow stuck clean through its thigh.

Hob noted with relief that it did not seem to be a fatal wound, though the creature was doing its damnedest to make it so. Its form flickered before his eyes, vanishing and returning, vanishing and returning, and all the while dark blood spilled from the wound, staining the forest floor black. It seemed to be trying to disappear, but the arrow held it fast.

"Quit panicking, you're making it worse," Hob warned, now genuinely concerned it would aggravate the wound and make itself bleed out. He moved to press his hands over the gash, but the creature made an awful, grating panicked sound and clawed at his hands, scrambling away with another trill of pain as the arrow caught and dragged. Hob hissed at the scratch torn across the back of his hand, but he couldn't truly blame the creature for it. Fair enough, honestly.

"I don't want to kill you," Hob said, raising his hands in surrender.

The creature narrowed its black eyes at him. "Take back your arrows, put the fire back into your bowstring, perhaps then I might believe you."

Hob stared, dumbfounded. He honestly hadn't expected it to speak. He'd expected it to be more like an animal—a particularly intelligent one, a magical one, to be sure, perhaps even a spirit of some kind, like in the stories—but not to open its mouth and speak just like a man would. Then again, it did wear a human face. Perhaps that face was truer than he’d assumed.

“Okay, you’re right,” Hob conceded. “But I couldn’t just let you run.”

“What right had you to stop me, human?” The tone was indignant—but it was afraid of him, Hob thought. The dark eyes glinted and rolled, and every muscle was taut, blood pulsing sluggishly from the wound, unimpeded as the creature kept its hands free to attack him if needed. “To chase me down like a common beast?”

“What right?” Hob said, incredulously. “What right did you have to prey on those children?”

“I am not,” said the creature stiffly, some of its fear sloughing off in the course of its offense, “preying upon them. You humans only see what you inflict upon others. The children will soon be returned to how they were. In fact. They will be better than they were.”

“That’s not how it seems right now,” Hob said, remembering the listless gazes of the village children as they went about their chores.

The creature huffed, irritated. “You give them no time. I needed only to borrow their dreams,  that I might sustain the magic that upholds all dreams. They will have them back. In addition. I have given them a gift. Children so often lose touch with their dreams as they grow. Becoming dull. Narrow-minded.” He glared as if Hob was an example of this. “But these will not.”

“…What are you, then?” Hob asked, trying to process.

The creature edged away from him, wincing as the movement tugged on its wound. “It matters not to you. Leave me. And perhaps I may not punish you for these crimes.”

“Doesn’t seem like you can do much with that arrow in you,” Hob observed. It had prevented the creature from disappearing, after all.

And before Hob could react, the creature had grasped the arrow in one clawed hand and yanked it from its leg.

“No!” Hob yelled, but it was too late, blood was already gushing from the creature’s thigh.

“Better than whatever fate you might have in mind,” it hissed, form starting to flicker. But its eyelids fell just as fast, consciousness slipping as blood poured from the wound.

“No!” Hob yelled again, grabbing the creature and pressing his hands to the wound, staunching the flow of blood. The beast slumped against him, unconscious. But alive. For now.

Hob felt he’d made a terrible mistake. He still didn’t understand what exactly the creature had been doing to the children—but he didn’t want to just let it die.

He had some bandages stashed in his tunic—he’d brought them for himself in case the creature turned on him—and quickly wrapped the wound, tying it tight to stem the bleeding. Then, having no other recourse, he picked the creature up to take it back with him.

I’m going to get bit for this, Hob thought, as he started to make his way back out of the woods. The creature would not be pleased to find itself in Hob’s cabin when—if—it woke up. But he carried it back anyway, through the damp, misty trees, night properly falling around them.

The creature was lighter than Hob would have thought, barely there in his arms. As he walked he had the chance to observe its features at peace. The face, as he’d thought, was very human, especially with those dark eyes closed—soft lashes and messy hair, sharp, almost gaunt cheekbones, bitten lips. It—he? Hob wasn’t sure—was really quite beautiful.

Fortunately Hob’s cabin was far enough from the rest of town that no one would see him bringing the creature back instead of killing it. He hurried inside, set the dream creature on his bed and stoked the fire from embers back to blazing warmth. The creature—he wished he knew if it had a name—had started shivering, and Hob laid a thick blanket over him, careful of the wounded leg.

Damn thing, he thought, but with more guilt than ire. If only it hadn’t struggled, hadn’t tried to yank the arrow out. Then again, Hob would probably have done the same, in its position.

He had come into the woods to kill it, after all.

He double-checked the bandage on the creature’s leg—the bleeding had stopped, thankfully—and kept watch into the night. The creature gradually stopped shivering, and Hob found himself obsessively checking its breathing every few minutes, sure that this meant it had died rather than simply warmed up. But the creature lived on. And as night fell to utter blackness, as the fire crackled warm in the hearth and Hob kept up his position in the chair by the bed, his eyelids began to droop.

He shook himself, pinched himself, tried to stay awake. But sleep tugged on him anyway. Its draw was impossible to resist, and he sank down into his chair, body slumping, head dropping to rest on the chair’s back.

The wood was dark, and Hob was hunting.

He wasn’t sure what, but he knew he had to catch it. He was chasing it, running through darkness, stepping on instinct, bow clasped in his hand. The thing scurried before him, he could hear it, even if he couldn’t see it.

And— there! In a patch of moonlight. A flash of dark feathers and pale flesh and—

—Hob reached out and caught it. His hands wrapped around a slim, fragile neck, and he pounced on the thing, pressing it into the ground.

As his weight landed on it, Hob would have expected the creature to scream, fight, claw at him—but it just watched him with dark eyes, fingers gripped lightly around his wrists. It looked… perhaps faintly scared, but mostly resigned to its fate.

All at once Hob felt sick at the thought of hurting it. He lurched back, letting it go, falling back on his haunches in his haste.

The creature leapt for him, landing on his chest, nails digging in—

Hob woke with a gasp, and couldn’t move. He flailed, but the weight on his chest didn’t budge, he opened his eyes—

—the dream creature stared back. Hob was lying on the floor, having apparently slid from his chair while asleep, and just as in the dream the creature was perched upon his chest, staring at him with its piercing blue eyes. “You are an interesting human,” it said. “Hob Gadling.”

Hob started, heart still pounding from the dream. How did it know his name?

“I thought to uncover your real intentions in your dream, but it seems your word is true,” it continued. “Unusual among adult humans. Usually you lose your honesty as you grow.”

“Is it?” Hob asked shakily. The thing’s talons were digging into his chest. “You know a lot about dreams, I guess.”

The creature narrowed its eyes and Hob got the distinct feeling that it thought he was stupid. “I am Dream. I am the spirit that governs and shepherds that realm. Why did you try to save me?”

“Felt bad,” Hob said, trying to grapple with the spirit that governs dreams. It wasn’t like he didn’t know such spirits existed—but he had never heard of one that could walk dreams before. “I’m the one that shot you, after all.”

“Hmm.” Finally, it— Dream— climbed off him, sitting beside him with limbs folded up, studying him. He really was kind of a strange-looking thing, but more human-like than Hob had realized in the dark wood. Very much like a human stepped out of a dream, a little twisted and shadowy and wrong. He was very beautiful too, birdlike where he wasn’t quite human, sleek feathers and sharp features.

“Look,” Hob said. “If you’re really not hurting the children, then we don’t have any trouble, do we? Just go.”

Instead of fleeing into the night, Dream crept closer again, reaching out with a taloned hand to comb through Hob’s hair. Hob stayed very still, with those claws so close to his eyes.

“I enjoyed your dreams,” he said. “They were… rejuvenating.”

“They were?” They hadn’t been very rejuvenating to Hob.

“Mmm. Rich, dimensional like a fine wine.”

Oh, great.

“Other dreams aren’t rejuvenating to you?” Hob asked, strangely breathless.

“I rarely partake,” said Dream, now tracing his fingertips over Hob’s face, as if mapping the shape of it. “I merely borrow dreams to strengthen them, and solidify their power for dreamers.”

“For kids who aren’t yet adult hopeless cases,” Hob said.

Dream’s lips turned up in a smile. “Yes. Adults cannot be helped. You have already lost your whimsy.”

“Have we?” Hob asked. “You don’t even want to try?”

Dream looked at him sideways. “Will they shoot me if I do?”

Well. Kind of fair.

“I’ll at least tell everyone that you’re not a threat,” Hob promised. “How about that?”

“Very well. I shall hold you to it, Hob Gadling.”

He stepped away then, letting go of Hob’s face, and Hob tried not to feel disappointed that he was going. Dream was definitely the most interesting thing he’d seen in a long while.

Magic started to swirl around Dream, his form becoming more indistinct. But before he could disappear, Hob sat up quickly, called out, filled with some strange desperation he couldn't quite name, “Wait!”

The magic settled down again, and Dream studied him questioningly.

“Come meet me again,” Hob said. “In the forest.”

Dream narrowed his eyes. “Why.”

“I’m curious,” Hob said. It had gotten him in trouble before, but somehow he didn't think it would this time. “I want to know more about what you do. About— about dreams. In return— well, you said my dreams were ‘rejuvenating.’”

Now that he thought it, Dream seemed… hungry. He was very thin, and if he truly never took anything from the dreams he walked…

“They are,” said Dream, cautiously. Then, at length, “Very well, Hob Gadling. I shall find you again. But know that should you betray me, and lead other humans to me to capture me, then your dreams shall be very unpleasant indeed.”

With that, he was gone.

Hob finally got to his feet, shaking a little from the crash of emotions in the wake of Dream’s departure. What a deeply strange creature. His touch, though, had been surprisingly gentle— his look upon Hob, in the end, more interested than angry.

Though he knew Dream had gone into whatever spirit or dream realm he traveled through, still Hob went to the door and looked out.

It was late—or rather early—enough now that dawn was just starting to rise, the grey haze of morning seeping over the horizon. Mist covered the fields, and settled heavy and wet on the edge of the forest. Hob gazed out towards that forest, thinking of its darkness, and of Dream, somewhere in it. He knew he would not get Dream out of his mind for a very long time.

In fact. He may be going back out to the forest much sooner than he’d anticipated.

First, he had to let the villagers know that Dream wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t sure whether they would believe him. But maybe by learning more about Dream, Hob would be able to convince them.

For now, Hob closed the door, and went back inside to make some breakfast. He doubted he’d be getting back to sleep this morning.

Even if he was somewhat tempted to try. In the hopes that he just might meet a certain dream.

promised myself i wasn't going to write any new fics until i finished some of my existing wips, but it's been such a beautiful fall week that i've got a little fall drabble for them spinning in my head. though much like my winter drabble from last year, it's not so much cozy seasonal vibes as it is about Strange Creatures in the woods. after all the best fall day is one where it's drizzly and misty and a little grey, and the yellow leaves are stuck to the pavement, and everything looks painted in dripping watercolor. and i think it's a good sort of day to meet a strange thing in the woods, especially when that thing finds you, a human, more horrifying than you find it.

[keeps-ache]

HEY

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