#anna tries painting

[literallyaurl]

ok my number one beef with water colour painting is that i have to wait for bits to dry before i can continue in order to get the results i want, which makes it quite hard to gain momentum and just sort of sink in to it. its a lot more disciplined than i'm used to being with any kind of arts or craftsy suff, and thats frustrating.

i know itll come more naturally as i get to (re) learning the medium but right now its deeply annoying because i just want to go hog wild and i caaaaannnntttt

my number 2 beef with water colour painting is that the water has dissolved the glue holding my sketchbook together and all the pages have fallen out :(

[thelien-art]

Day 1 of @silvergiftingweek

Beginnings | First Meetings

Daffodil: Being the first spring flower Daffodils are often considered the flower of beginnings, hope, trust, and future

[skypalacearchitect]

I disagree with the Olaf part, but the rest of it is SO on-point.

It’s fine to sing “There’ll be actual real-life people” about a ball happening, because obviously the servants already present aren’t actual real-life people

What Frozen taught us:

Wiping a kid’s memory of a life-altering accident is totally a right thing to do! Why would you want a child to learn from their experience anyway?

Locking away your other traumatized child and hoping she gets better by herself is totally not parental abuse.

An orphan kid can hang around people with dangerous job unsupervised.

When said kid wanders off and goes missing, no-one has to look for them. 

If you have no friends and no interests beyond harassing your sister, you’re gonna grow up fine, just a little bit awkward and adorably quirky.

A kingdom with underage successors to the throne governs itself, unless the plot says otherwise.

Regency is not a thing.

The last heir left in line to the throne is totally free to leave the kingdom and personally look for their runaway older sibling instead of staying home and securing the royal line.

Said last successor to the crown can somehow leave the kingdom in hands of a random foreigner guy.

Regency is still not a thing.

Running away from your royal responsibilities makes you cool and inspiring, as long as you sing a song about it.

Ice-control powers can create life from scratch.

If your son brings a woman home for the first time, you force her on him as a potential wife.

Forcing them on each other is prior even to saving said woman from dying right in front of you.

It doesn’t matter what either or them thinks about it and if she has a different partner already.

You can be a day-old magical snowman who doesn’t know what heat is, but you have better understanding of love than grown-up humans.

When a random foreigner guy says the last successor to the throne has died and left the kingdom to him, it is not necessary to check the corpse and require any evidence from him.

Regency is STILL not a thing.

Vaguely-defined “love” instantly cures life-long depression and anxiety.

Feel free to add o the list!

[regressionschool]

Maturity Test Part 4: Life as a toddler

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A year had passed since Anna had taken Olaf and Becky into her care, and the routine of their daily lives had settled into a comfortable rhythm. The once stark contrast between the two of them had grown even more pronounced, as Becky’s preschooler skills flourished while Olaf’s regression deepened. They shared a brightly decorated bedroom, with walls painted in soft pastel colors and shelves filled with toys and books, each reflecting their distinct stages of development.

Becky’s side of the room was neat and organized, her bed adorned with colorful blankets and a couple of plush animals. A large, colorful potty training chart was pinned to the wall beside her bed, and it was covered in suns, each one representing a day where she had successfully used the potty. There were a few clouds scattered here and there, but overall, it was clear that Becky was well on her way to mastering potty training. Her pride in those suns was evident whenever she looked at the chart, a smile lighting up her face.

Olaf’s side of the room, in contrast, was a little more chaotic, filled with stuffed animals, blocks, and other toddler toys. His bed had guard rails on the sides, making it resemble a large crib, and next to it was a changing table stocked with diapers, wipes, and powder. Olaf had become completely accustomed to his diapers over the past year, his potty training skills having long since faded. The few times he had tried to reach for the potty in the early days had ended in tears of frustration, leading to Anna’s gentle but firm reassurance that he didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

Olaf’s dependency on his pacifier had also grown. It was almost always clipped to his shirt, and when he wasn’t sucking on it, he seemed restless, his hands fidgeting or his lips quivering slightly. The pacifier was his comfort, his security, and it had become a constant presence in his life. He had adapted to his toddler role more fully than anyone could have imagined, and while there were moments of confusion or sadness, they were fleeting, quickly soothed by Anna’s comforting touch or a favorite toy.

Anna had taken great care to treat each of them according to their assigned ages. Becky was praised for her growing independence and learning skills. She attended preschool every day, where she was learning to read simple words, count to ten, and even beginning to write her name. Becky beamed with pride when she showed Anna the new things she learned at school, and Anna encouraged her every step of the way. At night, however, Becky still wore diapers due to her heavy wetting, something that she accepted without much fuss. It was just part of the routine—something that separated her from being a "big kid," but not something that bothered her too much.

Olaf, on the other hand, spent his days in daycare, where he played with blocks, listened to stories, and napped in a room filled with other toddlers. His diaper changes had become so routine that he barely noticed them anymore, and his remaining potty training instincts were long gone. Anna treated him like the toddler he had been classified as, her voice always soft and reassuring, never pushing him to do more than what was appropriate for his age.

One afternoon, an official from the reclassification center visited to check on how things were going. Anna had been expecting the visit, but there was still a nervous energy in the air as she welcomed the official into the house. The official was a stern-looking woman with a clipboard in hand, her expression serious as she began her inspection.

Anna led the official into the shared bedroom, where Becky was proudly playing with a set of alphabet blocks, forming simple words she had learned in preschool. Olaf, meanwhile, was on the floor with a pacifier in his mouth, stacking large, colorful rings onto a peg.

The official’s sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the distinctions between Becky and Olaf’s sides. She walked over to Becky’s potty training chart, tapping it with her pen. "I see Becky is doing very well with her potty training," she remarked, her tone neutral.

Anna nodded, smiling. "Yes, she’s been doing great. She’s very proud of all her suns. But she still wears a diaper at night since she’s a heavy wetter."

The official made a note on her clipboard. "And Olaf? I see he’s fully adjusted to his toddler classification."

Anna glanced at Olaf, who was happily chewing on his pacifier as he played. "Yes, he’s doing well, too. He’s very comfortable in his diapers, and he’s still quite dependent on his pacifier, but it helps keep him calm."

The official walked over to Olaf, crouching down to his level. She carefully examined his diaper, noting its slight sag, indicating he was wet. "Olaf," she said gently but firmly, "how are you feeling today?"

Olaf looked up at her with wide eyes, his pacifier bobbing in his mouth as he nodded. "Good," he mumbled around the rubber nipple, his words barely understandable but filled with contentment.

The official straightened up, her expression still serious. "It’s important that Olaf remains in his toddler role," she said, turning to Anna. "He shouldn’t be encouraged to behave in ways that are beyond his assigned age. Any attempt to push him toward behaviors that are too mature could be detrimental to his well-being."

Anna nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course. I always make sure to treat Olaf appropriately for his age. I want him to feel safe and secure."

The official seemed satisfied with the response and moved over to Becky, who was showing off her block words with a big smile. "And Becky, how do you like preschool?"

Becky beamed. "I love it! I’m learning to read, and I can count to ten now! And I almost never have accidents anymore."

The official gave a rare smile. "That’s wonderful, Becky. You’re doing very well." She glanced at Anna. "It’s clear that Becky is progressing appropriately for her classification."

Anna felt a surge of pride as she looked at Becky. "She’s a bright little girl, and I’m very proud of her."

The official finished her notes and then looked at Anna with a hint of approval. "It seems that everything is in order here. You’re doing an excellent job maintaining the appropriate care and boundaries for both Becky and Olaf. I’ll submit my report, and we’ll schedule another check-in in a few months."

Anna nodded, feeling relieved. "Thank you. I just want to make sure they’re both happy and healthy."

Two years had passed since Anna had taken full guardianship of both Olaf and Rebecca, and the rhythm of their days had settled into a comfortable routine. Each day began with Anna waking up her two littles, getting them ready for the day ahead, and ensuring they were happy and well cared for. Today was no different.

Anna quietly opened the door to the bedroom they shared, the soft creak of the hinges echoing through the stillness of the early morning. The gentle hum of a white noise machine filled the air, a soothing background to the scene before her. Becky was curled up on her side in her small bed, her thumb nestled in her mouth as she slept peacefully. Across the room, Olaf lay sprawled out on his back in his toddler-sized bed, his pacifier bobbing gently in his mouth as he dreamed.

Anna’s heart swelled with affection as she stepped into the room. It was always a bittersweet moment, seeing how much both of them had changed and how deeply they had regressed into their new roles. But she loved them both dearly, and they seemed happy, even if they didn’t fully understand the depth of their regression.

Gently, she knelt beside Becky, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Becky," Anna whispered softly, her voice as gentle as the morning light streaming through the window. "It’s time to wake up, sweetheart."

Becky stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked a few times, then yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "Morning, Mommy," she mumbled sleepily, sitting up with a small smile.

Anna smiled back and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Good morning, Becky. Did you sleep well?"

Becky nodded, though her face fell slightly as she shifted in her bed. She glanced down at the thick nighttime diaper between her legs, her lips forming a small pout. "I…I had an accident again," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "I thought I could keep it dry this time."

Anna’s heart tugged at the disappointment in Becky’s voice. Despite her progress during the day, Becky still struggled with nighttime accidents, and it clearly frustrated her. Anna reached out, gently cupping Becky’s cheek. "That’s okay, sweetie. You’re doing so well during the day, and nighttime accidents are nothing to be upset about. We’ll get you all cleaned up and into your big-girl pull-up for school."

Becky nodded, the disappointment in her eyes softening as Anna helped her out of bed. Together, they made their way to the changing table, where Anna efficiently removed Becky’s soggy diaper, wiped her clean, and helped her into a fresh pull-up. Once dressed in her favorite preschool uniform—a light blue dress with a white collar—Becky’s mood had already lifted.

"All set!" Anna said, smoothing out Becky’s dress. "Ready for a big day at preschool?"

Becky smiled brightly and nodded. "Uh-huh!"

Anna turned her attention to Olaf next. He was still fast asleep, his pacifier gently bobbing in and out as he nuzzled into his pillow. His nighttime diaper was clearly soaked, the faint yellow discoloration obvious through the thick padding. Anna couldn’t help but smile as she reached down and gently shook him awake.

"Olaf, time to wake up, little one," she cooed softly, rubbing his back. Olaf blinked his eyes open, his thumb automatically moving to replace the pacifier in his mouth as he stirred. He looked up at Anna with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, his pacifier still firmly between his lips.

Without a word, Anna guided him to the changing table, where she expertly removed his soaked diaper, cleaned him up, and slid a fresh, thick diaper beneath him. The crinkling of the plastic filled the room as she fastened the tapes securely around his waist. Olaf remained quiet throughout, still too drowsy to do much more than suck on his pacifier and stare up at Anna with wide, trusting eyes.

Once he was freshly diapered, Anna dressed him in a simple t-shirt, the diaper peeking out from underneath. "There we go, Olaf," she said, tapping his nose playfully. "All ready for breakfast."

Olaf giggled softly around his pacifier, still content in his little world.

Together, they made their way to the kitchen, where the familiar morning routine continued. Becky, being a preschooler, was allowed to sit at the regular table and make her own breakfast. Anna handed her a slice of toast and a small jar of jam, and Becky eagerly set about smearing the jam across the toast, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she tried to keep the mess contained.

Olaf, on the other hand, was placed in his highchair, the familiar click of the buckles securing him in place. Anna tied a bib around his neck, the bright fabric adorned with cartoon animals. Olaf pouted slightly, but he didn’t resist. It was a ritual by now, and despite his occasional grumbles, he had grown used to it. He waited patiently as Anna prepared his breakfast—warm porridge, sweetened with a touch of honey and a splash of milk.

As Anna fed Olaf small spoonfuls of the porridge, he happily kicked his feet, enjoying the taste. "Good boy," she cooed, wiping a bit of porridge from the corner of his mouth.

Between bites, Olaf absentmindedly played with his pacifier, his focus entirely on the bowl in front of him. As Anna continued to feed him, a soft hissing sound filled the air, faint but unmistakable. Anna’s eyes flicked down to Olaf’s diaper, just in time to see the slight yellowing of the material as it absorbed the wetness. Olaf, however, didn’t seem to notice. He continued eating his porridge, blissfully unaware of the accident he had just had.

Anna sighed softly, her heart aching a little at how deeply Olaf had regressed. He had become so accustomed to his diapers that he didn’t even realize when he was wetting them anymore. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she finished feeding him, then gave him a gentle pat on the head.

"Let’s get you dressed for daycare, little man," she said softly, wiping his hands and face clean before lifting him out of the highchair.

After a quick check of his diaper, which was indeed damp but not soaked, Anna dressed Olaf in a pair of shortalls, the thick padding of his diaper barely hidden beneath the fabric. He looked every bit the part of a toddler now, from his pacifier to his bib to the soft crinkle of his diaper with each step he took.

Once both Becky and Olaf were ready, Anna ushered them out the door and into the car. Becky, buckled into her booster seat, chattered excitedly about the day ahead at preschool, while Olaf, in his toddler seat, quietly sucked on his pacifier, content to watch the world pass by outside the window.

Their first stop was Becky’s preschool. As Anna helped Becky out of the car and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, Becky waved enthusiastically. "Bye, Mommy! I’ll see you after school!"

"Have a great day, Becky!" Anna called back, watching her run off to join her friends with a smile.

Next, it was time to take Olaf to daycare. As they pulled up outside the building, Olaf’s eyes widened slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Mommy…" he mumbled around his pacifier, his voice barely audible.

Anna smiled down at him as she unbuckled his seatbelt and lifted him from the car. "Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re going to have lots of fun today, just like always."

Olaf nodded hesitantly, clutching tightly to Anna as she carried him inside. She gave him a reassuring hug, rubbing his back softly. "You’ll be okay, Olaf. Mommy will be back to pick you up before you know it."

With that, Anna handed Olaf over to one of the caregivers, who smiled warmly at him and led him toward the play area. As she watched him waddle off, his shortalls riding up slightly to reveal the edge of his diaper.

[helladirections]

August Fic List

This is my fourth month doing this, and honestly it's so much fun. I love going back at the end of the month and remembering all the amazing work I've read. I love getting to hopefully help promote writers. I love seeing for myself how much I'm reading and from who. I hope you all keep enjoying this as well.

The list:

In order I reblogged, not order written

Multiple writing from the same author are listed together (but I tried to read from as many different authors as I could this month)

Must have a Read More

Writers: Please put word counts, thanks!

Previous Monthly Lists | Fic Rec Tag | My Masterlist

Assistance Needed | assistant!reader 3k @gurugirl

Little bit of face-fucking :o) (Preview) You're Too Sweet For Me (preview) @1800titz

Secrets 7.9k @heartateasee

Grumpy 1.8k Tastes So Sweet 1.3k @harryistheonlyoneforme

Wake N' Bake 1.4k Roomies 8k @0nlythrowharrybeaux

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes 3k @jarofstyles

Painted On Your Back 9k The Other Man 13.5k @lukesaprince

Needy 4k Yes, Sir. 7.1k @harrystylescherry

Horan!sister reader 1.8k @avatar-anna

Across the Hall 2.3k @musicforgrapejuiceblues

Green Skies, Pink Grass 2.6k @1d1195

Far From Sober 2.8k Part 2 2k @eveningepiphany

Neighborhood Watch 2.6k @purplecoffee13

Aperture 1.9k @cherryrouge

Best Friend Vacation 6.6k @guiltypleasurecreative

Primavera 11k @smokeinherperfume

Sweet 3.4k @harry-on-broadway

Jealousy, Jealousy 4.5k @harryhitties

Academic Rivals / A/B/O Part 1 22k Part 2 20k Part 3 18k Part 4 14k @jawllines

Delight - Dilf | doctor!Harry 6.6k @harryhoney-bee

Riding Lessons (cowboy!harry) 3.4k @cowboylikelyric

Spinnin' Out Waiting For Ya 18k+ Part 1 3.8k Part 2 4.6k Part 3 5k Part 4 4.8k @swiftmendeshoran

Yes, Mr. Styles 7.3k @smuttyaf

[voxmortuus]

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Yandere!Count Vronsky x F!Reader!Wife ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ Anna Karenina ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 3.6k ✧*̥˚ PROMPT: *̥˚✧ This was given to me by the lovely @bettytaylorversion || Okay, okay I'm lately obsessed with yandere Count Vronsky, so how about yan Vronsky suspecting that his wife is seeing someone or like in love with someone and it doesn't help when his mother keeps feeding his suspicions so he ends up locking the wife/reader up in their house in countryside/ another country house where no one can reach them and where he makes sure his beloved wife knows exactly how much he loves her. ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Dead Dove Do Not Eat | Yandere Count | Possessive Count | Aggressive Count | Stalker Count | Demanding Count | Accusations of Cheating | Toxic Mother | False ideas | False Suspicions from mother | Toxic Marriage? | Isolation of Reader | Slapping | Pushing or Shoving | Yelling | Slamming doors | Gripping readers throat | Passionate making out | Throwing reader on bed | Stripping reader | Unprotected PiV | Aggressive sex | Reader fights a bit but stops fighting | Dub-Con? | insinuated Cream Pie | Crying Reader | Fluff | Reader questions if she loves him at the end | Relationship conflictions | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I've been wanting to write for him for a long while! Thank you love for this request! I hope this is along the lines of what you were hoping for... Sorry if it doesn't hit exactly what you're looking for but I tried!!! Anywho.... I hope this brings you some joy. ✧*̥˚ DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ TIME PASSER DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @voxmortuus ✧*̥˚ IMAGE CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @peachyspaceslvt ✧*̥˚ ATJ TAGLIST: *̥˚✧ @earth-elemental18 @nyxvuxoa-writes ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist | Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist *̥˚✧

It was this gnawing feeling, this feeling of dread, sorrow, a pain in his gut he couldn't shake. Watching you go as he leaned against the window frame, he knew where you were going. He knew, he just had this gut feeling that he couldn't quite shake. It ate at his heart, it ate at his brain, it was like these cogs and wheels working, but not in a way of rationality. His thoughts were completely irrational. Looking out that window as your carriage vanished into the thick fog of the dawn, he felt so lost, so angry. He wasn't happy, and not happy may be quite an understatement.

Placing a hand-rolled cigarette between his lips he grabbed a match from the fireplace and lit it. The smoke bellowed above, tossing the match into the fire he turned to see his mother sitting at the table.

"She does not have love for you anymore, Alexei." She stated. Her tone appeared caring, honest, maybe even having pity, but it was just because she didn't like you.

"She must love me. That is my wife, she must." He stated he didn't seem demanding about it, he seemed sad, heartbroken even.

"But she does not. She will never love you as she loves him. What married woman is happy with her husband? She has grown bored of you. Had she not she would not go to him as she does." She points out.

His heart, if it was a glass a cat had pushed off the counter it would have shattered. He only hoped that you were as enraptured by him as he was about you. He looked up at the wall, the painting of you seemed to be watching. He closed his stormy blue eyes and looked back at his mother.

"She does love me. I know it to be true. You speak lies, like a snake in the garden." He snapped and walked to the table and had taken a sip from the slightly sweetened tea he had poured only moments before your leaving. Sitting there he tapped his smoke against a small crystal ashtray and his mind became overrun, thinking of everything his mother had stated. Thinking of those possibilities. What were you doing? Were you spreading your legs for him? Was he satisfying you? Were you unhappy with him? Did you not love him? Did you grow bored of him? He rubbed his lip a moment as he took another drag before looking at his mother.

"When she comes home, I will settle this." He stated. Taking the cup and his almost-gone smoke and had vanished to the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed after putting the cup on the bedside table and looks over your side of the bed. It was too much, these feelings he had, it was like they were just bubbling up, ready to overflow and put out the fire that kept the pot lit. Feeling the stinging in his nose from the slight anger he ran his hand through his curly blonde locks and his jaw clenched as he put his smoke out in the ashtray and grabbed his clothes for getting dressed before he slammed the bedroom door.

His mother had heard the slam and had made her way to the room. Letting herself in she looked over him and sighed. "I just want what is best for you."

"I said I would take care of it. I do not need your help. She is my wife, not yours." He sort of snapped.

"You are right, she is your wife. And your wife is off with another man, spreading her legs and enjoying her time away from you. So how are you going to handle that Alexei?" She asked.

"I will take her away from here. I will take her far away from everyone. Including you." He snapped. "Now if you do not mind, I am getting dressed. Go find something else to bother." He snarled slightly as he escorted her out of the doorway and closed and locked the bedroom door.

Looking out the bedroom window and looking over the garden, he watched the flowers bob from the heaviness of the heads that were filled with the morning dew. It was something so simple, and yet even looking at their beauty, he saw you, he saw your smile, your smooth skin, your curves, he saw how your hair fell, that glow in your eyes when you were happy. You had to love him, why was he questioning it? Why was he standing there, looking out on those flowers questioning if you loved him?! With a clenched jaw and a knitted brow, he threw open the closet door and grabbed his attire for the day.

After fastening the last button on his coat, he makes his way back to the kitchen- it's like he doesn't want to acknowledge the other parts of the home without you here. Feeling lost, and one track minded. He didn't like that you were gone, it loomed over him like a dark cloud heavy with rain looms over the dirt countryside roads. He needed to know where you were going. He needed to know what you were doing. He needed to know what you were saying. Were you tired of him? Were you unhappy? It just gnawed at him like a beaver gnawing on a log.

Why was this even a feather of a thought? It's not that he didn't want you to have friends, it's just, why did they have to be male friends? And even then, it wasn't the idea of male friends that bothered him, it was the embedded, plated thoughts from the snake in the garden that made him believe that you were unhappy, that you were not in love with him any longer, that you were looking for a way out of this relationship. Well, that was going to be nipped in the bud right away. There was going to be no second-guessing it, not after this.

He decided to gather himself a little more and decided to head out to find you. He had these questions that needed answers. He turned to look at his mother who was still there. "Watch the house while I am away. We will be gone for a while." He states. His mother went to speak but before she could retort with a comment he was out the door and off to the stables.

After a few hours of looking and getting a general idea of where you were he stopped, getting off the carriage he approached, standing a good distance behind as you stood there, talking to another man. Oh, this did not sit well with him, but he watched and observed. With a lick of his lips and a look of heartache, as you touched the other man's face, he couldn't help but feel that slithering snake of a mother of his was right.

The more he watched, the more you laughed, the closer this man seemed to be getting to you, and the more it climbed up him like ivy claiming lattice fencing. This green envious monster coils around his every nerve, his nostrils flair as he walks toward you and clears his throat, but you don't pay much attention until he grabs your arm and pulls you to him.

You gasp and look over his face. "My Love, what are you doing here?" You ask him.

"I could ask you the very same." He states. His stare was cold, his stare pained, and his stare… it bore into you like a hot glue gun into plastic.

"I am just out with a friend, we do this every week. It means nothing." You state honestly.

"Does it? Does it really mean nothing? You were touching his face, and laughing with him like you do with me. Do I not make you happy anymore? Have you grown bored and weary of me?" He asks you with a small shake in his voice almost as if holding back tears.

"Of course you make me happy, why would you ask such a thing?" you respond back looking into his stormy blue hues.

His jaw clenches and he looks at your friend and back to you. "We are leaving." He states as if dismissing you from your date with your male friend.

"What? No. Alexei, no." you stated.

"I do not know him, nor do I like how you were touching him, we are going somewhere. You'll like it. Get in." he states and gestures to the carriage.

"Alexei, no." You state firmly.

He clenches his jaw and looks over you. "Do not make me put you in there myself. Now. Be a good wife, and get in the carriage." He snarls lowly.

Licking your lips you look over his face and let out a slight breath before getting into the carriage. Feeling the shake of the carriage from the door closing. Placing your hands in your lap you look down, studying them a moment before you close your eyes almost in defeat, and wonder where he is taking you. It was clear he wasn't taking you home. Why was he suddenly acting this way? What was it that made him feel like you were unhappy? You began to study yourself, you even began to question yourself. But why? His actions alone.

His actions just then made you question if this was really where you needed to be. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that maybe he was seeing something you were not seeing. Were you really happier with your friend than you were with him? Was he not seeing how much you loved him? Were you really doing something bad? You turn back and look at him as he stops the carriage and climbs into the back of it with you as someone else takes over. Someone he had paid to drop you both off and take the carriage back to the house.

You sit there, in silence, and you study him, you study his face, his eyes, how his jaw twitches, how his brow knits, how his eyes seem to be full of sorrow, and maybe is that hate? You look down, and you think about all you've done, but you can't help but shake your head. You love this man, and he was blind to false things. Was there a way to fix it? Was there a way to get him to see that you love him just as much as he loves you?

"Where are we going? There is nothing for miles." You point out looking out the little window of the carriage door.

"We're going someplace secluded." He states.

"Secluded? Whatever for?" You ask with a slight bit of worry in your tone.

"Enough with the questions, you will see when we get there." He states, short in his tone.

You lick your lips and hike a brow before looking back down at your lap and letting out a slight sigh. You feel this could get problematic.

By the time you get to where you were going, the sun had already set and come back up. You look over his face as he offers to help you off the carriage. Your jaw clenches and you shake your head.

"Are you serious? Why are we here? We are days away from home at this rate Alexie." You point out.

HE shakes his head and looks at you and looks over the country home before looking back at you. "You will survive. This is for a reason."

"THIS IS ABSURD!" You scream. The only thing you cause to stir is birds out in the field. Your jaw clenches and you look over him shoving past him and heading toward the inside.

He sighs slightly and shakes his head, he isn't expecting you to understand. Rubbing his brow a moment he looks up at the gray skies and then over on the vast rolling fields of nothing. A small smile creeps across his face as he listens to the front door being slammed. Another soft sigh escapes his lips as he heads toward the house.

Upon walking in he looks around and spots you standing there in the living room. As he walks toward you to join you, you turn and look at him.

"What is all of this about?" You ask.

"You need to see how much love I have for you. I cannot do that back there." He stated honestly.

"So you isolate me?!" You raise your tone.

"Yes! It keeps you away from another man touching you!" He snaps.

"NO ONE ELSE IS TOUCHING ME!" You snap back.

"HOW DO I KNOW?!" He steps closer to you.

"No. You don't get to ask me that question! How do you not see that I love you!? I have always loved you!" You snarl as you step forward challenging him.

"Well, I suppose now you can show me just how much you love me as I show you how much I love you." He stated coldly.

"Don't be so pigeon-livered." You growl to yourself. "You're being a floozer Alexei. What has ever gotten into you?" You ask him.

"Are you really going to throw insults at me? Pigeon-livered? Floozer? Do not." He grips your arm and pulls you close. "Do not cross me."

You shove him and look over his face. "Or what?" You ask with a tightly knitted brow. "What are you going to do?"

Stretching his neck from left to right he licks his lips and his jaw clenched.

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!" You snapped.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!" He snapped back. He began to pace. "All I ever do is shower you with love and attention, I do nothing but prove to you how much you mean to me. I make sure you always put your best forward. And you do this. Run off with another man doing god knows what." He states.

Crossing your arms over your chest you stare at him a moment and blink a few times. "Are you blinded by your own selfishness right now? Can you not see past your own nose? I am not laying with another man Alexei! I have never laid with another man!" you snap.

"HOW DO I KNOW THAT?!" He snaps. "How do I know that?" He asked you. A complete and utter look of defeat sprawled across his features.

Walking to him you slap him across the face. Not once, but twice. Reaching forward he grips your throat and moves you through the house. Kicking open a door he shoves you into the bedroom and starts to unbutton his jacket. Looking over you his eyes hungry. His snarl was fierce, his jaw clenched so hard you could hear the bones grinding and you could feel the flex of his jaw. You try to shove past him but that wasn't happening.

"What are you going to do rape me Alexei?" You ask.

He scoffed and looked over at you. "Do you think that little of me? Strip." He demands.

"No." You cross your arms. At this point, you were fighting him to fight, how far could you push?

"I said strip!" He demands again. Walking to you he spins you around and starts to untie your skirt.

Layer by layer you fight, until you are both stripped down to mere thin layers. Tears staining your face, you look over him and shake your head, a small thumping sound of your heart feeling like it was echoing in the room.

"All I have ever wanted was for you to love me. You have to love me, you must love me." He states. He steps closer to you, looking over you he grips your face and pulls you near. "You will love me. You will." He states firmly.

Scared at this point you cannot find your words. He presses his lips to yours and at first, you give in, you cave, you wrap your arms around him and kiss him deeply, lovingly, longing for that affection he wanted to give you, but then you start to push away, saddened by the fact that he couldn't believe you, that he had no trust in you.

"No…" You start to push away, but you didn't want him to at the same time, it was this conflicting feeling.

"Do not tell me no, you want this…" he points out as he listens to your breathing.

You have no means of responding.

"I'm not taking that as a no." he states.

You give him a cold stare, looking over his face, his lips press against yours and you shove him back, and he throws you to the bed. You bounce once before he climbs on top of you and looks you over. He tilts his head and looks over your face and takes your wrists and places them above your head and looks over your face intently.

You attempt to wiggle free but he hovers over you, his body pressed against yours. In one hand he has your hands gripped together, in the other hand hikes up your skirt, he looks over you, and he leans in and nips at your lips. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you close your eyes. Shaking your head you begin to breathe heavier. It felt good, his hands on you, it always felt good, but there was this sense of fight that also washed over you.

As his lips found your neck he kissed up your neck to your jaw, finding your lips. While you loved his affection, you were terrified. Literally scared of him.

"Get off of me." you demand.

"Let me show you. See how much I love you." He takes your hand and places it on his hard cock. "This is how much I love you." He states.

You pull your hand away and turn your head in another direction. His senses overwhelm him, and unable to control himself he groans softly as he presses himself against you. You turn your head away from him, maybe checking out, but at the same time ever so present in this moment. As he thrusts himself into you you take in a deep breath. A whimper leaves your lips as a groan leaves his.

Looking over you he observes your features as he turns your face to look at him, leaning in he kisses you again. And it was then you cave, just a little. Your lips pressed against his, your hand moved up his arms to his hair and you pull him closer. Your hips roll against his thrusts and you begin to whimper against his lips. The feeling of him against you was something you always loved. Truthfully you never questioned this man's love for you. But you were conflicted because of how he was coming at you. You didn't know if you should fight him, or cave to him a little more.

The more he thrusts the harder he becomes in his motions, the more you fight. But the more you fight, the more he growls, it was a conflicting feeling all over again and you aren't sure what to do, it was overwhelming. You push him away, shoving him but he pulls you closer.

Feeling your body flush against his you let out another soft whimper. You move your hands to his shoulders as you feel him thrust deeper into you, your moans escaping you were almost pained but yet pleasure-filled. Your hips rolled against his as he continued to thrust with a fever. He pulls you even closer to him, pulling you into his lap as he guides you along his stiffened cock, nuzzling into you, nipping and biting at you.

The moans fill the bedroom, bouncing off the windows and the walls, and while you might be fighting him because of his choice of actions, this man was your life. You kiss him deeply as you both moan in pure pleasure. Your bodies collide in such a raw motion. Thrust after thrust, grunt, and groan after grunt and groan, screams of pure euphoria leaving you both. It all came to a halt with a trembling body-shaking finish, feeling as his cock twitched inside of you as hot ribbons of seed coat your velvet walls. He snarled against your skin, and you bring a hand across his face, and you begin to cry.

Holding you close, he looks down at you, smoothing your hair he presses his face against you.

"Shh… now now, everything is alright. I love you, so much." He whispers. "You have to love me back, you just have to." he says softly.

"I… I do love you, Alexei. I do. I wish you would see that." you say between sniffles.

He holds you close, nuzzling against you. "Shall we draw you a bath?" He asks.

Nodding your head he looks over your face and nods. "I shall draw you a bath. Think about what I said." He states.

"Are you isolating me? From everyone?" you ask as he gets up and slips his pants back on.

With a firm stare, he looks over you. "I am, and it's for our own good. You won't be seeing him, we will stay here as long as it takes." He states truthfully.

And like that, your heart becomes conflicted, you love this man, but you feel scared of this man… but then you look at him, and you don't feel afraid anymore. You just want him to see that you do love him. It's conflicting, and it's terrifying, you love him, but is it true? Staying here, you're only choice is to grow to love him. But that's been his goal all along, for you to love him, and for him to show you in so many ways how he loves you.

[shitswiftiessay]

Swifties are PAINFULLY fucking stupid.

I shouldn’t be getting THIS heated over a Disney comparison but the Kristoff slander is absolutely fucking wild. Kristoff (at least in the first movie) is both poor and an introvert. Those are two things that swifties HATE Joe for. He also had to work since he was a child, which is something swifties make fun of Joe for- calling him yogurt boy. And he DEFINITELY would think that award shows are stupid.

Hans is much more like Travis in the fact that he pursued a woman for his own gain. Whereas Kristoff was just trying to live his life and didn’t even WANT to get involved in Anna’s shit, Hans wanted to become king, so he pursued Anna (a naive and desperate young woman- which is what swifties are trying to paint Taylor as) and made himself look like her dream guy- “true love.”

Last summer, Travis publicly and relentlessly pursued Taylor with his story about how he tried to give her a friendship bracelet with his number. And he’s been reaping the benefits of dating Taylor Swift, he’s got new TV gigs, his podcast shot up on the charts, and he might even be getting his own reality show.

He tried to pass himself off as a fan, Even though he’s blatantly obvious that he DOESN’T listen to her music. But his little pretend act of being a fan charmed the shit out of swifties and made them believe he was her Prince Charming. All he has to do is that stupid 🫶 thing and he’s got the swifties swooned, much like Hans had Anna swooned from the minute he met her. But his intentions were completely self-serving.

And another thing I find interesting is the fact that Hans proposed to Anna a few hours after meeting her. IF ANYTHING, that couple is literally a lesson on NOT marrying a guy you just met. And yet, Swifties have been talking about Taylor marrying Travis since that first football game-even BEFORE then.

But Joe, the guy who didn’t want to marry taylor, is just like Hans? The one who was in a long term relationship that ultimately didn’t work out is JUST LIKE HANS??

It beggars belief how swifties could be so stupid, because they either didn’t watch the movie, didn’t fully understand it (because they are less cognitively capable than 5 year olds), or they’re so addicted to painting Joe as this cartoonist Disney villain in their heads that they think it’s perfectly reasonable to compare Joe to a character that was trying to KILL his fiancée and her sister.

I the stupidity of comparing Taylor Swift to Anna- a girl who’s been isolated in a castle for most of her life and has ZERO relationship experience - I think she’s supposed to be like 18 or something? Very young and inexperienced and naive. Taylor was 26 years old when she started dating Joe and she had plenty of relationship experience before then.

Taylor literally wrote MASTERMIND, but swifties still see her as this naive and innocent disney princess who is easily manipulated and taken advantage of by men. So I guess they think it’s a reasonable comparison because they understand disney movies as well as they understand Taylor’s lyrics- which is NOT AT ALL.

[taemcains]

your love is sunlight — cainlane

lane helps cain wash the blood off his wings and gets a thank you in return. ao3

cw: blood mentions

🎧 julia shortreed - broken wings

Pale golden light streams into Lane's shared room, falling on the soft carpet in a mosaic mirroring the elegant swirls on the balcony door. The picture of coziness it creates, along with the spread of reference books spilled like a domino of cards around her, brings her back to high school and days spent cramming for exams with the spring sunshine in North Carolina watching over her like a guardian.

The tremors of a door slamming shut on the ground floor dispel the mirage. Lane blinks hard, bringing herself back to Rotkov's eternal winter and her task, which is considerably more crucial and much more demanding than memorizing chemistry equations.

The Book and her notebook are each balanced precariously on her knees. Reference books lay further down from her, tossed away in rising frustration. Her wrist aches and her back has been steadily cramping from her abysmal posture, but she remains hunched over, picking up her trail of thought and leaving behind unnecessary memories to continue scrawling in her notebook.

Shadows pool on the floor, chasing away the imitation of home and warmth. Lane's head whips up to face the balcony, hair lashing against her back.

White obscures gold. It flashes once, painting the room cold before swerving to the back of the estate.

Real warmth bubbles up in her chest. Cain is back from his night patrol.

Lane spent all of ten minutes in the morning trying to inconspicuously grill the squad about his whereabouts before her mind grew disgusted by her pathetic state. Cain is an immortal. Whatever stalks the forest and whoever hides in the town should be, are, terrified of him. Worrying about someone who can handle himself, when she has a plethora of problems is fatuous. She resolved to put it out of her mind and surrender to the Book instead.

An hour later, huddled under every blanket and comforter looted from her room, the upholstered chair doing little to battle the cold, she muses. Why do you become so irrational when you… have someone? Her hand is unsteady, fingers trembling from the cold, but she makes a valiant effort to jot something down.

Anna shoots her the most judgmental glance she's received in her life. ‘Why are you freezing to death near the balcony when the bed is right there?’

Lane tries to shrug but she doubts the slight movement would be visible under ten layers of wool. ‘The cold will keep my mind awake. I could get a new perspective on the Book.’

Anna almost looks offended at how little thought Lane put into lying to her. She scoffs. ‘Is that what they're calling it now?’ She scowls at a distant spot in the sky, willing the extent of her disdainful glare to reach that angel wherever he is, before turning on her heel and leaving, muttering about ‘beautiful women falling for idiot men’ and ‘why do you never learn, Anna?’

Her mind doesn't linger too long on Anna, but circles him, as always, a whirlpool of memories and longings. She tried to choke down her worry along with mouthfuls of tea earlier, but it spews up with a redoubled vengeance. No matter how many times her exasperated mind reassures her of the angel's strength and safety, her heart refuses to quiet, pacing anxiously with a thump-thump-thump echoing through her very bones.

Are you satisfied? Everyone wants to know whether I even have a heart anymore but you keep it, toss it, and catch it with the dizzying speed of your changing whims. I don't miss that. But I miss you.

Admitting that she missed him was apparently the last straw for her mind, who was jeering at this display of yearning. Lane leapt to her feet, yanked around by the strings of her rational mind that was hard at work to erase this maudlin moment from her day. She climbed into bed, pulled the required materials to herself like a shield and lost herself in the arcane, her mind alight and awake, ready to beat her heart into submission.

Now she allows herself to exhale a shameful ‘I missed you’ to the knowing shadows of her room and let relief unfurl through her bloodstream like a ribbon.

All the romance novels and movies she'd gorged herself on in her teenage years with the relished humiliation of crawling back to an unfaithful lover, had painted love in pink, soft and bloodless. But for Lane, love is a violent intrusion, spinning her mind and heart out of control. If she'd known she would feel so foolish, she would've accumulated more experience, to chart cumulative data and predict the best response in any situation. But Cain's not like anyone she's ever met. He's not like anyone at all.

Plotting Cain would be an impossible task as he shifts a little every time she sees him, a kaleidoscope that never shows the same pattern twice. But won't he let her try? To map his impossibilities across a lifetime like counting stars in the night sky, the only futile task she wants to squander away her time on with the languidness of summer days slipping away.

Contrary to his own impossibility, he seems to have her entirely mapped out, tracing the rivers of her veins with his fingertips and the ridges of her spine with his eyes. She didn't have to ask. Cain understood her, like he once promised, and her working style which he condensed aptly as ‘You wouldn't look up from the Book unless there's a second apocalypse.’ So his wings blinked at her, sending her a sign.

Was he counting on her being able to glimpse the maelstrom of riddles behind every guileless movement of his? Delivered with a susurration of his wings, an order, a request, or the gentle luring of a lover: Come find me.

His wishes are clear, but Lane hesitates, out of her own warring desires. Her heart is almost halfway out the door, straining to settle sleepily against his voice, but her feet remain planted to the floor, roots extending through wood, bypassing time and space, sprouting out of her father's office.

Wood polish. Expensive leather. An angular man leaning over her seven-year-old self. ‘Please do not bother me when I'm working, Lane. Go see to your mother.’ Which was perhaps the greatest condemnation of all, her own father who could not see her mother's umbilical cord strangling her lovingly around her neck, a tie she could never rid of even two decades later.

The memory fractures. Warmth beckons her from the fissure and she follows as if ensorcelled. The press of a thigh to her own. The specter of fingers through her hair. The fracture widens. The tickling of feathers against the small of her back. Her father's office and her younger self preserved in contrition are swallowed into the dark.

The last fragments of the memory are brushed away by an ambrette voice that lifts her and carries her back to the body of her present self, gently setting her down in reality. Tendrils of him and his essence are already curled around her, sweetpea flowers budding around her neck, watching over her when he can't.

Glimpses of him in her memories don't appease her. Lately, even his fleeting touches, light enough to absolve him of intention, do nothing to sate the hunger roiling in her. Come find me.

Guided, or rather, misguided, by the reckless abandon that entangles with desire, Lane crosses the room and doesn't let herself hesitate to wrench the door open. Her eyes hone in on the ornate door at the far end of the hallway, quiet and anodyne.

The estate is still, the history of those hallowed halls, almost a physical presence draped heavy over her shoulders, watching as Lane's hushed footsteps ghost over the floor. She knows her efforts are in vain; he must've heard the click of her door opening, but it felt sacrilegious to stomp over in an estate teeming with revenants.

She comes to a standstill outside his door, heart awake and thrashing. He could probably hear it through the wood, no barrier fortified to the aching of her heart to be a plaything in his hands again. But he waits, lets her settle on going to him or turning away.

She knocks lightly.

‘Come in.’ His voice, smooth and even, with the barest drops of an emotion she couldn't identify, sends a trickle of reassurance down her chest.

Ominous that the creaking of the door is, when Lane peers inside, gingerly stepping past the threshold like an inexperienced thief, Cain is whole and unhurt, lips curving up as salve to her twinging unease. Her heart finally rests.

As relief streams through her blood, her eyes cascade down his figure intently. Silvery fabric molds to his skin, translucent where pearls of water trickle from the damp ends of his hair. Black slacks cling enticingly to his thighs, every slight shift flaunting the statuesque lines of his body. His wings flare, serrated edges silhouetted by daylight, a personal sunset.

Her eyes widen. Cain, who was watching her riveted gaze with a touch of satisfaction pulling up the corner of his mouth, interjected smoothly. ‘It's not mine. A spawn was found close to city lines.’

‘Is that what you were busy with all morning?’ She asks, alarm fading into distraction. Blood lashed against white wings, macabre and ethereal. Offsetting, Lane thinks, no, enhancing temptation, disoriented by her own strange desires.

‘Yes.’ His voice dips, softness melting it. ‘Were you alone for long?’

‘No,’ she answers absentmindedly, eyes transfixed to the startlingly intimate sight of his bare feet. Unarmoured like this, without the chainmail of his condescending sneer and paradoxical words, he seems closer than ever. Like she would only need to reach out for her fingertips to graze soft skin and sculpted muscle, obscured to the rest by shadows and secrets.

Appeased, he turns to the side, pushing back his drenched sleeves around his elbow. Only then does the room start to come together in snatches. Clothes strewn across the carpeted floor, his jacket a bloodied heap by the balcony, transponder thrown on the bedside table. A basin with murky water seated on the dresser, a rag dangling haphazardly from it. Precise to him, messy to others. Not unlike the owner himself, she thinks.

Satisfied with her appraisal, she peeks over at him. Leaning over the basin, rag coiled loosely around his hand, he looks half sunken in a dream. Only the rustling of his wings betray his restlessness.

Her spine is yanked straight by a part of her, a phantom cerebrum spawned to gauge and dissect every shift in his body and every quirk of his mouth. Cain would never allow himself to be so absent. Her heart screeches with alarm, and her mind reluctantly allows the theatrics, admitting the oddness of his behavior.

‘Cain?’ she calls quietly.

Regret follows almost immediately. At the most inopportune moment, she realizes she has no idea how to proceed when he responds. Cain has always taken care of her in his own absurd way, the experience irksome even as the memory fills her empty soul with sunlight. But Lane could hardly care for herself, much less an immortal.

His lashes flutter, moth wings skimming his skin as he blinks out of his daze. ‘Sorry, I was lost in thought.’ His eyes clear, latches clicking shut inside him. ‘I should clean my wings.’ They flick, avouching his words. ‘Not exactly the amorous activity you were envisioning, I'm sure.’

Her eyes narrow but they cannot lance metal. He meets her scouring gaze with calculated repose. His shoulders sink, memories imploding within, then return to their usual assured set, dust settling in the span of a blink.

Only a second, but it's enough for Lane to pry at the chips in his marmoreal mask. She sighs softly as slivers of his bare face come into view. He's… tired. So, so tired. Abandoned by heaven, shunned by earth, untouchable on his altar of divinity. Angel, priest, soldier. Beautiful as a statue, but who dares to touch him? Who can he hold?

Sensing the weight of her thoughts, he straightens imperceptibly, shuttering off any weakness.

Even now, after hurting and helping and licking their wounds, they still hesitate, circling each other like sharks scenting blood, the instinct to hurt before getting hurt honed and layered like second skin, excruciating to rip off. But they can't keep holding onto an infected limb that devours the rest of the body. Years of violent instinct wars with a fragile, blossoming ache.

The words spill out of her lips, noxious blood evanescing, her first breath without her own violence pressing down on her sweet and fresh. ‘Let me help.’

His eyes snap back to hers and lock their gazes. Narrowed, assessing, wary, they're as entrancing as ever. He sighs, the same side emerging victorious in him. ‘I'll give you a chance to back out. I'm warning you now that your arms will ache for the next week.’

‘I won't come complaining to you,’ she says dryly, the secret curve of his mouth sending a flurry of warmth through her.

He follows her lead, effortlessly carrying the basin to an empty spot in the center of the room, sunlight casting the illusion of warmth on the rug. He sets it down and folds himself into a cross-legged posture, somehow elegant even while sitting on the floor.

Lane follows suit, kneeling behind him on the plush carpet. She ties her hair back into a loose knot and pulls back her sleeves, goosebumps arising on her exposed skin immediately. She shivers, body noting the frigidity of his room while she herself is enraptured by the angel.

This close to him, the diaphanous material of his shirt coyly divulges flashes of his body. The slope of his shoulder blade. A channel down his lower back. The sylphlike curve of his waist. Lane exhales slowly, expelling the need to touch him and trace his skin. The intoxicating heat radiating off him doesn't abate the desire to drape herself over his back and see what he'd do.

‘Having second thoughts? Maybe your delicate arms hurt already?’

She rolls her eyes, abruptly breaking through for air. The same person who tenderly drowns her in the thick, languid ocean of desire also hauls her out of it with his infuriating quips.

He slides the basin over to her in reparation.

Experimentally dipping her fingers into the basin, she sighs with relief at the lukewarm water. She dunks the rag in, drenches it, and pauses, water dripping rhythmically onto the floor, lapped up by the carpet. How sensitive are his wings? She remembers the library incident with a quivering in her stomach, the idea of her touch making him still heady more than any wine or pomegranate juice. How hard can she use the rag on them?

His voice is glazed with amusement. ‘This feels familiar. Now is the time to ask me if I'm gloating.’

That settles it. ‘Why should I when I know the answer?’ she replies as she presses the rag to the base of his wing agonizingly gently. He jerks, the beginnings of a low gasp escaping past his teeth before he quiets, wings flaring.

Lane bites her lip to rein in a smirk, throat going dry at the noise and where else she'd like to hear it, again and again.

‘Have it your way, then. Is this payback for that time in the library?’ he retorts, shoulders unnaturally tense.

‘What do you mean?’ she says lightly, carefully moving the rag from the base to the top. His wings rustle and flick, but settle quietly.

A light laugh floats through the air, melding seamlessly with this impossible afternoon.

Cain stays quiet as she works her way through the large expanse, occasionally trembling as she grazes certain spots. She makes mental notes of them, for future reference. Or for leverage.

Her nose wrinkles as she nears the tip of his wing. Spawn gore clumps to the feathers, a sickly sweet smell emanating from the blood.

Cain almost whirls around at her first cough. ‘I'll deal with the rest. You've done enough.’

She waves him off. Before she could think it over again, her hand cups his shoulder, turning him away. A tremor goes through her at her boldness, the heat of his muscle and bone against her fingers warming her entire arm.

‘You reek,’ she says airily, only to douse the incalescence of his gaze, burning her more than his skin as she touched him like she had the right to.

‘Who came to whose room?’

A gradual undoing, Lane watches as her own hands cast magic, turning back time, water swilling blood from his wings, leaching them pure and white.

She retraces her path, returning to the base of his wings where stubborn flecks of blood linger on the feathers. Faltering for just a second, she discards the rag. Her fingers, a gentler heir, glide over the plumage, outsing sanguine settlers.

Cain arches like a cat, allowing himself a muffled moan before rebounding, curving into her. A shuddering breath is the only movement she shows. His back barely brushes her front, the faint contact sparking a riot in her head, one side chanting lean in close, closer, the other pull away I can't breathe anymore.

As the sun drops lower into the sky, in tandem he sinks lower onto her, the silky strands of his hair chilling her chin, the weight of his body warm and comforting. His initial wariness washed away with the blood, he's as cozy and relaxed as a housecat dozing in a patch of sunlight.

Disappointment unfurls petals inside her chest as the last of the blood is wiped away, wings gleaming in the sunlight. Enveloped by him, his body, his scent; sweet and faintly musky, entirely him with the effect it had of wanting to fall headlong into his lies, time has no meaning. The world waiting with ravenous jaws holds no importance when he's quiet and boneless in her arms.

‘Cain?’ she whispers, unsure if he's awake.

‘Hmm?’

Her toes curl into the carpet. His usual liquid smooth voice has been rendered low and thick, drowsiness dipping his tone.

She hesitates. Is it worth jolting him from his place against her—as it should be, her heart croons— for her selfish desire of wanting to look at him?

Ironically, it's her indecision that awakens him, alertness seeping back in. He slips out of her hold, a gentle thief escaping into the night, and turns to face her. ‘What is it?’ he asks, traces of worry playing in his voice.

I wish I could look at you when I want to without searching for an excuse. I wish you would keep being near to me. I want you to keep seeing me.

‘Nothing,’ she bites out, frustrated with herself, eyes catching on an anomaly in the blinding purity of snow. ‘There's dried blood crusted in your hair.’

He sighs, mindlessly patting his hair, completely missing the spot.

‘Let me,’ she interrupts quietly, pieces falling into place, desire breathing her wishes to life.

He eyes her curiously. Whatever he finds makes his mouth twitch and obediently lower his head, submitting to the ministrations of her fingers. A thrill fires through her like an arrow. She quite likes the idea of him bowed and hazy-eyed in front of her.

Her fingers ease into silken strands, white and gold playing on her skin. They trail unwillingly, longing to linger and straighten the wisps hanging over his eyes for him. She flicks the rusty flakes off, careful to not tug at the strands.

Hyperaware of every steady inhale and exhale of his, her own breathing wavers, growing shallow. She attempts to veer her attention back to his hair, instead of the proximity of her chest to his face, when his arm curves around her waist, long fingers splaying out, burning her from rib to hip.

Before she could steady herself to this, him, his thumb traces the jut of her rib. All coherent thought dissipates. Heat whirls up her insides. His fingers trail teasingly over the curve of her waist before stilling on her hip, and she wishes with sudden, fervent clarity that he would play on her skin. Be so familiar to him that he would reach for her to ease his restlessness, her hipbone echoing his music, instead of an undeserving slab of wood.

‘Your knees must hurt. Sit.’ He sounds from below her, words almost breathed into her throat. His voice lowers, a surrender just between them. ‘I can bow down for you.’

She lowers her eyes to his. A misstep. Hazy from sleep, sharp in the corners, sunlight sands down his usual jagged gaze and wicked smirk, turning him into a visage of heaven. Angelic, she thinks for the first time since she awoke to him, both at the rift and at the estate.

Cain has always been inhumanely beautiful from the moment she saw him glowing like an impossible mirage amidst blood and snow, but his beauty is almost unbearable now that she's seen the planes of that same untouchable face contort in anger, slacken in tiredness, soften in fondness. Every feature has been slashed into her mind since their first meeting, but he's a mystery she'll never tire of. She studies each detail with the same fascination as the first time.

Gold clings to every lash with the devotion of the sea returning to sand. Dawn rises in his eyes, the only place where she looks forward to sunrise. Cheekbones like cliffs, sweetpea pink lips. Twin moles wink at her from below his eye and cheek, a taunt mirrored in his eyes: What will you do now?

He tilts his head up, her hand that lay forgotten in his hair sliding down like rain. Brow bone, cheekbone, till the base of her palm curves against his jaw.

She's holding his face in her hand. What will you do now?

Her eyes hesitatingly find his again. The same eyes that speared into her being, trying to unravel her before she could undo him, that held and kept all his secrets, now betray him and look at her with undisguised tenderness. His gaze is the only mirror she can stand to look at herself anymore, her callousness and apathy smoothed over by his affection.

She loops her free arm around his neck, feeling his shoulders tense in surprise. In no reality will she come out of this unscathed. But would it be worth being hurt by these same hands that hold so gently?

Her eyes flit to his lips. Oh, but it would be worth being condemned to hell by this mouth. His lips part, luring her in before the din of doors slamming and a chorus of intermingling voices shatters their retreat.

Lane is off the floor and three feet away from him before he could even blink. His tenderness ripples into a scowl. His eyes glint a lurid red as he rises to his feet.

‘I should go,’ she says hastily, impatient to curse every member of the squad and then pore over every second of this afternoon before it dissipates like a dream.

‘And where are you rushing off to?’ he asks, notes of ire lurking in his voice.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘My room. I don't think the General will be pleased about me spending quality time with you instead of working.’

His mouth curls in derision. ‘If Dmitry's concern is incompetence, you're the least of his problems.’

His tone gives her pause. The second she tilts her head, his cool nonchalance snaps back into place, clicking shut with the finality of a lock.

‘I'll get going,’ she echoes before her heart could rope her into some foolish scheme. ‘Will you go to sleep now?’

‘Yes.’ He pauses, eyes sliding to her, lingering on her exposed collarbone. His voice lowers, softens, a snake coiling around flesh and she feels his words like he whispered them onto her skin. ‘Will you miss this opening?’

Her heart jolts. He can't possibly be…?

‘To watch me sleep again.’ He tilts his head innocuously, the effect offset by his growing smirk. ‘What were you thinking?’

Entirely unhelpfully, her mind bestows her with a visual. She thinks of him asleep, cheek pillowed by his arm, lashes casting needle-thin shadows, his ever-furrowed brows relaxed and a physical burn flares to life under her ribs.

She knits her brow in irritation, saving face too late, hastening to leave. The Cain who curved into her like the moon, who she'd christened angelic had fallen asleep, dreaming in some crevice of his mind. The one who stands in front of her, challenge highlighted in every plane of his face, is familiar, familiar and dangerous, familiar in a sense that she could hardly guess his next thought.

Just as her hand wraps around the door handle, she senses his searing presence behind her. Her body reacts instinctively, gearing up. Cain sends all of her emergency responses into overdrive, fight, flight, and fight speeding and crashing at the junction of her mind. All thoughts come to a screeching halt, leaving only expectant silence, air thrumming with possibilities. A discordant note or a lilting melody?

His fingers curl around her wrist, a gossamer touch. He lowers his head while raising her wrist, night falling as the moon rises to meet as a sunset, as a kiss. His cool breath snakes across her skin, travelling the course set by her veins, the faint brushes of his lips blissful torture.

A marionette in his hands, he angles her wrist to his mouth, setting the stage. The first act: the bite of his teeth against her pulse.

Her shoulders seize and she bites her lip, the blooming pain-pleasure shoving a gasp back inside her mouth. He presses, so gently, an invisible divot to savor and linger over at night, an ephemeral mark of him on her skin.

Can he feel her hand trembling? Her knees will give out if he continues.

In answer, in tender defiance, he scrapes his teeth across her pulse point, shrapnel and velvet, mouth feverishly hot, teeth deliciously sharp. Her spine jerks, pulled by his strings, aching to lean against his body. A low noise escapes her before she could haul it inside.

He halts, knowing when to coax with hardly a look, pulling her along to freefall into desire, another line they can never uncross, and when to let her be. He presses a full kiss to soothe her skin, before the curtain falls with a delicate graze of his lips over the faded cut on her palm.

He pulls back and she blinks as the world rushes in, both the celebrated principal actress and the dazed, breathless audience. He lowers her wrist gently, fingers falling away like the night. ‘Thank you,’ he says quietly with no trace of the smugness she was expecting.

She could hardly remember what she replied or how she stole away into the hallway. Half her mind still trembling in that room with him, the other half lazily waking up from a pleasant dream, she muses as she stumbles to her room.

The weight of the emptiness in her soul is always lurking, always ready to drag her into nothingness. Being around others only seems to chip away the remnants of her soul clinging to her insides; their strained laughter, easy anger and human hope shattered mirror shards reflecting the humanity long gouged out of her. You are not like us. Each irregular mosaic amplified till the message was deafening. You are not like us!

But as she stood in the hallway, vision golden with dust motes swirling around in a lazy waltz in the ballroom of sunlight, her soul is… silent. Not clamoring in its depleted state, begging to find its stolen half and fill it up. Cain's mere presence lifts this particular veil of half death, making her heart pumping in lazy disinterest startle awake, having to work overtime to make up for her lungs slacking.

Though she was the one who wished to lighten his burden today, it seemed he was imbuing her with his own life force with every touch. A thirst for life, and just not survival, gasped for air within her, only to see him again, to touch him again and make him tremble.

The corner of her mouth twitches as she turns the handle.

She has to find a way to get him back for that kiss.

[thefaithfulnightwriter]

𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 ~ Chapter Two

Summary - 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 a female who has been through so much in the clutches of Amarantha. Finds herself being freed she finds herself changed. She's more powerful and was now very unique in her own way. Starting a new life she finds it's hard and feels somewhat lost. But it all changes for her when she finds she has a mate. She soon suddenly feels less lost and finds a home in his arms.

☆or☆

𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 Azriel finds himself lonely. He was lonelier than ever, even in a room filled with his found family. He couldn't seem to rid himself of such feelings. It was a feeling that was threatening to swallow him whole. That is until he meets her, his mate. Azriel soon finds himself feeling less lonely and happier than he's ever been. And it was all because of her.

Pairing - Azriel x Female!Oc

Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Warnings - Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Mention of Past Abuse, Mentions of War, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Scars, Experimentation, More Will Be Added If Needed.

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. And i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

A few days have passed since Anna received the letter from her High Lord and Lady. Making it known that they wanted to meet her because of her work. Her work being her artwork and then because of the charity work she has also been doing. 

She had a large range when it came to her art work. Her art goes from sculpture pieces, to drawings, and paintings. All different and unique that she would sell. While for her charity work she would donate art pieces to people and events allowing them to do whatever they want with it. Then donate money to charities. She would then paint murals on builds for half the price. Then she would buy a plethora of art supplies when she could and make bags and hand them out to people. While also teaching free classes once a month inviting anyone who wanted to come. She didn’t think it was much. Many adored her too and her work but she didn’t notice or think too much about it. 

But she still loved what she did. She just didn’t know it would catch the attention of such people like the High Lord and Lady. She was nothing special and she was just spreading her love for art where she could. So why would they want to meet her? 

She had no clue. But it seemed she would find out very soon. Because it was now the day of the meeting they were to have. She was so nervous that she was shaking. As she walked her way to a townhouse with Irina, Amara, and Killian by her side. Walking between Amara and Killian. Both keeping her close as they walked. 

As they approached the townhouse it seemed that she was growing more and more anxious. Which Amara and Killian could tell. As they stopped in front of the house Amara was the one to stand in front of her and place her hands on her arms to comfort her before speaking. 

“Okay you can do this sweetheart. You look beautiful and you are amazing. You are Annamarie and you can do anything you put your mind to remember that,” Amara encouraged her. As she rubbed her arms to soothe her. Reaching forward to adjust her glasses and scarf that was wrapped around her head. Which led her to send Amara a grateful smile. She was soon taking a deep breath and nodding her head to calm herself. 

“Just remember we won’t be too far if you need anything just scream,” Killian jokes. As he gave her a thumbs up and a wink from behind the scarf and hood that covered him. But hearing him caused Irina to smack the back of his head. Causing him to yelp and rub the spot she hit. 

“I mean you can do this. But still if you need someone killed you know how to reach me,” Killian encouraged as well before whispering to her. Causing Anna to go into a fit of giggles. That she tried to cover with her hand. 

“Killian!” Amara and Irina exclaimed in sync. Irina soon smacking him again on his arm. Causing him to turn to her and both starting to banter back and forth. Which led Amara to shake her head and roll her eyes at the two. Before turning to Anna who had calmed down slightly. She was now looking at the town house with fear. 

“You can do this Anna,” Amara soothed one last time with a smile. Anna soon turned to her and sent her a small smile back with a nod. Amara then nudged her gently to the door. Before turning to Irina and Killian and bellowing.

“Both of you shut up and come on,” Amara ordered. As she took a hold of both their arms and pulled them away. Both turned to wave at Anna, sending her reassuring smiles. Before turning back to one another continuing their banter back and forth. It led her to giggle at their antics. But soon she turned to the townhouse and sighed. 

She then smoothed out her long sleeved midnight dress that hugged her curves then flowed just  below her knees. Looking at her feet she saw her black flats upon them. She then smiled as she thought she could do this. Walking to the door taking a deep breath she raised her fist and after a moment of calming herself she finally knocked on the door. 

She was quick to hold her hands in front of her as she looked to the ground. Trying to keep herself calm. Soon the door opened causing her to quickly look up. She found a beautiful blonde haired female with brown eyes was the one to open the door.

But as the blonde saw Anna she gasped softly. Seeing her she was shocked by the female at the door. She was unique but very beautiful. Even with the scars upon her face she was still gorgeous. But she couldn’t take her gaze off her different color eyes though they were so entrancing. Even when the female wasn’t even doing anything. Even when she seemed to be so shy and nervous. It seemed her eyes just drew you in without her even trying. 

It didn’t phase Anna though; she was used to such a thing when people saw her. Especially when they saw her eyes. It did make her more nervous though. But the female’s gaze caused her to clear her throat and caused her to push her glasses upon her nose more. Seeing the gesture and hearing her caused the female in front of her to shake from her shock state and a welcoming smile soon washed over her.  

“Sorry. It seems you're so pretty it took my breath away,” the female flirted. As she pushed her long wavy blonde hair over her shoulder still having a smile upon her lips. She was then gesturing to Anna to step inside of the townhouse. Watching as she did her smile soon shifted to a grin. Seeing a blush wash over Anna as she looked away to the ground bashfully as she shuffled on her feet nervously.    

“Anyways I am Morrigan. I’ll be the one taking you to Rhysand and Feyre,” Morrrigan introduced herself as she shut and locked the door behind her gently. She was then standing beside Anna. who had looked up to the taller female sending her a small shy smile. 

“H - Hi. Nice to meet y - you Morrigan. I’m Annamarie b - but you can call me Anna,” she greeted back stumbling over her words nervously. She still didn’t know what she was doing here but that was going to stop her from being nice. She still had her guard up but she was easing at the gentleness and kindness Morrigan was showing her. Plus being able to feel Morrigan’s emotions with her magic helped ease her mind. She was making sure she kept that part of her magic open and the rest concealed. So she could keep a careful eye upon everyone around her. 

“Well it is nice to meet you too Anna. Come on right this way,” Morrigan chuckled. Hearing and seeing her caused Morrigan to think she was adorable. Watching as she adjusted her silver framed wired glasses nervously. She was quick to offer her arm to Anna so she could escort her to Rhysand and Feyre. Seeing her do such a gesture caused Anna to look at her arm with hesitance. 

“Come on I won’t bite,” Morrigan tried to sooth with a gentle smile. She could now see that Anna must have been through a lot. If the scars upon her face didn’t tell, the way she acted told that she had. Morrigan could see the signs, the way she acted reminded her of some of the priestesses from the library somewhat. But she still seemed strong and resilient even. She carried herself differently. 

But something came to Morrigan's mind… she must be a quiet one. She could see it. And she remembered what they said about the quiet ones. She has witnessed it first hand. Which led her to chuckle softly at the thought before looking at Anna again. Looking into her eyes that she still couldn’t get over. So different but gorgeous like their owner. One a beautiful onyx and the other silverish with a slight shimmer. She was still in a slight state of awe because of her. 

Morrigan was soon shaken from such a thought. By Anna shuffling on her feet slightly as she moved closer and wrapping her soft arm through Morrigan’s. It took everything in Morrigan to not gasp being so close to her. She could tell Anna was trying to hide it but she could feel it… the powerful magic that emanated and buzzed around her. She was hiding it well but being Morrigan’s age she was able to feel it slightly. And it was probably only because she was so close to her right now. Because of her touch, she was able to sense it. 

In that moment Morrigan truly thought Anna was different, unique, and also powerful. She knew if Rhysand or Feyre didn’t pick up on it she would have to talk to them about Anna. But something told her that they would. Especially Rhysand when he sees her. 

But something told her that Anna wasn’t a threat. With all the help she has been doing around the city with her art and charity work. Morrigan thought Anna was far from a threat. She just seemed like a shy and quiet female who's been through a lot who just wants to help where she can.

Morrigan’s thoughts shifted quickly from such a thing by Anna’s shaking frame as they walked. As they grew closer to Feyre and Rhysand it seemed that she was taking more deep breaths to calm herself. She could now tell just how Anna was scared. Which led her to pat her hand that was on her arm. 

“It’s okay. They won’t bite either, I promise. If anything their breath will be taken away by your beauty just as mine was,” Morrigan chuckled. As she looked slightly down at Anna, being that she was shorter than her. It seemed she was around Amren’s height. Maybe a few inches taller than the fierce silver eyed female. 

But she chuckled again seeing Anna’s look away from her with a bashful look. Just as she did earlier. Morrigan couldn’t help but think she was cute. Anna though didn’t know what else to do but became bashful. She wasn’t used to someone complimenting her so openly and genuinely. Without any hidden agenda. No one has done such a thing besides Irina, Killian, and Amara.   

But soon her focus was shaken when they stopped walking and stood in front of a door. It must be where the High Lord and Lady were. She could feel the emotions emanating from the room but couldn’t hear anything from it. 

Leading her to understand that a noise canceling ward must be over the room. But then there was the power she could feel leaking from the room from two. She knew instantly it was the High Lord and Lady who were in the room. It caused her to gulp down a breath of air nervously. 

As she did she watched Morrigan send her a reassuring smile before knocking on the door. Removing her arm from hers Anna sighed and wrapped her arms around chest. Waiting for the door to open. Not long after the door was open revealing the High Lady. She had a smile upon her lips as she looked at Morrigan. But her gray blueish eyes soon turned to Anna she was about to greet her. But she gasped, taking her in. Just as Morrigan did earlier. The same thoughts that ran through Morrigan’s mind when she first saw Anna seemed to run through Feyre’s mind as well.

“What did I say,” Morrrigan whispered to Anna with a chuckle. She couldn’t help the soft giggle that escaped her as she felt her cheeks warm up once again today. But she was quick to shake it off and gasp before beginning to bow to Feyre. Remembering her manners and who she was in front of right now. But she was stopped by Feyre raising her hand and shaking it, stopping her from doing such a thing.

“There is no need for such formalities. You’re Annamarie. It's so nice to meet you. Please come in,” Feyre insisted as she gestured to Anna to come into the room. Nodding Anna sent Morrigan one last smile before walking into the room. Morrigan sent a wave back to her as she began to walk off. Sending her a wave back Anna made her way into the room. 

But she kept her head down as she tangled her fingers together and placed her hands in front of her. Not wanting to over step. She soon flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning she saw it belonged to Feyre who was quick to move her hand away. 

Noticing the action Feyre was more curious about the female more than ever. At the touch she could feel the magic that emanated from Anna. Just by that small single touch she could feel the power that Anna held. And it took everything in her to not gasp again because of the female. 

But before she could apologize another voice interrupted her. Catching both the female's attention. Turning Anna was met with the High Lord of Night Court. Which led her to shuffle on her feet as she began to bow to him. 

“There’s no need for that. You must be the infamous Annamarie that everyone speaks of,” Rhysand greeted with slightly wide eyes. It was hard but he held back his own slight gasp at seeing her meeting her eyes. Taking her in she was definitely different then most fae. 

But she was alluring in a way. Though he could tell she wasn’t even trying to be. He hasn’t seen anyone like her. It caused him to be curious of her just as his mate and cousin were. He wanted to know more about her. 

Discreetly he was soon reached out. His powers reached for her because he could tell that she held some sort of power. Her silver shimmering eye gave it away. It reminded him too much of Nesta and Amren. And they were both powerful females. As he reached out his magic he could tell that she was concealing her powers, her magic. And she was good at it too. 

But he could feel just a bit. Not much but just a little. It was hard but with him being a High Lord he was able to do it. He had to make sure he kept a mask up. Because it was just a small amount but he felt the chaotic powerful magic she seemed to hold within. 

As he did such a thing it seemed Anna seemed to notice but didn’t make it known she knew what he did. She felt his magic brush against her own but shook it off. Because as soon as it came it retreated. She already knew that the High Lord and Lady were powerful and that she was going to feel their power and vice versa. And she knew this was going to happen. She just didn’t think that he would do such a thing so soon. Which led her to become more fearful. But she tried to keep calm. 

But Rhysand knew that she probably noticed his magic reaching out to her but didn’t make a big deal about it. He could tell because she soon looked away and didn’t meet his eyes. He let out a discreet sigh of relief, noticing she didn’t make a big deal about feeling his magic. But truly he was curious about this female. And wanted to know more about her. Something told him she wasn’t a threat with everything she has been doing for the city. But he wanted to make sure. 

He was soon shaking his head and gestured for her to take a seat. As he did though he contacted his brother Azriel in his mind quickly. He was quick to tell him to come to the townhouse so he could observe the mysterious female. Who seemed to hold so much power. Azriel was quick to agree and started on his way to the townhouse. 

“You c - can call me Anna,” she whispered softly with a shudder. As she took a seat as did the other two. Rhysand behind the desk while Feyre sat next to her. Feyre with a smile trying to sooth her while Rhysand had a look of contemplation. Which didn’t help her nerves and fear.

“So… I’ve heard so much about your work Anna. Me and Rhysand are impressed and love what you’re doing. I even saw a few of your art pieces and I must say they are amazing,” Feyre sang with a smile. Looking at Feyre she smiled widely with a nod.

“T - Thank you. I - I just wanted to help where I - I can while trying to spread my love for the arts around,” she beamed. She was always happy and excited to talk about her work. And that was how Feyre and Anna started the conversation. While Rhysand would throw in his opinion and praise as he watched Anna closely. 

Which made Anna bashful and shy. Anna cheeks were soon a shade of light pink from their compliments. She has heard such things before but never at this length and never from a High Lord or Lady. But their conversation was cut short when there was a knock on the door.

Redamancy Taglist -

N/A

[littlespacereader]

I don't know if you've done this but could you do some HCs of Storm (X-Men she's apart of MU, but idk if she counts/you write about her) of her and her little on Halloween, like trick or treating or maybe watching spooky movies? I think it would be super cute :3 /nf sorry if this is a confusing request , if you take it, thank you in advance (ʘᴗʘ✿)

⚠️Flash Warning Below!⚠️

I’ve never written for any of the x-men before but I’m a big fan!!! I absolutely loved writing this and exploring the character of Storm! I hope you don’t mind I went a little above and beyond and wrote some general Headcannons and then some Halloween ones at the end! I hope you enjoy!! Thank you for the request!💞💞💞

Caregiver! Storm Headcannons🌩️ (SFW)

Tags- Cuddles, hand holding, gender neutral, protective cg, mentions other xmen

General Headcannons🌩️

Storm meets you for the first time when you’re enrolled to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

Once Professor X gets to meet with you and talk over your needs and such, he decides to make Storm your guardian and advisor, having a sneaking suspicion that you were going to need her.

Immediately she’s warm and welcoming. She carries herself with a motherly touch and tenderness. Leading you around the school she either has a hand on your shoulder or a hand in your hand.

Extremely protective over you, even before she learns about your regression. She has you under her wing of protection at all times.

When she does learn about your regression, she’s extremely open and willing to be there and care for you. She pampers you with anything and everything you could need and makes sure NO ONE teases you about it.

But most at the school seem very accepting of your age regression. Some even going out of their way to check in on you. Others who aren’t don’t dare say a word knowing Storm is your Caregiver.

Whenever she’s on missions without you by her side, she constantly checks in with little texts here and there. She also tries to find a babysitter for you, someone in the mansion she feels comfortable leaving you.

That person turns out to be Logan most of the time. At first he’s all “trying to act manly” but then after a mission Storm finds him with hair clips in his hair or ok the ground playing cars with you. He’s truly a softie when it comes to age regressors. (Let me know if you guys want cg Wolverine headcannons)

She’s always looking to make happy. Like one sunny day you wished it was raining. Well that’s an easy fix for her!

Thunderstorms relax you, always making you think of her.

Sometimes she takes you flying! There’s no greater feeling

She enjoys the small things too, like combing your hair, painting your nails, long walks or even helping you with your powers.

At the end of the day she’s all for you, always a motherly and gentle Caregiver to you

Halloween headcannons🎃

Halloween rolls around and the mansion is decked out!!

She helps you pick out your costume but the thing is…you want to be her! She’s honored to hear it and beams with happiness!

So of course her and Jean help you make a custom x-men suit!

She join you in her own costume, you looking like a mini version of herself.

But…she’s strict about how much candy got eat before the nights over. But Uncle Logan keeps slipping you pieces of candy here and there.

Since the mutants don’t like to leave the mansion too much, you go trick or treating to everyone’s rooms. You see Scott, Jean, Charles, Hank, Remy& Anna, and so many more all dropping candy into your bag.

Storm walks along side you as you go. Smiling back to you as you show her each piece of candy you’ve gotten.

At the end of the night she becomes a bit lax and let’s you eat a couple of pieces from your bag while the two of you watch a fun Halloween movies like Hocus Pocus or Halloween town.

She also maybe sneaks a couple for herself.

The night ends with the two of you cuddle up together, sleeping peacefully on the couch as the end credits play on.

[24kmar]

𝑳𝑨𝑴𝑩!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Faunlet, faux innocence, weird.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, is the definition of faunlet. Hell, she is faunlet.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, has weird interests. But she's not an "oh" weird, she's more of an interesting weird. She has an interesting personality. It's actually kind of endearing.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, has dead eyes.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, zones out alot. You'll find yourself turning to look at her and half of the time she's staring into space.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, has lana del reys 'ultraviolence' album on repeat.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, likes true crime. She tries to get an insight for herself on the crimes.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, aspires to be a therapist. Psychology has always been an interest of hers. She likes to read books about it on her spare time.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, likes obscure objects or decoration. Like how Anna Taylor Joy had human heart cakes at her wedding, that kind of obscure.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, would make amazing friends with skelly!reader.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, likes going to art museums. Sculptures, paintings, things like that.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, is the thought daughter. She lives in thought. Her head is loud.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, has an obsessive personality. If she likes something she loves it is she hates something she fucking despises it, same goes for people.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, doesn't know how to express her emotions.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, is completely different from peoples first perception of her. They expect her to be some innocent lamb who doesn't know anything, shes goes along with it though. She's a wolf in sheep's clothing.

🐑 Lamb!Reader who, loves tim burton movies.

[literallyaurl]

Have realised I've completely fucked the bear tho as Ive put a dark colour down before I'm done doing lighter ones. I'm gonna keep going tho

[cocoabubbelle-newblog]

Scogue (?) Rambles

Aka: My Incoherent thoughts about other Scott/Cyclops x ? and Anna/Rogue x ? Ships

Scott/Cyclops

Jean Grey/Marvel Girl/Phoenix: X-Men: Evolution

Ultimately I have mixed feelings. I thought she was nice and cool enough, and her powers neat. However, I couldn’t understand why she was upset when Scott showed or gained interest from other girls when miss ma’am herself had a boyfriend.

Kitty calls him cute? Jean immediately dismisses it and calls him stiff and exacting to dissuade her.

Taryn hangs out with Scott during the carnival? Bestie, why aren’t you third-wheeling with her and Duncan?

Rogue gave Scott a Christmas Gift and Scott willingly wore it? Let’s pretend that we all are Scott and don’t know Rogue’s crushing on him; is it that hard to believe that Rogue is fond of him because—unlike a certain redhead who invited Rogue during their first meeting that she is free to contact them via whatever communicator she gave her only to not be shown attempting any form of communicating since, having derisively referring her as “[Principle Darkholme’s] little rogue” at one point*— he had actively sought out her friendship and was one of the contributing factors of her joining? Why is Rogue not allowed to give Scott a present when we haven’t seen Jean gift him anything?

Taryn cornering Scott? Someone explain to me why Jean is more upset about her supposed bestie flirting with Scott and not the fact that she’s trying to snatch his shades and inadvertently endanger everyone? Taryn beats her to the punch at the Sadie Hawkin’s dance asking out Scott. Oh no…she wasn’t actually able to go dance with the guy who isn’t her boyfriend.

Just to be clear, I am not: a) attempting to paint her as a villain; like I said earlier, she is a kind girl and can be great friend. She very well could have mentally lobotomized Fred for kidnapping and trying to date her against his will, but instead tried to calmly reason with him yet again before resorting to more defensive/offensive measures to get him to back off. b) excusing Scott’s behavior either; not a huge fan that he sometimes tries flirting(?) with Jean despite her having a boyfriend (who yes, is a jerk, but she’s the one choosing to date him still) and even when he briefly gets together with Taryn.

HOW. E. VER.

Story and character-wise, when it involves Scott and sometimes his relationship with other girls he might be interested in/visa versa, Jean comes across as slightly territorial/entitled towards him. It might have come across with more tact, but Scott was right to point out she was jealous of Taryn flirting with him.

She could have broken up with Duncan a while ago, but DIDN’T (and let’s be honest; she had every good reason to but STILL didn’t) until Homecoming King wanted her to use her powers for him upon discovering she was a mutant.

Oh, and let’s not forget how huffy she was when Scott helped out her and Magma during the last minutes of a training session. He for sure could have kept his comments to himself and read the room that Magma was embarrassed about not succeeding in the task, but Jean did not have to lose her temper and demean his masculinity.

I found it fascinating upon later finding out that the writers of the show had to be reminded to make Jean likable so that it would make sense for Scott’s romantic interest in her and them later getting together (don’t recall link; someone provide it please!)

^ I genuinely wish there was more development and interaction between her and Rogue beyond their feelings for Scott and the Power Surge episode.

*Don’t understand why they dropped the secret communicator sub-plot after showing it as a twist at the end of Rogue’s debut episode. I mean, when Rogue and Scott were stranded in that mountainside(?), Rogue could have remembered that communicator, whipped it out, frantically tried to contact the X-Men, confusing the rest of the teens back at home at Cerebro’s nonstop beeping and static only for Jean to remember that communicator, answer the call, made contact with Rogue, send the precise or close enough coordinates to the professors in the Jet, then tried to calm and assure Rogue before the shaky connection eventually got cut off from the violent snowstorm or being damaged by the water.

But I digress; this is about X-Men:Evo’s Scott x Jean.

Like I said above: at the end of the day, my feelings for Jean are mixed when it comes to her being part of a couple with Scott. I enjoy her as a character, and she does have some sweet moments that help me see the potential of Her x Scott. At the end of the day though, even taking away my preference for Scott x Rogue, I have a hard time picturing them lasting long as a truly happy couple in the Evolution universe, and prefer them more as good friends.

I’d love to hear fellow Scoguies/anyone else’s opinion too!

What do you think about X-Men: Evo’s Scott x Jean?

(Tagging for funsies)

@withjust-a-bite @marvelshipper @gwunc4nlover @flareonfury @nervouscolordeputypeach @unfortunately-obsessed @reddove18

[nyrasbloodyclover]

a real fucking legacy (a. k. vornsky)

a/n: stop asking why because i REALLY DON'T KNOW. my fav book, my fav fictional man, i am literally an anna karenina bible

I entered the ballroom that glittered with golden lights from the crystal chandeliers. I felt dizzy from all the excitement that was following me throughout the whole day, making sure my posture was perfect, dress unwrinkled and smile bright, just as everybody expected.

It was my third year after I came out into society, and no matter how many balls I attended, each one of them held a special place in my almost empty heart. Especially the ones I went to in the last 3 months.

All because he looked at me. He danced with me. And then decided to sneak out and find a place where no one would see us. We spent hours together on some deserted balcony. He was a good man and as much as I wanted to, he wouldn't lay a finger on me let alone, touch me the way he was wasn't supposed to.

Count Vronsky had many qualities that made him different from other gentlemen I've met, but the one I loved the most was that he was an amazing storyteller. He's seen so much, he's been everywhere and as a girl who practically did nothing my whole youth I was a great listener. He painted landscapes to me with his words and even when he thought some things he said didn't make any sense, I understood it all.

As he was older and much more mature, I made myself remember the way he formed his sentences and try to use it while telling the story of us.

I wore a maroon dress, not wanting to stand out, though the patterns on it were granular.Black lace was covering the edges while the corset was tied enough to make my breathing almost painful. My hair was pinned up, making my scalp hurt, but I somehow got used to all of it.

I saw some of my friends not too far from me, but a tall figure appeared before I could approach them. A younger man. I knew him. His name was Ivan-something and my mother would be delighted if  I decided to marry him. I fake smiled at him as he asked me for a dance. He absolutely blended in with all the other men I knew. I had to say yes. They couldn't suspect me and Vronsky, It was never going to happen, so why make fool of myself?

I inhaled sharply as he took my gloved hand and led me to the center of the ballroom. I loved to dance, but with an awful partner, even life could be miserable. I felt despondent as he spun me around and stepped on my feet continuously. Music ringed in my ears.

Even if I adored this piece, I couldn't stand it at the moment. I looked around and I felt like my gown was blood-soaked. My lungs were bleeding. I needed air. I wanted to go away, far, far away. Everyone was either dancing or talking and smiling, having much better time than me. Everyone except one person. And that person was approaching us right now. His pace was fast and strong and confident, everything I wasn't right now. He looked resplendent. I was counting seconds and begging him silently to end this torment.

He heard and answered my prayers.

Ivan suddenly stopped and I couldn't be more grateful. I wanted to hug my savior and thank him properly, but the only thing I could do right now was smile and slightly nod. Enough for him to understand. Vronsky's eyes went over my figure. His expression was flat but he tried to act polite. 

Ivan and I separated and Vronsky took a chance to whisper something to him. I couldn't make out any of the words, but I could see Ivan't expression change immediately. He tried to act friendly but miserably failed and excused himself. I tried not to laugh at him and couldn't stop wondering what had Vronsky said to him to make him leave without any protest. Vronsky turned to me.

"Good evening," he smiled,  "It looked like he was bothering you?" Did we actually look that bad? I thought I put on a great performance. 

"I don't think it was that miserable. He only stepped on my shoes three times."

Vronsky let out a rich laugh that I adored and It reminded me how much I miss him. I wanted us to sneak out like before. And I wanted to listen to him talk. But most of all, I wanted to dance with him, and feel his touch even if it was minimal. It was the most I'm ever going to get from him.

I took a step closer and he noticed. I wanted him to read my mind and do the right thing. He looked hesitant. Too hesitant. I looked up at him through my lashes and he tilted his head backwards. Not too much, it was the smallest movement but I noticed. 

"I should g—" 

"Ask me to dance," I blurted out.

He practically whipped his head in my direction and I felt blood rushing into my cheeks. If he refuses I'll leave. I'll leave immediately. And die of embarrassment, while we're at that.

He looked like he was fighting with himself, trying to do what he wanted and what was expected of him. But what I said was painfully forward and I should be ashamed of that. And I would be if it was someone else. With him I felt completely different. A moment passed.

"Very well," he said as he reached for my hand.

I tried to hide my face from him because I swear it was the color of my gown. Scarlet — practically maroon.

He placed one hand on my hip as his other took mine and I forgot everything else. 

His touch burned on me as Vronsky held my gaze. His eyes were mesmerizing and I ached to be closer to him in any possible way. He led me through the ballroom as we moved to the rythm of the soft music that was not so irritating now.

His fingers traced the laces on my back, toying with them. I inhaled sharply and he smirked at me, but we didn't stop dancing. I felt like we were the only ones in the entire room—I couldn't see anything except him. And I wanted it to stay that way.

I was dazed for a couple of seconds before he let go of me and stepped away.

I felt empty and for some reason exposed without his body shielding me from the people in the room.

"I'll bring us something to drink." It was a simple offer and it made me realize how thirsty I actually was. I nodded and moved to the side, so I don't bother anyone. My face was burning. Because of him.

Vronsky appeared seconds later with two wine glasses. Smiling up at him, I reached for one glass but instead of taking it like a normal person I managed to spill it all over my dress. I wanted to cry but he didn't look like it bothered him that I was practically ruined now. I tried to not cause a scene but it was hard. That was my favorite dress.

Tears prickled my eyes, but he didn't let me roll in self pity. "Don't worry. We just need to go somewhere more...private and I'll fix this. But look, now the dress completely matches your face." And he left without letting me respond to his comment. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but instead I waited for him.

He came with napkins and took my hand looking awfully suspicious. But I wasn't sure why. 

He looked around and saw that nobody was paying attention to us, though that was unexpected. Alexei smiled like he won the biggest prize and quickly led us through the backdoor of the ballroom. The rest of the house was empty and I swear he could hear my rapid heartbeat along with pulsing in my ears.

I knew what he wanted and where he was going. I was glad I knew his mind so well that he became predictable to me. I knew his desires and dreams and I couldn't help but wish I was one of them.

His white uniform matched perfectly with my much darker dress. Though Alexei was perfectly put together, while I was...the opposite.

We entered some dark room I didn't recognize. It was large but almost empty. It looked like someone's personal gallery. There was a desk in the corner along with some bookshelves. He closed the door. Then locked it. 

My head immediately turned to him, "There is no reason to lock the door, Alexei," I smiled innocently. "We aren't doing anything wrong." 

A moment passed between us. I scanned the shelves and touched the hard spines with golden embroidery. I tried to act like a fool, but I knew.

"We are about to."

And that did it. It made me completely lose my self control as I was throwing away the last pieces of dignity I had tonight. He practically marched towards me and grabbed my neck as he gently placed his mouth on mine. He knew I had absolutely no experience with men, so he was going easy on me. For now.

My whole body was on fire while he almost unnoticeably squeezed my neck. I moaned into his mouth and Vronsky towered over me, leading me back with his body. I was going backwards until I hit the large shelves. 

"Stop me before it's too late," he gasped into my neck. It was intoxicating. Everything about him, about the way he moved to the way he touched me was addicting I wasn't sure I would be able to stop.

"I won't," was all I said, but it made him aware that I was willing to give myself to him completely.

"You said you will take care of my dress," I added, still playing innocent, even if what we were doing was far from that. 

"And I'm planning to do just that," he said as he turned me. I was now facing shelves, my back to him. It gave him complete access to my corset. Which he began to untie immediately. He was skilled with his hands, I realized just now. It made my stomach turn in very unfamiliar way. I didn't know what kind of influence he actually had on me, but I liked it. It made me careless and stupid, but I was in control my whole life. It was nice to give it to someone else now.

Corset was down and my whole body felt hypersensitive for whatever reason. I wanted him to do so many things but I didn't know how to ask or if I was supposed to anyway. So I let him play with me.

"Turn, dorogaya," he whispered from behind and I obeyed. The nickname made me want to grab him and kiss his whole face. Then he went down. "I'm going to make you see stars." 

That was the last thing he said before taking down my skirt and the rest of the undergarments until I was stripped bare in front of him. But I was surprised I wasn't the least bit ashamed. Somehow, this felt completely ordinary with him. I was scared to move. I didn't know what or how to do anything. 

He naturally noticed and smiled, but not in a mocking way. His smile was so sweet I melted. 

"Touch me wherever you want. And however you want. Don't be afraid." That gave me a bit of confidence, so I looked down at him, on his knees. The image before me made me feel things I didn't know I was capable of feeling. I ran my hand through his hair and he closed his eyes, while his eyelids fluttered. 

It seemed like I had the same effect on him. Then I did something that made me question myself. I led his head down, in between my legs and I saw him smirk, but he knew what to do. 

The first time I felt his tongue on me was the closest I'll be to setting myself on fire. I gripped his hair on instinct. 

His mouth was doing wonders to me. I felt every sensation of it through my entire body. My head fell on the shelves and I had to press down a moan. Was this supposed to be this intense? He stopped using his mouth and continued with fingers while continuously kissing my lower stomach.

Vronsky did everything with patience and commitment. I didn't know why I thought this would be any different. I made a noise that sounded painful, but only because he was moving so slowly and torturedmewith his fingers. He shot me a concerned look, "Should I stop?"

"No, no, nonono," I cried out. I felt hard pressure building in my lower stomach and I grew dizzy. He went faster but then stopped and my hips buckled, while I was fighting the urge to do something myself. "Please continue," I pleaded.

"How could I not when you beg me so pretty?" He cocked his head and continued working me much faster this time, but still gentle. He took his time with me, looking at my reactions to certain movements, the sounds I was trying not to make, my face expressions. He knew what he was doing and he did it so well that It actually made me see stars. I choked on a scream as I was trying to catch a breath. My knees buckled and I felt I was closer to the edge.

He switched to his mouth again and Alexei's tongue finished the job. He put my leg over his shoulder to get better access and that completely pushed me.

I finished on his mouth and seconds later went down with him. He held me as I was trying to even out my breathing. "Can we do it again?" I surprised myself by asking.

He smiled down at me, "When you become countess, yes."

[snowflaketale12]

Arendelle Royal Family picnic near Sommerhus edits

Made an edit to replicate the 'Arendelle Royal Family picnic near Sommerhus' painting that is hanging at EPCOT and Fantasy Springs in Tokyo DisneySea 💕 I found it heartwarming when I looked at the picture, which inspired me to create this edit 😁

For anyone who doesn't know, Agnarr and Iduna brought Anna and Elsa to Sommerhus annually during the summer (before the incident, of course). Royal Sommerhus was built at EPCOT in 2016, and it was later adapted in a book named 'Elsa's Icy Rescue' in 2020. (Thanks to my friend, Winter, for the info! 😁) "Sommerhus is a quaint cottage in a small village just outside the Arendelle forest." - From 'Elsa's Icy Rescue'.

It was soooooooo hard to edit. I had to mask each of the elements like the people, the food, the basket, and the flowers, as well as the Sommerhus in the background. It was also very hard to color grade; I tried to make it as orange as possible 😂

Anyway, I did my best on everything. It's not perfect, but I'm satisfied with it now 😆

I made horizontal version too:

And with photo frame:

[candycandy00]

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 4

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

You dragged Anna through the back room and nearly reached the exit before Anna pulled free. "We can't leave him in there!"

"He told us to run!"

"He wouldn't leave us!"

You looked at Anna, then toward the swinging doors. It sounded like a small battle had broken out in the main patient area. "Alright. I'll go back and try to get him out. You run ahead!"

"And leave you behind?!" Anna screeched, her face horrified. 

You put your hands on Anna's shoulders. "Listen, you have Miranda to look after. She doesn't have anyone else! So go back to her! Terrian and I will meet you at your apartment later."

Anna hesitated for a few moments, then nodded, tears leaking down her face, and ran out the back door.

You swallowed hard. You quickly scanned the room until you located a scalpel, grabbed it from the counter, then ran back through the swinging doors. The sight laid out before you was worse than any nightmare your sleeping mind could have conjured up. 

Terrian was on the floor, not moving, blood pooling beside his head. Around half the patients were already dead, decapitated or disemboweled in their beds. The rest were shrieking in terror, most of them confined to their beds but trying so desperately to escape that a few of them had tumbled onto the floor and were now crawling in the direction of the back room. Blood was every where, as if the whole room had been painted red, just like the sky. The three half-breeds were calmly making their way toward the back, slaughtering the immobilized patients along the way.

The half-breeds didn't even look angry.

One of them looked up and noticed you. He was taller than the others, with fiery red hair. "Oh, there's one of the nurses," he said.

The other two looked up briefly, then returned to their work with the patients as if they were not even interested. The redhead lunged at you, and you sliced at him with the scalpel. You managed to cut the sleeve of his uniform, and a tiny trickle of blood escaped his arm. To a half-breed, it was less than a paper cut.

He quickly grabbed the hand holding the scalpel and squeezed until you dropped the weapon, then flung you across the room. You hit the wall and slid to the floor, wincing. A couple of the patients froze to watch the unfolding scene. A trembling hand reached out to you from under the bed beside you, and you looked over to see Mr. Renaldo, the elderly patient who flirted playfully with you, peeking out with terrified eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but the half-breed suddenly threw the bed aside and grabbed Mr. Renaldo by his throat. 

The red-haired monster lifted the old man into the air, then clenched his hand tightly until the man's entire head popped off, like the cork from a bottle of wine. He dropped the now limp body and looked down at you.

You screamed, kicking at the half-breed as he came closer, until you heard an even louder scream. You looked up and saw that Anna had jumped onto the half-breed's back, wrapping her legs around his torso and clawing at his face with her fingernails.

You used the opportunity to crawl away and stand up, your eyes darting over the floor in search of the scalpel. The half-breed finally managed to get a hold of Anna and pulled her off his back, throwing her to the floor. "I found the other nurse," he said to the others. 

The two other half-breeds looked up, then began walking toward him. The woman looked slightly disgusted. "These two human girls are giving you trouble?" she asked with a hollow voice.

The redhead shook his head. "Not really. But we should deal with them first and save the weakest for last."

The other male half-breed, who had very long, straight dark hair that fell to his hips, nodded in agreement. "I'll take the first one, you take the one with short hair."

The redhead grabbed Anna by the wrists then jerked her arms above her head. The half-breed with long hair similarly grabbed you.

The redhead was facing Anna, and leaned his face in close to hers. "This one looks good," he said. His face was completely expressionless, making his words all the more disturbing. "I'll enjoy her first."

Anna screamed, kicking and struggling wildly, like an animal. You couldn't even begin to imagine the absolute horror the other girl was going through. But then the long-haired half-breed looked you up and down, and shoved you onto a cot. "This one looks good as well," he said.

It was your turn to scream again, as you were forced face down on the cot that had only minutes ago held a patient. The full terror of the situation was sinking into your brain. This was the end. You and Anna would be raped and killed right here in the clinic, in the one place that gave you the smallest bit of hope.

Anna's screams of anger and fear turned to sobs of defeat and sorrow as tears poured freely down her face. You could only make out the word "no" among her cries as the redhead wordlessly began tearing at Anna's clothes. You still couldn't understand how he could have no expression on his face. No desire, no anger, no joy. Nothing.

You couldn't help wondering why they were doing this if they couldn't feel anything.

The half-breed woman glanced around the room until her gaze landed in the direction of Terrian, lying near the front door. "Pity, the only good looking man is already dead," she said. "I'll finish off the rest then."

Upon hearing this, the remaining patients began to scream and crawl again, trying desperately to reach an exit. Your face was pressed against the pillow on the cot, but you could see Terrian's body.

Already dead. She said Terrian was already dead.

You stopped struggling then, closing your eyes and going limp. You could still hear Anna crying, but the redhead had moved her to a cot and you could no longer see what was happening to her. You wanted to block it all out, to just pass out or go ahead and die.

Amidst the screams and cries in the room, you heard the sound of the front door swinging open. You immediately thought that a patient was coming in, some unlucky person who would now be killed like the rest. But then you heard it, that familiar mechanical voice saying, "What is going on?"

You opened your eyes and saw Vartan standing in the middle of the room, looking around. His eyebrows were raised, and you remembered that this seemed to be his "shocked expression".

You didn't want him to be there. You didn't want him to be a part of this. You couldn't understand why, but the thought of Vartan participating in this horrible massacre made your heart burn. But he was a half-breed after all, just as Terrian had said. And no half-breed passed up the opportunity to slaughter a few humans.

You heard the redhead speak. "These humans are harboring those who escaped punishment."

Vartan nodded. "I see. And what is their punishment?"

The woman answered. "Execution."

Vartan's eyebrows raised slightly again. "Is that not severe?"

The long haired half-breed who had you pinned down stood up, but kept his grip on your hands, pulled tightly behind your back. This gave you a little more room to move, and you struggled to get a glimpse of Anna. 

Across the room, you could see her on a cot, the redhead literally sitting on top of her. But only her shirt had been removed, her pants and bra still intact.

The long-haired half-breed narrowed his eyes a little at Vartan. "Severe? Is it any more severe than our usual punishments?"

Vartan was quiet for a little while, as if debating on what to say. He looked at Terrian on the floor, then at you. Your eyes met his for a moment, and you could feel your cheeks burning. The situation was mortifying to say the least. Then Vartan suddenly looked back to the long-haired half-breed and said, "I request that you spare the remaining humans."

Your eyes widened. You couldn't believe it. Was he actually helping you? The other half-breeds looked at each other, then at Vartan. Their cold faces hinted vaguely at surprise, then anger.

"Why would you request such a thing?" the redhead asked.

Vartan looked at you again. "They saved me when I was injured. They could have easily let me die. They obviously have no aims of rebellion or going against the Pagoda. They pose no threat to us."

The long-haired man chuckled, the first time you had ever heard a half-breed laugh. "I understand. You have your eye on this woman, don't you?"

Vartan said nothing.

"If you want this human, stop delaying and take her, otherwise someone else will take her first."

Your heart was pounding furiously. Was that it? Was Vartan only helping you because he wanted you for himself?

The half-breed woman sat down on a cot and crossed her legs. You hated to admit it, but she was incredibly beautiful. Her caramel colored hair fell in layers to her shoulders, and her eyes were chocolate brown and hunter green. She looked at Vartan with something resembling a frown. 

"You're shameful, Vartan. Consorting with humans and interfering with their punishment! There is only one reason to interact with these pitiful creatures, and that is for our physical enjoyment. I don't know what you plan to gain by being kind to this human. If you want to enjoy her, do so! But stop embarrassing us with your games!"

You had never heard a half-breed talk for so long, much less with so much anger. You had never heard any form of emotion from them, so this was all very shocking to you. But most bothersome was what the half-breed was saying. Was she telling the truth? Was Vartan just playing some sort of game with you?

Vartan finally responded. "She saved me. I want to help her in return. That's all."

"You can't fool us. We have been watching you since the last incident," the redhead said. "Is this not the second time you have defied us?"

Vartan said nothing, and the long-haired man stepped away from the cot, releasing you. "Alright. We will spare them, but only under the condition that you will accept punishment in their place."

You sat up on the cot, watching Vartan. He looked at you again, then looked to the floor. "I accept."

Before your mind realized what you were doing, your body moved on its own. You rushed toward Vartan, putting yourself between him and the long-haired half-breed. "No, you can't!"

Vartan looked surprised again, but quickly pushed you to the side. "Punishment for us is different from punishment for humans."

"What does that mean?!"

The redhead had left Anna and was standing near Vartan. "He will not be executed," he said flatly.

You looked at Vartan, but he refused to return your gaze. The three other half-breeds gathered around him, then began punching and kicking until he fell to the ground. They closed in even tighter around him, kicking at him with all their might. Finally, he began to grunt in pain.

You had tears in your eyes. You carefully made your way around them and over to Anna, who was sitting up on her own cot, having pulled her shirt back on. Anna was crying too, so you wrapped your arms around her and held her tightly. The two of you sobbed while the half-breeds continued their assault on Vartan, who by now was almost screaming with each kick.

The day wore on, and after another hour had passed, the half-breeds finally stopped and looked at you. "This clinic is officially closed," the redhead told her. "We will be watching, and if it opens again, we will kill everyone inside. We will accept no requests next time, not even from Vartan."

They left out the front door, walking casually as if nothing had happened. When the door slammed shut behind them, you and Anna got up from the cot and walked across the room, beginning your long night of picking up the broken pieces of your last bastion of hope.