#i am very proud of how the actual human turned out

[bookskeepers]

nanami kento, but make him female (because i wanted to practice female anatomy) and make him a volleyball player (because haikyuu brainrot)

+ my first background oopsies

[endataraxia]

frustration and anger.

creepypasta/mh x reader in which they get frustrated or angry, or, in BEN's case, are frustrating themselves. word count: 2.1k cw: abuse, descriptions of anger, arguments/quarrelling.

EJ

EJ doesn’t often get angry.

in fact, it’s hard to even frustrate him. Even when faced with particularly difficult patients to suture up—ahem, Jeff— he shows no sign of being fazed.

well, perhaps that’s because he’s used to living with Jeff and his reckless, barbaric antics.

but when he does get frustrated, it’s like a gradual intensification.

you like to split his frustration into three phases.

phase 1: EJ starts to seem a little off. Quieter than usual, less responsive, and more distant. Almost as if he’s in his own world, deceptively peaceful.

phase 2: EJ starts to show actual signs of being frustrated. You notice that it is at this point he may start to snap lightly at others, but with you, he tries his best to keep it to a minimum.

phase 3 is the climax before the drop. On occasion, he may raise his voice slightly and openly express irritation. But he always drops, hard and fast.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispers, rubbing circles gently on your back. Though he has to bend over quite a bit (he’s a gentle giant at a height of 6’6 or about 2 meters), you find it to be very soothing that his frame envelops the entirety of yours.

oh, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of getting angry.

no, the anger you heard in his voice was undeniable as he roared at another member of the household to stay the fuck away from you.

you’d startled at the sheer sound of it, and quickly those trembles descended into violent shaking as you cried—his roar was simply not…human.

you flinched as he picked you up, just as gently as was the anger intense in that dreaded noise he made, a stark contrast in behavior, a jarring change in your body, mind and soul.

but other than that, you knew your darling EJ was back.

he plopped you onto his bed, surrounded by his sweet yet musky scent, nuzzling your neck and your face.

“I’m sorry”s were whispered countless times in your ear that night as you dozed off in the safety of his arms.

jeff

gotta put a trigger warning on this one. you know what to expect, but just in case you don’t, TW: Jeff is literally a murderer with abusive tendencies and anger issues.

at the start of your relationship, Jeff had been…well, to say the least, not the best partner.

he often got mad at you, whether it be keeping him waiting or spilling a cup of water.

yeah. spilling a cup of water.

but you understood why he was the way he was. he just couldn’t help it. but that didn’t mean you were going to stick around for it, no matter how much you loved him.

one day after a particularly huge argument, you found him crying in his room. his sniffles were unmistakable, but you knew you’d have to pretend you hadn’t heard from ten feet away.

turns out, angsty little Jeff here wasn’t completely unaware of himself.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he had sobbed as quietly as he could. “I know I’m a bad boyfriend, I know, I keep lashing out at you and I’m so sorry.”

your relationship could have very well ended that day if you hadn’t found Jeff crying on the floor.

but even though he’d hurt you so many times, you took him back into your arms.

and so you taught him to manage his anger, though it took you immense effort, energy and bravery.

he’d always help, though, by reminding you it was okay to yell back at him. you chided him lightly for it, saying that it’d just cause a back and forth.

“oh, right. my bad. sorry, doll,” he had said with a sheepish grin.

today, you are proud to boast that you trained your bloodhound boyfriend to be a tame dog. hell, he even does whatever you tell him to now, albeit sometimes reluctantly.

but he understands that if he loves you, he must make sacrifices upon sacrifices. you did that for him.

now it is his turn to sacrifice himself for you.

masky - tim

it’s not really uncommon that Tim gets angry.

but his anger is almost always the quiet kind.

he will “hmph” and huff lightly, a mild kind of anger you both can still joke about, though his face will redden at it.

you can’t help it though, the sass he gives you when he’s lightly frustrated is too good to let slip past.

oh, but when his anger gets loud—

it’s no longer a harmless little nip.

it’s been directed everywhere. everywhere, his teammates, the table, the card game he’s losing a bit too embarrassingly to Toby who’s being an unbearable little ass about it.

but never you.

okay, it was one time.

but Tim decided it was one time too many. (as he should)

he’d raised his voice at you, more so out of frustration rather than anger.

and you flinched.

and oh, how that little flinch broke his heart.

he shut up immediately, gathering you into his arms, whispering “oh, I’m so sorry, darling”, and “you’re okay, you’re okay”.

he never did it again. ever.

now, when you both get angry at each other, it always devolves into stupid little giggles and kicking.

hoodie - brian

Brian doesn’t really get angry, nor does he get frustrated.

normally, at least.

something shines in his eyes when he is defied, a shadow of a grin, a curl of the lip—

you spend a couple days investigating this, defying him little by little.

“Y/N, could you pass me the water?” “No.” and you’d say it with a cheeky smile on your face to match this strange expression on his.

it evolved into much greater things, “Y/N, come over here for a bit.” “Nope!”

“Y/N, help me up.” “Nope!”

your gleeful defiance doesn’t have a complete zero effect, either. with each silly little “nope”, the glint in his eyes grows brighter. and you know that the cup you’ve slowly been filling the past few days is about to overflow.

it’s one fateful day that you happily defy him once again, and—

oh. something’s grabbing at your jaw, and your lover’s face is so close to yours.

he smiles so gently at you, so purely. but his grip on your jaw says otherwise.

firm like iron, reprimanding, but not harmful or venomous. you know he isn’t going to hurt you, but oh, he isn’t letting you go either.

“Y/N,” he says calmly. “You’ve been a little more uncooperative than usual.”

the shiver it sends down your spine isn’t one of fear. excitement, rather.

he lets you go, but guides you to the bed. “Sit,” he commands.

so you do. what else are you to do when your lover commands you so well?

“Good girl.”

so you never say no to him again, not when it comes to harmless favors.

Brian does not get angry or frustrated…at least, not like the normal person does.

toby

Toby becomes a very bitter cynic when upset, spitting sarcasm wherever he goes.

his BPD only makes it worse. his relationship with Tim is already strained as it is, with the latter trying his best (as much as a man with anger issues can), and his relationship with Brian being almost entirely carried by the older man.

and his relationship with you, oh his sweet vogel, his darling dove— he doesn’t know what to think of it. some days he lets loose around you, tickling you and blowing raspberries against your cheeks, and others he’s withdrawn, curled up into a ball in his bed, and so you dive in with him, nuzzling him against his sheets long overdue for a change.

but if it’s neither of those, he’s lashing out. sometimes you can’t even look at him when he walks into the room bringing dark clouds over the atmosphere. that’s when you know you can’t look up at him.

and when you make the mistake of looking up, your smile meets a scowl.

“what are you looking at.” he’ll spit, and then storm off, as if he can’t stand your eyes on him.

and it’s true, your eyes gaze at him with such gentleness, he can’t bring himself to stare back sometimes. especially when he’s in a bad mood, because he breaks inside as he sees his own eyes burn the love in your eyes, reducing them to ashes of fear.

“vogel,” he’d whisper at night, lying next to you in your bed. “i’m sorry.”

he apologizes so much and so often you no longer make a big deal out of it, but this time, his soft whisper is laced with such heavy guilt, your arms move before your mind thinks, pulling him into a soft embrace.

oh, but this bad mood is nothing compared to his jealousy.

Jeff gets close to you? Jeff is suddenly on the ground, blood leaking from his head and EJ hurriedly dragging the former away, admonishing him about not messing with Toby’s precious human.

Tim comforts you about Toby’s outbursts? suddenly he’s against the wall, Toby growling and spitting in his face. if he can’t be there for you, then no one else gets to be there for you either. though, he knows this is selfish.

if he could help it, he’d let you go to whomever you wanted for comfort. but oh, his heart aches so.

and his jealousy is nothing compared to how angry he gets at himself, bashing the walls of the manor, crying out at night, because he can’t be there for you like a normal boyfriend.

he doesn’t know this, but you’re in a corner too, muffled sobs, tears, nose dripping and all.

so at night, you crawl back into bed before he notices you, and lie awake till he comes back.

as his breathing settles and his snoring begins, you hug him just a little bit tighter, your sweet vogel with broken wings.

ben

you have to admit, BEN is really, really freaky.

in the way he plays his games, the way he treats his archnemesis Jeff, in bed—oops.

but particularly, in the way he seems to have an endless tolerance for things that would usually upset someone.

he just. fucking giggles.

“aww, my sweet Y/N is so cute when she’s mad~”

context: he pissed you off and you’re currently in the middle of admonishing him with your whole heart and soul.

conversely, you’re the one who gets mad right back at him.

within the hour, he presents you with a tiktok with two cats that says: me when i’m venting and all my bf does is make jokes

he cackles to the ends of the earth and proceeds to make even more jokes

frankly, when the topic of frustration comes up with BEN’s name in the same sentence, you pretty much just think of him being the frustrating asshole in the relationship.

“BEN, give me my fucking phone back.”

he’s dangling it over your head, using the fact that he’s a floating apparition that can somehow interact with physical objects to his advantage.

once, you got so frustrated at him that you cried.

thankfully, he had the decency to pause, panic, and reflect on his actions.

“oh.” five seconds passed and your crying didn’t get better (what did he expect?). he repeated himself. “oh.”

“actually say something, you idiot!” you sobbed. and this is what snapped BEN into action. (you can’t believe you actually had to tell him to comfort you.)

“oh.” then he realized he’d just been saying “oh” like a broken record. “um.”

so he wraps you up in a blanket like a burrito, and holds you close to his chest.

“i’m sorry.”

“promise not to do it again?” you look up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“…i can’t promise.” you can tell he’s holding back a cheeky grin.

you whine and hit him lightly.

but you know very well that he loves you; this frustration merely comes with him as a package.

[athenamikaelson]

Written in the Stars

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 1

Word Count- 4.3k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, death, panic attacks, mentions of the confederacy (ew)

A/N- This will be a slow-burn series.

The reader has a brother, I know it’s not very X Reader, but it’s to help the storyline.

I brush down the black tie my younger brother is wearing, the satin fabric making me slightly cringe. 

“Are you sure you’re not going to go? We can go show those stuffy old bitches how to really party.” I let out a small huff at Theo’s question, shaking my head amusingly. 

“I’d rather not spend my Friday night with a bunch of Mystic Falls’ elite. Hearing them talk about how they’re so proud of their southern heritage,” Both my brother and I let out sounds of disgust, “the Confederates lost get over it.”

Theo stands in front of the hallway mirror and goggles himself. Where I am rather introverted, my younger brother is most likely the most self-confident person I have ever met. He has called himself, “A gift to the human race,” on more than one occasion. So it takes him about a good 9 minutes to gaze at himself in the mirror before we walk out the front door to the car. 

We drive in silence, or I drive in silence as Theo hypes himself up in the passenger side mirror. 

After a 10-minute drive that seems to have taken at least twice that time, we finally reach the long driveway of the mayor’s house. 

“Why are you even going to this masquerade thing anyways, you hate dances,” I ask him as we wait behind a line of cars.

“Tyler is my football captain, and this thing is to honor his father, I’m here for my fellow man,” Theo presses a fist to his chest and puts on a fake sympathy look.

“So you’re actually doing it because you want to get on Tyler’s good side so he puts you on Varsity?”

Theo’s sympathetic look drops and is replaced with a shit-eating grin, “You know me so well.”

As we get to the front of the line of cars, I hum along to the Coldplay song playing on the radio.

“So what are you going to do while waiting for me?”

I pull my car up to the front of the “house” which is really just a mansion. 

“I have a feeling you won’t be here very long, or stay out of trouble so I’m just going to park somewhere and wait for you.”

My brother does a look that looks like he agrees with me about him getting into trouble and nods his head in agreement. I put the car in park and Theo unbuckles his seat and gets out, straightening out his suit as he goes.

“Bye nerd, don’t wait up!” Theo yells as he climbs the stairs walking past Mystic Falls’ elite. I let out a sigh and pull away to find a parking spot. 

—

My fingers graze the pages of my book as I glance at the time, Theo has been here for over an hour now and hasn’t shown any signs of leaving. I bring my back up to continue reading when a figure in the distance catches my eye. I lean forward and catch a glimpse of who I believe is Elena Gilbert. Elena’s a popular girl in my grade, who I’ve probably had two interactions within my short time here in Mystic Falls. I don’t know much about her other than that she’s dating some guy named Stefan, her parents died in a car accident and her brother is in the same grade as Theo. Theo and Elena’s brother don’t hang out either because Theo says he’s a “stoner emo.” Theo’s never been one to keep his thoughts to himself. 

Elena seems to walk with a slight limp which makes me slightly concerned but nothing to make me go out and try to talk to her. I hate talking to people in general, especially kids my age. Elena has always seemed nice but I’m not taking the risk.

 Or at least I wasn’t until I saw a man in a mask start following behind her. I may hate interacting with people but I would never let another girl get attacked if I had the power to stop it. The next thing I know I’m hopping out of my car and jogging behind them. 

“Elena behind you!” I yell to her, but I freeze as the man hits her and knocks her to the ground. I let out a yelp as I turned to try to get help but a sharp pain hits my skull and everything goes black. 

—-

“Y/N, can you hear me?” A voice comes from above me and a wave of nausea washes over me. My eyes open and close a dozen times trying to get used to the bright light before I can focus on the person in front of me. Elena Gilbert. Why is Elena Gilbert in my bedroom?  I mean she’s really pretty and all I just thought she had a boyfriend. I’m not a homewrecker. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake!” Elena whisper-yells to me as she brushes a piece of my hair behind my head and grimaces when she looks at my forehead. She brings her hand back and a wave of fear and disgust washes over me as I see her hand covered in a red liquid. Blood. My blood. I try to bring my hand up but Elena stops me.

“Don’t exert yourself we don’t want it to bleed more, okay?” She gives me a small smile but something about it makes me feel uneasy. I don’t understand why until I turn my gaze away from her and look at our surroundings. Dirt-covered walls, glass-covered floors, and a mildew stench are what take focus. I’ve always been sensitive to smells but with the addition of my raging migraine, I am fighting the urge to keep down the rising bile in my throat. 

My breathing starts to quicken and I can feel the start of a panic attack starting to make an appearance. 

“Elena, where are we?” I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t understand what I was saying since my words seemed to be jumbling together. 

Elena glances around us and gives me a solemn look.

“I don’t know, I woke up here a little while ago before I was knocked back out by the people that took us. I’m truly sorry about this Y/N, I would never wish for you to be a part of this.”

I furrow my eyebrows at her last comment as if she were responsible for the reason we were taken.

“It’s not your fault,” I shake my head and start tapping my fingers together one by one. It’s a thing I do whenever my anxiety gets too strong, almost as a way to ground me. 

Elena’s eyebrows mirror mine and she goes to say something but a young man with shaggy hair walks in.

“Oh goody, the other ones awake. How are you doing sleeping beauty?” 

The man starts to walk over to me with a look in his eyes that makes the bile in my throat inch even closer to the surface. But within another second Elena stands from beside me on what I can see now is a couch and blocks me from the man’s view.

“I’m the one you want, Y/N is innocent, just let her go.” 

I want to back Elena up and defend her too but with the migraine and the onslaught of emotions I’m feeling right now being verbal isn’t something I see happening in my current future. 

“You’re right Dopalicious, she’s not, but I can’t just let her go, what if she were to go and warn those friends of yours? Can’t let that happen now can we?” 

Elena goes to stand her ground but within a blink of an eye, Elena is shoved backward and lands on the other side of the couch. I jump backward at the action which gives the man the opportunity to come in front of me. I start trembling as I look up to him I try to push farther back into the couch but I’m squished into it as far as I can go. 

“Stay away from me,” Finally able to find somewhat of my voice again. This doesn’t seem to scare away the man, and honestly, I don’t blame him. My voice sounded like it came from a scared 5-year-old. 

“Just a taste, I’m starving.” My mouth opens to question what he says but a millisecond later I feel myself being grabbed and a sharp piercing attacks the left side of my neck. I’m hyperventilating and screaming at the same time somehow as I hear Elena’s yells from beside us. 

“Don’t touch her!” Elena’s yell comes from beside us and I’m thrown away back onto the couch. I’m disorientated as I look up to see the man before me rubbing his cheek and Elena standing next to him holding her right hand. She’d punched him. My vision strays from Elena’s red knuckles back up to the man, who has something dripping from his mouth. My chest feels like it locks up as I stare at the liquid dripping, everything seems to be going in slow motion for me as I watch the drops start at the man's chapped lips to the drops of blood falling onto the cracked hardwood floors. Wait, blood. He has blood dripping from his mouth. Had Elena punched him that hard? I start to believe that possibility until I feel a wetness drip between my chest. 

My already shaking hand comes up to my chest as I swipe a finger along the liquid. My vision blurs as the red liquid drips from my fingertip down into the palm of my hand. I can’t register Elena’s voice as she kneels in front of me and presses something to my neck. The blood coating my hand is all I can see and smell. 

“Y/N….Y/N! Just focus on my voice ok, breathe. I think you’re having a panic attack.” A cool hand is pressed onto the side of my face and I close my eyes at the embrace. 

“Ok that’s good, I’m going to stand you up to get a better look at your neck ok?” 

I feel like I’m running on auto-pilot or something else is controlling my body and mind as I stand up and grip Elena’s upper arms to keep myself steady. Elena returns the pink fabric from my neck and leans down to glance at the wound.

“Ok, it’s not as bad as I had originally thought. Just keep this here and it’ll help control the bleeding.” 

I must still be in shock because Elena has to bring the shirt to my hand, wrap my fingers around it, and finally press my hand into my neck. The shock of pain washes through me and brings me back to reality. My vision can’t seem to focus on one thing for too long as my eyes keep darting from the blood on the floor, my blood, to the look on Elena’s face, to the man standing behind us with a scowl on his ugly face. Blood, Elena, man. Blood, Elena, man. Blood, Elena, man. This sequence continues until another person enters the room, a woman.

“He’s here.” The woman with a pixie cut says, her voice seemingly scared.

The man next to us shifts his scowl into a look of pure fear.

“This was a mistake,” He rushes over to the woman and shakes his head. 

“No, I told you I would get us out of this. You have to trust me,” She tries to talk him down which only seems to freak him out more.

“No! He wants me dead Rose,”

The woman points at Elena, “He wants her more.” I glance to Elena who is standing in front of me slightly as if to hide me from the two strangers or cannibals. Since I’ve calmed down momentarily and I’ve begun to stop the tears that had unbeknownst to me had fallen on my cheeks, I’ve realized that I’ve been kidnapped by cannibals, that being the only reasonable explanation I can come up with.

The two cannibals start arguing about some man but I turn to Elena who looks almost as scared as I feel. 

“What’s going on Elena, who’s coming?” I whisper to her.

Elena turns her head slightly to me and gives me a frown and a shake of her head. 

“A man named Elijah, but don’t worry ok,” Elena grabs my free hand and holds it in her own, “I’m not going to let them hurt you anymore ok?”

I nod trying to find comfort in her words but the girl in front of me is 17 years old and maybe 120 pounds I don’t see how she’s going to protect us both from two cannibals and whatever mega cannibal these two are terrified of. I don’t know if the other guy is a cannibal but using context clues I’m guessing he is. 

“What are we?” The woman’s voice brings my attention back to them as I see her grab his arms. This seems to calm the man down. 

“We’re family. Forever.” 

I might’ve found this endearing if it weren’t for the fact the man had my blood drying on his upper lip and they were literal cannibals. 

A loud knock startles all four of us as Elena and I both shoot each other wary glances. Our hands are still intertwined. I don’t usually like being touched but given the circumstances I can let this slide. 

The woman looks over at Elena and me as Elena slightly turns her head, “You’re scared.” Elena comments. The woman says something else to her friend and then runs up the stairs 

—

What seems like forever of waiting and pacing around is broken up by footsteps coming from the top of the banister. I can feel Elena freeze up from beside me as we both look up to see a man in a suit staring down at her. The man has dark hair and eyes and a chiseled face. Why is this cannibal not ugly? Wrong Turn had it all wrong. We all stand there watching Elena and the suited cannibal stare at each other. I can feel Elena’s shaking hand in my own and try to comfort her by squeezing her hand to let her know I’m right beside her. That is until the man transports himself from the top of the banister to in front of Elena in the blink of an eye. The movement has me losing my balance and falling back onto the couch. 

No one seems to notice me as my panic attack starts to build up as I try to understand how this is possible. How could he have been that fast, it’s impossible. Oh god, I'm going to throw up. 

“And who is this?” A deep voice comes from above me and my stomach flips at the sound. Defiantly going to throw up. 

“She’s no one. She has nothing to do with this, just please leave her alone.” 

Hearing Elena’s voice makes me raise my head and I regret it instantly because I lock eyes with the suited monster who is now standing above me staring down at me. The man’s face instantly goes slack as his eyes meet mine, a look of recognition seems to pass through his dark eyes as they move fast across my face. The man opens and closes his mouth many times as if he can’t quite find the right words to say. The slack expression from before softens into something that makes my stomach flip again. This guy is so going to kill me when I throw up on his expensive ass shoes. His soft, dark pink lips curve up at the corners slightly.

“You’re real.” 

These are the first words to come out of the man’s mouth. Everyone else in the room seems to know just as much as me with what he’s talking about because they all have looks of confusion on their faces. Feels somewhat comforting to be on the same page as everyone else for once. 

The man doesn’t once take his eyes off of me this entire time though, “What is your name, Elskan?” 

I freeze under his stare and try to avert my eyes, this gives Elena the ability to step in for me. 

“Her name is Y/N,” I look to the man as he mouths my name slightly to himself as if he wants to know how it sounds on his tongue, “Please don’t hurt her Elijah, she doesn’t even know about the supernatural, I’ll go with you willingly.” 

Elena’s words make me freeze up. What does she mean by supernatural? I flinch as the man, Elijah, brings his hand up. This stops him for a moment. 

“I would never harm you. You have my word on that.” I can only sit there frozen as he cups my face with his hand and uses his thumb to brush a stray tear away that must’ve fallen during one of my many panic attacks. He seems delighted at the moment until the soft expression he has on his face darkens into something that makes that bile rise even farther up. His eyes dart from the top of my head and drag themselves down to my chest and neck. I try to move away but his hand has a soft but firm hold on my face. 

“Who did this to you?” 

My eyebrows furrow at his question, and I must’ve not answered quickly enough because he turns to glare at Elena. Which makes her flinch.

“The head injury is from the kidnapping and then the bite is from um,” she glances towards my neck and then to Trevor who looks like he’s about to internally combust. She goes silent again at Elijah’s stare and he turns his attention back towards me. The glare was long gone and replaced once again with a softer look.

“I see. Here,” I have to swallow back down the bile as I watch the man rip into his wrist and put it in front of my face expectantly. I sit there in horror and quickly look to Elena who doesn’t look as surprised as she defiantly should given that this man just BIT HIMSELF. 

“It’s true Y/N, it’ll heal you.” 

I open my mouth to say something which must’ve somehow been an ok to the man as he presses his wrist to my open mouth. I’m about to push him off, or at least try, but stop at the heavenly liquid that spills into my mouth. Elijah brings his other hand up to brush back my fallen hair.

  “Good girl, Elskan.” 

Elijah removes his wrist and I sit there silently staring at my lap as I realize what I had just done. I just drank fucking blood, and I liked it?!??! Oh god, does this make me a cannibal now?

Elijah seems to be fighting an inner battle as he moves his eyes away from mine and onto the man behind us. Elena and I watch before us as Elijah approaches the scared man/cannibal thing. Thing because I’m not sure what the actual hell is going on here. 

“I’ve waited so long for this day, Elijah. Truly very sorry.” 

Trevor says with a bowed head as Elijah circles him. Almost how a predator would circle its prey. 

“Well, no, your apology is not necessary,” Elijah responds but something in his tone doesn’t sit right with me.

“Yes, yes it is. You trusted me with Katerina. And I failed you.”

“Well, yes, you are the guilty one,” Elijah glances at him and then up to the woman, “And Rose aided you because she was loyal to you. That I honor…”

Elijah comes to stand in front of the man, “Where was your loyalty?”

“I beg your forgiveness.”

The oxygen in the room seems to be dwindling as everyone watches the interaction.

“So granted.” 

The deep breath I was to let out is replaced by a scream and I can only watch in horror as Elijah throws his hand over to the man who decapitates him. A heart-wrenching wail comes from Rose and I can’t seem to take my eyes away from the body-less head that is lying in front of me. 

“I’m going to-” Vomit spits from my mouth and onto the floor in front of me, the burning from the back of my throat causes tears to build up and block my vision. I feel someone lift my hand and hold it away from my face. For a second I thought it was Elena before Elijah’s voice came from beside me.

“I’m truly sorry, Elskan. I shouldn’t have done that in front of you.” 

I lift my head to stare at him and find him kneeling right next to me. He reaches into his front pocket grabs a fancy napkin and wipes my mouth with it. Not seeming disgusted just saddened. He wraps his hand in my mind and stands me up. 

“We can leave now, we have quite the journey ahead of us,” Elijah leads me over to where Elena is standing and motions for her to follow.

“No! What about the moonstone?” She questions him.

He stands in front of her with a small scowl, “What do you know about the moonstone?”

“I know that you need it. And I know where it is. I can help you get it”

Elijah nods his head, “Tell me where it is.” 

“It doesn’t work that way.”

Elijah’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance as he glances back at Rose, “Are you negotiating with me?”

Rose just shakes her head and tells him she doesn’t know anything. Elijah then turns back around to stare at Elena for a moment before scowling and reaching up to her necklace, ripping it off. 

“What is this vervain doing around your neck,” He throws the necklace behind him and grabs Elena by the neck, dropping my hand in the process. I go to try to get her away but Elijah shoots me a warning look that has me freezing in place, “Tell me where the moonstone is.”

In a monotone voice, Elena replies, “In the tomb underneath the church ruins.”

“What is it doing there?”

“It’s with Kathrine.”

The rest of their interaction is cut short when a glass shatters from somewhere upstairs. Elijah comes over to me and grabs me by my waist bringing me into him almost protectively. 

“What was that?” He asks Rose.

“I don’t know.”

“Who else is in this house?’’ To which he gets the same response. 

Elijah grabs Elena quite harshly with his free hand and guides both of us to the top of the banister. His hand never moved from the top of my hip. Once we make it to the entryway something rushes by us, Elijah pushes Elena off into Rose’s arms but never drops his hold on me. 

“Up here.”

“Down Here.”

A voice call from the top and bottom of the stairs caught all of our attention. Elijah lifts his hand from my hip and motions for me to go over to Rose.

“Don’t let her out of your sight.” He warns her as he moves to the staircase. 

A moment goes by before something flies through the air and pierces itself through Elijah’s hand. I let out a yelp but Elijah doesn’t even seem fazed. 

My vision is blurred for a moment as I now standing next to Rose with an unfamiliar dark-haired man in front of us. He motions with his finger to be quiet. Ya as if I was going to say anything anyway. 

“Excuse me,” Elijah’s voice comes from below, “To whom it may concern. You’re making a grave mistake if you think that you can beat me. And you can’t. You hear that? I repeat, you cannot beat me. So I want the girls on the count of three, or heads will roll.” 

The man who has his hands on Rose’s and I’s mouths moves his head to glance at Elijah downstairs. 

“Do we understand each other?” 

“I’ll come with you,” I perk up at Elena’s voice. Wondering what the actual hell she was doing. But the blue-eyed man in front of me shakes his head at me telling me not to move. 

“Just please don’t hurt my friends. They just wanted to help me out.”

“What game are you playing with me? Where is Y/N? I won’t be leaving without her.” Elijah’s skeptical voice questions her. There’s a sound a medal, and then a loud boom,  before Elijah lets out a yell. The sound for some reason makes my chest feel like it wants to cave in on itself. Rustling and fighting sounds come from below us before the man holding Rose and I leave. Rose runs after him, but I can’t seem to get my feet to work so I just sit there on the dusty floor staring at the wall peeling wallpaper in front of me. 

A few moments pass before I hear Elena’s voice along with two unfamiliar men, one who I’m assuming is the blue-eyed guy from before. 

“Where is Y/N,” Elena asks.

“Are you talking about that girl that smells like vomit?” A snarky voice questions her. If I hadn’t just gotten kidnapped and had one of the worst days of my life, I might take offense but I did just get kidnapped and honestly, I do smell like vomit so he’s not wrong. 

“I think she’s over there.” 

Footsteps get closer to me as I look up with tears in my eyes at Elena. She gives me a small smile before kneeling and wrapping her arms around me in a hug. 

“What is happening Elena?” 

“I’ll explain everything if you want me to ok? Let’s just get out of here first ok?”

Elena stands up and reaches down her hand for me to take, and with a deep breath, I do.

[vivwritesfics]

Interviewers Are Assholes

The world didn't know about their relationship. But, once they find out, they refuse to leave her alone

(AKA I saw a martin brundle grid walk compilation and he asked someone 'who are you?' and i ran with it)

Loscar x reader

F1 Masterlist

"Are we doing Thanksgiving this year?"

This was not the conversation Logan and Oscar expected to hear from their girlfriend as the three of them stood on the grid. It was normally F1 staff, drivers, engineers, mechanics and such, along with celebrities on the grid before a race. But, dating two drivers on different teams meant not being about to sit in both of their garage at once (she was only human, after all).

So, they stood on the grid together before the race, chatting before the national anthem was played.

"It's kinda early to be talking about Thanksgiving, babe," Logan muttered, shaking his head.

She held her hands up, somewhat defensively. "Just trying to be prepared."

They'd been together for four years at this point. For the first two years of their relationship they hadn't had to worried about traditional celebrations from their countries of origin. But when they all moved in together, she insisted on it.

The first year they'd lived together, they'd gone to Florida for Christmas, spent it with Logan's family.

The next year they'd done Thanksgiving before heading to Australia for a traditional Australian Christmas, filled with seafood and everything.

This year, though, they had no idea what they were doing. Of course she was already stressing about it. It didn't surprise Logan and Oscar in the slightest.

Suddenly Logan and Oscar were looking past her. "What?" She asked, readying herself to turn around. But then Logan and Oscar were retreating. "Guys!" She called, readying to follow them.

There was a hand on her shoulder. She turned around, coming face to face with Martin Brundle on his grid walk. "Hello, who are you?" Martin Brundle asked.

It made sense. She clearly wasn't working for any F1 team, and she was surrounded by celebrities. The fact that she was talking to two of the drivers probably made him all the more curious.

"I am..." But she didn't have an answer for him. Who was she? It had been four years already, why were they hiding it. "I am a... wag," she answered, and immediately regretting it.

What she didn't know was that Logan and Oscar didn't get very far. They stood behind her, just out of view of Martin Brundle's camera, giggling as they listened to her struggle.

"Who's wag are you?" Martin Brundle asked, but he already knew. He'd seen them retreating as he walked over.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Good question, Martin," she said. "Who's wag am I?" Did she choose one of the boys? If so, which one? Or did she just come out to the world, tell everyone that she loved Logan Sargeant and Oscar Piastri?

She went with the latter, unaware of how much it would come to affect her. "Sargeant and Piastri," she said, scratching the back of her neck.

This might have been the strangest grid walk Martin Brundle had ever done. She didn't sound entirely happy to be dating the McLaren Driver and the Williams Driver. Don't get me wrong, she was happy to be dating them, but she was ready to kill them. Assholes.

"What kind of result are you expecting from them today?" She asked.

"Well, Martin, I'm always hoping they do well. Every Grand Prix they try their absolute hardest and every week I'm proud of them," she said, the perfect answer.

Lets just say, after the grid walk, the internet kind of blew up. Loscar was a somewhat forgotten ship, replaced by Landoscar. But it had returned and it was real. It was actually real!

As with everything in F1, some fans loved it, some fans didn't. But, most of all, everybody was so curious. Nobody knew this four year long relationship was a thing until a couple of weeks ago. Everybody, especially F1 reporters wanted to know everything.

Media days were completely filled with questions about their relationship. Logan and Oscar rarely got asked about anything else. They didn't mind. They were more than happy to talk about it.

But interviewers took it too far when they pulled her into things. She wasn't media trained in the way they were. She didn't have a PR team that prepared her with every answer for every question. That was how the grid walk had gone so wrong (or so right, if you asked the Loscar boys).

Oscar had gotten through to Q3, Logan hadn't. As always, she was there to comfort him, to hold him close after media duties. Media duties, which were taking ages.

But then the interviewer spotted her standing behind him. "It was recently reviewed to the world that you and Oscar share a girlfriend. How did that come about?"

The camera focused in on her behind him, as she furrowed her brow. It picked up no sound, but watched as her lips moved, forming 'what the fuck?' It was lost on her, and everyone, what this had to do with racing.

"Uhm, well, we've all known each other for our entire lives, it just made sense that we all dated," he said, clearly uncomfortable.

As soon as the interview was over, Logan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and walked her away. "Sorry baby," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Why is it such a big deal to everyone?" She mumbled, shaking her head.

Most Wags weren't pulled in for interviews. The invasive questions had been a step to far already to the Loscar throuple.

This time, after checking on Oscar in the McLaren garage, kissing him before he went off to to his drivers room. She headed out, meeting the both of them at the car. She never expected to be accosted by an interviewer.

She didn't know his name, she didn't care. He grabbed her arm, pulled her on camera, and shoved a microphone in her face. "So, Y/N, what is it like to be dating to F1 drivers?"

There was a moment before she answered. Her brows were furrowed as she looked between the interviewer and the camera. "Why... why are you interviewing me?"

"The three of you have stunned the world with the announcement of your relationship. When did the three of you meet?"

"Uhm, I-Well... uhm... We've known each other for... sorry, why the hell am I being interviewed? This isn't... I don't want to be interviewed. Please leave me alone."

The interviewer bashfully turned to the camera, trying to recover. As soon as he looked away, she retreated, heading back towards one of her boys drivers room.

Oscar wasn't in his drivers room. He walked towards her, grabbing a hold of her before she had a chance to notice him. "Hey, baby," he said, pulling her close. "Is Logan not ready yet?"

Before answering, she turned back towards the exit, where the interviewer was still waiting. "Let's go get him," she said, pulling Oscar towards the Williams garage.

But Logan, too, was walking towards them. "Logan!" She called, throwing her arms around him. Oscar hung back. When she let go of him, they headed to the exit together. "There's a fucking annoying interviewer up there, and I want to kick his ass," she said, linking her arms through theirs.

"Kick his ass, baby."

They walked to the exit together. Once again, as they walked past the interviewer, he tried to grab their attention. Logan and Oscar were prepared to pull her past, to ignore him, but she stopped. She turned to the interviewer and grabbed his microphone.

"Just a PSA literally everybody," she began. The interviewer and the boys watched on with curiosity. "Our relationship is none of our business. Fuck off."

[lilybug-02]

[Heart Shaped Object]

Thoughts and Drawing progression below 🫀

[this is one without a glow effect on the heart. I like both equally.]

Holy cow, am I glad to finish this! I’m really proud with how it turned out :))) I had a strong feeling for what I wanted out of this with the realistic human heart, blood, and perspective.

I tried going realistic for 30 minutes but 🤡umm I’m not very good at realistic. Kris almost looked like a middle aged punk rocker which is NOT what I wanted.

I always feel like my sketches come out better than my final, but so is life. Can’t be perfect. Also this image is so cursed it almost got corrupted and I almost lost all of my progress 😳🫀🥺🤡

(and then Tumblr basically blocked this image from most of my followers because one of the images and video weren't compatible? Very annoying..)

Anyways I haven’t seen a full render of Kris holding an actual human heart. There’s a ton of versions of them just holding a bloody cartoonish heart, but I WANT MORE. Thought I may change the status quo ❤️ This was also my first time trying to do blood, so it was a fun learning curve. I was planning for a Halloween release, but I got busy. Hope you enjoy!

Here's the link to the speedpaint!

[livingfandomly]

I keep seeing people online hate on Agatha and, let’s be honest, hating on marvel has become the trend. For a universe that has existed on screen for almost 3 decades now, its output of good quality content is actually commendable. Are some projects completely shit because they’re trying to focus on faux feminism and inclusivity? 100% yes. But it’s like nobody wants to give anything under the “superhero” tag a chance anymore. I understand that audiences need breaks from certain content to want it again but, I will say, this targeted hatred to marvel is very much a consequence of the fact that if something gets too good then it has to turn sour. As a long-time comic book fan I agree that there have been nearly unwatchable projects like She-Hulk and the animated series was unnecessary. But Loki? Amazing show. Moon Knight? Baller. WandaVision? So innovative and unique. Falcon & Winter Soldier? Cute little bromance fuelled action dramedy. And you know what, I’ll come out and say it, Ms. Marvel and The Marvels were only hated on so aggressively because they’re all female led. Were they a little shit? Yes. Did they deserve that much hate???? Fuck no.

But let’s get back to Agatha. It’s a show that has a genuine plot line, the cast is amazing, it’s full of intrigue, the visuals are stunning, they’re not meandering about. They have a well thought out story unfolding. The best part? They’re not being faux about their feminism, or at least it doesn’t feel like that at all. They’ve managed to create a show full of women, all of whom are extremely intriguing characters, it’s so very sapphic and it’s proud about all of that. I fucking love this show. It’s dealing with generational trauma, with how much your upbringing and parents matter and it’s doing all of this while adding to the mcu. Am I confused about Billy? Fuck yes. But you know what, I don’t care about that right now because I’m getting to watch a show I enjoy. It’s really not that hard for people who don’t like it to simply state exactly that and then shut up.

I will never understand the human desire to shit on something that someone else genuinely enjoys…

[cuubism]

thinking about that meta about the endless not really transforming into different forms but rather being all forms simultaneously and just being perceived differently from different points of view. and yeah

--

"So, Death was telling me something interesting about you yesterday," Hob says, sipping on his coffee.

Dream pouts, though he would probably deny that that's what it is. "You are gossiping with my sister behind my back?"

"You know we talk."

"Gossip," Dream mutters again, steps taking on a pace adjacent to an irritable trudge. "What unseemly things does she say about me?"

"Why do you think she says mean things about you?"

"Every time we speak, she calls me an idiot," Dream says, and Hob lets out a startled laugh.

"That's what siblings do," Hob reminds him. "You know she loves you."

"Hmm." Dream plucks Hob's coffee from his hand, taking a ponderous sip. "What praises does she heap upon me, then?"

Hob shakes his head in fond exasperation. "She says that you -- Endless, that is -- can like... change your appearance for different people? Or creatures? Like. If you met a cat you would appear as a cat to them?"

"You do not quite have the right of it," Dream says. He hasn't returned Hob's coffee, despite having insisted that he 'did not require mortal sustenance' when Hob had offered to get him his own.

"What's the right of it, then?"

"It is not for human minds to comprehend."

Hob groans. "At least humor me and try to explain? Do you turn into a cat or not?"

"I do not turn into anything," Dream says, offended. "How base and common."

"Shapeshifting is base and common, I'll make sure to tell all the shapeshifters I know," Hob tells him seriously.

Dream lets out a sigh that Hob recognizes as meaning fine, I will answer your inane questioning about the nature of my existence. The funny thing is, now that they've gotten over the six hundred year barrier of what's your name and what do you do for work, Dream delights in talking about his creations. He will speak at length about his work given half a chance.

It's the personal -- whether that's something as mundane as how he takes his tea or as fundamental as what an Endless even is, exactly -- that's been hard to get at.

"I am a cat," Dream explains.

Hob stares at him, looking up and down at the very man-shaped figure walking beside him as if he needs to double-check. "You're definitely not a cat."

"Yes, I am," Dream says. He does not appear to be joking.

And apparently Hob is still thirteen years old all these centuries later, because he says, "Prove it."

"You cannot see it because you are not a cat," Dream sighs, as if this is truly a tragic occurrence.

"Maybe I am a cat," Hob suggests, tucking his hands in his pockets, all casual. "How would you know?"

Dream gives him a sidelong look. "You are not a cat. Though perhaps you would be more peaceful as one."

"Doubt it. But wait, so, if I was a cat I would be able to see your cat form?"

"In essence, yes. But. You speak as if I would be donning a coat. These are not forms. Merely fragments. Simultaneous angles on a whole."

"Fragments," Hob repeats. He works it through like a particularly hard math problem. "Hang on. So. You're also a cat now. If we met a cat they would see a cat."

Fuck, this is getting weird.

Dream looks proud of Hob for getting it. "Yes."

"Could have attempted to explain that instead of just saying I am a cat," Hob tells him. "I also still maintain that you are not actually a cat."

"I am as much a cat as I am a human," Dream says.

"So, not," Hob says.

"No," Dream agrees. "Because I am Dream."

"You're a nightmare, is what you are," Hob mutters, and Dream smirks.

"That, too."

They've been walking in silence for another few minutes when Hob asks, "What's your real form?"

Dream frowns. "All of my forms are real, Hob."

"Sure, you look like this or that to different people. What do you look like to yourself?"

"All of my forms are real," Dream insists.

"So what I'm seeing now isn't some kind of default? Are you just always different? Is this like that we don't know how other people see colors 'cuz everyone's eyes could be different thing? Or is there any internal consistency to you?"

"I don't know what thing you're referring to."

"What I'm trying to find out is did I invent this version of you in my head?" Hob asks, getting stressed about it now. Did his subconscious somehow decide this was what Dream should look like? Presumably Dream knows what he looks like to Hob. What if he doesn't like it? "Did I just decide yep that's what dreams should look like in 1389 and you've been stuck wearing black ever since?"

Dream chuckles. Probably amused Hob would ever think he had that much power. "No. There is what you call internal consistency in my appearance. Different creatures, cultures, and so on will see different aspects of me, but there is not a different aspect for each person. It is not infinite."

Oh, thank god. "So, you want to look this way."

"I suppose."

Never a straight answer with him.

"Well, just for the record," Hob says, "I fell in love with the entity but I happen to quite like the shape as well."

"The shape," Dream repeats, with a smile.

"Here's where you're going to tell me you're also a triangle or something."

Dream is silent.

Fucking hell.

"I'm not even going to ask," Hob decides, forcibly moving on. "I have another question."

"You have many," Dream observes.

"That's what you love about me," Hob says, and Dream tilts his head as if conceding the point.

"If there was a human culture that thought of dreams as represented by cats," Hob starts, "they might see you as a cat?"

Dream sips at Hob's coffee, considering. "I suppose."

"And was there ever one?"

"No."

Hob lets out a long breath. Dream is frustrating as hell to talk to sometimes, but Hob can't say he doesn't enjoy it anyway, doesn't enjoy the puzzle. "Was there ever any culture like that, though? That saw their dream representation as something other than a person?"

"There was one that thought dreams lived in bubbles, therefore I was the reflection of light along a bubble's curve," Dream says, expressionlessly. As if that isn't wild and fascinating. "However, that civilization has since disbanded and morphed into different forms."

"Which civilization was that?"

"You would not know it," Dream says.

Hob tips his head back and groans. "God, you're like an edgy teenager who knew that indie band before they were cool. Oh, which band? No, you wouldn't know them, they're too niche, too underground."

"Underwater," says Dream. "It was a civilization of dolphins."

Hob trips over a crack in the road and just manages to catch himself. Dream stops by his side, watching him with some concern, like he worries Hob might break himself in his clumsiness.

"The way the world looks to you must be insane," Hob says, staring at Dream.

Dream's lips tip up in the faintest smile. "Human perspective is narrow."

"Clearly. I wish I could see all your other forms. Must be amazing."

"You wish to see them?" Dream sounds surprised.

Hob scoffs. "Of course. But it's not sounding very possible."

Dream inclines his head in agreement.

Then a thought occurs. "Wait." And god, Hob has said a lot of stupid-sounding things in his life but this is about to be one of the worst. "If I pretend to be a cat, can I see your cat form?"

Dream can never answer a simple question directly, but apparently this absurd query is fine. "I suppose it is possible in theory for you to see it. But pretending is not enough. You would have to wholly assume the perspective of a cat. I do not know if it would be possible in practice."

Hob's never needed much more encouragement than that to try something. "Alright. Hold my coffee."

"I am already holding it," Dream points out.

"Hush. I'm being a cat."

How he's supposed to do that, Hob doesn't know. He paces back and forth before Dream, squinting in the sunlight. He looks at him from every angle. He tries to imagine what cats might dream of. Mice? Freedom? Sleeping in warm places? Their dreams must be feeling and instinct-driven, not intellectual.

Hob crouches down, looking up at Dream from as close to a cat's height as he can manage. Dream merely raises an eyebrow.

"Are you going to meow at me?" he asks mildly.

"Meow," Hob says, and Dream's mouth pops open in a round o of surprise that is one hundred percent worth the indignity of kneeling on a public street and meowing. "What do cats dream about, anyway?"

"World domination," Dream says solemnly.

"Haha," Hob says, but Dream doesn't take it back.

"Alright, I'm channeling megalomania," Hob tells him, shutting his eyes. "I'm channeling my inner despot."

"And an imposing one at that," Dream observes, looking down at him.

"Quiet, subject, can't you see I'm in the middle of ruling with an iron fist? Or paw?"

"I am quaking in my boots," Dream says. "Please, show mercy."

Hob squints back up at him. God, he's really trying, but it's hard. Cats live close to humans, but they are still so alien. Off in their own worlds, their own battles and hierarchies.

"Will it work if I lick you?" he asks. "Like how cats groom each other."

Dream blinks at him, once, twice, slowly, catlike, which he must be doing intentionally, because he's a bastard like that. "This is, as I believe you would say, getting odd."

Yeah, it is getting fucking odd.

"Perhaps you should try imagining my female form," Dream suggests, and if Hob weren't already on all fours on the sidewalk he'd have fallen over. "It is human, and may be easier."

"You have that?" Hob squeaks, scrambling back to his feet. "But I thought it was like, a species perspective thing? Do women just see you as a woman, then?" Then he shakes his head. "No, that's way too simplistic."

"Women can see me like this as well," Dream says. "Or however their culture dictates."

"So why would someone see you as one gender or another, then? Just a culture thing? Preference?"

"Why do some people see God as a woman?" Dream asks the air.

Hob groans. "You are impossible."

Dream smirks.

"Or maybe you just like being unknowable," Hob guesses.

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps. Yeah, perhaps. I'm sure." Hob cracks his knuckles. "Alright, my unknowable cosmic entity of a significant other, let's see if I can turn you into a woman."

Dream stares at him flatly, but Hob can see the slightest uptick at the corner of his mouth.

Hob still doesn't know what exact perspective he needs to see Dream as a woman. Maybe if he just believes really really hard he can make it happen. Force of will. It's how he'd always planned to make himself immortal, anyway, absent a fortunate encounter with one prickly dream entity.

He stops looking at Dream, and tries to look through Dream. Tries to imagine how it feels to see the true depths of his eyes, how the cosmos in them go straight to infinity. He tries to see around the way the light reflects off of and shapes Dream's form to the shape within, like a sculptor seeing the body in the marble before it's carved. Hob is no artist, but he tries.

And he knows Dream. He may not know all these angles on his form, but he knows Dream, the entity, the person. They have had a long friendship, Hob and the concept of dreaming.

And just like that, the perspective shifts. For a split second, Hob sees an infinity before him, the eternity of all existence condensed in all its brilliant, glowing facets--then his brain skids around it to avoid going mad, latches onto an angle, and slams back to earth.

Hob sways, rubs at his eyes, and then laughs hysterically. "Fuck!"

"Hob?" Dream sounds uncertain now. "Are you well?"

"I think I just glimpsed cosmic knowledge never meant for my mortal eyes, or whatever," Hob tells him, somewhat maniacally. His ears are kind of ringing, eyes swimming in the afterimages of a very bright light. "You're incredible, do you know that?"

"As you judge," Dream says.

Hob finally drops his hands from his eyes.

And immediately slaps them over his mouth, letting out a sound so high-pitched and manic he hadn't thought his vocal cords could manage it. "Holy shit."

Dream frowns. "Are you well?" he asks again. "Perhaps I should not have allowed--"

"I fucking did it," Hob whispers, mostly to himself. "Oh my God. You're a woman. I think? You look like one. I guess?"

Dream looks down at himself. Hob wonders what he sees--does he see what Hob sees? Or does he see the incomprehensible mass of everything that he truly is under the human trappings?

"Ah," he says, and presses a single fingertip to one of the breasts that he now has, prodding it curiously. "It appears that I am."

Okay, so he can see what Hob sees. Good to know.

"Yup," Hob says. He can't seem to steady himself whatsoever. "Yup, yup. You are."

"Impressive, Hob," Dream remarks, looking up at him again with a smirk. His jaw is narrower now, his lips plusher, but God, it's that same fucking smirk that drives Hob insane.

Hob wonders if Dream's female form is also bound by some limitations on appearance the way his usual form is. He hopes so, because it if turns out he managed to manifest Dream's tits to fit his own subconscious desires, he might just have to choose Death at last.

Hob still has his hands over his mouth. He makes himself drop them.

Dream frowns at his silence. "Are you not pleased?"

"I'm very shellshocked and reorienting my view of the universe," Hob tells him. "Also, you're very beautiful and it's just a lot all around."

That smirk again. Whatever minor amount of immunity Hob has developed over the centuries is obliterated by the new shape of him. "Ah."

"Ah," Hob echoes. "Can I kiss you?"

"You may."

Hob does so with his usual enthusiasm, perhaps more, as he does so love novelty. Dream tastes much the same, feels much the same to his hands, and yet not, like Hob's different perspective on him has altered the angle of his touch. Hob runs his hands indulgently over the softer curves of him, settling them on Dream's waist.

"Dear heart," he murmurs into Dream's mouth. "Most beautiful thing."

Dream makes a soft sound and rests his face against Hob's.

They stay there for a long moment, frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. Then Dream asks, "Would you have still kissed me if I was a cat?"

"On your little furry head, yes," Hob says, and pecks his cheek. "I thought you were a cat."

"I am," Dream says.

Hob groans. "Enough, I'm getting confused again. Let's stop with the metaphysics and go home and do something less headache-inducing."

"Like playing with the new toy you've found yourself?" Dream asks, raising an eyebrow, but obligingly lets Hob wrap an arm around his waist and tug him along down the sidewalk.

"Pretty much!" Hob agrees. "If you're amenable."

"I suppose I can bear it," Dream says solemnly, as though being kissed and coddled and worshiped is the greatest hardship of his eons-long existence.

Then he says, quietly, "You are singular, to perceive me thus."

"As..." Hob looks at him as they walk, looks at the elegant cut of Dream's cheekbone and the sweep of his eyelashes, the longer fall of his hair. "You mean, in more than one... facet?"

Dream nods. "You... see me. The truth of me. And still, you look upon me kindly."

"What other way is there to look at the one you've loved your whole life?" Hob asks, throat tight.

Dream leans into his side, and Hob presses a kiss to his temple, holding there for several steps. And he continues to hold him close as they go on, keeps his unfathomable boundless entity within the circle of his arms, where he can keep on fathoming him.

[piarelei]

Training hop

Here's an angsty one, with some platonic Javy & Jake time. Can also be read as a sequel to Bullseye.

The moment Jake’s feet hit the tarmac, he knew he was in for a Bad One. He carried the anticipation of it in his shoulders, trying to roll it off his back but not succeeding. 

The sight of Bradley had him unfamiliarly wanting to turn right around, back to the cockpit and the welcoming chasm of the skies. He tipped back his head instead, all bravado and no guilt. 

Bradley had the decency to wait for them to be left alone. He didn’t have to wait a very long time: other aviators were staring Jake down with no small amount of disgust on their face. He didn’t let it get to him. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” 

Jake shrugged, walking lazily to the locker rooms. “Completed the hop, didn’t I?” 

Bradley pulled at his shoulder, turning him so that they were face to face. “You nearly killed Oslo.” 

“No. I simply flew my best, as usual. It’s not my fault if she’s not fast enough.” 

Bradley gritted his teeth. “What the fuck, Hangman?”

Jake shrugged him off. “I don’t even see how that fucking concern you, Bradshaw.” 

“You don’t see?” Bradley looked over his shoulder. “We are dating, asshole.”

“Yeah. And?” 

“And? Well, I don’t know. I thought maybe you had fucking changed, for one.” 

Jake had to swallow the impulse to bare his teeth. “You think that because I get my dick sucked on the regular, I’m going to lower my standards?” 

Bradley frowned. “I just thought you were not such a fucking asshole anymore. I guess I was wrong.��� 

“I guess you were.” 

“I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to be a decent human being.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” 

“Right. Well. I don’t…” Bradley swallowed. “I don’t think you should come over tonight.” 

Jake went cold all over, hot flames put out by ice. “What does that fucking mean?”

Bradley took a step back, crossing his arms, stubborn. “That means that I don’t want to fucking see you tonight.”

Jake inhaled, trying to appease the sudden bruise under his ribs. “Alright. Whatever.” 

He turned and went to the locker room quickly. He didn’t want Bradley to hold him back. He didn’t want to hear the silence if he didn’t. 

#

Javy opened the door with a defeated face. “Well, at least you coordinated properly for once. Nat just left for Bradshaw’s.”

Jake grunted and pushed in, beer pack in hand. Javy simply followed him to the living room. They settled on the couch, Javy got the TV on, a non-sense rom com with fake laughing tracks, and opened two beers. Jake sipped on his first one for a good ten minutes, not seeing or hearing anything from the TV. 

“Right,” Javy said, sort of exasperated. “Get it out of your head or we’ll never get it over with.” 

Jake thought about it, then, shook his head. He had no idea where to even start.

“Okay, you know what, I think I know you enough to get the crux of it. You were an asshole while flying and Bradshaw lives in a fantasy where you’re suddenly nice to everyone and couldn’t handle it.”

Jake shrugged. 

“Well, break up with him.”

Jake turned to Javy, daggers in his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Yes, actually. I am kidding you. God. Are you ready to talk?” 

Jake scoffed. 

“Right. So I guess I was right about things?” 

Jake nodded, making a face. 

“Okay. He’ll calm down.”

“But what is the fucking point of it, Javy? I’m not going to change.” 

Javy snorted. At Jake’s uncomprehending eyes, he leaned forward. “You already have, man. It’s fucking awful to witness, but you’re so much chiller now. You use to lose it all the fucking time on your wingmen. You never forgave small mistakes. Now? Shit, I’ve seen you give second, third chances.”

Jake took a sip of his beer. It tasted more bitter than usual. “I’m going soft. That’s not a good thing.” 

“Yeah, shut up, you’re still the best. You don’t have to be an asshole about it. Come on, no point to dwell on it. Bradshaw had always been so fucking angry all the time. Give him time to decompress. You can talk about it then.” 

Javy was the voice of reason. He plied Jake with a beer, then a second, then a third, until the world around was just cotton-soft. Jake let himself slide on the couch sideways, face smashed into Javy’s shoulder. 

A few hours later, the door opened and Javy had a hushed conversation Jake didn’t bother to listen to. He should have because a few seconds later, Bradley appeared in his line of sight, looking contrite. 

“Can I take you home, Jake?” No Hangman. 

Jake unsteadily rose to his feet. Bradley reached out to help him. Jake bid a quick goodbye to Javy and Natasha, already too focused on Bradley. 

The Bronco rumbled under them when Bradley started it. Jake sighed, slumping against the window. 

“I was an asshole today,” Jake admitted. 

When Bradley didn’t answer immediately, Jake turned his head to watch him. The streetlights were washing him in shades of yellow. 

“Sometimes,” Bradley started with some apparent difficulty, “I’m scared that the wingman that you leave behind is what is going to kill you.” 

Jake reached out slowly, trying to assess if he was welcome. “I’ll never let that happen.” 

Bradley grasped for his hand. “You won’t have a choice in the matter. There’s strength in numbers, Jake. I wish you would realize that.” 

Jake squeezed Bradley’s hand. “I do. I… I’m the asshole I am during exercise hops because I need everyone to be their best when we face the real deal.” 

“I know.” 

“Well…”

“I know, Jake. But I’m scared that one day people will hate you too much to go back for you.” 

Jake inhaled, kept his lungs full with his anxiety, until he let it all out slowly. “I’ll be retired the moment I fall behind.” 

Bradley shook his head, sighed. “I guess we’ll never agree on that.” 

“We don’t have to. You just have to trust me.”

Bradley shook his head. “We can compromise tomorrow. I’m exhausted and I want to go to bed before we talk about it again.” 

Jake nodded. “Are you dropping me off at mine?” 

Bradley gave him a glance, almost hesitant. “I would like you to go back to mine if that’s alright with you.”

Jake stared at the road ahead, feeling quietly pleased. “Sure.” 

Later, with Bradley curled all around him too warm and heavy, Jake thought that he would be willing to wear his standards down to the floor if it meant that he could keep this. He didn’t say it aloud in the morning, but he was sure that Bradley could tell.

Barely reread the thing, so my bad if there's any mistake. Hope you enjoyed, show some love with a reblog ♥

[sounds-of-some-day]

Robert Downey Jr reacting to Cillian Murphy's speech about him.

So, I'm very very pleased to be here tonight in my latest role as Robert Downey Jr's straight man slash loyal wingman. And it's become an actual real life role of a lifetime for me over the last few months. Honestly. And I love it. No, honestly, I'm thrilled to be here, because I want to take this opportunity to say publicly that I've never worked with or met anyone like Robert Downey Jr. Truly. And aside from his staggering talent, and his otherworldly range, he has managed to awe us with both his character and his leading man performances, searing dramatic performances, and his gut-busting comedic performances. He's taken on and triumphed in every imaginable kind of role, whether it be an endearing romantic, a dogged reporter, a punch drunk to a private eye and even the quintessential action here. And, I mean, it's just mind-bending, what this man has done. In my opinion, he is the most versatile actor of his generation.

Most likely of many generations. I hadn't met Robert until we were brought together by Chris Nolan on Oppenheimer, but, you know, anyone that loves film, and that loves great acting, I've been a fan forever. And I was always tying to figure out from a distance, you know, how he actually does what he does. And working alongside of him on Oppenheimer, watching him turn every day into Lewis Strauss, uh.... I'm still not sure how he does it. I think it might be a marriage of pure pure talent, and this kind of preternatural insight into human nature. And what I've also learned is that Robert works incredibly hard to make it look so easy, as all the great ones do.

But he's not jut a great actor. He's a kind of a unicorn, because he's a great actor who's also risen to the level of superstardom that few of us can kind of comprehend. And, why do I think that is? I think that is because he is one of the kindest, funniest, most generous actors I have ever worked with. And all of that comes out on the screen and you see it in every single performance. And all of his performances, no matter how unlike himself they are, they're always authentic, like Robert.

And every minute that I spent with him on camera was pure bliss, even though his character wanted me to disappear into a black hole and never come back.

But off camera we've bonded in a way that truly I've rarely done.

And I am so so very proud to be here tonight as a Downey straight man slash wingman. And I'm even prouder to call him a friend.

[kyu-piddy]

Messy love triangles….

Leona x reader x riddle mayhaps⁉️

Ranking a singular twst love triangle on how messy it is

An: The more I write for Leona the more I find this man hilarious. Who knew petty men were this funny to write about?

Gn reader x Riddle, Leona

Trigger warnings: Swearing

900 words

Riddle vs Leona

There’s people that you wonder how they have beef. They’re not opposites, they’re not too similar, but there’s something that doesn’t quite click with them.

In the case of Riddle and Leona, their beef is over you.

Riddle is a fool I tell you. He might be a great student, he might be Mr perfect in anything and everything pertaining to stuff your parents would be proud of, but he is indeed a fool.

He will, very loudly and stupidly, call you his good friend to the Heartslabyul dorm while blushing up a storm as soon as you’re less than 10 feet away from him.

You were commenting in passing to Ace and Deuce how the history of magic assignment is really hard? There comes Riddle in the next morning carrying back breaking books on the topic, with sticky notes color coded to how important he thought that information was.

Did you complain about not being able to sleep properly? Riddle has brewed you a potion that is said to help sleep and prepared a brochure with every habit of yours that is making sleep evade you.

And yet he is not using the evidence to reach a sound verdict. He is instead looking pretty stupid and/or overbearing to everyone around him.

Trey and Cater are laughing their asses off at the interactions between you both.

If it was someone else it could be heavily considered that they were faking it, but it’s Riddle after all.

Mr. Lionman is, like always, emotionally constipated as hell.

Leona might be lazy as balls, but he is no idiot. He’s actually rather brilliant and also not blind, so the moment he sees Riddle interact with you, it’s on sight.

Verbally that is. Leona isn’t that trigger happy with people that he could snap like a twig.

He probably already suspected Riddle's crush on you just by hearing you talk, which he did in fact make an effort to stay awake for, but actually seeing the red short stack turn into a human prawn would piss him off sooooo bad.

This man is incredibly petty. He has never once actually tried in his classes, but seeing as that would make Riddle mad, he’s showing up at 8:00 am on the dot to every class and scoring 100 after 100 in every test he can.

Meanwhile Riddle’s jaw is glued to the floor.

He doesn’t really understand why Leona is rubbing his successes in his face, which does piss him off, but what pisses him off the most is how Leona is showing it off to you too??? How dare he!

Riddle should be the one that comes to you with his perfect tests, offering help all gentleman style.

Treys sweets are another weapon in Riddle's arsenal, but Leona is indeed a cheeky bastard that practices the age old “all is fair in love and war”.

Ruggie is going to be very busy making sure those sweets taste awful, and also trying to feed you with stuff “Leona” made.

Speaking of Trey, he’s going to have to make a decorated cake saying “You like ____” for his housewarden. Otherwise man will stay in the dark.

It is shocking news to Riddle once he figures it out, while everyone else sort of just… nods their heads and pretend it is such riveting new information.

“Trey, I have delved deep into my psyche and have reached the conclusion that my feelings for ___ aren’t exclusively platonic.”

“Oh, really now, Riddle?”

oH reALly NoW RiDdLe

Leona is also a contender for the most obvious crush on campus to those that know him.

Ruggie and Jack probably have a bet going on when Leona will confess. (Jack thinks it will be when the sun explodes. Ruggie is more akin to the hypothesis of the heat death of the universe coming first.)

Riddle is the one most likely to confess.

He believes in doing things the proper way so confessing is the way to go.

Man is redder than his hair and holding a script he wrote.

It’s really sweet actually. Riddle isn't some romantic bard of legend, but he writes down his feelings in the best way he can: with legal jargon.

Leona’s sixth sense is activating and he is running to match his rival.

Once again, metaphorically. He can’t be bothered to actually run.

He is putting his head on your shoulder, whispering into your ear…

“I know you like me, herbivore.”

Hell no! This man did not spend the time he did around you and planning how to get your attention to turn back around and say it’s you who is in love with him! Step on his tail or knee him on the groin cuz he deserves it.

For a Leona love triangle, this one isn’t that bad. I’d give it an A.

Any love triangle with two overblot boys tends to be really messed up, even after said overblot, but Leona and Riddle don’t have that much prior beef that turns the love triangle into a biohazard.

Leona will have his good ol inferiority complex to keep him company if rejected, but he doesn’t feel like he is in that much direct competition with Riddle, which spares him some of the heartache that a love triangle with Vil or Malleus would give.

Riddle will be haunted by his perfectionism and romantic stupidity if rejected, but he’s one of the more stable post overblot boys, so you don’t have much to fear. Probably.

[theriverdraws]

100k VIEWS!!! WOOO!!

Not my first or second video to reach this number, but definitely the one im most proud of.

Gonna ramble about my thoughts while making this, because I think about it a lot:

- It has been a couple of years since I started it (see desc.), but from what I remember I had this idea because this song popped up on my feed, and I really liked it (had not listened to the eng version before), looped it for a while, and then I was like "...wait this sounds like the warners doesn't it" and it all escalated from there.

- I needed them to kidnap someone, and I think I chose mickey because I had recently made an animaniacs & mickey mouse video and I really liked it, so I just chose to torment him again lmao.

Im actually realizing now that having him be the one kidnapped makes even more sense. In the song, it's halloween gremlins kidnapping santa claus - so the equivalent of WB gremlins kidnapped Mickey Mouse the disney mascot, is pretty perfect. Would like to say this was the plan since the beginning but that would be a lie smdjks.

- I really like the Animaniacs, "Who Killed Roger Rabbit?", and "Looney tunes back in action" takes on a "cartoons living with humans" universe, so in this video it's kinda of a mixture of all three of these - hence toon town (in my head it's mainly disney cartoons that live there, however the really big stars probably got their own houses in human cities I'd imagine). Mickey himself then follows the logic of his personality just being how he was drawn. He's just an average guy. Probably got nicer over the years since bro's personality ended up turning into a slice of bread by Disney, because he had to be the face of the company. My favorite version of Mickey is the one on the Mickey Mouse shorts though, so you can imagine this specific version of him on this video (I know it doesnt look like it in the beginning, I did not know how to draw mickey a couple years ago dnjdjs). In this video Mickey isn't really as evil as the company, he's just the mascot stuck with them. I would say bro is just a doormat. He wouldn't agree with all of their actions, but I dont even think he would acknowledge most of them, make a lot of excuses for them probably. Overrall he's like, fine.

- I needed a CEO to be Oogie Boogie because well.. Who would be better for it?? When I started this 2 years ago, I was deciding between Plotz and Rita (reboot CEO), I was gonna choose her because the Warners were scared of her to some extent, and I can't really imagine them being scared of Plotz. But this year, having picked this video back up, I am filled with great amouns of rage. Therefore, Zazza the clown was born (fuck you David).

- The lore is Zazza the clown sat down on a big chair one day, and people in suits made him CEO. He is an annoying, evil, money grubbing bastard. But also very stupid, so he's not that scary except when he's doing his bad ideas.

- The Warners aren't scared of him though, they are mainly doing this for fun because annoying Disney and the rat would be funny. However, going a bit deeper, they do crave praise and affection from those who hate him (aka the CEO, the entire company, any person with a brain that's around them at all times), so they are also doing this for those reasons. In the original show, there's even an episode where Plotz is not the CEO anymore, and they managed to get him back because they missed him yelling at them (probably not a direct quote, but it was something like that). The children are not well snjene. But yeah they're not taking sides nor scared, they're just doing whatever they want and maybe getting a fist bump out of it. (They are not going to get anything).

- Had to hit them with the PTSD about getting locked in a tower though jsjske, it had to match the lyrics.

- nsjsk actually the lyrics probably make the Warners sound more evil than what I picture them (though I do see them as really big menaces). To be fair, in Nightmare Before Christmas, Lock Shock and Barrel sing this whole song about torturing Santa Claus, only to just put a bag on him and give it to Jack directly. That's probably all that the Warners are gonna do in the end, maybe play with him for a bit but eh. (WB will not pay for psychological damages).

- I didn't plan a motive as to why the clown wants Mickey. Uhhhhh blackmail? Idk, feel free to come up with a reason.

- I always drew the Warners with fangs, you can see my other videos and old fanart on Tumblr. When the reboot was still airing, I drew like it looking like canine teeth, but originally I really liked drawing the cartoonish fangs like you see here, and recently I decided to start doing that again.

I think that's it! Probably a lot of grammatical mistakes (it's 5:40 AM), but I'm not editing this sjkeje. All I have left to say is I GOT TWO COMMENTS ABOUT THIS BEING A 18+ VIDEO, GUYS WATCH THE VIDEO BEFORE COMMENTTING WDYMMMM. THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH THUMBNAIL, YOUR BRAIN IS JUST ROTTING.

[mint-yooxgi]

Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 7,327

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist

An annoyed sigh leaves his lips at the incessant chatter he hears around him. Low whispers rise in volume until the dull buzz of voices consumes him, interrupting his post meal relaxation. Irritation mars his features, his brow tugging downwards as he pulls the broken sliver of bone he had been using to pick at his teeth with out of his mouth.

“What is with your incessant whining?” 

All Mingi had wanted to do was relax after dinner. In peace, within the confines of his makeshift encampment at the heart of his battalion, but it seems there’s been a commotion at the far edge.

“Humans, General.” One of his underlings, a vice-captain under his command, Darius, hisses. “They say they want to make a deal.”

Mingi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Not too bright, are they?”

“When have humans ever been known to be smart?” Darius snickers.

Mingi heaves a long sigh, standing to his feet. “Given the length of this interaction, I can’t trust any of you to be competent enough to end this quickly.”

“They’re persistent, General.” He replies, flinching back as Mingi turns his sharp-eyed gaze to him.

“You let them think their words had any merit of importance to us.” The redcap general snaps. “No wonder they’re being so uncooperative.”

Striding through the encampment, the whispers finally come to a halt. A dead silence surrounds his soldiers as Mingi strolls through their ranks, eyes zeroing in on the small gathering of frail humans. Darius rushes along behind the proud general, whom stands a good eight feet tall. The tallest amongst his redcap companions.

A red sash is tied around Mingi’s bicep, alerting all to his rank within the gathered redcaps. There is a clear air of respect the others hold for him as he walks passed, holding his head high, no falter in his steps. Some even go so far as to look upon him in awe while others incline their head out of respect.

Reaching the edges of his encampment, Mingi scowls. “What’s the big idea here?”

“Ah, General!” Lias turns to him, a malicious grin tugging at the younger captain’s lips. “These humans insist on making a trade with us.”

“How did they even find us in the first place?” Mingi darts his gaze over to the three standing before him, just over the threshold of their protection line.

A woman seems to be holding another in her arms. The one with her head down doesn’t say much, but the one holding her trembles as she meets Mingi’s gaze. The male, slightly taller than the woman being held, stands a little straighter.

“We know mushroom rings will bring us where we want to be, or rather, to whom.” He replies, almost defiantly. “You just so happened to be the closest in the area.”

“Why are you wasting our time?” Mingi growls, teeth bared over much too sharp fangs.

“Please,” the woman holding the other in her arms seems desperate as she attempts to take a step forward.

That’s when he notices: the tall women is unconscious, being held up by the other. He quirks a brow, unaware a frail human such as the small one could ever be so strong.

“We just want to make a deal.” The man states, rather firmly.

Mingi’s gaze darts between the two humans.

“They want us to take their daughter for them.” Lias snorts, Darius laughing along with him. “As if we would care for such a useless mortal.”

“We know a little about your kind.” The woman continues. “Please, we know she’ll be better off here. We don’t want anything in return, just her safety.”

“She can earn her place.” The male adds. “She can look after herself, just please, take her with you.”

“We’re not about to gain something you don’t want.” Mingi retorts harshly, crossing his arms over his chest. “She has no use to us.”

“That’s not it at all.” The male is quick to shake his head, attempting to take a step towards the gathered redcaps only to be greeted by snarls and snapping fangs. He freezes. “Please-“

“We don’t need one of your kind slowing us down.” Mingi states, narrowing his eyes at the way the unconscious woman sways slightly. Honestly, he’s surprised this woman hasn’t fallen over yet, or caused the other holding her up to collapse under her seemingly dead weight.

“She won’t slow you down!” The woman is quick to protest.

“Watch your tongue, mortal.” Darius snaps. “This is no ordinary general you’re speaking to.”

The woman bows her head, cowering back and holding the other tighter to her chest. Though, due to the height difference, it looks quite awkward. A fact only echoed by the snickers Mingi can hear echo out behind him.

“Oh, come on,” Lias tilts his head slightly, a mischievous gleam in his gaze. “This could be fun. We could always use another pack mule.”

Some more snickers are heard from around the area, along with the snapping of jaws in agreement. The harsh clicking of fangs only rises in sound, and Mingi can smell the spikes of fear from the two conscious humans. A taste he absolutely revels in.

“The human would be safe with us from whatever outside forces you’re referring to.” Lias continues, his lips stretching widely over all too sharp teeth.

Mingi spares a glance around at his men, noting their sudden change in attitude. The eager gleams he sees throughout the crowd have him heaving a sigh.

“Very well,” he turns, beginning to walk away from this whole matter. He’ll let his men have their fun, and with any luck, the human will be dead come morning. “She’s your responsibility, though. If she survives.”

A cheer rises up through the surrounding redcaps as the tall women gets torn from the other’s arms and dragged across the protection barrier. Mingi thinks nothing of the way a faint smell of blood rises on the air, knowing his men are probably already having their fun after bringing the human properly into their realm. The other two have already been sent back, their memories altered forever. If they even remember having a daughter at all would be a miracle.

Entering his own private tent, Mingi settles into his favourite chair. Kicking his feet up onto a little stump, he leans back, relaxing into the evening chill that begins to settle over the land. They’ve still got a long ways to go to return to their keep, the scouting mission having taken a lot out of them. The rogue redcaps they had been hunting have all been dealt with. Traitors, every last one of them. The fight they had put up was gruesome, but as always, Mingi and his men came out on top. 

Despite it all, some of his men still have energy to burn as he hears the familiar hooting and hollering of his subordinates last long into the night.

***

The next day, Mingi wakes to the encampment practically all cleaned up. Some of his men are finishing last minute preparations for travel, their bags packed and stored for easier maneuvering. All that’s left is to secure his own lodgings for the next leg of their journey.

“The human finally woke up.” Darius informs Mingi as he steps to the head of the line.

“She’s not dead?” Mingi quirks a brow, barely bothering to scan the gathered ranks to see if he can spot the women he saw last night.

“We figured we could use her for some entertainment-“ at Mingi’s sharp glare, Darius stops himself. “She’s surprisingly stronger than she looks. We’ve loaded her with a few packs and told her to carry them for us, or else she won’t like the outcome.” The vice-captain shrugs. “She complied.”

Mingi hums to himself, turning towards the direction they’ll be setting off in in a few minutes. He finds it odd for a human to be so complacent. All of the stories he’s heard contradict such simplistic actions. He was expecting screaming, and an attempt to run the first moment she regained consciousness. 

Even more shocking is the fact that you’re still alive.

“Don’t let it go on too long,” Mingi shoots him a look out of the corner of his eyes. “Have your fun, but make sure she doesn’t slow me down.”

“Of course, General.” Darius nods, saluting him before running off to finish some last minute things.

Quietly, Mingi observes his battalion. He can see Lias barking orders at some subordinates to finish packing the rest of the camp quickly. Others appear to be scrambling about, and true to Darius’ word, Mingi spots that same tall woman from last night standing off to the side.

There’s nothing special about you. At least, from what Mingi can tell. You stand upright, spine straight with three packs carried on your figure. Their bulk simply adds to your own, nearly drowning you in their sheer size. Your face looks worn, and tired, but you move around where they instruct you to without complaint. 

Mingi just hopes you can keep up with them.

A few minutes later, the redcaps are on the move. Multiple shoot you looks of disgust as they run passed, growling lowly in your direction. Some even go to far as to purposely run into you, spitting on you as they knock you over in your attempts to keep pace with the company. 

It isn’t more than an hour into the morning when you start to fall behind.

Mingi heaves out a sigh, smelling the faintest bit of blood again in the air. A scent not uncommon in a group of redcaps, given their premise. Though, what truly annoys him is the subtle limp you attempt to hide as he marches over to you at the very rear of his guard.

Again, his men part for him silently. The simple power he exudes enough to silence even the rowdiest of the bunch.

“Are you that incompetent that you do not know how to walk properly, mortal?” He sneers, irritation clear on his features.

“I can walk just fine.” You reply bluntly.

“Then, keep up.” He snaps, turning so as not to waste another word on you for the moment.

With Mingi’s back to you, he fails to notice the harsh glare you send his way, but his subordinates do.

A harsh slap rings out through the forest, a dull thud heard soon after.

“You dare look upon our general with such vile contempt in your eyes?” Lias’ voice booms out through the surrounding redcaps, catching Mingi’s attention.

He freezes, turning to spare a glance over his shoulder.

There you rest, face down on the ground as you attempt to push yourself up. Your clothes are even more disheveled than before, dirt smearing your cheek. Yet, that harsh look still rests upon your face, even as the smell of blood becomes more prominent in the air.

“I didn’t ask for this.” You keep your voice low, but still clear enough for everyone around you to hear.

“Well, get used to it, Sweetheart,” Lias hisses, tugging you harshly back to your feet by the back of your neck. “You’re no better than a pet, now.”

You say nothing, instead opting to purse your lips. Your eyes narrow as you watch Lias retreat from you, hands fisted around the straps of the packs you carry as your whole body seems to tremble. 

If Mingi didn’t know any better, he’d say you’re angry.

No… not angry. Disappointed.

Turning back to face front, Mingi decides to ignore you for the rest of the day. You’re not his responsibility, and how his subordinates treat you is truly none of his concern. Really, if it were up to him, he would have sent those two other humans bargaining for you to join them here in the fae realm packing. Perhaps he should have made an example of you all when he had the chance. Only, now, he’s stuck with you, and he’ll have to learn to deal with it, for the sake of his men. It’s not like you’re the only human he’s ever dealt with before.

Luckily, for the rest of the day, travel does not get halted again. You manage to keep up just fine, only falling behind once more near sunset. Mingi had wanted to travel for longer this day, covering more distance and hearing no complaints from neither you nor his men. 

The faster they get home, the swifter he can deal with the mess that is you.

Mingi wants nothing to do with you. All you are to him is a pathetic little human. So frail, he could break you with the flick of his wrist. His eyes narrow on your figure as he sees you collapse against the side of a tree, none of his underlings sparing you any supplies as they set up for the night.

No food is offered to you, but you manage to scrounge some water. Your throat burns, and your feet ache as if they’re ready to fall off at a moment’s notice. The stitch in your side is finally calming down, and you’re just grateful none of these fae have ordered you to help them set up camp for the night. No, they stated they didn’t want you touching anything, or doing something wrong, and for once, you’re thanking your lucky stars for such a harsh verdict.

Lightly, you rub at your leg, right where you know that fresh wound still resides. It’s not a deep cut, but twisting wrong, or moving around too much aggravates the scar. Not to mention your limp which has returned even worse than before, due to the speed at which you’re expected to move.

Despite it all, you don’t say anything. No, you learned the hard way what talking back meant. Though, that might just be your one salvation through this all. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll see how far you can push these redcaps, and discover if their nature really lives up to their legacy.

For now, you settle deeper against that tree. It’s late, and you are exhausted. Sleep is one of the best things for you now, especially since there’s no way you can return to the life you previously once had. Thinking back on it now, you don’t know if you’d ever want to.

Not that you really ever had a choice.

The next morning brings another early start, you being commanded to carry even more than yesterday on your back. The only saving grace is that it seems the speed at which the band you’re travelling with has lessoned, but that doesn’t stop your whole body from aching.

Two more days pass like this, insults thrown at you by the surrounding redcaps, only for them to take out their amusement on you by either scratching you by ‘accident’, spitting on you, or pushing you to the ground. You manage to get some food, but it’s both rotten and vile. You’re honestly surprised your body hasn’t given up on you, yet.

You start to complain, but to your relief, or rather, disappointment, no one bothers to take your whining seriously. That, or they’re quick to shut you up, but not in the way you so desperately hope.

It’s around midday when you feel yourself lose your footing. The sun is shining brightly in the sky above your head, a few clouds drifting lazily by as you tumble harshly to the ground. The worst part is, you end up landing badly on your injured side. Unluckily for you, both that scar and your bad ankle are on your right leg which just so happens to land awkwardly on top of the root you tripped over.

You attempt to keep them at bay, but the sudden sharp pain you feel shoot up your leg sends tears to your eyes. You can practically feel your cut tear itself anew, a dampness seeping into the material of your tattered pants. Your breathing is heavy, and you can hardly force yourself back onto your hands, your entire body groaning in protest. Every ache pulses through you with each heartbeat, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is truly the end.

“What’s the hold up this time?” You hear a stern voice huff out above your head.

Mustering enough energy, you tilt your head upwards at the approaching figure. There’s a brief moment where the sun blinds you, filtering through the branches in such a way that burns your vision with a bright light until a shadow looms over you. Blinking reveals the redcap’s general standing before you, a look of pure ire marring his features as he glares down at you.

“Get up.” He growls, not even bothering to nudge you with his foot. You’re too far beneath him to bother.

A sad attempt is made by you once more before you’re collapsing on top of your weakened arms.

“I. Can’t.” You manage to get out through gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain.

Mingi snorts. “Pathetic.”

With a roll of his eyes, he storms away from you, barking out orders to set up the encampment. From what you can hear, he plans to move out during the night.

They need to stop to eat, anyways.

Insults are hurled your way by various underlings, some even going so far as to step on you as they walk passed. It’s as if you are worth no more than the dirt beneath their feet as you continue to lay there, weak and injured, just waiting and begging for death to finally claim you.

“You’ve really been a thorn in the general’s side ever since you joined us.” A voice to your left catches your attention.

“I didn’t ask to become a slave.” You retort is half grumbled into the earth, brow furrowing as you glare in the voice’s direction.

A chuckle is heard from above you. “Last I checked, you weren’t actually bound to this group.”

Out of the corner of your vision, you see a male, or rather, what appears to be a male, crouch beside you. He appears a bit shorter than his companions, perhaps even an inch or two shorter than you, and that’s saying something.

“My name’s Windfel,” he says lightly. “I’ve never met a human before. What’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you huff, finally managing to push yourself upwards and shrug those packs off of your back.

A hiss escapes you as you accidentally apply to much pressure to your right side, hand grasping over where that reopened cut resides. The dull throbbing you can feel, mixed in with the sight of days old blood and dirt only has you wincing. The wound is more than likely infected, and probably has been for the past few days. Only, you don’t have anything to treat it with, and it’s not like you can go around asking for help.

“Oh, you’re more clever than we give you credit for.” He grins. “You must know that telling a fae your true name means they have complete power over you.”

“You’re the ones who assumed me incompetent in the first place.” Your retort is low, and almost immediately, you flinch, as if bracing yourself for an impact of some sorts.

Again, he only chuckles. “That we did.”

“Is there something you want, Windfel?” The question is a bit harsh, despite you avoiding his gaze.

“Not in particular at the moment,” he hums. “I’m simply satisfying a mere curiosity. I’ve read a lot about you humans, thanks to the experiments in the Latha Court.”

“You experiment on humans?” Your eyes widen, a surge of panic washing through you.

“Yes.” He replies, somewhat cheerfully with a nod of his head. “We learn a lot about your kind that way.”

“You’re despicable.” A shudder caresses your spine.

“So I’ve been told.” He grins. “I am a redcap, you know.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice him tip a flat cap stained dark red in your direction.

“I’m aware.” Your answer is blunt as you attempt to stand to your feet. You don’t get very far, for you immediately fall back onto your ass as your arms give out beneath you.

A small ‘oof’ escapes you as you land on your right side, eyes squeezing shut as more tears spring up from beneath where you’ve always tried to hide them.

“You’re not looking so good,” he observes.

“Thanks for noticing.” A low grumble is all he receives in response as you attempt to push yourself upwards once more.

Another chuckle. “I like your sense of humour.”

A side-eyed look is sent his way curtesy of you, “If you want to call it that.”

“Come on, I’ll help you.” He goes to lift you to your feet.

Immediately, you cower away from him, a brief panic filling your gaze as you fixate on his hands.

“I have no intentions of harming you right now.” He replies, somewhat calmly.

“Why are you trying to help me?” You eye him cautiously.

He shrugs. “I’m bored.”

As much as you don’t appreciate his answer, you have no better options. Somewhat reluctantly, you allow him to help you to your feet, guiding you to a tent already prepped and ready. He lifts the flap, allowing you to stumble your way inside and sitting in a chair as per his instruction.

The tent is large enough to fit three people comfortable, appearing more spacious on the inside than from the outside. You suppose it has to do with the magic of the fae, considering they’re able to store everything and carry it so efficiently in such packs, no larger than what you’re used to calling knapsacks.

“You know, you really have caused a great deal of annoyance for our general since your arrival.” He says as he grabs a roll of white medical cloth from a little side table.

“I never asked for this.” You mumble, keeping your head down.

“I’m aware you were brought unconscious into our ranks.” Windfel replies. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Not that I’m obliged to tell you.” Your eyes narrow suspiciously, watching every movement he makes closely.

You highly doubt anyone will come to your aid if you decide to scream for help.

“Just making conversation,” he responds, lifting his hands lightly in front of himself in a shrug. “I’m not a healer, so all I’m willing to do is let you wrap that wound. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to dress it when we get back to the keep.”

You purse your lips, eyeing Windfel as he places the roll of cloth beside you. A moment later, and he’s moving around the tent, rummaging through his own pack and pulling out a fresh pair of clothes.

“What, exactly, is this ‘keep’ you all continuously talk about?” You ask, somewhat warily.

He completely ignores your question, tossing the spare clothes at you.

“I don’t use these anymore, and although we typically enjoy the smell of blood, we don’t enjoy when wounds fester.” His nose crinkles along with his words. “There’s a small stream about a quarter of a mile to the northeast. I’ll take you there once you’re ready.”

“You’re being awful nice to me for someone who doesn’t like my kind,” You observe, eyeing him carefully.

“I care about my general, and anything I can do to… lesson his burdens, I will.” Comes Windfel’s simple reply. “When you’re ready, I’ll be outside.”

You watch him step out the opposite flap of the tent he entered, brow furrowing as the material slaps shut. Shouts can be heard outside, along with the hustle and bustle of the rest of the encampment being set up. You bet the rest wouldn’t have even notice you moved from that tree, yet.

Tilting your head downwards, you look at the clothes in your hand, feeling the fabric between your fingers. It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten any type of new clothing. Back in the human realm, the only time you got a new piece of clothing was when- no. You shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

Swallowing thickly, you look over at that roll of white medical cloth. As much as you don’t trust this redcap, this is the first ounce of kindness you’ve received in quite a long time. There’s a part of you screaming at yourself not to believe it, but there’s another part, a part much more vulnerable that clings onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, things are starting to look up for you.

Your life has never been worth much, but perhaps someone is actually starting to see value in you that has never been there before. Then again, you probably shouldn’t get your hopes up. They’ve fallen too many times for you to count.

Taking a deep breath in, you grab that roll of medical cloth. Carefully, you wrap it in the bundle of clothes from Windfel, and stand back to your feet. Though you wobble slightly, you’re able to steady yourself, and within a minute, you’re exiting through the same flap that redcap did only moments before.

A single nod is all you give him as you stand outside the tent. A single nod of which he returns, motioning for you to follow him deep into the woods.

***

The journey to the stream is slow, taking well over an hour to get there. The distance is much greater than you were expecting, and the path isn’t easy at all. As much as Windfel seems to be ‘helping’ you, he did not once offer you a hand through the rough terrain of the woods through your travels.

“Will there be enough time?” You ask, eyeing the trickling water at the edge of the bank.

“Relax,” Windfel huffs out lightly. “Knowing the general, he’ll probably spend at least another two hours resting. So, as long as you don’t take too long, we’ll be fine.”

You purse your lips in response, but say nothing.

“I have no interest in watching you bathe, either, human.” He says, turning so his back is to you. “So, you needn’t worry about that.”

“I’ve never had much privacy, anyways.” You grumble, but as soon as the words leave your lips, your eyes widen. Terrified, you glance at Windfel’s back.

Choosing to either ignore your statement, or you entirely, he stands there, unmoving, His back is straight as he gazes out into the woods in the direction you both came, paying no mind to even the sound of water trickling behind you.

You turn back around.

Darting your gaze to the stream once more, you notice how clear the water seems to be. The movement against the stones appears languid, a gentle breeze flitting through the trees in the next moment. It’s almost as if the stream is inviting you in, luring you into it’s pristine waters, and the longer you stare at its enchanting depths, the more you long to dip your feet into its calming waters.

“What’s the catch?” You grit your teeth, cursing yourself for being so stupid.

“You humans always think there’s some sort of trick to everything, don’t you?” Windfel chuckles, and suddenly, you feel his hot breath on your neck. You didn’t even hear him move. “I could push you in, if you like, but I don’t think that would bode well for your wound.”

Your spine straightens. “I can get in myself, thank you very much.”

“You are most welcome.” The way you can practically feel him smile against your back has a shiver running down your spine.

A moment later, his presence at your back lessens, and you find yourself able to breathe easier once more. You spare a glance over your shoulder to see him resting in that same spot as before, his back turned as he begins to hum a small tune to himself. Eyeing him cautiously for a few moments, you finally turn back around to face the stream, deciding that he won’t actually do anything to you. Besides, even you are starting to not be able to handle your own stench, and that’s saying something.

Slowly, carefully, you begin stripping yourself of your old clothes. The tattered shirt you wear gets tossed onto the ground beside the new one, your pants following shortly after. You have enough mind to leave your undergarments on, just in case Windfel decides to play a trick of some sort on you, or run away with both sets of clothes. You still need something to wear, and Windfel is still a man.

Men are never good at keeping their promises. You learned that the hard way.

Stepping towards the very edge of the stream, you take your time sitting down. Each movement is stiff, pain shooting through your right side as you finally get a good look at the cut on your upper leg. 

The wound festers, dried pus caked on the edge. The cut itself is swollen, days old blood littering the skin around it. From how bad it looks, you’re scared to even touch it, but a creeping thought in the back of your mind keeps you inching towards the water with every passing second.

You’ve had worse.

Carefully, you dip your toes into the crystalline water. It’s a bit cool to the touch, and causes you to jerk back, surprised by its icy feel. Yet, it’s alluring in a way, as if it’s the softest of silk that has ever caressed your skin. A luxury you have never been afforded, and you take the time now to savour it, despite the chill that clings to your feet as you submerge them beneath the gentle flow of the stream.

In no time at all, you feel yourself get used to the water’s icy chill, sinking deeper and deeper until you’re fully sitting on the edge of the river bank. Being mindful of your leg, you angle yourself so you can lean towards the water, cupping your hands together in order to gather the cool liquid in your palms and clean your wound.

The first few handfuls sting, but you grit your teeth and bear it. With each handful of water, more and more of the dirt, grime, and blood is washed away, revealing the cut to have gotten longer over the past few days. All that running around must have strained it, and reopened the wound over and over again, leading to the edges widening, and the cut deepening.

No wonder your whole leg has been aching. You just hope the infection isn’t already in your blood. There’s no telling what may happen to you, then.

“Oh my, that looks bad.” 

A voice from above your head startles you, and you nearly go toppling into the stream. Looking up with a hand clutched over your chest, your eyes wide in panic, you see Windfel leaning over you, inspecting your cut.

“A few more days and you would have had to cut it off,” he remarks casually.

You physically feel your heart drop, your eyes briefly shifting to your right ankle. You swallow thickly, a jolt of pain travelling all the way from your foot upwards to your hip as tears unwillingly spring to your eyes. Almost involuntarily, you begin rapidly shaking your head, protests falling from numb lips.

“I’m just shanking ya!” He laughs, boisterously at that. He even goes so far as to pat your shoulder a few times, wiping tears of joy from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re not very funny.” You whisper, expression hard.

Windfel blinks, “Geez, tough crowd.”

You purposely avoid his gaze, looking back out over to the opposite bank of the stream. Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you slowly manage to get your breathing under control. Even you can hear the thunderous pounding of your own heartbeat, so you sure as hell know that Windfel can, too.

“I thought you weren’t going to watch me.” You mutter, slowly turning yourself further into the stream.

“No, I said I had no interest in watching you bathe.” He remarks, matter of factly. “There’s a difference.”

“If you say so,” you mutter, slipping into the water and putting a little bit of distance between you and that redcap. Not that it would really matter, in the long run.

The chill of the water causes your body to stiffen for a moment, only for the entirety of your muscles to immediately relax. The chill morphs into a gentle caress, and as you sink down to allow the water up to your neck, you find yourself letting out a small, blissful sigh through your nose. Involuntarily, your eyes slip shut.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Windfel hums.

Your eyes shoot open, turning to look over at the redcap who is back to standing in his original spot, facing away from you.

“I-“ you swallow, keeping your voice low. “I haven’t had a chance to bathe like this in a long time.”

“Yeah,” Windfel snorts. “I could tell.”

He makes a gesture similar to fanning the air in front of himself, and you find yourself rolling your eyes. You even go to far as to splash water in his direction before you can stop yourself.

Even though not a single drop of water touches him, your eyes still go wide. Not a muscle moves as you stare at him, your heartbeat thudding once more in your ears.

“Damn, human, you really are uptight.” Windfel snickers. “As if a little water could hurt me. It’s nice when such creatures are playful. Adorable, even.”

“I don’t think many would agree with you.” You mutter, gently pushing yourself backwards and creating just a tiny bit more distance between yourself and him.

“You’re probably right,” he hums. “Though, we all can agree on liking to be amused.”

“You confuse me.” You state blankly, rubbing at your skin lightly beneath the water and washing away any excess dirt and grime you can see.

“The feeling is very much mutual, human.” He replies. “I bet if you lived on your own as long as I have in the wild, you’d feel the same way.”

“Oh, yeah,” you hum, clearly not convinced as you dunk your head under the water briefly. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, come on! You’re telling me you’ve never lived in the woods before? Never fought for your own survival all by you little lonesome?” Windfel’s voice is slightly mocking, and you know he’s probably only trying to get a rise out of you. 

Unfortunately, though, it’s working.

“I think you and I have two very different definitions of survival.” You say, scrubbing a bit harder at your skin.

“Perhaps that is true,” he hums once more, as if considering your words. “But come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to know what it’s like to live on your own.”

“How do you know if I’ve lived on my own or not?” You retort, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion.

“I don’t.” Windfel shrugs. “From what those of us who care enough to read about your kind can gather, it’s observed that you usually go out on your own once you reach a certain age.”

“And you’re one of those that have read about my kind?” You quirk a brow. 

The longer you spend talking with Windfel, the more you seem to ease into the conversation. Though the water continues to feel nice around you, you also decide that it’s time to remove yourself from the stream so you can quickly dry off and make it back to the others. The last thing you need is for something to happen, or for you to finally face the wrath of a redcap.

At this point, that may just be a blessing.

There’s almost a slight tug at the back of your mind. With each step you take towards the bank and your awaiting clothes, a small voice tells you to stay. The water seems to be caressing your entire body, becoming denser around you with each step. It’s almost as if the stream is trying to hold you down, to force you to not leave its waters. Yet, despite it’s almost enchanted callings, you persist, managing to pull yourself out of the crystalline water and back onto the side of the bank.

The consequences of staying far outweigh the rewards in your mind.

You fail to notice how Windfel’s brow quirks in surprise, but he continues on the conversation as if nothing is wrong.

“I’ve read a few things, yes.” He confirms. “Knowledge is power, or haven’t you heard?”

“Power is power, no matter where in the world.” You grumble, flicking off as much excess water on your body as you can before beginning to wrap your upper thigh with that medical cloth. Once finished, you tie it off quickly, but not tight enough that it will hurt you even more than you already are. A moment later, you stand back to your feet.

“Spoken like a true scholar,” Windfel teases lightly, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, you begin pulling on the clothes he leant you. The pants are a little short around the ankles, but they fit surprisingly well. Considering the size difference between the both of you, you’re surprised the shirt even managed to pull over your head, but it’s loose, and you’re grateful for the soft material that graces your skin.

“Still, you should definitely try living on your own at some point.” He remarks casually. “There’s no feeling quite like freedom.”

Your whole body freezes, gaze slowly trailing over to where Windfel stands, now at the edge of the wood. He seems to be holding a bundle in his hands, and when you look down, you realize that it’s your old, raggedy clothes.

“I wouldn’t know.” You state, rather firmly as your eyes narrow at the redcap across from you.

“Oh, yes, well,” he finally turns back around to face you, a grin tugging at his lips to reveal all too sharp fangs. “About that…”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

Your words clearly catch him off guard, for now it’s his turn for his eyes to widen in shock.

“My dear, why would I want to kill you?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve done nothing but be forced upon us since the start. I may be a monster, but I’m not unreasonable.”

“Like I’ve never heard that one before.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

Again, your breath hitches as soon as the words leave your lips, and you find yourself flinching backwards away from Windfel instinctually.

He frowns, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he says, “I told you. I care about my general and how much your presence burdens him. It’s easier this way if you just disappear.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You want me to disappear, but not kill me?”

“For the most part.” He blinks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“How do you expect me to do that?” You frown, doing whatever you can to hide the clear exasperation in your voice.

“Run away.” He states.

“Excuse me?”

“Run away.” He repeats with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I doubt they’ll even notice you’re gone.”

Now, it’s your turn to blink at him. Once. Twice. Three times in disbelief as you cannot keep your mouth from falling open in shock.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I think the whole point of you bathing was for that to no longer be the case.” He says smartly. “I told you. You’re a burden to our general, and if I can relieve that burden from his shoulders, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re not currently being hunted, so there’s no reason to kill you right now.”

“And where will I go?” You ask, incredulously. “I have nothing-“

“Find the Latha court, I’m sure those human lovers will take you in.” He cuts you off, a slight twitch to his brow. “Go that way,” he points off to your left with a clawed finger. “There’s a small town. I’m sure someone will give you a hand.”

“Like you did?” You quirk a brow, eyeing Windfel carefully.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Now, you best be on your way, little mortal. My patience is starting to wear thin.”

Though the last part of his words he says in a cheerful voice, the way his eyes gleam in the light of the setting sun unnerves you.

Without waiting for another chance, you take the one presented to you.

“I better not see you around again.” Windfel hums, and you can hear him beginning to trudge in the opposite direction that you are. “You won’t like it if you do.”

A shiver caresses your spine at his words, and you find yourself picking up your pace. Reaching the opposite end of the little clearing where the stream is, you quickly spare a glance over your shoulder. Windfel is nowhere to be seen, and you do not know if it should relieve you, or terrify you. All you do know, is that you have to put as much distance between yourself and that gang of redcaps as you can. To start, you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The trek into town is a lot easier than you thought it would be. It only takes you about forty minutes to reach the outskirts, and with every step, you seem to gain better footing than before. The ache in your leg is dulling, and your head is the clearest it’s been in weeks. You don’t trip over any roots, or stumble over any rocks, either. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say things are actually starting to look up for you.

That’s when it hits you.

Is this even reality anymore?

Windfel could have cast a glamour over you. You could be under some sort of spell, or undergone some weird magic while bathing in that stream. You have no way of knowing what is true or not, unless you talk to someone. Even then, your chances of them tricking you are high, but it may be the only way to tell what is true or not.

Standing at the edge of the town, you do a quick scan of those you can see. The sun has already set, and the faint glow of lanterns casts a warmth around the surrounding buildings. There seems to be only a few people milling about, and honestly, you shouldn’t really call them people at all. From what you can gather, all these beings appear to faeries. Some have grand wings that sprout from their backs, ranging from feathered to those of the insect variety. Others, you can only discern from their height and pointed ears. The few flashes of razor sharp teeth aren’t that reassuring, either.

The only relief seems to be that all of the inhabitants steer perfectly clear of you. Save for one, who watches you fidget from across the way. His gaze dances with amusement, and you don’t know if that unnerves you more than if he were glaring. Long, dark hair is pulled back in a half-ponytail to showcase his sharp features. He sits on the edge of some steps leading up to what appears to be a shop of some sorts, his elbows resting on his thighs as he leans forward.

The moment he catches you staring, his eyebrows quirk curiously.

Turning away quickly, you curse yourself. You’ve always been used to blending in back home, that you didn’t realize just how much you’d stick out in the Fae realm. Perhaps you really are in over your head, but where else are you supposed to go?

A voice, smooth and deep, coming from behind startles you.

“Are you lost, Little One?”

[kabutoden]

OUGH your buggy homestuck designs are SO CUTE!!!!!!!! That's such a fun concept and I LOVE the different molts and the explanation for mutants!!!!!!!!!! Bug lore bug lore bug lore!!!! I also adore the outfit you did for Terezi's third molt, I thought the boots were really creative and it just looked! So cool!!!!! <333333 would it be possible to see Vriska's various molts? ALSO. I NEED YOU TO KNOW. I AM GIVING YOU A VERY EXCITED DOUBLE THUMBS UP I ***LOVE*** ANOMALOCARIS I HAVE LIFE SIZED ANOMALOCARIS PLUSH AND HE IS MY FAVORITE EVER. trilobites very good too I have. So many trilobite fossils and I think that those two were a great choice for the sea dwellers!!!

thank you so much for sending in an ask im THRILLED WITH YOUR EXCITEMENT!! i love extinct arthopods too+i just LOVE BUG FACTS SO MUCH… i rlly should do a spidertroll lore post but until then here’s the molts you requested!! i actually really struggled in the past with human anatomy so im super proud of how these turned out shes so big and confident and cool!!! a thanks again for the ask :D

[aaron-m-geist-ff]

For the NSFW alphabet:

N and W.

Yes, I would like to know the turn OFF´s for our blue haired curse. And the Wild Card.

If he has any at all. X)

And random headcanons are often hilarious.

Hell yeah! Thank you so much for the request 😄I am happy to deliver ;)

_______________________________________________

N - No-go. (Things that are a major turn off.)

Mahito doesn’t like when you try to push past your limits.

He knows that he has an insane amount of stamina, and your human body often struggles with taking that during sex. For that reason, Mahito constantly monitors you. He pays close attention to your reactions or your heartbeat. He even thinks in his head, asking himself how long it has been since you last drank a glass of water. Fuck. He also pays attention to how much you sweat. Mahito is very educated on how the human body works after doing so much research on the topic. He needs to make sure that he’s not hurting you.

But you’re such a slut for him. A lot of the times, you disregard your own well being just to give Mahito more pleasure. The curse bond makes you want to push past your limits in order to give your body to him. You genuinely want him to use you.

The idea of having you so eager to please is a huge turn-on, of course.

But if you start neglecting your own health and well-being??

No. Absolutely not.

Mahito can vividly remember the time that he fucked you when you woke up from sleeping for ten hours. You hadn’t drunken any water at all. Your body was heavy and sluggish as he thrusted into you from behind. You were moaning like crazy. He knew that you were enjoying it. But after a while, you started to speak in a way which didn’t make any sense. Slurring your words together and breathing harshly. Your heartbeat was going so fast. Your heart had to work twice as hard due to the dehydration.

It didn’t matter how much you moaned and begged him for more.

The second that Mahito realized the harm he was doing to your body, he instantly started to go flaccid and pulled out of you. He didn’t care about your whines. He simply got you a glass of water and forced you to drink it.

Mahito only likes giving you pain in the form of spanking or fucking you roughly. If it’s something seriously hurtful then he isn’t turned on by it.

“Stop whining, little human. You need water. Drink this for Mahi, mm?”

_______________________________________________

W - Wild card (any headcanon)

Mahito finds it so endearing that you enjoy braiding his hair. He loves to feel your hands on his scalp. Weeding through the soft strands of blue hair. You always seem so proud once you’re done. You smile so beautifully.

He also loves ice cream. Any flavor. Once you introduced him to it, he just couldn’t get enough. He likes to get ice cream in a waffle cone, that’s his favorite dessert. Mahi actually has quite the sweet tooth and he finds it very fun to decorate the ice cream with sprinkles and syrup.

Mahito actually doesn’t enjoy playing chess too much. He gets bored with it easily because it just isn’t stimulating enough for his intelligent brain. He only ever gives in and plays with you because he knows that it turns you on to see him win every time. ;)

Mahito likes seeing you wearing your pajamas. He thinks that they look cute on your smaller body. And it’s fun to see you in such casual attire. He likes the type of pajamas which have fun little patterns on them. Either funny or cute patterns would spark his interest.

One of these days, you will come up with the idea to gift Mahito a pair of bunny slippers and he will go absolutely insane. He’ll just wear them around the mansion constantly. Stomp around so that the ears will perk up with every step that he takes. He loves silly things like that.

Read more Mahito here

[xztloux]

I have literally just gotten into the Percy Jackson series a few hours ago after pulling an all nighter for a project, I had it playing while I work bro the second I saw Hades I was frothing at the mouth..I am very sleep deprived rn Lmao

If it’s good with you, can we get some Yan/Dark Hades stalking his lovely mortal who works at a museum (or is a college student there on a trip), they are quite the quiet person (perhaps they get picked on for that quietness) but gets a bit bold as they defend Hades after hearing some people talk badly of him? Hades falls hard for the mortal and follows them around, being a bit dulu?

I did read over your rules and If I had somehow missed one and wrote it into my request I’m incredibly sorry!

Take your time and thank you very much! Have fun and change anything if you want :>

-💀🍝

We twinin’ with the dyslexia wooo

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↳˗ˏˋ Dark Hades ˊˎ˗ ↴

▸ content warnings: none? I don’t think

▸ summary: Your trip at the museum turns into something much more life changing

▸ A/N: my Greek mythology is really rusty so I’m sorry if I got stuff wrong. also added my own opinion on a certain god. (Zeus hate club right here). Sorry if it’s really bad and short it’s literally 5am for me 😭❣️ I LOVED WRITING THIS SM SO THANK YOU. literally love this person

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Your Professor had booked a day out, to help you class with the upcoming test. Your major was Greek mythology, you loved it, ever part of it. The hero’s, the gods (most of them anyway). Of course you didn’t know the gods actually existed. There were a couple of people in the class who loved it as much as you, sadly most were there cause they thought it would be an easy pass. You had this stern looking tour guide that was to accompany your class throughout the day.

Eventually everyone stopped in front of one of the statues, Hades. One of your personal favourites. The stern looking tour guide eventually asked the question. :

“Does anyone know who the most ‘hated’ God was?”

He of course asked this to see if anybody would go with the obvious answer. He pointed his pen at one of the blonde haired girls.

“Um Hades right? He’s like..the god of the underworld and stuff..” She replied shrugging slightly. Hades himself was actually there, from time to time he’d slip into his mortal form and visit the museums to see how blissfully unaware humans were. Of course he heard what the blonde bimbo had said and honestly? He was use to it. You then watched as your professor leaned in and whispered something to the tour guide.

The stern looking tour guide nodded quickly before pointing his pen at you. “You. Tell me what you think.” His expression seemed to never damn change. See your professor was the ‘tough love’ type. He knew you knew the material but he wanted you to be proud about it and not afraid to show off that you know the answer.

“Um…most think hades but..um he was actually one of the best. He hardly cheated on his wife, he doesn’t really care for Olympus. He’s happy with his wife and the underworld. In my personal opinion.. I’d say the most hated would be Zeus..” As you spoke about your own opinion, you caught the attention of hades. Now..he hadn’t expected to hear that answer. He’d be a liar if he said your voice wasn’t the prettiest he’d ever heard.

Hell, he even found himself following your group around just so he could hear your voice more, and your opinions more. This god fell for you, and he fell hard.

It’s been a couple weeks since the museum visit and he’d been stalking you to put it bluntly. Of course he couldn’t always be in his mortal form so, from time to time, he’d check up on you from the underworld. Gods he was obsessed with you.

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

How do you th>no the fo4 companions would react to sole survivor using all of the junk that the companions called trash to build a bed or something?

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy! 🥰

Cait - "Well, at least you didn't make me lug all that crap around for no reason at all. It turned out at least a little useful."

Curie - "Madame... Goodness me, you are quite the scientist indeed! Or perhaps engineer would be a better word to describe your miraculous work!"

Piper - "Wow, Blue! I promise I'll never say another word about your junk-collecting for as long as I live. Unfortunately for you, however, now that I know exactly what you can do, you're never getting out of making me that new printing press. Muahaha!"

MacCready - "Huh. All that junk actually can be used for something..."

Deacon - "Okay, so I'm going to give you a pack of cigarettes, a desk fan, and toenail clippers. Your mission: make a chair."

Codsworth - "My, my, Miss F!Sole, I knew you were talented but this is truly ingenious craftsmanship! Sir would be so proud!!! I now see where young Shaun gets his talent in tinkering!"

Hancock - "You teach the boys back at Goodneighbor to do that, and I'll pay you ten-thousand caps right then. Full amount."

Danse - "I... wow... I apologize for making any negative comments about your garbage-collecting habits. You are truly talented."

Preston - "I knew there was a reason I asked you to be our general. Nobody I know could pull off something this."

Valentine - "Kid... You're one mystery that I might just fail at solving..."

X6-88 - "As... impressive... as it might be that you used those few strange items to make something half-usable, there is really no reason to use garbage to build things. At least not when the Institute has professionally manufactured, clean versions of those same things."

Dogmeat - Is not surprised. After all, he never doubts the amazing powers of his human who can do absolutely anything she sets her mind to. So when she makes him a doghouse, he is unsurprised but very thankful nevertheless.

Strong - "Tiny human make bed out of junk?! Tiny human must have used milk of human kindness!!! WHY TINY HUMAN KEEP MILK SECRET FROM STRONG???!!!"

ADA - "I am very pleased to see all of my findings coming in handy, ma'am. I will continue looking for more useful items."