#my animals are going to kill me if i keep singing this in their faces

[tozierbeeps]

me, leaning towards my dog gizmo: where’s everybody going? i still have a lot more TOKENS to spend

me, leaning towards my dog pennywinkle: ooh, a lumberjack i like where this is going

me, leaning towards my cat karmel: want your bad romance

me, swinging my arms out dramatically: I DONT LIKE IT

gizmo: 😑

pennywinkle: 🫣

karmel: 🤔

me: 😬

[bunnys-kisses]

hii, could I order a croissant, a mince pie, and an iced tea served by toto? (maybe with brown or horner reader:)

thank you, honey🤍

bakery menu

welcome to the bakery! how can i take your order? want to submit your own order, then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you!! as for this lovely anon, i changed one thing. that it wasn't an accidental launching of the relationship. but rather toto did it on purpose! (oops), i hope you love the fic

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + mince pit ("i'm not jealous) + iced tea (accidental launching relationship) served by toto wolff (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/50s), size difference, zac brown!reader, launching relationships, roadside sex, car sex, cow girl position

toto sipped his drink and watched you from a short distance. the drink was sour in his mouth as he watched you talk to your father. you had always been a daddy's girl. he knew first hand how that manifested itself.

your daddy issues were so painfully clear cut, he didn't know why you would question how you ended up with them. your father was zak brown and yet you went home with toto wolff. if you were all royalty, this would count as treason and your two nations would go to war.

but this was formula one, and while it was different. toto still shouldn't have been bedding you for several months now. even now as he watched you chat with your father over drinks, toto wanted to undress you and kiss every inch of soft skin.

your father be damned.

it was after a night of drinking and toto was more than happy to take your keys away and drive you home himself. you could grab your car tomorrow, tonight toto needed to make sure that you were okay.

"thanks for doing this, toto." zak said as he shook the other man's hand.

toto nodded, he would play the shining knight. at least until he got you into his flat for the night. you looked nicer in toto's bed than you ever did your own. too many stuffed animals all over yours. he said to your father, "it's not a big deal, zak. it's better someone drive her than she drive herself."

zak chuckled, "i remember drinking that much at her age. it would kill me now." he laughed, "i bet you remember those times!" sometimes toto was reminded that he was your father's age almost to the t.

but as you once said to him, 'sucking your cock is cheaper than therapy.' as you filed your pretty nails that he would later pay to get painted.

you were soon at your father's side and laughing, "who's taking me home?" then looked to toto then your father, "he's taking me home?"

zak chuckled and looked at you, "yes. you'll be nice to mister wolff, right? no getting sick in his car?"

you nodded dumbly and smiled at toto once more, the smile was knowing and it made toto hot all over. you said to your father, "of course! thank you daddy, i'll text you when i get home!" then kissed your father on the cheek.

little did zak brown know. little did he know.

"you're jealous. you're jealous!" you said in a sing-song tone to toto once you were out of the venue, "you're jealous of my dad!" you giggled and rested against him as he brought you to his expensive car.

"i'm not jealous" he replied as he opened the car doors and got you inside. even buckled you in and you reached for him cutely to place kisses all over his face. if freud were alive, he'd be gawking at this moment. toto closed your door and then got into the car on the driver's side.

before his door was closed, your hands were all over his face. feeling the masculine nature of his features. those dark eyes, that strong jaw, that nose of his. it all excited you as you tried to get your hands all over him. you were like an insatiable puppy who demanded kisses.

he held onto the back of your hair to keep some distance between the two of you. he looked at your lips and sighed, "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you pouted a little, "my daddy has no idea."

"maybe he should find out at some point." all toto knew was that if his phone went missing, there was a folder with so many photos of you in various states of undress and redress. from your pretty pussy on display to a heavy skiing jacket when you went on vacation with some 'friends' (it was toto). he knew if he ever sold them, he could make a healthy dollar. but he'd never do that. he had a hard enough time with you wearing a two-piece swimsuit around your friends.

soon toto was driving and his hand was on your thigh. slowly he inched up that skirt until his long fingers were in between your thighs, just over the waistband of the poor excuse you called panties. a lacy white number that toto bought for you.

"you wore them."

"only for you."

"did anyone else see them?"

you looked at toto with the cutest expression that fell naturally on your face. you smiled at him, still a little drunk, "of course, daddy. only the best for you."

the road you were on was quiet and toto had no choice but to pull over. he couldn't very well send you back to your cute little apartment without a pussy full of his cum. not when you were giving him such delicate looks. you were already heated and toto wanted you between his teeth.

with the car lights off, you could only maneuver yourself in the dark as toto leaned back the driver's seat to let you onto his lap. he undid his belt and his cock out of his slacks. your panties were over the back of the passenger's seat for safe keeping (they'd be lost).

in the dark you managed to find his cock and sink yourself down on it. your eyes went wide for a moment from the stretch of his cock settling inside of you. you shuddered and your inebriated mind made everything feel heightened.

"you're going to be a good girl for daddy?" he asked. he wanted to show you off to the world. show zak brown that he didn't have that tight of a grip on you. that you were a woman and you were dating a man. and there was nothing that fucker could do.

you might be brown's daughter but you were toto's baby girl. once again, daddy issues sprouted their ugly heads into the back of your mind as you rode the older man. he pushed the skirt of your dress up and kissed at your neck.

the car rocked a little bit from your movements and you panted heavily. the windows fogged up on the quiet back road. toto's hands switched from your breasts to your hips then back to your breasts when he groped them with those paws he called hands. they were huge, it was intimidating. you still didn't know how those digits managed to fit into your poor pussy.

he licked his lips as your held onto his hair, he then pressed kisses up against your heated skin. he felt the heat in his gut as he pressed kisses at your skin. his hands were eventually full of the softness of your hips as he guided your faster up and down his cock.

you panted heavily before you pulled his hair to get him to face you where you made out with him once more. you whimpered between kisses a simple, 'daddy.' and it made toto hot all over. your back arched as you really worked at his length.

you felt the sweat cause your dress to stick to your back and you make up to run a little around the edges. toto thought you looked beautiful, like a debauched little princess. all because of him. wasn't that something? that zak brown's daughter was riding toto without a car, in a semi public space. anyone could drive by and snap a photo. wouldn't that make headlines.

he held onto you tighter and started to move you faster on top of him. your noises were loud as the car rocked to your movements. and toto felt himself get so close to orgasm.

but you were first. you held onto your lover tightly and whimpered, "daddy" as you felt yourself climax. your back arched with your head almost hitting the roof of the car.

but toto kept you close to him. there was nothing that could hurt that (empty) little head of yours. not while toto wolff was still breathing. you felt so good against him even when you went a little limp against him. but he continued to work your hips against him, he buried his cock in you as deep as it would go.

your noises soon turned pathetic and the car reeked of sex. eventually toto finished inside of you with one last heavy thrust. he spilled himself into you. not that you cared, sometimes toto wondered if you enjoyed the risk of him finishing inside of you. that maybe you'd be mostly wolff dna if he came into you enough times. and toto was happy to comply because that meant you'd eventually have toto's baby at your hip. but that was for later. right now he had to get you alert enough to get into the passenger seat so he can get you home.

"come on. pull down that dress a little and get yourself seated."

-

you woke up the next morning in your bed to a flurry of messages, a full voice mail inbox and even fifteen emails from various people within your network. through bleary, sleepy eyes you basically made out one thing. check social media.

upon opening the app, any tiredness was zapped from your body and you felt hyper away. your eyes went wide when you saw toto's page, the newest photo wasn't of the cars or the tracks or anything. it was you in his apartment in monaco in one of his shirts (with no bra given that you could see your nipples through the fabric) looking not at the camera but at the book on the history of mercedes that he kept on the coffee table. you knew the exact moment that was taken... and now the rest of the world wanted to know every detail about your little love affair with toto.

especially your father, who was calling your for the fifty-first time that morning. there was a lot of explaining to do. <3

[starspyder]

S.O.S. // Sam Winchester x Reader

blame @drowning-in-stardust for this hehehe

notes: this was written in about 20 minutes bc i am on a writing fix, so feel free to send some ideas my way if you'd like more! warnings: drinking, lighthearted blackmail, kissing, hangovers. fluff, drunk!reader, drunk!sam, awful karaoke, Dean loves it and will keep this as leverage for a later date bc he's just Like That word count:

You weren't that drunk. Okay, maybe you were.

When you woke up this morning, you hadn't expected to be hit with such a massive headache, but here you are, laying your head down on folded arms as Dean cackled from his seat across the table.

"I didn't know you were such a party animal, Y/N!" He teased.

"I didn't know you were so cruel, Dean." You pouted, looking up to see your boyfriend's obnoxious older brother laughing at his phone screen.

You'd had a very successful hunt this week that was practically a milk run; a simple salt n' burn, and only one person had been killed, who was the initial victim. After all the stress of your lives recently, this was a win in the Winchesters' book.

To celebrate, your trio went out to a bar, unknowing of how popular their karaoke stage was. After a few rounds of drinks, and a lost bet between Dean and yourself, you found yourself onstage with Sam singing along to a few songs from the Mamma Mia! soundtrack.

Dean, being the conniving jerk he is, got it all on video (his favorites were the off-key bits, which he reminded you of first thing this morning).

You're sipping a cup of coffee, trying to keep your headache at bay as your loud voice played over his phone's speaker, while the man himself mouthed along to the title number.

"He's still at it?" Sam's voice rings from the bathroom.

"Of course he is." You mutter.

"Oh, lighten up! this is my favorite song you sang!" Dean turns his phone towards you, as the opening melody of Abba's S.O.S. plays in the background.

On the video, you and Sam are on a small wooden stage, bathed in pink and blue lights, microphones in hand and grinning ear to ear.

"Where are those happy days? They seem so hard to find, I tried to reach for you, but you have closed your mind!"

Okay, it isn't that bad so far.

"Whatever happened to our love? I wish I understood! It used to be so nice, it used to be so good!" Sam sang back, one hand snapping while his hips swayed to the beat. It brought a smile to your face, how lovestruck he looked on the video. You could hear Dean's voice in the background, cheering you both on.

"So, when you're near me, darling, can't you hear me? S.O.S. The love you gave me, nothing else can save me, S.O.S. When you're gone, how can I even try to go on? When you're gone, though I try, how can I carry on?" You and Sam sang together.

You feel Sam's hand on your shoulder as he leans over you, watching the video, laughing at a particularly rough sounding high note. At least he didn't wake up as crabby as you did today.

You watch on with stifled amusement, rolling your eyes at your own awful dance moves. By the time the song is over, the crowd is cheering at your shared display as Sam pulls you close, leaning down for a particularly risqué kiss in front of the bar patrons.

"Alright, I've seen enough." You shake your head, standing from the rickety motel chair.

"I'll be keeping this for the next time you piss me off, Y/N!" Dean teases, as you grab a fresh towel and make your way to the bathroom for a shower, grabbing your phone as well.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." You shut the door behind you, sending a quick text to Dean.

Send me that video, please :)

~~

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs greatly appreciated! <3

[throwaway-yandere]

𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑵𝒖𝒐𝒗𝒐 (Yandere!Dainsleif/Reader)

a/n: I love Dainsleif with every fiber of my being, do you guys know that? Anyways, just like all Dain-fics, this one has illustrations (I hope they give Fairytale book vibes). I’d like to thank @meimeimeirin cuz this was an idea we were laughing abt at 4am and somehow I made something out of it HAHA.

Unreliable Synopsis: “Fairytale worlds follow fairytale laws. There’s always a protagonist burdened with impossible tasks who will experience the rule of three, witness transformations, find talking animals, and learn the power of kept promises. So, before you embark on your journey, "princess" (Y/n), have you heard of the Ugly Duckling’s tale?” 

CW: light yandere themes, fairytale!au just for the hell of it. HURT/NO COMFORT. Late/Advanced happy birthday, Dainsleif.

"The destined knight is late," the great dragon clicked his tongue. One would expect that an inferior creature such as an ugly duckling would quake and shrink while perched on the Dragon King's hand. But their expression was nothing short of serene. There is a veneer of calm that the great Dragon Ongri did not overlook. 

The "duckling" had the eyes of an old gentleman with worldly disinterests. 

He was longing for death.

𝕺nce upon a time, there was an ugly duckling who was abandoned by both their siblings and mother. Oftentimes, he was pecked by his peers, sneered into thinking his big head and scarred face. were both a reason for his survival and misery all the same. The ugly duckling thought himself unloveable no matter where he went. The small waters he was born in had no room for miscreation, and when he traveled to an elderly's house elsewhere, the chickens thought him useless and undesirable. Normally, the story would've been a happier bedtime story if he had gone to meet the Royal birds and begged for them to end his life. Maybe then, he would've realized that he had not been a duck but a swan all along. But alas, our poor ugly "duckling" found his feet at the hands of the great Dragon King- Ongri's mercy.

"Will you kill me?" The ugly duckling asked calmly. "You need to release your anger, and I can be but one of many casualties."

"I am not a creature of impulse."

The divine dragon scowled. "After Bars' and Fein' deaths, the concept that this realm dubs as Time and Moments is now under my jurisdiction. I've no use for wasted breaths."

As it happens, the dragon was in a troubling situation. There is an immediate need for a substitute. Sensing the urgency of fate's call, Ongri unleashed an ancient incantation. Feathers singed into flesh, wings clipped into arms, and in a burst of radiant light, the "ugly duckling" was reborn as a human knight. His body had scar-like spots from the Divine Dragon infusing him with magic, albeit the metamorphosis was far from flawless. Even as a human, he was imperfect. Mysterious dark blue "burn lines" traced his neck and arms. With the new human's eyes still closed, the dragon spoke to him, the last for a long time: "Forget your past and this whole affair." He commanded. "Go, find and protect your princess."

It mattered not if this was the last breath Ongri would tell him, besides…

When a god applies a curse, it takes effect at a higher level of reality than the person themselves.

“(Y/n)…”

“It’s me, Dainsleif… Can you… still remember my voice?”

“…”

“I… understand that once a person reaches this stage of the curse, their senses get muted. The remnants of those who once dwelled here must have been the catalyst of your ailments worsening..”

“… I’m sorry. I am incredibly sorry that I found you at such a later time. It did not occur to me that you would be here in the Chasm.”

“In our next fairy tale, I’ll—”

“No… I cannot subject you to any more empty promises… But know this:”

“I will keep you safe from now on.”

“So, do not leave my side ever again.”

And the new knight opened his eyes.

Memories of the dragon vanished from his mind. He was now a being of larger flesh and bones without recollections of his past. Should another human take his shoes, they would know that it was a fresh awakening. His first breath tasted like rich champagnes. Golden. Even the sun shone in such resplendent light that made the world seemingly revolve around him.

His legs wobbled. Sliding onto the grassy area, he caught a sight of his hair. Blonde. Like hay— they were golden threads silkily strewn about. He soon noticed that the rest of his complexion was a light pinkish-hued color, as did the hands that prevented his head from taking a serious fall.

The reborn “ugly duckling” may have forgotten why, but he felt alienated from his own body. And he has the Divine Dragon to thank for his new vessel and plain armor.

“Help! Someone, HELP!!!”

His ears perked up. It was a scream with a fervor of a “damsel in distress”. Vent clamor as she may with her whole throat, nothing would come out of it.

But fate will not allow this untimely demise. Quick on his new feet, the new knight dashed towards the sound. No cavalry— just a single determined mind. After running for some time, the unnamed knight did not come across any souls. 

That is, until he found the young maiden he was “fated” to save. She was on the ground, clinging into her wrist as though she burned her hand. In the ground laid an iron sword, begging to be drawn.

At the sight of the wild animal bearing down on her with frightening speed, the “knight” took her weapon and charged towards the scene, raising it in front of the menacing beast. He gazed at the bear that towered over him, displaying its slobbery maw and long, pointed claws. The untamed creature snarled and dropped to strike. 

Perhaps the Divine Dragon saw his noble pursuits, perhaps he was naturally gifted in combat, but the bear was unable to rake the man’s body. Miraculous it was that not a single nasty laceration was left on his person. He lacked the strength to take it down in one fell swoop, but the speed he had made up for it. Like swans that swerved through the wind and flow of water, he dodged all its attacks. With a few strikes from his blade, the bear falls...

He breathed out, shaking in his boots though he tried not to show it. Straightening his body, he met the maiden’s gaze. His blue eyes met hers in a piercing gaze, nearly taunting her as his new opponent. The young lady exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

“T-Thank… you…”

Subconsciously, he circled the shoulder that recklessly swung the sword around. The new “knight” tilted his head. For what? He wished to ask, but words did not come out.

“For saving me, of course.”

The maiden gracefully stood. Her garments had lost some of their value due to the soil and dirt, but she herself was not affected in the same way. She exuded a fierceness that suggested anyone who ventured to hurt her would be receiving more than they bargained for. Instead of tucking her hair to the back, she pulled them forward, hiding her ears.

“Do allow me to introduce myself, kind knight.” She cleared her throat softly. “You may call me Princess (F/n), daughter of King Regan and current crown princess— heir to the throne upon the late Prince Pierre’s demise. May I know your name?”

…

… Silence…

The princess tilted her head. 

"... Does my savior have a name?"

"... Name?"

The young man paused.

He couldn't remember his name. In actuality, he had absolutely no memory of anything. His mind was a bottomless pit with little to no air. With wide eyes, his hand moved slowly to around his neck. The act of conjuring up his supposed name left him terrified for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Does he… not have a name?

“... You must be joking.” The princess deadpanned. “How can one not have a name? Were you not baptized under the Divine Dragon’s light?”

She sounded incredibly upset by this fact. Whatever she ranted on about, it must be a human tradition. 

“Do you not know how important names are—” The princess sighed, “Never mind. I shall assume you are one of those orphaned folks. Besides, if what you say is true, bestowing you a new name is a power much more potent.”

“I… want a name.” The man spoke up rather shyly, voice almost inaudbile.

"I know, I know… Huh, I usually take names rather than gifting them," the princess chuckled. She seemed wholly aware of his dilemma. "Hmm… Let me see…"

She examined his features closely. He was dressed in the traditional knightly fashion, albeit slightly altered. The holy kingdom's knights, of course, never donned masks—especially not half of one. He was strange, but there was an innocent genuineness about him. The blonde man doesn't have a polished appearance. He looked like a lost duckling.

It was rude to stare at the peculiar blue wounds on his face far too long so the princess’ eyes trailed above his hair.

"Leaf…" She pointed upward. "Leaf."

The knight blinked.

What a peculiar sounding name.

"Understood." He nodded and bowed politely. "I shall now be referred to as Leaf."

"No, I meant—" The princess cut herself off and chuckled. "Oh, well. I meant the leaf on one's head. But certainly the name Leaf does suit you fine."

“Do place your iron sword away, Leaf.” She added, cringing. “It is unbecoming of a knight to point a sword to their princess.”

“May… May I ask as to why you were attacked by a bear?”

“Quite bold of you to inquire a royal about a recent assassination attempt,” she humored him with a smile. He safely assumed she would not enact punishment for his assertiveness. “If you must satiate your curiosity, it is exactly that. An assassination attempt. They believed since my brother had fallen so easily, I myself must be an easy game since I adore wandering around the forest.”

“And they seem to be right,” Leaf muttered, wittily referring to the incident prior that arranged this fated meeting.

“Oh?” She scoffed, her polite smile remaining intact. “You’ve quite the tongue. Are you from the valleys?”

“I do not know.”

She squinted.

“Hmm, I see.” The princess exhaled and shook her head disapprovingly. “Then I am to presume that I should also use my wits to cleverly weave a background for you much like your name, Leaf?”

“You wish for me to serve you, that I can tell, and for that to happen I would need your equal assistance,” Leaf spoke solemnly. “I do not recall anything of my past, but you can always make one for me.”

Leaf knelt in front of her. Silence ensued.

“You are deadly calm for a man who wished his history be erased…” The princess muttered.

Leaf was a strange man indeed. He was perceptive, yet he spoke like fate’s pawn. That is to say, the princess noticed he only ever says the truth. His countenance conveyed little desire to adopt rebellious ideologies. To be honest, there was nothing in those contrivedly starry eyes. It was bare. A false sky. 

It almost made the princess worry for his lack of self-preservation had she not been the same. Lies were always at her hands’ disposal, and she greatly hoped it was not what her heart would contain in her last pages. She didn’t wish for a life of deceit. The princess's survival solely comes from her ability to “doublespeak”.

“I see your promise. You are made of self-mettle. Although your blunt tongue may mar your fortunes sooner before you could gaze upon His Majesty, I wish to prescribe you with new duties.”

She took a deep breath.

“This directive shall not be withdrawn in the name of the Divine Dragon. Leaf, a young knight from the Valley of Gaciea who will shortly be appointed retainer to the Royal Highness, Princess (F/n), kneels before me. Until the end of time, he shall be my sword, and I will be his master. Will you keep your word and uphold the oath— the promise?”

“I will.”

Not a moment did he hesitate. Not for a second did he think there was more to life than this. It was nearly bitter. His life sounded so simple to her tongue.

But it was a contract nonetheless. 

A promise that must be fulfilled.

“I find myself stirred in restless days without you my by side. You haunted me so diligently this past 500 or so years.”

“Humor me, won’t you… my b-beloved?”

“Why have you hid away from me? Why did I have to find you in this state? Furred and mute. Didn’t you take a breath to think about how much your pain would mean a greater weight for me? Have you not a second thought about how much it pains me to see you like this— bearing the fangs of the abyss and the claws of the cursed…?”

“The only sigh of relief I can release is that at least in this new sky, Ongri— no, he calls himself Zhongli these days— would get between us no more.”

“This new fairy tale… For how long do you expect me to keep this promise, (Y/n)? How many more stories must we get through for us to reach a happy ending?”

“Please… I’m begging you… Say something!!!”

“…”

“… Speak… Please… Anything…”

“Tell me about our past rendezvous. Seduce me with your musings. Anything… can't you try, just for this special day?”

“Please… don’t turn your mask away from me…”

“Do you find time to flow as quick as the waters by the stream? I am inclined to believe this sentiment. I find it astonishing that we’ve spent eleven or so moonshines joined at a hip. Time ages us but we are none the wiser.”

Leaf grunted, heaving Princess (F/n)’s inventory as she spoke. He didn’t seem distressed by the weight and his princess appeared not at all troubled as well. At least, that what it seemed on the surface. Royals must make their superiority known. Leaf knew (F/n) wanted to also carry some of the bags, but he refused.

There were several notions Leaf refused that noon. When (F/n) entertained the thought of going out as herself and by herself, he disapproved with haste. Leaf had to know where she’s going, who she was going with, what she’s going to wear— just about everything. His voice alone overwhelmed the princess enough that you’d mistake him for the king. The knight practically ordered what she would wear and what route she’d have to take if she wished to see the ongoing festival. 

Being herself was a safety hazard and being alone by herself was a death wish.

To his eyes, at least. He had always been a twinge too overprotective.

It was a hectic morning with a picture-perfect, almost cliche scene of bustling streets and frolicking kids on a medieval setting. While children would swerve around adults' legs to avoid getting tagged, adults walked slowly to hear each gossip. One kid had nearly hit the princess herself, but Leaf would not allow it.

Leaf pulled (F/n) away by putting an arm over her waist. The smell of her sweet perfume surprised him. Her smell reminded him of the forest. For the knight who professed to guard her innocence, her warm body lightly pressed against his was a fleeting but almost immoral moment. He set her down slowly, gasping quietly. The princess chose not to draw attention to the troubled expression on her most reliable retainer.

It was better not to acknowledge his growing romantic interests.

To her, he is only a sword.

Even if he is a friend, at the end of the day, he’s only a weapon to be used.

The princess quickly pulled the cape down further to hide her face— mostly her ears. For reasons unknown to him, she seemed to find that part of herself worthy of great insecurity.

He cleared his throat, face dusted in a pink hue.

“You say that time affects you, but you haven’t aged a day.”

The princess laughed.

“Finally, a compliment from a man as stoic as you? Oh, what a day to rejoice!”

Leaf shook his head with a small smile.

“I had given you one on several occasions.”

“That may be true, but random bouts of flattery from you are scarce.” The princess hummed. “I vaguely recall how getting anything out of you was like trying to get a frozen little duckling to quack. Who am I? Your mother duck?”

The smirk on his face was quick, but (F/n) definitely saw it.

Several staff once questioned Leaf’s ability to speak. Many, including (F/n)’s father, were convinced he was mute. Everyone in the castle knew of the princess’s peculiar tastes and thought Leaf’s recruitment was a mere byproduct. His masked appearance and strange scars added more fuel to those rumors. When Leaf defended (F/n) from another assassination attempt in front of the king and inquired about her condition, King Regan nearly toppled from where he stood. 

After being bombarded with questions, Leaf merely said he refrained from speaking since he saw no use if he wasn't talking to the princess herself. (F/n) still finds it absurd that she has to give orders for him to talk to other people.

For Leaf, it was simple: he just didn’t see the point of forming other interpersonal relationships.

(F/n) was the only one that mattered in his eyes.

Only her.

Only she is worthy to serve and protect.

“You truly are like a little duckling following his mother’s tail,” Princess (F/n) sighed. “But you have vastly improved in our time together. That, I can commend.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Leaf laughed softly, mocking her tone in his signature subtle way. “Oh, what a day to rejoice.”

She playfully gave him an elbow nudge. “Do not copy me, Leaf.”

“My apologies.”

Princess (F/n) was meandering around because the harvest festival was drawing closer. With her own eyes, the princess intended to see how her people were faring. Rarely did she change into a more "common" outfit and styled her hair with simplicity. Though, if you were to ask Leaf, seeing her in her most simple clothes made her far more youthful than the garbs and crown that wrinkles her smile to a frown.

“Madame, would you be interested in buying your lover here a brooch?”

Both of them stilled as a merchant called out. The undercover royal pointed to herself.

“Yes, yes, of course I’m talking to you, gorgeous!” The merchant grinned. He had silver hair that slightly covered one of his blue eyes. “Do you want matching rings instead? We’re selling for fifty percent off!”

Leaf’s gaze was stern. Despite his reservations, he knew the merchant as Alfstan, another young knight who hailed from a family of vendors. Two moonshines ago, Leaf was (forcefully) placed on training duty and had the fortune of mentoring this aspiring knight. 

Mind you— nothing was particularly dubious of his wares. Leaf just simply despised having another man brazenly take your attention away. He did not find their previous exchanges pleasant. Not when Alfstan often joked about replacing his position one day.

What hubris.

While he busied himself glaring at the poor man, the princess awkwardly laughed and dismissively waved a hand. “Oh, no, he and I— we are not—”

“Haha, I know, I was just pulling your leg, Your Highness.” Alfstan grinned, giving Leaf a quick nod. “Morning, Sir Leaf! Were you showing the princess around?”

“Shhh! Be quiet!” (F/n)'s eyes widened.

He protectively wrapped an arm around (F/n) again, this time far more confidently. 

“Yes.” Leaf spoke, voice as solid as his resolve.

“Mind if I tag along?”

His stare sharpened. “I would very much mind, now return to your stall.”

The princess shook her head, poorly judging her retainer’s possessive words as acts of protection. Instead, she dwelled on their attire. “Drats, was our disguise that fragile?”

Alfstan assessed her from top to bottom, which made Leaf even more tense. “Eh, you’re really gorgeous that no cloak can hide your beauty, Your Highness.”

“I have to agree,” Leaf said stiffly, clearing his throat. “Perhaps I should hide her in a hay sack. WIthout your prying eyes.”

(F/n) raised an eyebrow. “And what? And be suspected of kidnapping me instead?” 

Leaf shrugged. “Does that sound like an offense I would commit?”

Alfstan rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously. Besides, the only way you wouldn’t get caught is if you hid her in something as small as a teapot.”

And he would be right. But it will take eons to prove those suspicions as truth.

“Going back to your wares, Sir Alfstan,” (F/n) digressed. “These iron-framed tassels, are they made by your hand?”

Alfstan's respect for the princess grew.

“Yes, how did you come up with that conclusion? Most passersby believed I had ‘em commissioned from the East.”

(F/n) smiled crookedly. Leaf caught a glimpse of discomfort, but it was gone in a bat of an eye.

“I… I admire your skill with molding iron.” To the untrained ear, (F/n) sounded flustered and embarrassed. To Leaf, he was certain that she was unsure of herself. “It is commendable, how you smith your very own weapons, that is. I know many of our soldiers come to you when their blades are chipped.”

“You’ve heard of my skills?!” Alfstan beamed proudly. “Really?!”

The princess nodded. “Y-Yes…”

It was odd. Despite her high praise, her wariness remained. She looked at the blonde man. “He had also made your new Ulfberht sword too, right? It certainly pierces much better than his old one.”

Leaf didn’t bother with a reply, Alfstan made it for him.

“Yes, Your Highness. I thought it would make for a thoughtful birthday present!”

“Speaking of presents…” The princess gazed down, analyzing the items he sold once more. “What do you recommend as a gift for someone important?”

If Alfstan was elated by her earlier compliments, he could practically jump over the moon at her newest proposition.

“Oh? OH?!?”

Leaf gave (F/n) a strict yet gentle glare.

“Your Highness…”

“I still won’t let it slide!” (F/n) huffed. “I couldn’t possibly be satisfied with just new sets of armor. Alfstan, by my order, suggest a pleasant gift for the stubborn knight beside me.”

“On it!”

Without delay, the two bent down to select the ideal accessory for the man who vehemently refused. Alfstan was the only one touching the gems and (F/n) refrained from doing so. Tiny flecks of gold and iron infused the tassels, but she feared she would handle the stones carelessly.

Leaf palmed his face with one hand as the two chattered. Still, despite Leaf’s disapproving looks, he finds (F/n)’s enthusiasm to make him happy a wonderful notion in itself. To think that (F/n) would continue to insist on a present for a birthday that had since passed… She was more stubborn than he was.

“So troublesome…” He muttered with a soft smile. “I see no point in this, Princess (F/n). Serving you is a miracle enough itself—”

“Halt! Speak no more, Sir Leaf!” (F/n) exclaimed. “There! That one, Alfstan— that gem resembles his eyes, does it not?!”

“You have great tastes, Princess (F/n)!” Alfstan nodded eagerly like a motivated student. “That does look like his shade of blue— and so quick to find it among the pile, too! Are you sure you’re not some sort of custodian of natural treasures?”

Princess (F/n)’s awkward and stifled laughter can be heard again.

“What? Haha, what nonsense.” She shook her head. “Everyone calls me Princess (F/n), any other name would surely sound terrifying and mismatched.”

A nonanswer, but that made the conversation more humorous.

“Here you go!”

Alfstan reached his hand out with the tassel. (F/n) stared at him, silent and unsure. He blinked and snapped his fingers.

“Oh, right, you need a box— my deepest apologies, I was too caught up in the moment!”

The princess sighed in relief.

Leaf crossed his arms. “You’re doing well for your first time setting up a stall, Alfstan.”

“This isn’t my first and you know it, Sir!”

(F/n) laughed.

The merchant wrapped the gift she brought with care. The hush looms large around them as the merchant boastfully goes about his business, his tone comforting to her ears. The Princess walks over to the gift box once the merchant has finished. She can't help but smile because she can feel the tassel inside.

“Not exactly a surprise since Sir Leaf is here, but the packaging adds some charm, right?” Alfstan asked.

The princess couldn’t hold back a smile as she looked at the knight behind her.

“I think most of the charm comes from the person who’ll receive it,” (F/n) chuckled.

“Don’t you think so, Leaf?”

She wouldn’t know. And she’d never know a lot of things.

She never got the chance to ask her most precious knight if he liked that gift.

And she never will. No matter how many days, months, years, centuries— eons Leaf would wait, he would never hear the princess ask that same question again after this.

It would not matter if he was a judge, a prince, a knight, or a mere animal— it did not matter how many sweet new styles he would take. In the end, his arms will always be empty. Everything was pre-ordained. Dying in his arms, whether it’s slow and painful or mercilessly quick— will remain as the last line. He will always hold on to your corpse, warmth draining. 

This was your fate, (F/n)— no, (Y/n) (L/n).

This was just the first of many branches of the Irminsul. The first of its many reiterations, possibilities, or better yet, alternate tales or "universal resets". 

Princess "(F/n)" coughed, wetting the side of her lips.

"I haven't been able to p-personally attach that tassel on your s-sword, b-but… but I can spare you enough seconds to fly away…"

"Don't make haste!" Leaf gritted his teeth as he applied some pressure down her stomach. "This is not your decision to make!"

She didn't reply to his desperation, but she silently disagreed.

In her palm was the tassel, out of its box. The blue threads darkened with the taints of her blood. The metallic scent was nauseating. It weaved in a disorganized fashion around her fingers. 

What a beautiful and tragic loom of fate, to love someone you were bound to hold with ruin. 

It would’ve hurt less if it weren’t in his colors too.

"This marks the worst day of my life," the “princess” smiled, tucking the stray hair behind Leaf's face. "And even if given the opportunity, I wouldn't dare c-change not even a minute detail about it."

As if she— as if you— have the power to change destiny.

You're not a descender.

You're just a pawn.

That's when Leaf realized how fragile life ultimately was. With the curse undoing itself, he recalled and reflected on his animal days. He understood the Divine Dragon's intense frustration over a lowly duckling's will to perish. The curse of becoming human meant knowing the greed men had, but also the beauty of their kindness. 

His small bird heart was not meant for this much sorrow. His life was meant to be simple. To learn that he was not a duck, but a swan. 

How was he supposed to cope that the woman he had sworn to protect was not human, but a fae?

Everyone in the kingdom knew that the king would sooner disclaim his paternity than allow the crown princess (F/n) to truly lead— but they never had any real reason to support the king for this. The princess’s words were always more kind and ponderous than that of her supposed father’s. They thought him mad. They thought him deplorable. They thought him old and senile.

But he would not be king if he were not sharp.

Why, oh why, would the princess make great efforts to constantly hide her ears? Why would the princess utter roundabout ways in speaking her “own” name? Most of all, why would the princess fear the touch of iron?

There was a simple answer: she was not the princess, but a liar.

And yet, Leaf was the sole person who did not care, for he thought himself as the worst sinner or “quack” in comparison.

The kingdom won't learn the full truth for some time after this, but the fae made a bargain with the real princess. The real princess would elope with a farm boy and, in return, the fae would take her name. The trade was not malevolent. The two women were secret friends since childhood and neither wished the other harm.

But the townsfolks had little patience. They would sooner throw pebbles and stones than kneel for a false princess.

The moral of the story, like most Brothers Grimm’s fairy tales, was simple: virtue will be rewarded, iniquity will be punished. The storytellers do not care beyond that, no matter how dark it sounds to the children who will hear it. The fae lied, therefore the kingdom shall rightfully punish her.

They better thank the dragon they oh-so admire that the court fae did not think themselves evil. They better sleep soundly, knowing that they have slaughtered a well-intentioned guardian.

For he will not and never will.

Not even with a change of title, name, and universe. Whether the land he walked on was called Gaciea, Fodlan, Belobog, the Continental, or Teyvat— what the world steals from him, he promised to take back.

There the two were, back to where it started. The same forest and patch of land where the bear had attacked her. Fate had a funny way of telling tales. Leaf can only scoff at how unimaginative it could be, sometimes. 

Why couldn’t fate think of more comfortable deathbeds for the one he loved?

"You cannot allow this! I cannot allow this!" The knight gritted his teeth. "You will not die— you cannot die. You and I have a promise… You cannot break that one promise!!!”

“(F/n)” grinned.

The look in her eyes disturbed him.

She knew. It is finished. She knew that it was the last page of the book. Just living in these immortalized pages for the fae was well worth the want she had wanted.

“Consummatum est.”

Consummatum est…. 

Leaf gasped shakily.

“Did my life… even have meaning to you as well?”

Her expression was enough to tell him the words “who knows?” She surely did not. Her mind was buzzing and her thoughts were fizzling out. No one knows anymore. Maybe the Divine Dragon would but he would not accept any offering or prayers for these two heretics.

This is fine… He’ll forget his tears soon, surely…

He’s only a sword at her side… She never asked him to be anything more…

He should be okay, once she’s gone…

She grinned, lifelessly tracing her thumb across his cheeks. The curse is undone. The loom of fate was slowly disintegrating. Soon enough, he shall return to his original form. That of an animal. That of an ugly duckling. That of a swan who will forget his human memories. 

It is finished.

On the book’s final page, there is only ever a fae’s corpse and an elegant bird watching over them. With its wings clipped back, curiously watching the light leave their eyes, he will return to the nearby riverbanks and forget what had happened. As retribution for stealing another’s identity, there will be no one left to remember who she truly was.

And that was all there was to it.

With the fae banished, the Kingdom of Gaciea lived happily ever after. THE END.

Dainsleif closed the book and lovingly looked at the “person” beside him in bed. He stroked the “person”’s light brown hair— its color reminiscent of the bear he had slain in his first life.  It’s a shame he had to reunite with you in this condition. But it’s not like he would stop loving you. He doesn’t care if you’re a fae, a sinner—

Or a hilichurl.

He scooted closer beside you.

"So, does the story ring any bells, my beloved?"

Zhongli, upon recalling what happened and the curse he had inflicted on both of you to fulfill some children’s fairy tale, sought the “ugly duckling” and the “false princess”. Retired as he is, he cannot undo the fate you must play nor terminate his contract with Celestia. For consolation, he merely offered the Khaenri’ahn a teapot. Unlike the Chasm, the teapot was forever peaceful and serene. The brightness of lumenstone ores was not as comforting as the adeptal light that peeks through the drapes. This is your current place of residence. Whether you liked it or not.

"To think Nicole would entail the story of our past life." He laughed softly. "And these names... Hah... Are those the best she could conjure up to bypass possible erasure…? I suppose I should still thank her for her best efforts. I can see how challenging it would be to document our story, given how we lived through so many resets."

There’s a slice of cake paired with wooden utensils on the nightstand. If your mind had not deteriorated, you might’ve assumed they were gifts from the aforementioned Nicole and the Geo Archon. Unfortunately, forming a coherent thought required a mental fortitude akin to iron. You currently do not have such willpower. 

“Alfstan— no… Halfdan was right. There will come a time that he’d protect you from harm and not I…” Dainsleif mumbled defeatedly, his eyes burning with tears he couldn’t let out. Far too tired to dwell on it. “He must’ve forgotten his old jests in his previous life because as far as he’s concerned, he’s simply doing his duty as a Black Serpent Knight…”

He pecked your forehead, closing his eyes.

"Did you remember, my beloved? Vacation may not have any business being in my vocabulary but it is my birthday today…" Dainsleif leaned his forehead against the cold stone that covered your face. "I know you— do not feel guilty over your lack of gifts. It is not as if I bothered to count my age since the cataclysm. I didn't want to celebrate this occasion for the past five centuries. Not when you weren't at my side..."

The blonde man turned his gaze to the floor.

How many times will he have to “reincarnate” just to see a happy ending for the both of you?

"Happy birthday… to me…" He sang weakly. "Happy birthday to me…"

The man— the former sentimental judge— the former tyrant prince— the former "ugly duckling"— and now the current bough keeper, observer of fate in this new fairy tale, trembled…

“Happy birthday, happy birthday…”

… And sobbed.

You, in your ungreedy husk of a body, tilted your head in innocence. Pain coursed through every nerve now that the Abyss Order’s cleansing equipment broke. The man before you was no different from the shadows you fought and hid from that would terrorize the dark and cold places in the Chasm you’ve instinctively called home. But somewhere deep down, you carried a complex weight that hilichurls wouldn’t normally have. 

That weight was a human emotion dubbed as "pity."

You pitied the shadow that loomed and embraced you.

And your lone reluctant arm that wrapped around him was enough to make him fully break down.

His throat constricted as he cried into your inhuman shoulders. Your scent was like that of a wet duckling, and he preferred that over the blood that disgraced your form several "fairy tales" ago. Dainsleif caressed the golden band on his finger. It was the most important ring between the two that Pari Zurvan found him clutching whilst unconscious in the wilderness.

At the very least, you were safe.

And you being alive today was a good enough present for him.

You tilted your head down, feeling his warmth one last time while Dainsleif took a deep breath, singing with more air than a proper tune.

Though it was barely discernible, he could just about make out the words you muttered a phrase from the old language of Khaenri'ah. Or at least, he deluded himself that that was the case. In his catatonic mind, you spoke the words:

Happy birthday, my beloved.

"H-Happy birthday to me…"

Taglist: @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl @kitkareen @dxprived4-starboys

[campbell-rose]

Hazbin Trailer + Rewrite Spitballing

The Hazbin Trailer omg

I finally watched it and like... it's so bad guys. Honestly, the only people I pity are the animators and the pilot voice actors, and the new actors too. Blake Roman especially, the man is super talented, but trying to fill the massive shoes of Michael is weighing his performance down so bad. Honestly, if Viv wasn't a petty brat, she could've kept Michael and gotten Blake as the singing voice.

Apparently there's a war on Heaven plot? I hope to god not, like that's NOT THE PREMISE. God Viv just cannot stick to her premises, can she? This happened with Zoophobia, initially it seemed like it was going to follow Cameron but slowly lost focus on her. Then Helluva Boss losing the hired assassin plot for the sake of shitty Stolitz drama. Seems redeeming sinners is going to be a side plot which is unfortunate because that was one of the biggest things i wanted from this show. I remember when i used to love Vivziepop and i got so excited for the pilot of Hazbin. Redeeming sinneers, that sounded so cool. It's what got me into demonology and was a big part of my life. Sad to see this happen.

I genuinely hate the stupid trope of heaven, the place that is literally paradise for good people, being bad. Like, i cannot feasibly imagine a universe in which Viv manages to write that in any compelling way. And why is it just ‘heaven bad’??? This could be an interesting story that discusses the nature of good and bad, talks about what makes someone a good person, should people be given redemption if they already blew their chance, is the definition of 'good' wrong? Like, in the hands of competent writers, Hazbin could be an interesting story, like a Walmart Good Place! But no, heaven bad, let's go kill angels that say fuck.

Like, as an example of my above point, let’s look at a familiar face from Helluva Boss, Mrs. Mayberry. 

She killed someone, tried to kill someone, then herself, and is now in hell. But a good question could be raised of if her being in hell is even justified. Yes, she killed a person (and attempted to kill another) which is not a good thing to do. But she killed her husband in a fit of rage after seeing him cheating on her – like actively, red handed, balls deep cheating on her. From what we see of her before her death, she seems like an attentive and caring teacher and wife, she even says herself she was ‘good my entire life’. Her students love her, and literally the reason she kills herself seems to be because she realizes that they saw her literally murder someone. She did choke and throw a child, but that was played for comedy so I'm not counting that against her. She kills herself because she’s so shocked about what she’s done. She’s bitter because she’s in hell.  

Her husband was a cheater and the woman she tried to kill was a murderer and a cannibal, so by that logic, doesn’t her killing a bad person negate the killing? Yes, murder is bad, she should’ve controlled herself, but this was one terrible moment in a lifetime of being good. Like, say someone kills a pedobear, is the person commiting the murder a bad person for killing someone who deserved it? Not that her husband deserved to die for cheating, a good beat down maybe. If a good person kills a bad person, does that make them a bad person too? Or does it come down to intention? Did the good only kill the bad for a selfish reason?

That’s an interesting conundrum (in my opinion). Does she deserve to redeem herself? How would she redeem herself? If I keep thinking on it, i'll ramble, but that's my thinking. Anyway, this made me think about a rewrite that follows this line of thinking.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Charlie being an angel and Vaggie being her Exterminator guard who goes with her to hell to redeem sinners is the best way to make this mess an interesting thing. Like, Charlie is an optimistic angel who thinks the extermination of sinners is inhumane and that the standards of Heaven need changed. Vaggie is literally trained to kill sinners and sees Charlie’s efforts as futile but is assigned to help her anyway. Makes sense why everyone would disrespect Charlie and treat her like an idiot for wanting to redeem sinners, instead of insulting the daughter of FUCKING LUCIFER HIMSELF, they’re laughing at an angel who came down out of nowhere and is acting high and mighty.

Also, Charlie can keep the name Charlie Magne instead of Morningstar because she's no longer Lucifer's daughter. Vaggie is just V. boom, problem solved, i'm a genius.

Have a doodle

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 15

Figured I would go ahead and get this part out since it was already halfway written. Just some super fluffy and domestic stuff since I've been in my feels lately.

Also. JJk fandom. The name is for you. It's pretty obvious.

btw. I'm running out of OPLA Gifs of Mihawk, so you might start seeing some anime gifs.

Warnings! kissing is all.

Song reader is singing! Here!

Masterlist

Time passes as time does. Weeks turn into months since the day Dracule stumbled upon your island. He visits when he can, usually staying three or four days at a time, every couple of weeks. During that time, you and Mihawk have grown closer, to the point that the two of you were in each other's thoughts at every waking moment. There was nothing in this world that would keep Dracule away from his Snow Angel. 

Today Dracule had a rather unusual gift, so his ship was packed with the things necessary to take care of it. Dracule dearly hoped that you would like this one. He surely did not. Or maybe it didn't like him. 

As the months passed by, Dracule gifted you many things, some for you and some for your home. The three chickens, one rooster, and two hens had arrived not long after Mihawk had figured out your true heritage. Your garden expanded another four plots to accommodate all of the new seeds and saplings the warlord brought you. He had even gone so far as to help you build a pen for the goat Dracule had brought along on one memorable trip. The poor man had not been happy and made you help him clean his ship. 

The best gift of all was being able to finally meet Perona after weeks of speaking over the phone. The pink girl had quickly become your closest female friend, and it felt incredible to have someone to speak to about the girlier things in your life. There were some subjects that Mihawk just didn't get. 

Thankfully, Mihawk arrives at your island before he decides to toss your gift overboard. He gathers his things and then flashes off the ship, making sure the ocean doesn't touch the wiggling body in his arms. Golden eyes glare up at him and he glares right back down, and the warlord swears this thing is worse than the goat. Dracule can hear music pouring out of the cottage when he gets close enough. 

And then there suddenly appears before me 

The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper “Please adore me” 

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

Mihawk huffs at the lyrics. His timing was far too good. The closer he gets, he begins to hear your voice as well, and Dracule would much rather hear you sing to him than some man who is long dead. He would stand and listen if his gift wasn't threatening to claw his eyes out. 

The warlord steps through the open door of the cottage, and his shoulder slumps as soon as he enters the humble abode. This place is his home away from home, and it never fails to bring him peace. 

Dracule finds you in the back storage room, a crate full of the older and unneeded stuff you had lying around. After not having anything but the couch for Perona to sleep over on, you had decided that it was about time to clean out the back room for her. Or anyone else that didn’t want to kill you first thing when they washed up on your island.

Blue moon

Now I’m no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own 

He leans in the doorway, watching you finish up dumping a broken oar into the crake. Mhawk knows that you see him when you jump and turn to look at him with narrowed eyes and a cute little sneer. 

“Bastard. You scared me,” you grumble and then you cross the floor to carefully slide his hat off, holding it to the side as your free hand slides into his hair and brings him down for a sweet kiss, “Welcome home, dear.”

Mihawk hums into the kiss, gently nipping your bottom lip, and then sliding his tongue inside your mouth when you open up for him. You taste like sweet chamomile, and it leaves a soft smile on his face when he pulls away to gaze down at you, “It is good to be back, Angel.” 

The two of you share several more sweet kisses before the wriggling bundle in his arms finally gets your attention. You pull away and look down to see a very angry feline staring up at you. You break immediately at the sight of its pitiful gold gaze and hand Mihawk his hat back so that you can scoop the kitten up.  

“Where did you find him?” You ask and have already abandoned Mihawk in favor of giving the orange tabby in your arms all of your attention. The kitten purrs happily when you scratch behind his ears. 

Dracule glares at the creature, and the kitten glares right back from where it is happily curled up against your breasts. Mihawk doesn’t know how much he likes this idea anymore. 

“I stopped for a resupply before I came here. There was a fishmonger that had chased it off, and I knew that you would give it a good home,” Mihawk explains. He sighs when you baby talk at the kitten, not giving half the attention he deserves for bringing the little demon to you, but your happiness was definitely worth it, “I have what you’ll need to care for it in my ship.” 

The grin you grant him is worth it too, and Dracule can’t help himself when he crosses the room to press you against the wall, lips connecting with yours in a kiss a little more fierce than the ones earlier. Mihawk has missed you, far more than usual for some reason. You moan into his mouth, eyes sliding shut when Dracule slides a hand around your jaw, angling you just how he likes.

A loud yowl interrupts the two of you, and Mihawk pulls away to sneer down at the kitten who proceeds to hiss at him. You laugh, seeing his jealousy clear as day, and over a cat of all things!

“I guess we should name him, huh?” You say and it’s your turn to be on the receiving end of that sneer. You scoff at him and lift the kitten, dangling him in front of Dracule, “You found him, so you get to name him.”

Dracule scoffs and turns on his heel, stripping off his coat to hang on the mantlepiece, quickly followed by his hat, “He is your cat, so you are the one naming the demon,” He dismisses and stalks to the kitchen, but you only pout and follow after him. 

“Nu-uh. That’s not how this works. You saved him, you name him.” You weren’t about to back down on this. The kitten mewls and you snuggle it back to your front, tucking the fuzz ball under your chin. 

Mihawk ignores you in favor of pouring himself a glass of wine and snacking on the green grapes you must have harvested earlier today. He feels you slide up beside him, and chances a glance down to see his darling staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes, “Ugh. Fine. Give me a moment to think.” 

You cheer at your victory and patiently wait for Dracule to decide on a name. He does you the courtesy of actually thinking of a name and smirks when he settles on a proper name for the hellspawn.

“Sukuna,” Mihawk decides and you repeat the name, getting a feel for it. You don’t know the story behind the name, but it must be an interesting one with the way Mihawk is smirking at the kitten. 

“I think that’s a good name,” You agree and scratch Sukuna’s little ears again, melting when the kitten only purrs louder and snuggles close. You giggle when you catch Mihawk glaring at the kitten again, “Let’s find Hank. I think he’ll like his new friend.” 

Hank turned out to not like his new housemate very much. Sukuna had taken one look at the big hound and had puffed up, long fur bristling so much that he resembled nothing but a cotton ball. Hank had run from the tiny ball of anger straight to Mihawk, cowering behind the man, and whining whenever Sukuna got too close. 

“Nothing but a coward,” Dracule says, but he is already kneeling to give into Hank’s puppy dog eyes and give him some pets. Sukuna stalks from one end of the room to the other, fluffy tail straight up in the air as he surveys his new home. 

Mihawk straightens up when he sees you approaching. You settle in his lap, hands cradling his handsome face as you lean in to press your lips to his brow. Mihawk grasps you by the hips, tugging you flush against his front and holding you close. He noses along your jaw, “Are you happy with your gift, sweet thing?” He rumbles quietly. 

You nod, “Very happy, Mihawk,” you assure him and settle more fully in his lap, letting the man under you take your weight. He massages your hips, causing a soft sigh to slip from between your lips, “I missed you.”

“Did you, Darling?” Mihawk breathes and pulls you down to press his lips to yours for half a second, “What all did you do while I was gone? I see that you already started to clean up, even though I told you to wait for me.” 

You shrug helplessly, “I couldn’t help it. I was really bored, and we already decided what needed to be thrown out, so,” You trail off and lean forward to snuggle against his chest, “You can help in the garden later?” 

Mihawk huffs and presses a kiss to your hair. He watches as Sukuna chases after Hank’s tail, lips twisting in satisfaction to see the two animals getting along better. His arms tighten around you, and you have relaxed completely in his grasp. 

“Whatever you wish, dear one.” Dracule agrees and says nothing when he feels you grin against his neck.    

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar

[uhohdad]

Reader is turned on by cocky and mean men you say?

*the dormant Titan/Reader shipper in me awakens*

WARNING: 18+, NSFW, DEPICTIONS OF NON-CONSENSUAL SEX AND PHYSICAL ABUSE. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION AND TAKE CARE <3

“Konig! Konig!”

“Oh no, it’s too late for that, Funny Girl.”

Titan’s fingers ruthlessly indent the flesh of your cheeks to keep you from squirming, his other hand restraining both of your uncomfortably twisted wrists to the dirt with little effort. You can feel it, just how strong he is, bruises blooming at his fingertips and a cruel ache under his grip.

“Say my name,” he growls.

“Konig! Help!”

The hand restraining your face releases you, only to return to your cheek in a harsh open-palm strike. He’s didn’t use nearly his full strength, but it’s still powerful enough to make you see blinding white, thoughts forced to a grinding halt.

Heat immediately rushes to the impact, a rough outline of his handprint raising on your flesh and tears welling in your eyes.

“What did I say?!”

Titan’s voice is no longer a purr, now a hiss through clenched teeth.

He’s stunned you, wide, tear-brimmed eyes and shallow, sniveling breaths out of parted lips.

“Please-” Your voice could hardly be considered a whisper, more a squeak lost to the wind.

Titan’s fingers curl around your chin, digging his nails into your sore jaw and forcing you to look at him.

When you close your eyes to try and pretend he’s not there - pretend this isn’t happening, pretend he doesn’t haven’t you restrained in a straddle on the forest floor and is about to do unspeakable things to you - he gives your head a rattle, shaking you until you open your eyes to be met with a blurry world and Titan’s wicked smile.

“It’s too bad, Funny Girl.”

He leans in close to you, your wrists crying under his body weight. His eyes widen on a flare before narrowing - his voice has adopted a soothing tone, but his words are nothing less than gut-wrenching.

“You can be the smartest girl in the world, but it’s nothing compared to strength.”

By the end of his sentence, his cheeks are dimpled into a sickening grin, razor sharp canines salivating over his next meal.

Your wrists are dancing under his hold, but his grip is ruthless. Your eyes are truly pathetic, your squeaky pleads adorned with sloped brows and tearful eyes.

“Titan - please, please don’t do this. Just kill me, please.”

He laughs, that sickenly sweet sardonic laugh that slices through you harder than a knife in the stomach.

“Oh no, Nine. We’re well past that.”

He practically sings the last sentence, drawing out syllables in teasing purrs.

“You like to play dirty.”

He’s unarmed, but his sneering tongue and brute restraint is worlds more threatening than a deadly weapon.

He leans in, inches from you, the heat of his breath on your face bringing your hairs to attention.

“So we’re going to play dirty, Funny Girl.”

He throws his head back in another wicked laugh. When he returns, he jerks your head to the side and buries his razor sharp canines into the sensitive flesh of your neck, drawing a harrowing cry from you. Titan’s tongue roughly laps up the fresh blood pouring from his punctures, laughing into the taste, his lips and breath violating your skin.

It’s getting harder to think, the instinctual panic of an animal has all of your limbs squirming in his hold, but it’s useless.

He’s right.

There is nothing that can compare to brute strength.

He will get his way.

Because he is bigger.

Because he is stronger.

THE OTHER TITAN DRABBLES YOU KNOW YOU WANT, FUNNY GIRL

KONIG X READER HUNGER GAMES AU

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LIEBE

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~12k

⊲ previous

There was almost nothing left of that hovel, the sagging roof sprawled on the grass of the wild forest, the splinters of the flimsy walls finding their way to your heart instead of scattering around. You could see almost nothing, only pressed your mother's collapsed body closer to you under the deafening rumble. You couldn't tell or feel if she was alive - she hadn't moved since your father had slammed her head against the wall several times.

Remembering all the songs you had heard, you tried to sing them softly, but they kept running away, hiding in fear. You turned sharply when a sound came from one side or the other - new tears came to your eyes that carried anxiety and hopelessness. Why could you see nothing but a dark veil? Why couldn't you tear it away like a sheet? You desperately clenched into a ball from the realization of your own helplessness, you wanted to babble pleas for forgiveness into the top of your mother's head because you couldn't even protect yourself.

There was cursing, the floor creaked again, the floorboards flew apart, and you crawled backward, holding your mother in your arms. You almost choked on a tidal wave of panic when you heard a thump, sharp and deafening as if something heavy had fallen. "Ya out of your mind?" bellowed a familiar bass voice. "If I hadn't gone after you, what would ya have done? Kill them, huh?"

"Back off!" your father howled like a wounded animal. "Let go of me, asshole!" there was a steady, fierce resistance alongside the curses - you could hear the creaking, the heavy breathing and the muffled blows.

"Look at them!" Frank jerked your father's head up, forcing him to look at you.

There was no family in front of the man, only two mutilated monsters. One was silent and willless, hiding in the shadows, and the other was sobbing nastily, rubbing bloody snot on it's face, searching for salvation with dark eyes in the depths of the forest. That's what he did to them all. "That's... That's not my family," your father sobbed, shaking his head desperately in denial. "It's not them."

Frank gripped harder into your father's hair. "That's your wife!" he yelled, pointing his finger at the motionless body in your arms. "And that's your daughter!" he screamed even louder, moving his finger to you.

Frank pressed his knee into the man's tailbone, forcing your father to stay down. He was ready to lay down his arms and to bow his head if someone would tell him it was just a dream. A terrible nightmare that had no place in his world. "That's not my bastard."

"Yours," Frank hissed in his ear. "Whether ya want it or not. Get up!" he ordered sharply, bringing your father to his feet in one motion.

You didn't see his red eyes, or the veins protruding from his neck, or the disgust on his face, and even if you had all the eyes in the world, you wouldn't have found a shred of regret in him. When you heard another loud sound, you bowed your head sharply, obediently waiting for the blow, but even after a few moments, the back of your head didn't catch fire nor did the top of your head ache. "Let me go, you asshole!" your father howled.

"Am I keeping ya?" asked Frank indifferently. "Take ten steps back," your father didn't have time to say anything. "Silently," Frank added, and you heard mooing - unintelligible and angry as if the speaker had his mouth sewn shut.

Footsteps sounded. You felt someone's presence right in front of you, and you involuntarily pitched forward, trying to find some warmth. "Young lady," Frank whispered and gently nuzzled your cheek, and you whimpered, shackled by the sudden sense of protection. "Ya... Ya not hungry?"

"What?" you whispered through your tears. "Frank, why are ya talking about food?"

"I'm gonna check something out. Don't freak out, 'kay?" comfortingly assured Frank. You didn't hear anything. You didn't smell the blood that dripped from the man's palm, you didn't see its beautiful scarlet color, just waited helplessly for it to be over.

Frank was watching you intently. You were like a lost, blind puppy, looking around for something, but you didn't react to the food that was right in front of your nose. Unlike your mother.

Her willless body became steel, and your arms were unable to hold her. Before you could react, she immediately broke away from your grasp, and you, stunned and speechless, stopped even crying. The screaming pleas didn't come out of your lips - words didn't even look in your direction, like strangers, leaving you completely speechless.

"Obedience."

There were no sounds of struggle. There were no screams, neither heart–rending nor quiet. The clinking of teeth and scraping of claws died as quickly as they had come.

And your mom never came back into your arms again.

Frank took the woman in his arms and looked at you again. He clenched his teeth and his heart sank - according to the laws of the universe, you could be anyone, but to him you were still a child. The regret, the compassion that your father didn't have, his best friend did.

You never thought that a single word could make you tremble with fear. Even if it wasn't even said to you. "Go," Frank said quietly to your father. It wasn't an order. It wasn't an admonition.

It was something so inevitable that it left no hope behind it - it was already mangled and dead.

You felt the place empty, heard the crunch of the snow fade, and there was nothing left for you to do but run blindly, so as not to be alone. "Frank!" you shouted, hoping he would respond. The trees were thinning, giving way to the winter wind, and there was no mercy in it, whipping at the children's bare shoulders with all its might. "Frank!" you yelled, quickening your step and hugging yourself, trying to keep warm. You didn't even realize you were running through an open field, and no one was ever there. "Dad!" you whimpered desperately, looking around trying to hear anything. "Mom!"

Whether it was your weakened legs or the treacherous stone, you fell into the snow, your body cramping from the cold. "Someone," you whispered helplessly into the ground, and the snowflakes melted on your lips after a short age. "Leave me someone, please," you begged in a hoarse voice, drowning in tears, and there was no one near you to wipe them from your face.

The mind didn't obey – stubbornly trying to fall asleep, it falsely promised you sweet dreams and relief from pain. You closed your eyes obediently, and it was as if you were seeing the shack where love had first died.

Throwing a tired glance at her wristwatch, the woman sighed exhaustedly. Shoko didn't like night shifts. She wasn't attracted to cold corpses or their insides. Ieiri didn't care about the bright minds of the others or working for an idea - she worked overtime just for the money. She didn't care what she had to do, whether it was dissecting another body or filling out medical records as long as she kept her pocket heavy.

At first, working with Doc seemed organized but tense - the man liked order and expected everyone else to follow it. He frowned irritably every time he saw a single scalpel out of place, and glared at the woman over his glasses if she dared to put test tubes on the wrong shelf. Shoko thought he was a grumpy pedant until she opened the medical records drawer for the first time.

It wasn't a complete mess, but everything was piled up. Blood type and Rh factor cards, labs, outpatient surgery records, autopsy reports, chronologies of illnesses - all of it stood folder to folder, but there was no sequential or name order. Some of the medical records stood there empty.

When Shoko had first seen it, she had exulted at the opportunity to throw a well-deserved scornful glare at the doc, which she had promptly taken advantage of. To her mute surprise, there was no scandal or recrimination on his part - the man snorted embarrassedly under his breath and told her that she could eventually make her own rules here. For a fee, of course.

After she finished filling out the medical records and pasting in all the necessary medical data and tests, Shoko took the folder from the desk and went to the drawer to put it away. All the folders were already alphabetized in this section, which pleased her eyes. Humming happily, Ieiri bent the documents in the cabinet and tried to put the recently filled out folder at the very end, but something kept her from going all the way in. Trying to tamp everything down, Shoko tried to force the document through, but even that didn't work. Her satisfaction was immediately replaced by irritation, and Shoko stuck her hand into the section and tried to feel for the obstacle.

She fumbled for something that was at odds with the medical records - unlike them, which were thin enough, she held something weighty in her hands. Pulling it out, she stared at it suspiciously.

A notebook? Even if it was, the writing was clearly not from this century - the journal was all tattered, the cover weathered and gnarled in places, and the pages inside were all yellow, but what struck Jeri most was that the entries weren't made with a pen. It was ink.

Shoko opened the notebook to a random page and leaned back against the drawers. The pages were unsteady - they were always trying to turn over, so she had to hold them with her thumb.

Experiment number: #37

Biological origin of the carrier: Human

Biological origin of the inseminator: Dioreact

Condition of the carrier at the time of conception (if needed): -

Condition of the inseminator at the time of conception (if needed): Intermediate option

Gestational age: -

Current carrier's fetal number:: -

Initial fetal state: -

The term at which the carrier changed state to an intermediate option (if needed): -

Fetal condition in intermediate carrier option (if needed): -

Fetal condition when the carrier transitions from intermediate to human (if needed): -

Timing of fetal retrieval (if needed): -

Fetal weight at retrieval (if needed):

Fetal status: -

Note: Louie, we're just wasting precious time. It is time to accept the idea that conception of a fetal with an intermediate variant of inseminator simply does not happen.  

Shoko felt an electric shock as if she were holding something illegal. The noise in her head made it hard to form the letters into words, and she had to work hard to make any sense out of it. Her brain seemed to refuse to believe what was happening.

Experiment number: #59

Biological origin of the carrier: Human

Biological origin of the inseminator: Dioreact

Condition of the carrier at the time of conception (if needed): -

Condition of the inseminator at the time of conception (if needed): Human

Gestational age: 28 weeks  

Current carrier's fetal number: #2

Initial fetal state: Human

The term at which the carrier changed state to an intermediate option (if needed): -

Fetal condition in intermediate carrier option (if needed): -

Fetal condition when the carrier transitions from intermediate to human (if needed): -

Timing of fetal retrieval (if needed): 29 weeks

Fetal weight at retrieval (if needed): ~920 g

Fetal status: Dead

Note: Louie, I've had enough. We've been running around with inseminators too much, but it hasn't done us any good. In the human condition, the inseminator gives birth to a normal human being. How many have been born already? Where do we put them all? With the intermediate option of the inseminator, conception does not occur at all.  

Note: Vincent, you have to give time to those who are born. Maybe they will prove themselves in the future.

Note: We don't have that much time. We have already degenerated to the point where we retrieve the fetal before it is ready, and we lose both the fetal and the carrier. Human resources aren't infinite either. I hope you remember that I am the leader. We're switching to carriers.

Shoko slowly walked over to the table and placed the journal on it, not taking her eyes off the elegant handwriting. Her mouth was as dry as if she'd been forced to eat a handful of unripe fruit. She sat back in her chair and, overcoming the compulsive urge to close the notebook, began to read on.

Experiment number: #109

Biological origin of the carrier: Dioreact

Biological origin of the inseminator: Human

Condition of the carrier at the time of conception (if needed): Human

Condition of the inseminator at the time of conception (if needed): -

Gestational age: 23 weeks  

Current carrier's fetal number: #4

Initial fetal state: Human  

The term at which the carrier changed state to an intermediate option (if needed): 23 weeks

Fetal condition in intermediate carrier option (if needed): Dioreact

Fetal condition when the carrier transitions from intermediate to human (if needed): -

Timing of fetal retrieval (if needed): 23 weeks

Fetal weight at retrieval (if needed): <440 g

Fetal status: Dead

Note: This was the fourth fetus of this carrier. I was patient, I waited obediently for the due date, but she delivered stillborn babies. This time, however, I myself extracted the fetus almost immediately after she went intermediate. The baby was still alive, but died almost immediately after being removed from the carrier's womb. So at what point and why did the previous three die? Did we find ourselves at the threshold of discovery only to stumble over it?

P.S. Louie, we're running low on black orchid. Put in a request to the superiors, or I'll be bleeding out of my ears from all this screaming.

Doc raised his voice at Shoko every time she dared to smoke in his office. He'd get mad, snatch the pack out of her hands, say something about respect for others, but Ieiri never listened to him. It was only recently that a crystal ashtray, which the woman had never bought, had appeared on their shared desk. Taking a drag, Ieiri exhaled the smoke convulsively.

She was at ease with both cold corpses and the feel of slippery, still wet organs in her hands. She could spend hours exploring the insides, she wasn't sickened by the sight of blood, she wasn't hurt by cries of pain or pleas to stop. So why was it now that she could literally feel her scalp against her skull?  Why was she now prickling with what she could feel her muscles contracting? And did the bones inside her body always feel so wet?

Experiment number: #201

Biological origin of the carrier: Dioreact

Biological origin of the inseminator: Human

Condition of the carrier at the time of conception (if needed): Human

Condition of the inseminator at the time of conception (if needed): -

Gestational age: 30 weeks

Current carrier's fetal number: #3

Initial fetal state: Human

The term at which the carrier changed state to an intermediate option (if needed): 30 weeks

Fetal condition in intermediate carrier option (if needed): Dioreact

Fetal condition when the carrier transitions from intermediate to human (if needed): -

Timing of fetal retrieval (if needed): 30 weeks

Fetal weight at retrieval (if needed): ~1210 g

Fetal status: Dead

Note: After so many attempts, my hunch has finally been confirmed. The fetal responds perfectly to the carrier's transition from human to intermediate, and indeed, transitions with it. The problem is that the fetal dies when the carrier tries to transition back. Every single time... Why? Why can't any of them transition back with the mother? Don't they want to live?

Oh, Louie, I think you and I were born too soon... We are limited by what we can do in this world, and how much could we do if we had some kind of machine... I don't know, that would allow us to determine the fetal' condition without removing it from the mother? I know, I know, I'm daydreaming again, but I'm just desperate.  

Experiment number: #343

Biological origin of the carrier: Dioreact

Biological origin of the inseminator: Human

Condition of the carrier at the time of conception (if needed): Human

Condition of the inseminator at the time of conception (if needed): -

Gestational age: 28 weeks

Current carrier's fetal number: #4

Initial fetal state: Human

The term at which the carrier changed state to an intermediate option (if needed): 28 weeks

Fetal condition in intermediate carrier option (if needed): Dioreact

Fetal condition when the carrier transitions from intermediate to human (if needed):: -

Timing of fetal retrieval (if needed): 28 weeks

Fetal weight at retrieval (if needed): ~870 g

Fetal status: Dead

Note: Louie, I'm ready to give up. I'm already running around with the carriers like a chicken and egg just to make sure nothing hurts them and they don't go intermediate before they should. But today 343 got mad about a dropped spoon! Can you believe it?! A spoon!!! She started crying like crazy, and when she turned, I almost cried with her.

I don't know what to think anymore. Maybe we've created too "artificial" environment for the carriers? Maybe we should put them in a normal environment and just observe them from a distance. Maybe even make it so the carrier doesn't even know about it.

God, the hopelessness of it was starting to make me completely delusional. Don't mind me, Louie.

Note: Vincent, don't give up. I believe we're about to find out what's wrong.

Ieiri flipped through pages, completely oblivious to the holes in the paper or the ink smudged by time and someone's clumsy hands, she looked through the records, and seeing the same information, the same line, she quickly turned the page.

Experiment number: #541

Fetal status: Dead

Shoko wanted to close that notebook and never open it again, to pretend she'd never seen anything, but she was stopped by the possibility of stumbling across a line that could relieve her of the feeling of nausea.

Experiment number: #895

Fetal status: Dead

She had already stopped reading, all the notes had merged together, and only one word kept hitting her temples.

Fetal status: Dead

Nothing was changing. Fear struck her tired gaze, and the eternally indifferent face contorted in horror. Words turned into entities, and each chittered somewhere close by as if haunting the woman. Dead.

The sensation of being watched made her look around the room warily. There were no distortions in the dim light, no silhouettes in her imagination, but all Ieiri wanted to do was clamp her ears as hard as she could and stop the endless pounding of the mace.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Ieiri jerked fearfully as a new pile of papers fell in front of her. Those awful lines of the old journal were dragging her down like a swamp, and drowning in her reading, she didn't hear Doc enter the office. Expecting the worst, Shoko looked up at him. To her surprise, there wasn't a shred of irritation on the man's face, and what stressed her the most - he looked completely indifferent. As if he hadn't noticed anything.

She realized she'd been pressing the notebook too hard against the table with the palm of her hand as if she was afraid it would be taken away. Shoko expected a heated argument, accusations of sticking her nose where it didn't belong, but more importantly - she was hoping for some clarification. "Nothing to say?" she asked indifferently, slamming the journal shut and sliding it over to the doc, who was already up to his ears in paperwork.

Doc glanced at the notebook, not a muscle flinching in his face. "What exactly do you want to hear?" he muttered, massaging his throbbing temples - so much work had piled up in recent weeks that even his replicas weren't helping anymore. He was still falling off his feet.

"What is it?"

"The records of my predecessors," he answered without concealment or regret. "I had nothing to do with them."

Shoko pulled a pack of cigarettes from the table, and Doc, instead of terrorizing her about her inhibitions, silently stood up, opened the window, and sat back down. "Then where did you get this?" she asked and put the filter of the cigarette to her lips - Shoko didn't realize herself that the puff came out too long as if she was trying to fill the void that had been created by so many words about death with smoke.

"What do you think?" asked Doc sarcastically. "The same place we get everything ancient or forbidden. Or both."

"Then...," Ieiri, feeling the growing scratch in her throat, coughed quietly. "Where did she get that from?"

"From the superiors' archives," Doc replied, filling out the medical records. "All this neutrality by a thread wouldn't last long," the more the man spoke, the more worried Shoko became. His nonchalant words bred not only understanding, but anxiety as well. "Our higher-ups care greatly for their reputation. Not only did their predecessors sponsor this horror, but also they were the instigators of it, and there is no proof that they are no longer doing such things, and the presumption of innocence will not work. Vigilante justice is cruel and merciless." 

"I see," Shoko said indifferently. She glanced at the Doc, who kept his eyes on the medical records, then at the notebook, which looked like it was begging to be opened and plunged into those depths again, and the woman could hardly contain the sudden impulse. Something more was troubling her. "I never saw in the records that the chil… uh, that any of the experiments were successfully completed," the man froze as suddenly as if time in the office had stopped for a second, unable to even take a breath. Shoko was sure she'd hit the right spot, all that was left was to get the question right, but being the straightforward person she was, she blurted out what had been swirling around in her head all along. "Did anyone survive?"

Doc stared at his colleague, and there was no answer in his eyes - Shoko didn't know if he was trying to test her or searching for ulterior motives. To her disappointment, he returned to his work with a discreet hum. "I have no idea." 

You stood in front of the window, barely touching the glass with the tip of your nose. In a slow and stealthy chase, you found yourself at a coffee shop you didn't know, and judging by the way people were darting around, it was very close to the center of town. Inside the coffee shop, a gentle veil of warm light enveloped the interior. Cozy sack chairs decorated in the style of various animals beckoned with their softness. Some plush faces looked at each other, others - at the visitors who stood in line. You were looking, too.

Nathaniel looked like all the other people. He wasn't wearing his usual wide-sleeved robe; he was dressed in plain jeans and a black turtleneck. His long golden hair was gathered into a high ponytail revealing the attractiveness of his face - though there were wrinkles and creases here and there, his face looked refined, almost feminine. He was standing in line, shaking off invisible dust from his pointed shoulders. There was nothing about him that suggested that he belonged to a world closed off from ordinary people.

You stared blankly as Nathaniel spoke to the barista. He gesticulated gracefully, indicating something on the menu card. His hands felt like they were underwater. Not one sudden movement. You couldn't even wait for the girl with the green snake earrings to walk past you.

"Isolation."

It stretches. It writhes. It shrinks and loosens, trying to move forward or dissolve. It is drowning and all-consuming, unaware of emotions, words or surroundings. It wanders through the eternal void, searching and finding, and if it doesn't find it, it tries again.

It's like chasing a tangle of eternal thread. The thread unravels and is immediately lost in the darkness, and it stubbornly grasps at it as if it were a lifeline, but only hurts the nonexistent hand more. It wants to move and doesn't know if it's moving - there's nothing around, not even darkness or gloom. It wants to hear confirmation that someone else is here, but it can't hear as if it were in a vacuum.

One must follow the thread, regardless of the tangled knots it leaves behind. Can't stumble over them, can't look at them, and that's what they're trying to do - to throw the one present off the path, to make them stay here as long as possible.

If the void does not consume, it will certainly want to kill what is here. That which comes out of this abyss, that which should not be here. It must be kept in check, it must be obeyed, or it will take dark roots and swallow up the uninvited guest. If there is one.

The tangle keeps going, and it's like a cat chasing a mouse. The cat has no eyes, no ears, no nose, no paws, but it's definitely here, but is there a mouse?

It trembles as if with joy. It distorts as if dissolving itself, wanting to get rid of everything around it. It feels that it is coming. There is a guest here, unwelcome and unknown, and it has already sensed his consciousness.

When you came out of isolation, you sighed, your side-eye catching the girl with the green earrings as she walked past you. When you looked out the window of the coffee shop again, you saw Nathaniel, bent over and leaning against the counter, pressing his palm to his face. You couldn't see if his nose or eyes were bleeding or if they were bleeding at all, but the barista fidgeted, fumbling for more napkins. Some customers jumped out of their seats, some were already dialing a phone number in a hurry. When a woman came up to Nathaniel and held him, trying to get him to sit up, you were out of sight.

The farther you got from the coffee shop, the more you slowed down and relaxed - breathing evened out, the tension in your muscles dissipated, and the only thing that reminded you of what you'd done was the black lines that sprawled across your fingertips, cozying up to them as if they were at home. With a scornful glare, you decided to clear your head before you went home.

You had long lost sight of the girl with the snake earrings, and what's more, there were fewer and fewer people. The noisy public places had been replaced by quiet apartment complexes, and it was getting dark - everyone seemed to be asleep. The idyll was disturbed by your restless mind, which refused to calm down, asking you hundreds of questions. Why couldn't you go home right now? Was Rachel still mad at you? What about Frank and the black orchid? And him? How did he really feel? And why did you feel so anxious remembering Christian? "Hey!" an indignant panting voice called out behind you. "Slow down!"

You stopped, and Nathaniel caught up with you. Trying to suppress both surprise and laughter, you made a puzzled face, tucking your hands in your pockets. "What ya doing here?" you asked, nodding at him.

He gave you a judgmental look and wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "If you don't trust me, then have the nerve to tell me to my face instead of sneaking around!" he hissed, and you raised your eyebrows in amazement as if it were the first time you'd ever seen him. The man seemed ready to explode with indignation as you continued to act like you didn't understand. "I know you did it," he added in a grumpy tone, pointing to the blood on his arm.

"Do you have proof?" you chirped, tilting your head sideways, which caused another wave of anger. Nathaniel jerked one of your hands out of your pocket and brought it up to his face. He looked at you reproachfully, examining your palm almost closely and noticing the dark lines on it. You shivered and resigned yourself to the idea that the plan had failed, but the shattered trust meant nothing. You knew for sure now that Nathaniel was human.

When he let go of your hand, it fell limply, hanging along your body. Tucking it into your pocket and biting your lip, trying not to get into another confrontation, you decided the best solution was to admit your own guilt. "Come on, Nael. It's not like anyone died."

"That's what you call an apology?" the man said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. "We've been through so much, and now you do something like this?" you didn't want to admit it, but you could clearly hear the hurt in his words, which made you look away and bore into the pavement with one toe.

"We just pulled your charred ass out of the void, it's not that big a deal," you muttered, pouting your lips. Nathaniel restlessly brushed the disheveled strands out of his hair as if he remembered what he used to look like. "Honestly, when I saw your burnt head, I was sure it wouldn't even grow weeds, but look at your hair," even biting your lip didn't help - sometimes you just couldn't tell when to shut up. "Is it expensive to get a transplant these days?" you asked, glancing at the man. He was still tousling his golden curls anxiously as if his scalp itched.

"And I, when I saw your demon face, thought you'd come for my soul," he parried, wanting to jab you as much as you did him. "Did you kill a lot of people then?"

"One-one," you shrugged indifferently, and with your back against the nearest wall, you ducked your gaze to the ground.

May Nathaniel was pleased with the result of his words, but it didn't last long - guilt and responsibility mixed inside as well as the realization that he shouldn't have provoked you. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have acted like that. Neither should you, by the way," you nodded your head, barely listening to his words. Noticing your detached state, he hesitated and placed a hand on your shoulder, and he did it gingerly as if he expected either an explosion or a slit throat. But you didn't move. "I only found out later that it happens to you... Because of the emotions," he hesitated a moment before continuing because unlike him, your silence remained adamant. "Look, it wasn't your fault. You raided the place thinking there were no people left."

"They're gone now," you chuckled wistfully. "We did our best," you added quietly.

"I know that I only survived because you happened to stumble upon me," the man spoke as if he was still pinned to the ground by those smoldering beams. "And since I was one of those people, I can take it upon myself to say that they don't blame you for anything," Nathaniel, through a grayed voice, tried to get through to you. "Because I don't."

"All right," you said, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. "Ya've already told me off, ya've picked at my wounds, and that's enough. I'm done," you said in a cheerful voice, pulling yourself away from the wall and getting ready to leave.

"Wait," the man stopped you, grabbing your wrist. "There's something else I'd like to talk about," he added conspiratorially quietly.

"What is it?" you ask, frowning your eyebrows.

"Christian," he'd only said one name, and you were already almost choking up. "He started doing his job carelessly a long time ago, and lately he's stopped showing up altogether," the man continued to say carefully, warningly. "You feel it too, don't you?" he asked, looking into your eyes. "Just remember how he acted when you came back from the void. He was always an asshole, of course, but he never broke protocols."

You tried not to show it, but you were literally turned inside out - even a fleeting and gentle gust of wind made your skin itch and ache. "Do ya know his address?" you asked.

"I've been there more than once," he sighed doomfully. "No one's ever opened it."

"Nael, are ya on a binge?" you were struck to the core by the superior's simple-mindedness. "It's strange that ya came there without an invitation at all."

You looked at your phone as if you were waiting for something. You went up to the second floor too often, and when you came back, you frowned even more. You scratched the back of your head more frequently, and Gojo had already figured out and memorized that you only did that when you were confused or distracted. And what he really couldn't get over was the way you waved away food, saying over and over again that you weren't hungry. All the while, you acted as usual, ignoring any questions about how you were feeling, even if it was veiled

You didn't have to say anything at all - he could still feel you, and he was angry that he couldn't do anything about it, standing on the doorstep of the always-closed door to your innermost being. He could have, but looking at his own hands, Gojo realized that he could gut your feelings with his sudden movements and sloppy words, and worst of all, he wouldn't even know it. 

A different hand was needed here, a hand more gentle and less clingy. It needed someone with some manners and tact. That's why the sorcerer was standing at the door to Doc and Ieiri's office now, praying inwardly that, if you ever found out about this, you'd forgive him for this liberty.

When Gojo opened the door, he breathed a sigh of relief when he found no Doc, only Shoko sitting at a table, staring at a book, not paying any attention to him. The place already smelled like cigarette smoke, and he grumbled unhappily.

"Hey!" at the sound, Shoko jumped up on the spot and slammed the notebook with force. Seeing the familiar face of her savior, she instantly relaxed. There wasn't even a shadow of the previous fluttering terror on her, only an indifferent tired expression. "Interrupted?"

"Yeah," Shoko said, rolling her eyes.

"You're welcome," Gojo grinned contentedly. "What do you have here?" he asked, moving closer to the table and tilting his head sideways as if trying to read what was on the cover.

"Nasty reading matter," she brushed it off, immediately tucking the notebook away in her desk drawer. "What did you want?"

"Can't I just visit a friend?" he resented, frowning his white eyebrows and taking a seat across from Shoko. She, however, pursed her lips and continued to stare at Gojo without blinking. He felt so uncomfortable as if the perceptiveness had developed a scope. "Okay, you're right. I really need your help," he whimpered, clasping his hands together in front of him in supplication. 

Out of interest, Jeri began to twirl her auburn curl around her finger. "Speak."

"Agree first!" he begged, holding her gaze and trying to look as sincere as possible.

"That's not how it works," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've got tons of work to do already, so either talk or get the hell out of here." 

Gojo snorted resentfully, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, but remembering why he had come here, the sorcerer moved forward again and stared at Shoko pleadingly. They switched roles - now the woman was uncomfortable. "Here's the thing... Anyway, I can see that the mochi isn't feeling very well. No, I don't mean she's in pain or anything," he rambled, gesturing vigorously. "It's just that she's...I don't know, she's walking around depressed, even though she says she's fine. But I can see everything!" he exclaimed, pointing to his eyes. "Six eyes, after all."

"What does this have to do with me?" asked Ieiri, wrinkling her nose discontentedly.

"Talk to her!" whined Gojo demandingly, grabbing her hands. "And make up with her and Rachel. Have those girlies of yours, get some wine, food, have a pillow fight, or whatever it is you usually do?" 

Shoko immediately pulled her hands out of his grip. "Can't you do it yourself?"

"I can't!" he slammed his hands on the table with indignation. "How do you envision it? I'm sure they'd be uncomfortable in my presence, but with you..."

"Why me?" surrendered Shoko, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Because you're a woman!" he persisted, feeling like she was about to give up.

The sorcerer immediately flinched under her gaze full of reproach. "And you're sexist." 

"You know that's not what I meant," he muttered apologetically, embarrassedly tracing circles on the wooden surface of the table with his finger. "It needs a woman's hand, or whatever it's called... I think she'd be much more comfortable talking about what's bothering her in girl company. And it might be easier for you to get her and Rachel back together. I don't think mochi is quite used to me yet," Gojo added more quietly, resting his head on the table, hiding from his friend's eyes. 

Shoko, sighing heavily, accepted defeat. "Fine," she agreed, realizing she'd never seen him like this before. He never begged, and certainly never wanted to get close to anyone - all those human problems didn't bother him. And if Jeri had no sympathy now, she was at least curious to see what would come of it.

"Really?" perked Gojo. "You know you're the best friend in the world, right?" he grinned slyly, reaching out to her again – Ieiri leaned away from the sorcerer like a leper, and her chair, creaking dangerously and coming off the floor, was left standing on two legs. "Come on, you'll like her," he paid no attention to her attempts to distance herself, still grinning playfully. "Can't you see that even someone like me is better around her?" there was a quiet crack at first, followed a second later by another, much louder and clearer, and it happened so fast that Shoko didn't even have time to round her eyes in shock. The chair leg snapped, and the woman immediately collapsed to the floor. "Shit, did you fall down?" chuckled Gojo, flipping across the table and looking at his friend, who was spitting irritatedly at the hair that had fallen into her mouth.  

"As much of a narcissist and asshole as you were," she hissed, standing up and kicking the broken chair away. "Whether you were sixteen or thirty."

"Hmmm," he drawled thoughtfully. "Can we really call it narcissism if I'm really the best?"

You tried to ignore the endless phone flashes.

It was true that Christian loved order - old, new, or created by him. This applied to his interactions with people as well as his adherence to protocols. He cut all ties with anyone who was even a minute late for a prearranged meeting, and he dismissed anyone who didn't act according to the prescribed guidelines.

This behavior was reflected in his home. There was too much open space here - probably because of the minimalist interior design. No junk, no extra decorative elements. If it was the kitchen, it was just a kitchen unit, stove, refrigerator, table and chairs - all in a monochromatic, aged style. If it was a living room, it was a couch, a TV across from it, a coffee table, and no carpet, no indoor plants - plastic or live. There were no pens or books on the coffee table. There was nothing on the shelves - no vases, no photos, not even empty frames. The place was uncomfortable. It was as if this house had never belonged to anyone.

What stood out from the furnishings was a layer of dust. You ran your finger across the table, and it left a clean, distinctive streak. Other than that, there wasn't much to catch your eye: there was only cutlery in the kitchen cabinets, rotting food in the refrigerator, almost all the drawers were empty, only a lonely bunch of keys lying in the hallway.

Your phone once again blasted with notifications. With a heavy sigh, you headed for the second floor.

Overcoming the path, you opened every possible door - to the right was the bathroom, tiled in white with not a single spot on it, a little farther down the hall was the bedroom, and back to the stairs, you opened the door directly across from it. The office.

You were surprised when you noticed the books on the shelves. There wasn't a single one that stood unevenly - they were all pressed together, cover to cover. There was nothing on the office desk but a stack of papers that lay right on the very corner. Slowly you walked around the desk and sat down in the office chair.

Tapping your fingers against the armrests, you pitched forward - there was some kind of stain on the table, but the stain was too neat to be random. It was a rectangular layer of dust, something that was much thinner than what covered every other surface in the house. Something clicked in your head. There was a laptop here.

And it was stolen long after this house was empty.

You sighed disappointedly and leaned back in your chair, looking around the office. What was he doing here? Was he writing reports? Filling out forms for the dead and missing? Doing the financials? Did he do it all on the missing laptop or did he do it by hand? And if he did it in writing, where did he get a pen?

You reached for the right-hand drawer of the desk, but when you opened it, you saw nothing. You tried the left one, but it wouldn't open. You jerked the handle a few times, thinking it might be jammed, but it remained closed and unyielding. There was no keyhole on the drawer either.

As soon as the dagger was in your hand, it seemed to lead your palm to the right place - when it was in the gap between the table and the drawer, it made a barely perceptible vibration, and without thinking, you pressed down on the top of the hilt. There was a crack.

Opening the drawer, you saw a small dump. There were pens here, but with them were various wrappers, crumpled papers, empty boxes of painkillers, and, suddenly, a corkscrew. You only realized it when it jabbed your palm for trying to dig around. You sucked in air through clenched teeth in surprise and put a finger to your lips, licking away the blood, but you didn't stop and kept digging. There was nothing of interest here but an empty clear baggie. There really wasn't anything in it. Except for the remnants of a white powder at the bottom.

You slumped back in the chair and twirled the bag in your fingers. You hadn't even had a chance to smell it before your thoughts led you back to that nightclub. Now you were racked with guilt for leaving there too soon. Maybe Gojo was right and you shouldn't have left. Maybe you two just needed to kick the asses of everyone there and then figure out who was human and who wasn't. But you wanted to do it neatly, as carefully as possible, leaving a way out for yourself. You grimaced, pulling yourself out of the boiling cauldron of intrusive thoughts and ideas. 

Your phone vibrated once again, and you pulled it out of your pocket, irritated, and quickly flipped through the notification panel. There was something else that made your heart skip a beat besides a bunch of messages from Gojo and app alerts.

[07:43pm] Shoko Ieiri: We need to talk.

You weren't even staring at the words - you were staring at the dot at the end of a short sentence. Why did it look exactly like a nail hammered into a coffin lid?

You were indecently late. You called Shoko and arranged to meet her on the cliff near the house at eight in the evening. She transparently hinted to you that nothing serious had happened and that it would be better to buy something strong. Once at the first store you could remember, you picked up a couple bottles of wine, inwardly worrying - does she drink that stuff? Or should you have gotten something stronger? That's why there was a bottle of tequila in the bag with the wine.

When you looked at your phone, you were horrified. It was exactly eight, and you hadn't even showered. After quickly texting Shoko that you'd be late, you found yourself here, in your bathroom, full of excitement and up to your ears in foam, washing your hair with one hand and your body with the other.

Walking into the workroom and immediately removing his blindfold, Gojo heard muffled chaos. Something frantic was going on in the bathroom - he could hear something clicking, falling, water running - it seemed to be on in both the shower and the sink. He picked up the disorderly stomping of wet feet, the sound of drawers opening, and even the way clothes flew to the floor from those drawers. Putting it all together, the sorcerer couldn't figure out what exactly was happening on the other side of the door.  

When you flew out of the bathroom, you crashed right into Gojo. You were in clean but wet clothes, water dripping from your mussed hair onto the floor, and you looked so dazed that you reminded him of a mischievous kitten. "Hey there, troublemaker," he grinned, hugging you to him with one hand. 

You stared in amazement at the bouquet of pink peonies he held in his other hand. "Wow," you exhaled dumbfoundedly, staring at the petals. "Did someone give ya a present?" you raised your head and stared into his eyes, and Gojo, mesmerized and completely lost, didn't immediately find something to say - just enough to make you remember that you were late.

"Actually, it's for y-"

"Do ya happen to know what Shoko wants to talk to me about?" you asked anxiously, running over to a drawer and pulling out a hair dryer. You weren't the only one panicking now. "She told me it was nothing serious, but ya're her friend, maybe she mentioned something?"

"What?" Gojo asked curtly, and, to prevent you from saying anything else, immediately rained questions on you in response, despite his heart pounding madly. "We? We might not even talk for months, what makes you think she tells me anything?" the best defense is offense, he knew that firsthand. The sorcerer, having put the bouquet on the table, plopped down on the bed - right in the uniform he'd just walked down the street in, which made you cringe unhappily. "And anyway, I've been texting you all day, why haven't you answered?" 

"Satoru, sometimes I get busy and can't always respond to your messages instantly," you waved it off, turning on your hair dryer.

Because of the noise you didn't hear him grumble, but you felt the pillow that flew into your back. "I live with an abuser."

With your hair only half dried, you tied it into a ponytail. "Would you deign to change?" you asked politely, glancing at his work uniform. Taking your phone in your hands, you plugged it into the charger, and after looking sourly at the three percent charge, you placed it on the table. "Were ya on a mission or something?"

"Yeah," you felt uncomfortable with how embarrassed Gojo sounded. Quickly replaying the dialog in your head, you tried to think of the words that might have sounded rude or ambiguous, but you didn't catch anything. "Or rather, the little ones were on a mission, I was just observing." 

"How caring ya are," you drawled teasingly, the more you drove him into the arms of worry.

Gojo got out of bed and walked over to the table - closer to the mess you were making around you. "So where are you gonna go? Bar?" he asked, trying to suppress the growing shyness in him. "Should I give you a card?" 

You laughed, confused at the suggestion at first. "No, we'll be right here," you nodded toward the window – there was the cliff with the fire pit where you used to gather. "The weather's warm, so we decided not to go anywhere." 

As you hastily pulled on your shoes, Gojo realized you were about to leave like that. Even though the weather was warm, the sea waves were always embraced by a cool breeze. The sorcerer nonchalantly slipped the jacket off, leaving himself in the black T-shirt, ready to defend himself against your denials and outrage that you had your own clothes. But you only laughed, saying it looked like a cloak-tent on you. "That's it, I gotta go!" you exclaimed happily, and kissed him on the cheek. It was not until you were on the other side of the door that, though you walked forward, you saw nothing in front of you. When you came out of your usual and happy days, you cursed under your breath, feeling your heart whimper again. What did you just do? 

Gojo could have sworn on anything - from his six-eye technique to his own life - that he felt your lips through the mask. He was ready to suffocate at the feel of that gentle flame on his cheek, and, even more embarrassingly, he was ready not to wash that tiny spot on his body. At least until you're oblivious again to the point of repeating such a thing. He had so many victories under his belt that sometimes the sorcerer couldn't remember a single one, but this moment, so small and intimate, burned so brightly and reverently in his soul, and he was no longer able to compare it to a triumph - the word was too earthy and vulgar.

It was his treasure. 

After changing into his home clothes and making himself a sweet tea, Gojo paced around the workroom. When you left, the excitement, confusion, embarrassment pressed down on him even harder. What if Shoko told you it was his idea after all? How would you react to his unceremonious intrusion into your life? 

He went to the window, trying to see you, and then bounced away in horror, remembering that you could see him. What did you three talk about? How did you react to Rachel coming over? Did you drink alcohol? And if you did, when will you get to the point where you're putting boys under a microscope? What if they weren't boys at all? Gojo clasped his hand around his head - he'd never thought of that. 

Your phone rang, and the sorcerer, looking lazily at the unknown number, silenced the sound - the gadget pitifully, but already silently continued to project the number of the caller.

The tea in the mug had long since cooled, but he hadn't taken a sip. He leaned back against the table and stared up at the ceiling - it seemed Gojo could even hear the ticking of a clock that never existed in the workroom. Will everything go well? Will you come back here happy, or will your strained smile break his heart again? 

Somebody kept calling you repeatedly, but the number was the same. Who was it? Who had so much nerve? Unable to stand it, the sorcerer answered and leaned the phone to his ear. Silently. 

"Hello?" came a quiet, frightened female voice. Gojo didn't say a word. "I... I was given this number...," the girl babbled uncertainly and muffled. "Uh, a girl. A private detective. In the picture of the missing..." 

"Oh," it dawned on him, and he relaxed. The creepy, clammy feeling that made him want to smash everything around him immediately receded. "It's good to hear from you," he chirped, smiling.

"And you... You're her husband, right?"

"That's right," he smiled even harder. "Anything wrong?"

"I... I-I need to tell you something," he could hear her voice quivering. "I mean, I work at that club and with the paperwork, too, so... But I, uh... I-I don't want to tell you about it over the phone," she whispered, swallowing.

"Okay," Gojo simply agreed, hoping that would at least calm the hostess down a little.

"Then...,"

"Be quiet," he interrupted her sharply, hoping that if she had said anything at all, his voice had drowned out the girl's words. "I'll find you myself. I'll see you soon."

He stared at the faded screen and hesitated. Wouldn't it be presumptuous of him to take over some of your work?

This time the sorcerer came to the window already without fear of being seen. He looked at you - no one seemed to be arguing, no one seemed to be fighting, and you even drank a glass of wine in one gulp, which caused him to marvel along with admiration and laughter. Wasn't it wonderful that you could let go of the moment and relax for once? "Meg," Gojo said quietly, watching as you wrapped yourself more tightly in his jacket. "Can you help?" 

"Sure," replied the mechanical voice.

He used to feel like a guest. He'd felt welcome, but still capricious and sometimes terribly unbearable. Now that even the artificial intelligence approved of him, he felt like a full-fledged master of this house. "First, delete all recent incoming calls from her phone."

A ruby sunset was burning on the horizon, and in its rays two silhouettes could be seen sitting by the campfire. You were walking toward the fire like a moth, but you had no wings, no lightness, only anxiety and a sense of catch that made it hard to move. You realized who was sitting next to Ieiri, and you had no energy to prepare yourself for what was coming. You couldn't imagine any other outcome, only the worst.

As you approached them, you waved awkwardly. Shoko, who was shoving a flaming piece of paper into the fire, nodded back. Rachel didn't look at you, just kept picking at the grass with her finger.

The crackling of the fire, the chirping of cicadas and crickets, the hum of the waves crashing against the rocks - although it was too quiet. You hesitated a little and awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other, then sat down opposite your sister – Shoko remained sitting next to you, like a judge.

You held out what you'd bought to Ieiri. She looked at the bottles, then at you two, and set the wine aside and opened the tequila. Realizing that she had brought nothing but glasses with her, Shoko hummed indifferently and filled them a quarter full, then set the glasses in front of you. "Drink," she sternly commanded in an icy tone. "In a gulp."

"Ya're really suggesting drinking to recovering addict and a person who's never had a drink at all?" hissed Rachel wryly. "Great fucking plan."

You swallowed, not listening to their bickering, realizing that you needed something to dilute the viscosity of the evening. Without thinking about anything, emptying your head and freeing your thoughts, you abruptly took the glass and drank it all under your sister's stunned gaze.

"Who drinks like that anyway?" asked Ieiri indignantly, watching you cough. The heat that burned your lungs made you blush. Shoko held out a slice of lime to you. "Eat. With the zest," as you ate the citrus, the acid immediately eroded the bitterness, and you were able to breathe.

You were silent again. Rachel, still not drinking hers, tentatively ran her finger along the rim of her glass. Ieiri turned her head as if she didn't want to look at the awkward spectacle before her. She stared at the horizon, but neither the sunset nor the shifting waves gave her an answer - how could she make you two up? What made Gojo think she could handle it? She had never been a soft person, and there was hardly more tact in her than in him. She was a doctor for treating people for physical injuries or dissecting cold corpses, but she'd never patched up mental wounds. "Well," Ieiri lazily clucked her tongue. "Start talking."

"About what?" muttered Rachel irritably, without raising her eyes.

"Anything that pisses you off," she shrugged.

Let it be decided here and now. You didn't want to be in limbo anymore, not knowing if you still had a sister - if she didn't want to be one, let her tell you so to your face. "Well," you began, grabbing the tequila bottle and refilling your glass a quarter full again. "It pisses me off terribly that ya can't keep your temper sometimes," you popped a lime slice into your mouth and sipped from your glass afterward - Shoko pursed her lips condescendingly. You may have learned what to do, but you hadn't thought about the order of things at all. "It pisses me off that ya take it out on me if ya have a problem," you gulped down the rest of your drink, dumbfounded at your own audacity. "Also, it pisses me off that ya always blame me for everything."

You weren't angry at yourself for spitting out the words. You weren't glad you could finally say it out loud. You didn't care, and it would have been better if you'd stayed that way while you were alive.

You could see Rachel chewing the inside of her cheeks with anger and resentment. She drained her glass and tossed it aside as it rolled across the grass and fell straight down the cliff. "Look at ya talking," she said, laughing hysterically. "Ya mean ya weren't the one who kept leaving me alone whenever there was any trouble?" she eyed you testily, expecting any objections, only to cut them off at the root. "And aren't ya the one hiding from your own emotions all the time? Or is it that ya just don't have any?"

"I never-"

"Don't ya dare!" she shouted in a trembling voice. "Gosh, adoptee," the girl sobbed, and you both failed to notice as Ieiri quietly poured wine into her glass under the noise and hysteria that had been created. "I just wanna know that ya feel anything."

You wrapped yourself tighter in his jacket as if seeking safety and support. "Ya know why I can't, don't ya?"

"Bullshit!" she bellowed as if she didn't want to believe it herself. "There's nothing stopping ya from being human. Just yourself," she said quietly as Shoko sipped her wine carefully, shifting her gaze from Rachel to you and back again. "Ieiri, ya can try it too," she offered playfully through her tears. "Ya can wipe your feet on her, say anything behind her back or to her face, she won't say anything to ya at all," she pitched forward dangerously, and there was something predatory, unbridled in every demeanor. "Do ya know what the joke is?" you looked fearfully at your sister and shook your head quietly, though you knew she couldn't see it through that glassy veil in her eyes. "She's a half-demon."

In the silence all that was heard was Shoko's coughing and a quiet swearing. "Holy shit," she muttered, wiping the wine off her chin and staring at you.

"That's what I mean," Rachel said, but she didn't realize that it wasn't who you were that shocked Ieiri. The woman mentally traveled back in time, diving back into that notebook. She had never had a hangover. Alcohol had never made her nauseous, but now she felt like all the wine she'd drunk would end up back in her glass. "Her dad was a hunter and her mother was a demon," she persisted. "And when he found out, he nearly nailed them both," while she savored the details, you stared into your empty glass. Why didn't the drink make you dizzy? Why weren't you getting drunk? Because now you wouldn't even be able to pretend it was just a nightmare. "But my father intervened and took her parents to trial," she clicked her tongue contentedly as if that was her feat. "See?" she turned to Shoko and pointed her thumb at you, which did not look up at them. "She doesn't give a fuck."

You felt as if you were about to be torn to pieces as if it had broken free and wanted to swallow everything around it - except instead of a vast emptiness, there was a whole world here, and it was happy about it, so happy that it was willing to draw its swords through your body as many times as it needed to until you obeyed. "All I wanted was to just be left alone," you said surreptitiously. "I was doing just fine, wasn't I?" when you looked up at them, you thought for a second that Shoko recoiled a little, but maybe that was just a play of your imagination. "Until now," you stood up and shook off your feet. "I'm gonna go. Ya two have fun."

"Adoptee," Rachel weakly called out to you, and if you hadn't been in so much pain, you would have heard the size of regret that lurked in her voice.

They stared after you, and your sister didn't dare stop you - she had a lot of dirty and disgusting words for you, and none of them comforting. "Fuck," she whimpered, covering her mouth with her hand, trying to stop the sobs that were coming.

"Yeah," Shoko said detachedly, taking a drag. "Your mouth isn't a mouth, it's a dump," she continued to stab and pummel Rachel with words, thinking absolutely nothing of it. "If I were in her shoes, I would wish you to burn in hell. Or killed you. I'm surprised she puts up with you at all," Rachel flopped down on the grass and covered her face with her hands, her palms were getting wet, though she didn't make a sound. So this was patience all along? "Stop whining already," Shoko kicked the girl in the thigh, and Rachel jerked her hands away from her face - she was all swollen and red, and probably just looked pathetic in her friend's eyes. But Ieiri didn't comment on her appearance in any way. "You said your father took them both to trial?"

Astonishment at the sudden question stopped a new flood of tears. "Well... Kinda, yeah."

"Uh," Shoko pondered, and then pointed a finger up into the sky, twirling it around a bit. "Aren't dioreacts the only ones being judged up there?"

"Nah," Rachel waved it away, wiping her wet cheeks with her sweater. "For judges, everyone equal before the law. They're also ... Um, racists? Nationalists? Xenophobes? Xenolists? Fuck knows," she mumbled tiredly. "They just don't accept the connection between human and dioreact, it's happened a bunch of times before."  

"I see," Shoko replied indifferently, but there was a feeling brewing inside. No, not even a feeling - a desire that she hadn't had before, and that the man didn't need.

She wanted to protect her best friend.

As he coming the stairs of the apartment building, Gojo kept picking up faint flashes of cursed energy, low-level curses that posed no danger to the residents, much less to him. Still, everything felt strange, plastic, the sounds and voices of the residents from behind the doors seemed unreal, airy, as if he were walking through a looking glass. 

Once on the right floor, the sorcerer stopped at the door that Megan had dictated to him. A door like a door, there were no chips or scratches on it, though it looked faded - the light wood had almost turned white.

Gojo tapped his knuckle and listened, but there were no footsteps on the other side, no music playing, no television blaring. He tried again, for there was a chance that the girl had fallen into a deep sleep. Again no answer. Maybe the hostess hadn't called him from home at all. 

Taking out his phone, he dialed the number he had transcribed. He couldn't shake off the feeling of clinging hands - he knew it when someone or something didn't have the courage to face him, which was why it watched from the corners, from the shadows.

Covering his eyes, the sorcerer obediently waited for the first buzzer to go off. The second one came, but he still heard nothing. Grasping the doorknob, Gojo concentrated hard, and a few moments later, he opened his eyes. The phone was vibrating faintly, almost subtly, on the other side of the door. 

Without thinking, he kicked the door open and burst into the apartment. It was hot, insanely stuffy as if someone had left the oven on. His body was instantly sweaty, his clothes clinging unpleasantly to his body, making Gojo cringe. It was so quiet that he could hear the local waterworks humming.

The sorcerer didn't drop the call - the girl's phone kept vibrating, luring him in. He walked slowly toward the sound and stopped at the very threshold of the closed door to the room. Something kept him from bursting in here the way he'd burst into the apartment.

Swallowing cautiously, he opened the door, and the hot apartment turned into an icy hell. At that moment Gojo realized that he was glad that his soul had been hardened by dozens of deaths of colleagues and comrades, otherwise it would not have survived. In front of him, on the wall, hung the very same hostess. He couldn't figure out what was wrong - he thought she was just nailed down, but as he got closer, he saw screws in her wrists. Some creature had deliberately screwed them into the girl's skin, and was she still alive or not?

Gojo looked at her face, her head hanging limply, blood dripping from her mouth, her eyes open, unable to see anything in front of her. He coughed involuntarily as he looked at her stomach, which was ripped and torn, the skin hanging in shreds along with her insides, which seemed about to fall to the floor. 

Suppressing his inner protests and the stubborn squeamishness that the sorcerer sometimes hated, he touched her wrist, intending to remove the dead body from the wall, and realized with horror that she was still warm. No, not even that. She was too warm.

Behind him, the closet doors swung open, and someone lunged for the door. "Going somewhere?" Gojo snapped quietly, stretching forward his hand with the middle finger and thumb joined as the killers's limbs twisted, his bones snapping and crunching, and he fell to the ground. Walking over to him and grabbing his head, the sorcerer turned him over and stared into his face. "You don't look like someone who would pull something like this off of his own free will," the sorcerer grinned madly, holding the man by the chin - he looked frail and puny, and seemed to shiver when he saw the insanity in Gojo's eyes. "You're too weak," he laid the man's head against the floor with force - the man whimpered and began to be covered in dark lines and his eyes turned black. "Come on, tell me who told you to, huh?" Gojo cooed obsessively, moving closer and closer to the alien's face. That name that had been swirling around in the back of Gojo's mind hadn't had the nerve to crawl to the forefront before - but now, with a mad laughter, it burst from the abysses and caused Gojo to become furious, insane, reckless, jealous, and all wracked with the desire to protect. "That was Rei, wasn't it?" the demon squeaked pitifully before the sorcerer squeezed his chin with such force that he broke the man's jaw altogether. Chuckling softly to himself, he didn't immediately notice how the creature's body went limp, how heavy its head grew, and how its dark eyes turned glassy.  

Realizing that the creature had cowardly fled from him, that it had surrendered without a fight, Gojo could no longer rid himself of the feeling of disgust. Standing up and stepping over its corpse as if forgetting that this body had once been human too, he walked over to the girl and began to monotonously remove the screws from her limbs. When her body was free, he didn't let her fall - picking her up in his arms, he carried the dead hostess to the bed and laid her down. He bit his tongue, painfully and hard, when he thought that she was actually supposed to sleep here tonight. "I'm sorry," Gojo whispered, closing her glassy eyes. He hadn't accomplished anything today, but he realized that the girl had been brutalized for a reason. If someone wanted to cover their tracks, they had done it too carelessly and sloppily, leaving a wider path behind them. He mentally revisited that nightclub again. "And... Thank you."   

Gojo didn't even need to ask how it had gone, and underneath your 'it was okay' he could only see the jacket of his uniform - though it had been dark before, now it looked as if someone had cut a piece of cloth in space. What pleased him was that you didn't refuse to eat, and the sorcerer even seemed to be able to see your stuffed cheeks through the mask. Suppressing a chuckle and erasing the picture of you looking exactly like a hamster in his head, he wondered how to more gently hint to you that you should go back to that club. 

Gojo did not pay attention to the movie that he had chosen long and carefully, only scrolling through the variants of events and their outcomes in his head, distracted only by the peonies, carefully placed in a beautiful vase, each time smiling obliviously. 

The height difference was good - not only could he use you as an armrest, but now he was free to rest his chin on  top of your head and press your back closer to his chest. This strange sense of domestic comfort had at first horrified him by its obscurity, and now he was only just abusing the opportunity. At times like this, he remembered that his life had not always gone hand in hand with unhappiness.

When the notification came to your phone, Gojo immediately looked up at the ceiling. He held on when you looked. He held it when you stared longer than usual. But now he was ready to explode with impatience and willfulness. 'Get a grip,' he scolded himself, leaving holes in the ceiling with even more zeal. 

The sorcerer didn't even realize how cold you were inside. When he squeezed your waist once more, you hoped it was only your soul that was trembling, and that he wasn't feeling you so much that he could feel those jagged vibrations.

You stared at your phone for so long that the light from the screen started to burn your eyes.

[02:01am] Unknown: I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.

You expected this to happen at some point, your collision was inevitable, but why now did you hope that this message wasn't from him?

[02:01am] Unknown: liebe.

Gojo's patient broke when you scratched the back of your head. "Mochi, what's wrong?" he asked affectionately, and was about to bury his nose in the top of your head, but he didn't have time. You jumped up from the bed.

"Nothing, it's just...," you began confusedly, looking around the room as if it were your first time here. The sorcerer hated it when you looked cornered - he immediately wanted to tear down every wall around you. "Looks like I have a date tomorrow, and I... I don't even have a dress."

You didn't see the blue eyes darken because of your own anxiety, didn't see the hands that held you gently  clenched in fists, didn't hear his heart and breathing stop for a moment. Gojo tried to breathe evenly and measuredly as if ordering the anger to flow evenly through his body, to keep it from breaking free, but the rage was sometimes too wild and unbridled to be controlled. "What did you just fucking say?"   

next ⊳

[shadowqueenjude]

“Come a little closer, and I’ll show you just what five centuries can do.” “Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold.” “Let’s not lie to ourselves. You only bothered to contain two, by the time your brute bloodlust ebbed away.” “Watch yourself, girl. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a week, but someday you will trip up. And I’ll be waiting." “We’re not going to bite.” “You’re a pretty little treat. I’d be happy to play any manner of game with you, Nesta Archeron.” “No words, Prince?” “If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?” “When you get tired of the animal, come find me. I’ll show you how a future High Lord plays.” “Assassins, whores, traitors—what fine company you keep these days, Rowan.” “So there’s singing and dancing and excessive drinking... And dallying." “And as riveting as it was to see you send Tamlin scrambling off with his tail between his legs, I didn’t see this side of you. The time since the war has changed you.” “Is that what you thought of us? All those years that we worked together, killed men and bedded females together? I never heard you complain.” “This isn’t the Night Court. And you have no power here—so clear out. Amarantha’s bed is growing cold.” “Indeed it is. Especially one who can both dance and tear the King of Hybern’s head from his shoulders.” "Gavriel is still my brother. I would have faced him with dishonor if I had let his son die.” “Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” “You’re wasted at the Night Court. Absolutely wasted.”

“I have my skills, just as you have yours.” “You offered up your name for me—after all that I said to you, all I did, you still offered up your name. Didn’t you realize I would help you after that? Oath or no oath?” “Always mix truth and lies, General. Didn’t those warrior-brutes teach you about how to withstand an enemy’s torture?” “Bigger tits won’t prove or hide anything.” “I’m glad to see you didn’t sell your lively human spirit or stubbornness to Rhys.” “I didn’t realize Illyrians were in the habit of fucking their sisters.” "Would you like me to kill him for you?"

Ladies and gentlemen... The Lord of Perranth, the Heir of Day, and the Heir of Autumn.

[everywishway]

Kalina Playlist Deep-dive

Kinda wanted to do a playlist deep-dive about all my Fantasy High playlists. If you want any more, I have playlists for all the Bad Kids, both Voxes, and I'm working on a Cassandra Playlist. Starting off with my baby girl, Kalina

ALICE:

I picture this as Kalina describing the fall of the Unnamed Goddess into the Nightmare King. A goddess of dreaming and doubt till she lost her mind, and her persona. Turned her forest into this idealization of what the Nightmare King represents.

Queen

Kalina's persona is this person manipulating everything in the background and several steps ahead of everyone. Also how the Bad Kids originally assumed she stole the crown to control the Nightmare King and be in power.

GRRRLS

Kalina's ideology is about taking control to bring back the Nightmare King by any means necessary. Not wanting people to look too closely into her.

&

It's like how Kalina always gives options when speaking to the Bad Kids, especially Riz. Also how each option and the tone get more threatening overtime. Also "They took a lesson from their fathers" connects to Riz and how she killed Pok.

The Mind Electric

I honestly don't remember why I added this? Vibes? Maybe it's another example of her trying to control Riz and the Bad Kids, taunting them and making them face their fears? Yeah, that's it, why not?

Achilles Come Down

Goes against my Kristen Playlist which has this same song. This is Kalina and Kristen deciding what Cassandra is going to be in FHSY. Kalina is the deeper voice and Kristen is the kinder one.

Church

Kalina's loyalty to Cassandra and more religious imagery for her connection to Cassandra. Plus the line "Time capsule for the future, trust me that is what I'll be" is how she lives on for the Unnamed Goddess as the plague for her to live. Also "Oh the things that you do in the name of what you love, you were doomed but just enough" is her talking about how her goddess was doomed by her followers, the people who loved her. Also, the second section of the song says "Got a few more fake friends" showing her connections over the years she keeps at arm's distance like Pok Gukgak.

Child of Ashes

I picture this as Kalina singing to the Bad Kids, willing to show them mercy as long as they back off this case.

Hawk in the Night

I see this as her talking to Riz because she is still close to him. She's his godmother, she wants to see him grow strong but it's not the best advice.

You Stabbed Me in My Sleep

My Love is Sick

Kalina is literally a plague, what can I say? Just kidding, it's that and all the religious imagery. The loyalty to the person is like Kalina's loyalty to Cassandra in all her forms. Plus I love Madds Buckley so much. <3

Ghost

Kalina's abilities appear and disappear, along with taunting the Bad Kids and messing with them on their journey. Her confidence, knowing they hate her and why right before the bridge. Plus during the Bridge where the artist says "Why don't you just leave me alone" I see Riz and other Bad Kids begging her to stop with this, stop messing with them.

It Took Me By Suprise

Her being is surprised that the BKs didn't back off, especially Riz after taunting him and seeing the anger in their eyes... thats it...

That Unwanted Animal

How I picture Kalina sees herself. She cares for Cassandra in every form and tries her best to take care of her. When the "Unnamed Goddess" sacrifices herself to be the Nightmare King, Kalina becomes the "Unwanted Animal".

Little Big Boy

Specifically for Fabian, when she makes him stab the Hangman and jump into the ocean.

Take Me To Church

Another song with religious notes to show her dedication to Cassandra and illness notes for her being a literal plague Sophomore Year.

the fruits

Another song with religious notes that I added for the vibes. Also, her being used to keep alive a goddess.

Allies or Enemies

Picked to show her relationship with the Bad Kids now in the present time. Also her new relationship with Cassandra as this new form.

Until It Doesn't Hurt

The pain of her being a plague and vibes.

If I Kill Someone For You

Another song is about Kalina sacrificing herself, and her identity to keep her Goddess alive, to bring her back. Sacrificing her livelihood, and her well-being to bring back the Nightmare King.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World

Final boss music and the end describes the battlefield of "Spring Break I Believe in You" where there is no light coming through the forest, the stairs and ruins where the battle is old and decrepit. "When they do I'll be right beside you, so glad we almost made it" is her speaking to herself/the Nightmare King as she brings them back to life.

Panic Room

Another song about the Nightmare King's Forest and how Kalina and the Nightmare King shaped the forest to have the deepest fears of the Bad Kids.

That's it! I hope yall had fun listening to me explain my thought process <3

[praxidice-carcajou]

Cryptid of the Day!

The Fresno Nightcrawlers:

Ahh of course we have to talk about the Fresno nightcrawlers, they are my favorite spooky pairs of pants after all! These funky guys are just that; funky. In fact, I’d even argue that these guys are the very definition of funky, perhaps even the funkiest of them all. Keep in mind that later on I will be getting into some weird shit, but there is little as biologically bizarre as whatever’s going on with these guys. Now, this cryptid was brought to the media in the form of blurry CCTV footage, leaving us to gather little on its appearance. Nonetheless , years passed after the blurry video footage was posted and we actually ended up with a couple of supposed sightings that basically described them as exactly what we had assumed them to be in the footage. So for appearances, let’s just imagine a stump with legs. Let me tell you, these guys never missed leg day, not once. They have an itty bitty upper body with little features, some stating that they have round tops and wide eyes, but otherwise devoid of a face. The rest of their body is just legs, lanky, white/grey legs.

“THEY TRIED TO PUT ME ON THE COVER OF VOGUE, BUT MY LEGS WERE TOOOOO LOOOOOONG.” A 100% real Fresno nightcrawler quote. Totally.

The tea:

Of course, these guys were first spotted in Fresno, California, strutting their award winning legs out on some random guys lawn. This was where the infamous ‘Fresno nightcrawler’ footage came from! Later on, they were also spotted on a trail cam in Yosemite, national park, where the ‘mysterious’ corpse of a deer was found near by. I don’t know about you, but I would pay see how the hell these guys supposedly killed this deer. Seriously, did they crush its head in with their thighs?? Can you imagine taking a walk in the woods, everything is nice and serene and then BOOM! BUFF LEGS JUMP YOU AND SMASH YOUR SKULL IN WITH THEIR THIGHS! They’re was also a few sightings around the world, specifically in Poland and Montana. The were never described as violent, more like they were just vibing!

Considering the incredibly unrealistic chances of long term survival for an arm less, slow, bright white creature, many doubt these guys are anything more but a pair of pants on a string. That’s boring though, so more fun theories range from categorizing these guys as alien life showing off their thighs to the planet Earth, advanced species of fungi, deformed monkeys, or perhaps even a new, undiscovered type of animal!

Where to find in other forms of media:

Fact or faked Actually did an episode on these guys, declaring their famous video to be impossible to prove OR disprove!

They have a variant that can be found in ‘Singing Monsters!’

Credit to Cryptid Wiki and curious archive for information!

[survivalist-anon]

Log 1: The first encounter

It's been a year since my falling out with my boyfriend. What was supposed to be a trip back home to collect my gear has now ended up becoming a whole move back to Pine Hills....talk about going back to square one...

It's another lovely, foggy day in Chehalem Ridge. Hoping to bag at least deer for the next few weeks of meat rations. Honestly, I'm starting to become grateful for grandpa incessively bringing on his hunting trips, this move has done an absolute number on my bank account. Beef here is starting to get expensive ever since that garbage Wonder Mart bought out the local stuff. Well, times have changed. I've always liked the taste of venison anyway.

Things here have been even more worrisome over the past few years too.....farm animals being slaughtered left, right and center....those clowns from the National Guard Tillamook base have been hounding the town for answers on some sightings of "big, metal men". An absolute mess.

What has been giving me a biting gnash on the back of my mind is how poor ol' Grandpa passed away. Well....the fact he died on a hunting trip isn't what's surprising, it's the fact he was killed so brutally that even his buddies believed that no way a bear could have done it. Robbie (our local mortician, ex-butcher and currently the one braincell helping at City Hall) said that "no bear could just tear up a man like a chainsaw can"....the closed casket funeral was already a disaster.

Call it depression, call it suicide, but I going to the very place he died ...I need to know what happened. Yeah, naive on top of the cliche is definitely going to be on my tombstone. It's been 4 months since his death, will I find anything? Fuck no of course not...but hey, it's productive.

As I'm looking at the river bank, I'm not surprised to see what a shoty job local PD did in clean up the place....there's pieces of his old camouflage jacket. He didn't believe in the modern stuff, so he just used an old jacket he had back in when we enlisted in Vietnam. I glanced over the scene, trying to pieces together what the hell could it have been. Walking around, I'm not too surprised how much of a waste of time this was....at least the scenery was perfect...

At least, it was.

I suddenly realized that the birds has just stopped singing, all I can hear was the sound of my heartbeat. But there was something new, a heavy smell of metal and industrial chemicals? I know theres an illegal logging company around here but no one back at City Hall has been able to fight them for years. That's when I heard movement.

This is when I begin to regret not investing in a hunting rifle, but bow and arrow to the eyeball works just fine. I draw and scan for whatever that smell was coming from ....all I saw something big and metal....but for something to be that big....it was no man.

It was in the thicket of the treeline, glowing...angry eyes, it had spikes just absolutely everywhere, it's dark black body was interrupted but glimmers of bronze or gold....at it was coming right at me.

I couldn't move, I just stood there trying not to shake the fucking arrows out of my quiver, I don't even know what I was even doing from that point on.

It just stomped twords me, it knew I wouldn't be able to do much to it.

But like hell I wouldn't.

I locked up, and shot right it it's eye. Going straight in! It's head leaned back at the arrow sunk through......then...it chuckled....that sickening laughter you give when you know you're about to win...it looked straight back at me, still chuckling....now with my arrow sticking out it's face like a complete moron.

Looks like I'm going to get see grandpa. Hell I would probably get to tell him I found his buddy too.

"... aren't you... just adorable........thank you for your.... little gift", snapping the arrow yet keeping its other half in his eyesocket...."a most cherished gift.....from a weaklings like girl like you...just...like that old bastard....". He was now 10 feet away from me.

He pointed to a set of faded dents in his chest, three shots that only chipped the paint.

Grandpa's last shots

"....at least he went out fighting."...I stepped back and fucking tripped on the rocky bank...great I made it earlier for him.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, glanced at the trail behind me and growled.

That's when I heard the familiar click of a trigger pull, than the loudest gun shot I have ever felt! Closing my eyes, it was like a small rocket had been set off just feet away from me.

All I could hear was a loud ringing in my ears, I felt something warm and wet cover half of my body. Shaking, I slowly opened my eyes, and saw gore.... just where.... sprayed on me, on the rocks .....I looked up....half of that monster was there.....I couldn't take it anymore....and i blacked out.

I woke up in the hospital back home, Nurse Amila (town doctor at this point since the last guy quit) said I was found soaking wet near a sheep farm several miles off the course of Chelhalem Ridge. I told her everything I could remember but of course she told me to just rest so I can collect myself a little later. I was in shock, but I had to tell her. The look on her is what worried me, she.... wasn't surprised.

She did tell me that who ever it was that brought me to safe place, left me in good hands .....a gift?

Nurse Amila points to the hospital nightstand, it didn't look like any of the native tribal artifacts I've studied for....it looked.... Nordic? It was a huge candid tooth.

"Looks like a bear tooth, guess someone finally sees you're worth a look, right Lorey?", she chuckled.

"....I....think it's a wolf tooth", I feel like I'm going insane, first the absolute horror movie scene I've just experienced and now...possibly .... giant unextinct......dire wolves?

What the shit is going on......

End of log 1.

@kit-williams

[gotranting]

Cregan Stark one-shot ideas?

He had 5-7 minutes of screen time, and it was enough to remind me where my allegiances lie. Team Black, Team Green...drama on both sides. Just give me more Cregan and more Northern scenes, that's all I ask.

Having said that, if anyone gets inspiration from these ideas, feel free to write them out, just tag me! Maybe, I'll actually try to do it myself, but for now let them just sit on my profile.

Anyhow:

Cregan Stark x reader where she is a Northener but lives somewhere alone in the woods. Her home is guarded by wild animals, she has bears with which she is connected, and is what you would consider a witch. Cregan knows of her considering that he consults with her when his party goes out to hunt in order not to kill any animals whom she protects. She also comes to help when it is needed to heal some of his soldiers. And let's say that Cregan gets injured at one point and stumbles somewhere near her cabin. She finds him, and brings him in, sewing the wounds and stopping the infection from spreading. During that time, Cregan and her become closer, and he takes a liking to her, noting how she pays attention to each wound (I mean it's always a fluffy scene when one person take care of a wounded future love interest). He also sees how she cares for her animal companions, and yet she is still firm with him, not allowing any unnecessary movements until he heals. Of course the Warden of The North becomes a wee bit smitten in the end. How that develops is up to you.

2. The Northerners are preparing a feast for the Old Gods and the ending of the Winter. Large bonefires are being built, and the Common Folk are all gathering to celebrate. It is a wild affair - the Northerners are known to be wild, but during these festivities there is a sort of primal feeling to it all. People are dancing, it is as if some of them are in a trance at that very moment. It is also a festivity of fertility when young men and women jump over the fires, and come together while the Moon keeps watch over them. Cregan also attends the festivity, happy to be among his people. As he watches them dancing, he sees one person standing out. She jumps over the fire, without expecting to find a partner afterwards. She dances with the others, spinning around, happy to celebrate their Gods. I remember a line "head thrown back, throat to the stars, 'more like deer than human being.' To be absolutely free! [...] To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal!" So that is how Cregan would see her at that moment. And of course that he inhales sharply when he sees her like that, but he looses her in the crowd of people afterwards. The girl stays in his mind, yet he believes he won't see her anymore, considering he has his own duties to fulfill. So imagine the surprise on his face, when the girl comes into the castle one day to ask of him that he controls the amount of animals his men are hunting. Winter will come again, but there needs to be some balance in nature. He agrees, yet takes the chance to ask her to join them in the hunts in order to consult him on the areas which are best to hunt and where they can gather enough food for their people (no other reason). She agrees, and from then on...it's up to you.

3. I usually imagine a Northern character (and it can be a reader or OC). But it can also be a daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon. She was trained in fighting by her father and she has inherited her father's spirit. Cregan arrives to Dragonstone one day in order to discuss certain matters with the Queen. He is already good friends with Jace, so one day Jace shows him around the castle. They stumble upon the girl as she is training on the beach. She does not dance around, her movements are sharp and Cregan can see she would be a deadly opponent. Jace, the big brother that he is teases her, and she returns back just as well. I'm not sure where to go after this, but Cregan and the reader are introduced to one another, and the reader asks Cregan if he could teach her some of the Northern fighting strategies. When they finally do duel, neither holds back - who wins is up to you, but as with every fight scene they do get quite close to one another (heavy breathing while looking at one another of course) a few times. At the end I do imagine them ending up in a shack similar to where Rhaenyra and Daemon were in that scene. It can be after another fight, only that time it becomes something more. Cregan has to go back North, and the girl has her own duty in the war to come, but they do not forget one another.

4. Back to the North and Pagan festivities...if you have watched The Vikings, do you remember this scene?

And if Cregan were to witness it...I do not think he would be shocked, but perhaps if he were in a sort of awe? Or that he felt respect for the woman in front of him and the whole fertility ritual taking place.

I have some more ideas, which I'll type out at some point.

[emojellyace08]

Hi!! Loved your work of demon reader. But what about vampire reader?? Yk?? Or what about siren reader?? Like lookism characters just take a break for the day and just decided to go to the beach. They just explore the beach until they come to secluded part of the beach they decide to go back but than...they hear singing? So they go investigate who in the world is singing...than they saw it..someone sitting on a rock singing beautifully..than they noticed a tail..omg a siren. Yeah I know its very silly. Its alright if u don't want to write this anyways have a nice day/evening or night!!♡♡

♡ "Lookism Men x Siren/Memaid! Female Reader🐚🌊💀" ♡

Hello fellow human! (and Daniel simp lol). This is a very cool idea! (I want to go on the beach so bad yet I don't have free time because of school). Genre: fluff? (Kind of inspired and based on The Little Mermaid, just edgier) Note (quick fact!): Sirens are different from mermaids. Sirens are half birds with a face of a human (female mostly) to lure men/sailors and wreck their ships with the use of their voice and singing while mermaids usually keep their distance away from humanity, wanting to live peacefully (at least in most versions). Now I don't know what to call this "evil mermaid" creature that I made up on my mind and it's really tricky to write since sailors get killed by sirens when they are lured by the song so I kind of made it a mix of a siren and mermaid😭(pls bear with me lmao😀👍). Another note!: (D/n) stands for dog's name

꧁ ♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡ ꧂

He is a strong, sturdy, and focused sailor whose duty is to operate the ship and vessels and maintaining a safe work environment, him being admired by every women and envied by men. And everybody knows that he's not here to make friends or companions. And you're a living-sea creature whose business in life is to wreck ships with your strong-level of power and with the great advantage of your luring singing voice and your different level of speed in swimming. You don't know why you were acting like this. Is it because of that mentality when you believed that humans are disgusting creatures who take advantage of mother nature or you being hostile is just part of your natural instincts.

Well, he made your heart pounding though when he helped you carry out the anchor that has been stuck on your tail when you're minding your own business on your cave even though you're already hissing at him almost telling him to back off if you were able to speak the "human-way". It was very unusual for him to be generously kind to other people, let alone a sea-creature. So it's different (almost weird) for his co-sailors to see that side of him. Now you're the one who won't leave him alone when he's out to do his work, you swimming with your full speed to catch up to the big ship even when it's moving at a decent speed. Making him sigh and giving you a glare, almost not giving you attention because of you following him with that puppy-eyes even if you have the fiercest orbs ever.

*Sigh* it's weird for him, but he does find you cute (and threatening) in some ways.

Johan Seong/Samuel Seo/James Lee (DG)/Gun Park/Jichang Kwak/Hudson Ahn/Mandeok/Xiaoleoung/Taesoo Ma/Cheon Taejin/Magami Kenta/Seokdu Wang/Gapryong Kim

꧁ ♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡ ꧂

He is not only a dreamy and eye-catching prince but also a compassionate, helpful, and kind lad not only to humans but also to animals. He is well-respected by his fellow sailors when they're out riding his ship on the middle of the ocean, either fishing for food or him just wanting to explore the outside world of his lonely castle. Him admiring the sapphire-like color of the water as he often gets curious if mythical creatures like mermaids, even the predatory ones like sirens exist. But he never expected to meet a mixture of both.

Unexpectedly, a raging storm interrupted their ride as everybody recruited on their boats "D/N!" He knows it's one of his weakness. He's too caring for others even on the smallest things that can be "replaced" but he knows that the memories won't fade forever. So as risky as it sounds, he went back on the now sinking ship and giving the animal to his body guard before he was quickly swept by the harsh water waves, slowly drowning and loosing his breath. But a miracle happened.

He woke up on the seashore. Clothes wet and some parts ripped. Good thing that he is safe despite getting mild bruises. He was lost in his own thoughts when his assistant screamed for his name to get his attention and asking him if he's alright. Before that, he remembered when he was opening his eyes, he saw a striking face of a female with the familiar color of that specific scales and ear fins before it went away at that moment. He smiled as a warm blush covered his cheeks as he remembered that time when he was younger, he explained that he helped a mermaid-looking creature yet an attitude aggressive like a siren when it's injured yet his servants laughed at him. Now you're the one who rescued him when he needed help. It's unlike in your predatory nature but you've been curious about what he's being doing lately as he's curious about your well being. You often get excited when you see his ship, following the smell of the young man as you watch on the distance, wanting to know things about him. If you weren't so different of worlds, would you make it work out? If you only had legs...

Daniel Park/Jay Hong/Zack Lee/Vasco (Lee Eun Tae)/Yuseong/Jake Kim/Eli Jang

꧁ ♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡ ꧂

He's literally the definition of a struggling yet determined and hard-working man. Not only he has to provide his daily necessities, but he also helps out his family too. Poor guy needs a rest. The dark circles that is ringing on his gloomy eyes have gotten deeper because of the lack of his sleep with the mixture of sea sickness that is starting to make his stomach grumble. He needs something to eat.

Stopping by the land, he went in the caves as he wanted to spend his free time before going on duty again as his stupid co-sailors wasted their time by chugging off the strong scent of alcohol that is stinging his sensitive sense of smell. Despite the place being a bit dark, good thing he brought his lantern with a box of matches for safety measures, a pocket knife, a small bag of biscuits and a jug of water. He sat down on a rock, sighing as he gets lost on his own thought thinking about his future especially for his loved ones who relies on him. He just wants to experience living of the life of luxury, eating everything he craves for and sleep every time he wants with his family, not wanting to leave them out. He wants to feel peacefulness even just for once in his life but he knows that he needs to focus on his work if he doesn't want to starve for a whole week, a month rather than smelling the stench of the fish that he catches every time he went out for fishing .

He was overthinking again before he noticed a movement on the small body of water that he is near to. "Eh- Who's there!?" He asked as he sticks up his lamp up to see if there are any near predators in the place. He could be in danger. He was surprised to see a tail move upward as the creature swam deeper in the water. He was about to get out when you suddenly grab his legs making him yelp. Your hand is slimy and soft yet the way you grab him was gentle. But he wouldn't risk getting drowned so he got up, ran away while wailing his hands up and screaming. You're just curious about the young man, he looks like a nice guy. Yet you scared him off. How do you properly approach humans anyways? (lol).

Zack Lee/ Vasco (Lee Eun Tae)/Warren Chae/Eli Jang/Jerry Kwon/Duke Pyeon/Brad Lee/Jason Yoon/Jihan & Jibeom Kwak/Sinu Han/Jiho Park

꧁ ♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡ ꧂

Well nobody knows if he really is a professional marine biologist or if he's just a smart amateur. But everybody knows that he's one hell of a smart fellow for their era. He's intelligent and logical, yet idealistic and curious about the things around him. He has worked on big projects like mechanicals in big marine transportations that has been successful over the years for his age. Now he wants to explore what lies beneath the ocean.

He got curious when he read about a book related to hybrids of marine animals and humans, basically the mer-folk. He usually doesn't believe in fairy tales (often thinking it's dumb at times in realistic situations). But in terms of creating writing and his curious thinking getting in the way again, he can't help but to consider the possibility that the fish-people even sirens may exist. The past few cases of sunk ships have been very interesting for him nowadays.

He and his crew decided to have a short trip on the seas for him to have a break while secretly working on his research and investigation. Every island and shores have been discovered and dug to find artifacts yet none of it are a provable evidence of its' existence. He was about to give up when a singing voice is heard from the distance. He knew it was dangerous based on the novels that he had checked out, yet the sailors with their stupidity followed the sound and decided to catch whatever is moving under the water. He thought he was going to die when you approached the ship, but instead his weirdness got the best of him again as he ordered the fishermen to release you. It may be the dumb decision to let you go, but it's for the best for your and everybody's safety. He got a valuable evidence of your blood on the fishing hook that was used though.

Jace Park/Yoojin/Goo Kim/Baek Hangyul/Jinyoung Park/Tom Lee/Manager Kim/Gapryong Kim

꧁ ♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡ ꧂

He is just a normal person, a person looking for thrills in his boring life. He causes chaos in his place, almost getting caught by the soldiers when he's doing dumb shit again. *Sigh* well, he thought he's not an ordinary person if he keeps risking his life for pranking other people though. But this behavior crosses the lines when he decided to sneak in the castle to see the beautiful ocean that he's been dreaming to visit. But for some unexplainable reasons the king decided to shut down the access of the place. Was it because of the irresponsibility of the people who dumps their trash and dirt into the ethereal place? Or was it because of the missing fishermen that has not yet found for almost a year now? Nobody knows the real reason if the higher ups won't open up about the issue.

Yet here he is now, feet feeling the warmness of the earthy-brown color of the sand as he admires the view of the horizon. It is beautiful, almost breath taking as if he is in paradise. But his moment was cut off when the guards noticed his presence on the abandoned place. "OI WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" Shit, he's been caught again. He knows that it's probably the time he face the consequences of his actions. But that feeling of adrenaline is getting him excited, again and again as it repeats the cycle of the feeling of a masochistic happiness that he can't explain. He can't let that happen. To be beheaded in front of the pathetic people around him. No, he will run. As fast as he could.

Running away with his swift speed, he managed to escape (once again) the higher ups as he hides on the unfamiliar cave. Laughing to himself yet keeping quiet to not have the guards' attention. He once again admired the beauty of the rocks yet keeping his guard up. He knows that it's dangerous because of what ever is lurking in the dark. And it seems that he is somehow right. He noticed a shadow of, a human-like form with a tail on the water? He can't be serious right now. That living-creature doesn't exist, right? You slowly rise on the water, eyes like snake keeping your attention to the unfamiliar man as he pleaded for his life. "Oi, I don't know what the hell you want but, I"M HERE TO STAY FOR A WHILE SO PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!" He winced as he has his eyes closed ready to be attacked. But as you got up and sat down on the rocky ground, you just kept your attention to him. Your pupils unusually dilating as you got curious about his presence which once again is unusual in your instincts as you attack other people. He heard on the gossip that mermaid-like creatures kills humans. Yet you just sat there, admiring his beauty as he did the same. If he isn't "normal", then he probably found someone like him too. Probably a new friend?

Goo Kim/Olly Wang/Jiho Park/Kuroda Ryuhei/Vin Jin

꧁ ♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡ ꧂

Feedbacks would be appreciated!

A/N: What if I make a vampire! lookism men x reader 🌚

[star-girl69]

But You

Tsu’tey x Fem!Omaticayan!Reader

—-

a/n: welcome to my new miniseries 🫶🫶 i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of death, parent death, mentions of blood, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter One- Summer Rain

—-

When she finds you, the first thing Sylwanin notices is that you’re her age.

She can see even from here the blood on your hands, the tears rolling down your cheeks and neck, the memories hanging over you like a dark cloud.

She knows you, faintly. Your family lived outside of Hometree, which not many did, but enough for it not to be unusual. You came to the village sometimes, for celebrations, festivals.

Although she doesn’t know you, she knows you’re her age.

It seems almost… wrong, wrong that someone she knows, someone her age, should have to go through this much. She wonders if she’ll ever suffer like you have.

She overheard it all, not that it was hard, the shouting of her parents and the others, the warriors calls. The cries when they can back empty handed.

We only found two bodies, they said, and then everyone screamed for you.

Search parties would be combing the woods by now, but when the children are allowed to roam free- provided that they stay close, even more important with the humans crawling closer and closer- Sylwanin doubts they will check here first.

To the river, to play in the sandy bottom, touch the bioluminescence, count the colors. They play with the plants and splash each other until eclipse starts to fall.

She should be in Hometree.

But Sylwanin knows you, and she can’t think in the face of the anger burning in her bones.

Yes, you live outside of Hometree, on land that belongs to no one but Eywa. Then, the humans came with their big metal animals, tried to dig where your kelku is. When your parents refused- Sylwanin could hear the gunshots from Hometree.

Gun, gunshot, the words are foreign and odd, but she’s become quite familiar with them. She wants to do something, feels it in her bones, but her parents say she is just too young. She is still learning to wield a bow, to hunt. Her inkimaya is not for many years.

But every time she hears a tree fall, every time a harmless animal is left for dead in the forest, she feels something inside of her. Not just a want, but a need to something. She wants to help. She wants to keep Pandora safe.

For now, she will settle with helping you.

The rain hits her forehead, making a plopping sound, and she has to squint, blink away the water. But she can still see the blood, still see the tears mixing with the rain down your body.

Just yesterday, the sun was shining as bright as she could remember. Now, the sky cries for your loss.

“Y/N,” she calls, trying to keep her voice level but low, not to scare you. She is not the fastest runner, not like her sister, Neytiri, not like Tsu’tey. She doesn’t know how fast you run. She wants to know.

You turn and nearly fall into the water, your mouth parted in shock. She can see the sharp rise and fall of your chest. She cannot imagine how fast your heart is beating.

She goes to speak, but realizes she doesn’t know what to say.

I’m sorry, maybe? But for what? For scaring you, or for what you lost?

You’re crouched low to the ground, eyes flicking from her to the bloody hands you hold out in front of you.

“They killed my parents,” you whisper.

She needs to do something. She needs to change it, make it better, something, anything-

“I know,” she chokes out. “Come back with me, sister. The clan sings for you and your parents.”

She holds her hand out, slowly, like she’s approaching some scared animal. But you’re not some scared animal, you’re her age.

You take her hand, and she pretends that the slickness of her hand sliding against yours is from the rainwater, not the blood.

“It’s alright, sister,” she whispers as your tears start again, as the wet grass starts to stick to your legs as you wade through it.

Only yesterday, the sun was shining, and now you are blessed with a summer rain. The blood will sink into the ground as it does the water, and they will mix and feed the world, the trees of Pandora, Eywa.

“It’s alright,” she says, and she feels bad for lying.

—-

taglist:

@eywas-heir @ssc7514 @n7cje @tejas-kris

everything taglist:

@monsterwasstolen @fanboyluvr @artologia-blog1 @tulipatheticee @elvyshiarieko @fluffisalliwant @fluffi19 @jeizllz @myheartfollower @fy-fy-world @minkyungseokie @ivy-plays @blueberryfailureclinic @cryingwhilereading @thatratprincessforever

[sheasshovel]

HEAR ME OUT

Scar as Apollo and Gem as Artemis…

Starting with Gem;

-HER ANTLERS!! Deer are sacred animals to Artemis and she is also the goddess of the moon and thats so shiny duo crumbs (pearl as the moon).

-Pearl could also work as a follower of Artemis though because of her disastrous double life relationship with Scott. Followers of Artemis swore off love and lived a life of chaste, which aligns well with Pearl having forgiven Scott after she won but never having the same relationship with him that she had in Last Life.

-Artemis herself also swore off love of any kind.. and guess who wasn’t there for Double life for a soul bound?

-Her only Allies in sl, besides the moon herself, were Scott and Impulse. Both of which could work as devout followers of Artemis because of their rejection of their own respective soulmates. Scott acknowledges his past lovers as his exes and never (to my knowledge) expresses wanting to get back with them. Impulse, too, never hesitated to attack the mounders even if they had Bdubs on their side. Impulse and Bdubs had a great relationship in Double Life but I like to think that, for this theory to work, they’ve just decided to keep that relationship in Dl.

-Besides the moon, Artemis is also a symbol of the hunt which is exactly what she did in sl sessions 7-8; hunt people down with the aid of the moon. Imagine moonlight illuminating her path as she stalks her prey….

Scars turn;

-Now, Apollo isn’t the god of the Sun (that would be Helios… or Grian in this case) but rather of sunlight, but the sun is still a huge symbol of him. Not to go all desert duo on you but the crumbs are there. Scar also covers himself in sunflowers in sl, a flower known to always be facing the sun, basking in its light. It’s worth mentioning that Scar was only close to winning when he and the Sun were inseparable in 3rd life, and he actually won when he was faced with the symbol of the moon and the moon herself.

-This is more silly but Apollo is highly connected with musical arts (specifically the lyre) and could you imagine if that scene where Grian and Scar were singing together wasn’t just Scar being oblivious but instead Apollo using any chance he can get to showcase his musical talent to the Sun?

-Apollo’s gift of Prophecy… Scar “we all die in the end” would be more prophetic if we all collectively gaslight ourselves into believing that he died after hitting succeed on his task. But in these death games, everyone knows by now how it ends. I think Scar acknowledging this is somehow foreshadowing how he wins though; by murdering everyone who stands in his way, not accepting sacrifices and turning on his temporary allies the second its clear that it would benefit him. When he said everyone would die he truly meant EVERYONE would die, and a majority will die to him or his twin (Artemis).

-Apollo and Artemis are both known for using Archery, but Scar is literally Hotguy come on now. His last kill was an arrow to Pearl that knocked her off of a cliff, an ARROW at the MOON. Scar is an incredibly skilled bow user and I would include this in Gem’s part too but I’m pretty sure she’s gotten more kills on sl by sword.

-Lastly, the Muses. Apollo, being the god of arts and music, was the choir leader of the 9 muses on Olympus. Now, Scar was never friends with more than 2 people at a time in the life series but lets look at his kills instead. In session 9 alone, he got 6 Permakills and 2 assists (Big B and Skizz) which brings us up to 8. Not enough but he lasted for 9 sessions, which is pretty cool if you interpret every session as a muse. Each session’s task being a huge influence on how Scar acts, even if he fails the task.

I think the 9 muses, Gem’s preferred weapon, and Apollo’s connection to medicine and Scar’s lack thereof are the weakest parts of this delusional rant but I still love the idea of the final battle in sl featuring the moon rejecting Artemis and a battle between the Twins. Apollo winning only after destroying the moon herself, who lost her will to win after the events of Dl. Apollo having once been allied with the Sun, and the Moon once having her win handed to her by her soulmate. Anyways Shinyduo Desertduo and Scar/Pearl narrative foils real and true.