#now i literally have them on almost all day every day whether I'm listening to something or not

[battywitch]

$300+ ANC over-ear headphones can't be that much better than under $200 ones... can they?

[mint-yooxgi]

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

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

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

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 9,085

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

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

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

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

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

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

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two

You were wrong.

Not only is this redcap the most infuriating fae possible, but he has no tact when it comes to handling you. Clearly, he’s never dealt with humans before, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. Every chance he gets, he’s shoving you around, pulling you harshly to your feet and snapping at you to ‘get a move on’ if you’re not moving at a quick enough pace for him.

Gone is the almost surreal atmosphere of peace the morning had brought you. Instead, as evening shifts into night, only irritation seems to fill the silence between the two of you. Whether he’s upset at himself for relating to a human or not is unbeknownst to you. All you do know is that he seems to dislike you more than he did the previous day.

“Are you done yet?” His voice cuts through the gentle sounds of the pond you’re currently bathing in.

Your head turns to stare at his back, noticing he stands a better guard than Windfel ever did. Not once did this fae turn around even to toy with you. Truly, he kept his word about being respectful about this kind of stuff, and for that, you should be grateful. Only, a creeping sense of dread begins to sink into your bones.

Slowly, you begin to make your way out of the pond, not quite feeling as refreshed as you should. The constant pounding of your heart within your chest reminds you that you’re still alive, and as you pull on the new clothes, you cannot keep your hands from shaking.

“Have you finished? I need to wrap your wound.” His arms are crossed over his chest, that much you can tell.

“I can do it myself.” Comes your somewhat sharp reply, looking around for where he put that roll of bandages he scavenged from a nearby town.

“No, you’re going to do it wrong.” He sighs, beginning to tap his foot against the ground. “I don’t want your wound getting infected again and slowing us down even further.”

Your features pull into a scowl. One which you are grateful he cannot see at the moment. You remain silent, tugging the loose shirt over your head once dry enough to do so. Only a grunt is given to acknowledge he can turn to face you, one which he seemingly immediately understands.

“Sit down.” He commands, walking over to you with another leaf filled with fresh paste in his one hand.

You comply, barely holding back your grumble of discontent. “Yes, General.”

The fae lets out a sharp breath through his nose, kneeling beside you on the ground. He says nothing as he begins to apply the paste over your now healing wound.

The cut on your leg is doing tremendously better in such a short amount of time. No longer does it crust at the edges, and the swelling has gone down significantly. There’s a small scab that rests over the deepest part of the cut, but the edges are much fainter than before, almost scar like in appearance. Sure, it still aches, but it’s nowhere near as horrendous or as infected as it once was.

Carefully, he spreads the paste over your cut. You notice his claws have retracted once more, and though he’s focussing intently on what he’s doing, he isn’t all that gentle. At one particular point, he adds a bit too much pressure to his fingers over the worst part of your cut, and you flinch.

A sharp hiss escapes you before you can stop yourself, and he removes his hand.

He says nothing as he discards of the leaf this time, reaching over to grab the roll of bandages. Wordlessly, he slides his one hand beneath your knee, tugging it upwards without warning.

Your initial response is to scold him, but given how close he is to you right now, combined with the fact that he is treating your wound, you don’t want to give him an opportunity to attack you. If he’s this good with treating them, then obviously he’s even better at causing them. Besides, there are ways he could torment you with the worst pain imaginable, all while making sure to still keep you alive.

It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. You would know.

There is no time, nor opportunity for you to be embarrassed right now. True to his word, he barely takes his eyes from your wounded leg the whole time he treats it. No roaming hands. No snide remarks, or suggestive comments about anything.

Whether he takes notice of the other scars lining your legs is unbeknownst to you, for he doesn’t comment on a single one. Instead, his brow is furrowed in concentration, his hands moving roughly around your thigh as he wraps the bandage around your wound. It’s almost as if he’s working subconsciously, letting his muscles repeat the monotonous motion of covering your wound without thinking. Almost as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder about him. What was his past like? How did he learn to treat wounds this well? Is he truly as terrifying as you’ve been led to believe?

You catch yourself, blinking a few time to clear your vision. These are not things you should concern yourself with. You need to worry about yourself, and only yourself right now.

Looking back at the fae, you notice that his eyes are glazed. Still, he stares intently down at your thigh. You can tell he’s not paying attention, for he bandages your thigh too tightly, tying it off without a second thought.

“It’s too tight.” A blunt comment which seems to snap him out of his thoughts.

“No, it’s not.” He clicks his tongue, standing back to his feet. “Quit complaining, and let’s get a move on. I’ve already wasted enough time waiting for you today.”

“Isn’t it dangerous for me to travel at night?” You remark, tugging the fresh pair of pants over your legs as he walks over to the tree line.

“Not with me, it’s not.” Comes his gruff reply as he begins to stalk deeper into the woods. “Keep up. I’m not stopping if you fall behind.”

Without another word, and with a deep sigh, you take off after him. That stem of red spider lilies you still have with you gets hastily tucked back into your pants pocket. Despite the petals wilting every day, you cling onto it. It means too much to you, and the fact that you were able to find a single stem in the wild still makes your head spin.

Your favourite flower, come to bring you home.

Surprisingly, you manage to keep pace with the fae quite well. You can tell he’s not travelling at his top speed, but the trek is still manageable, and your thigh doesn’t throb once.

Your ankle on the other hand…

Sometime over the course of the night, your foot had started going numb. Your limp has become more prominent, and with every step you take, pain shoots up your right ankle. You manage to bear it for quite a bit longer. That is, until you lose your footing, tripping over a sudden root in your path and falling to the ground with a loud thump.

An annoyed sigh greets your ears, followed by even louder stomps heading back in your direction.

“Are you that incompetent-“ A sharp intake of breath. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m always bleeding.” You push yourself upward, feeling pain shoot through your fingertips.

Oh, yes. You forgot. You cracked your nails.

Sitting yourself on the ground, you let out a sigh of your own. Gently, you go to raise your hands to your face in order to assess the damage. However, before you can get very far, two large hands envelope your own.

“You’re a walking disaster.” He clicks his tongue, studying your fingertips thoroughly.

His touch is not soft, but it’s not as rough as this morning. Still, he turns your hands in his without thought, tugging your arms lightly forward as he brings your fingertips closer to his face.

Your expression hardens, pursing your lips. “So I’ve been told.”

He says nothing, but you do notice his gaze flick upwards to your face. A moment later, and he’s letting out another sigh. “Is there anything else I should be made aware of?”

“Well, since you’re asking,” you reply smartly, pain and irritation ridding you of your normal filter. “I haven’t been able to feel my right foot for over two hours.”

He swears lowly under his breath. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were now my own personal doctor.” You snap.

A low growl greets you in response, and you freeze. With wide eyes, you meet his own.

“I would like to make it back to my home without any further setbacks.” He snarls. “Preferably with you in one piece.”

“Didn’t realize I was so important to you, General,” you tug your hands out from his grip, and surprisingly, you do not feel the sharp sting of fresh cuts adorning your skin from his claws. In fact, it looks as if he retracted them before he even started examining your hands.

A strange, yet welcomed fact which you didn’t bother to notice until now.

“You’re not.” He spits out his reply, standing back to his full height in the next second. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a bit with some supplies.”

Without waiting for a response, he takes off into the night. 

All you can hear are the sounds of the forest around you, and the faint stomping of the fae away from you as you drag yourself to rest against a tree. Finally, you feel as if you can breathe easier. 

There’s a war going on within yourself. You still want to make the general so mad that he kills you in a fit of rage, while another part of you is genuinely regretting that decision. Whether it happens or not, is still yet to be seen. At least you no longer have starvation, dehydration, and infection clouding your mind.

About an hour later, the fae returns to see you having stripped yourself of your pants. The bandage he had tied around your thigh rests to the side as you let the wound breathe, and it looks the best it has in weeks. Whatever that paste is made from has really helped, for now all that remains of the initial cut is a small scar, and a minor scab.

You notice he spares a glance at your thigh. “How’s your leg?”

Your brow quirks, but you school your features into a neutral expression almost as quickly as it comes.

“Well, I’m starting to gain feeling back in my foot.” You say, watching him carefully as he crosses the short distance between the both of you. “I told you the bandages were too tight.”

“Do you ever stop nagging?” His features twist in irritation as he crouches beside you.

Almost instantly, your breath catches, and your expression falls. Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, averting your gaze to the side. Old memories, ones you had shoved deep down inside of you resurface, and bile rises in your throat.

“I suppose I should feel grateful for having you keep me from dying.”

“Feel whatever you want to, mortal,” he sighs, handing you a canteen of water. “I have no ties to you, and you have none to me.”

“Then, what do you call this?” Pointedly, you spare a glance down at your almost fully healed thigh, making sure to catch his gaze.

“Insurance.” He states bluntly. Not even a second later, his eyes fall shut, and he’s breathing out a long sigh. “Look, I’m getting tired of repeating myself-“

“I know.” You cut him off. “I’m useless if I can’t function properly.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to.” You turn your head, jaw twitching as tears prick at your eyes.

You’ve heard it all before. Over and over for what feels like your entire life. Friends, family… all those that were supposed to love you, to care for you.

You nearly scoff.

Love. What a useless emotion. You’re not even sure it exists anymore. Though, you’re sure your parents would argue that they did even this for you out of whatever twisted love they claim to have for you.

No. They wouldn’t know love even if it hit them right in their faces. 

No one has ever loved you. No one ever will.

“We’ll rest here until you’re fully healed, and then we’ll continue the journey back to the keep.” His voice, solid and stern, pulls you out of your own thoughts. “That way there’s no excuse as to why we need to make additional stops.”

“Yes, General,” your voice is much weaker than before, barely coming out as more than a hoarse whisper. It’s as if you’ve suddenly lost the will to fight. If you ever even had it in the first place.

A grunt is all you hear from him in response. In fact, that’s all you hear from him for the rest of the morning, and as the sun begins to rise over the horizon, you fall into a deep, restless sleep.

***

It takes two full days for your wound to fully heal. Granted it only took one for the cut to become nothing more than a scar, but it was better to be safe, than sorry.

Despite the setbacks, Mingi actually feels relieved now that he knows you won’t be able to slow him down since your thigh has healed. Looking after you hasn’t been so bad, either. Your company, surprisingly enough, can actually be quite enjoyable.

There are times where you don’t seem to filter yourself as heavily as others. He enjoys those the most. You have an attitude to you that he can appreciate. An attitude which reminds himself of his younger days, before he became the seasoned general that he is now. He honestly wishes he would see it more often from you, but every time you allow yourself to snap back at him, it’s as if you expect him to hit you for it.

Not only that, but the past few times you’ve fallen asleep, you seem to be tormented by terrors unknown to him. He can hear you thrashing against the tree you rest on, whimpering into the stillness of the night as your body attempts to curl in on itself.

It bothers him, and he doesn’t understand why. 

Ever since he saw you attempting to frantically crawl away from him that day after he had slaughtered that deer, something within himself has shifted. 

Mingi has always known he’s a monster. He was born a monster. He was raised a monster. He is a monster, and he’s never for one moment denied that part of himself. Of course, he has his own moral code he lives by, but again, he doesn’t enjoy wasting his time on easy prey. 

If it’s not worth killing over, it’s not worth dying for.

Besides, no one respects him for the minor kills. He wouldn’t have gotten where he is today if he took the easy path. He has a reputation to uphold, and killing people that are not even worth his time only makes people fear him.

Fear isn’t what can drive people to be loyal. Respect can.

No one gains respect by slaughtering countless humans here. At least, in his opinion. It would be the same as targeting children. Who gains honour from tearing apart the weak and defenceless? Certainly not him. He never has, and he never will. 

There’s no valour in that.

Still, there is something about you that irritates him to no end. Every time you call him general, he wants to rip your tongue from your throat. The way he catches you looking at him from time to time makes him want to gouge your eyes from your head. Yet, there’s something about the way you’ve come to rely on him, about being able to actually take care of something in such a way instead of destroying like he’s used to. Something about the way he feels as if he can just live around you, causes his guard to weaken and start to crumble. 

A vulnerability he hasn’t felt in a long time. A vulnerability that, in actuality, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt in his entire life.

Maybe that’s why you irritate him so much.

Stupid human making him feel stupid things he’s never felt before.

The sun sets in the distance, casting a golden hue across the surrounding area. A gentle breeze cools the humid air of the day, giving way for the crisp stillness that night is sure to bring.

Still, you limp along.

Your stamina has improved since your wound has healed, and you seem to be more keenly aware of your surroundings. Enough so, that Mingi can see the familiar shine of recognition behind your eyes as the forest begins to thin up ahead. 

“Shouldn’t there-“ you swallow, panting lightly. “Shouldn’t there be a town up ahead?”

A low hum in confirmation is all you receive in response as Mingi breaks through the tree line. He pauses, waiting for you to catch up. Taking the time now, he scans over the area, no annoying pests in sight. Of course, there are the town’s other inhabitants, but at least the pain in the ass seems to be gone for the moment. If his missing scent is anything to go by, Seonghwa hasn’t been home in quite a few days.

Perhaps those small set backs were more of an advantage than Mingi thought.

“Come on,” Mingi says, leading you towards a tavern across the way. “We’ll stay here for the night. I could use a decent rest in a bed instead of on the ground for a change.”

Eager eyes follow the both of you as you cross the short distance between the woods and the tavern, and Mingi can already hear the whispers floating in the air. He knows that he’s easily recognizable, given the red band tied around his upper arm, but hearing them comment about you sets his skin prickling.

The worst part is, he doesn’t know why.

Stepping inside, the familiar smells of malt ale and other fermented substances greet his nostrils. There’s a distinct stench of body odour, and malcontent lingering in the air that irritate his nose the further into the tavern he goes. The rowdy patrons are all around, laughing and jeering amongst themselves as he steps up to the counter. 

Even though he spares a glance over his shoulder to check, he knows that you’re scurrying after him as fast as you can. You seem to be able to feel the pointed stares sent your way as Mingi discusses lodging arrangements with the owner. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Mingi watches you shift uncomfortably on your feet, curling in on yourself as loud voices reach the both of your ears.

“Isn’t that that infamous redcap general?” A loud whisper cuts through the noise of the tavern.

“What’s a human doing with him?” Another hisses, and Mingi can feel his one ear twitch.

“You think he’s claimed her?”

“I don’t see a mark.” Such a smug comment causes Mingi’s jaw to tick in irritation. 

What ever happened to minding one’s own business?

“You think we could convince him to let us have some fun with her?”

“Maybe I should give her a mark of my own-“

“Watch your tongue before you lose it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, his sharp gaze locked onto the fae that had uttered such a repulsive phrase.

A sudden silence encases the entire tavern, and even your eyes go wide. 

The comment from the general is so unexpected, it seems to even surprise him.

Mingi is acutely aware of all eyes on him now. Not even a drop of condensation falls against a single glass as he snatches the ward key from the counter. With his opposite hand, he pushes you along, only causing you to stumble forwards and towards the stairs at the back of the room.

“Don’t concern yourselves with business that is not your own.” Mingi snaps, practically shoving you up the stairs and out of sight from hungry, prying eyes. 

Eyes of which that seem to follow you all the way to the room. A fact which only serves to irritate him more, a scowl tugging at his features as he unlocks the door with the ward key. A moment later, the entrance swings open, and he’s dragging you inside.

“This was a bad idea.” He begins to pace, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I was fine the last time I passed through this town.” Your reply is much softer than he’s used to, and he spares a glance in your direction.

There you stand, still fidgeting in your spot. Your hands tug at the long sleeves of your shirt, shoulders curling in on yourself as you intently stare at the ground. Your eyes have lost that faint shine he’s come to know over the past few days, the brightness having dulled suddenly into a blank nothingness.

He bets you’re thinking about their eyes on you, and how everyone was gazing at you like you were a piece of meat. Even he can still see the way tongues ran over sharp teeth, lips curling back against fangs in malicious grins as the scents of excitement and thrill bombarded his senses.

His own lips draw back in a scowl, and he nearly growls.

“Do you understand what they were implying?” Mingi can barely keep his breathing under control as he turns to look out the window.

Claws dig into wood, fingers nearly snapping the window frame from the pressure of his grip. What only makes this worse is he doesn’t understand why those comments have set him off so much. It’s simply typical fae talk, no different than what his subordinates had said when you first showed up at the edge of their encampment.

Thinking back on it now, the thought nearly makes him snarl.

“It’s nothing I’m not used to with men-“

“They are not men.” Mingi snaps, his chest heaving as he turns to face you.

Immediately, you recoil back, mild shock on your features. That is, until you’re schooling your expression and taking a deep breath in.

“Why should it matter what they say, then?” You keep your voice low, steady. 

“It doesn’t.” His reply is quick. Too quick.

“Aren’t they your kin? Don’t you think the exact same way?” Your voice rises slightly, and the tears he can see shining in your gaze cause his chest to begin to ache.

“I have never- will never think that way.” Mingi shakes his head, fingers tangling in his locks and tugging exasperatedly at the roots. “I may not like your kind, but I don’t agree with treating them however we want to just because we can.”

His head is spinning and throbbing all at once. He feels both freezing cold and burning hot, and he cannot prevent his eyes from shifting from you to the door. His breathing, which he has always been able to master, comes in erratic pants, fangs bared as his claws scratch at his scalp.

“You had no problem with it before when it was your men saying it.”

A silence so deadly settles over the room.

In the blink of an eye, Mingi has you pinned against the wall. His arm rests over your upper chest as he looms over you, teeth bared in a snarl. Raised in the air above his head is his opposite arm, claws glinting beneath the light of the moon as he prepares to strike.

Only, the hitch in your breath pulls him back to reality.

Immediately, he stumbles away from you, staring at his hands in horror. He doesn’t register the single sob that echoes through the silence of the room like a knife, nor does he hear the frantic beating of your heart over his own racing in his ears. What he does catch, however, is the single tear that cuts a path down your cheek, and the way your trembling body collapses to the floor.

The moment you touch ground, you go limp, staring vacantly at the wall across from you.

Mingi’s hands drop to his sides, balling them into fists as he stomps over to the door. 

“I’ll be back.”

The last thing he sees before the door swings shut is you supporting yourself with your hands braced upon the floor. He doesn’t give himself time to think as he storms back downstairs and straight over to the bar, ignoring the pointed stares sent his way.

He needs time to think, to sort out the mess that is his head. Perhaps you could use this time alone, too. Besides, it’s not like you can escape the room you’re in. Only he has the key to get in, and it’s not like you can jump out of the window. The glass is too strong for you to break.

You’re trapped, just like you’ve always been since he caught up to you. Yet, for some reason, that simple thought makes his brow furrow.

He doesn’t want you to feel trapped…

Frowning down into his glass, Mingi downs his ale. A few moments later, and his glass has been refilled. What a perfect way to end the day: by drowning his sorrows in a room full of boisterous fae, drinking until even the most proper of them cannot tell up from down.

About an hour into his drinking, he senses a few other fae saddle up beside him. The scraping of the stools on the ground cuts through the noise of the tavern, and much to Mingi’s annoyance, the fae from earlier that were making comments are the ones that surround him.

“So, what brings you to town, General?” The one with muted butterfly wings on his back asks. He was the one who commented on convincing Mingi to have some fun with you.

Mingi takes another sip of his drink. “Hunt.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re with that human.” Another hums, small horns protruding from the top of his head. His skin has a slight green hue to it, and Mingi recalls the way he spoke about giving you a mark of his own. “Mustn’t have put up much of a fight, eh?”

A scowl mars Mingi’s brow, but he hides it behind the rim of his glass, downing the rest of its contents in a single shot.

“Surprised she’s not torn to shreds.” Another hums, leaning casually against the edge of the bar. He’s a bit shorter than the other two, but Mingi notes the way he bounces his one hand in the air, almost impatiently. “Or are you saving that for later?”

“Oh, you sly general, you,” the one with the horns nudges Mingi’s shoulder. “Lure the human into a false sense of security, then tear her asunder when she least expects it!”

The three fae share a laugh, fangs glinting beneath the light as their lips curl deviously in mirth.

“I thought I told you to not concern yourself with business that is not your own.” Mingi replies gruffly, slamming his now empty glass back on top of the counter.

“It’s not our fault you brought an unclaimed human into our midst.” The one leaning against the counter titters.

“Really, you should share some of the fun with the rest of us,” the winged one laughs, flicking his eyebrows in a suggestive matter.

“And what would your town’s overseer say if he could hear you now?” Mingi turns his sharp gaze towards the two fae on his right side.

If there’s one thing that Mingi can’t fault the pain in the ass for, it’s that he maintains good control over those that follow him. At least, those that reside in this town.

“Seonghwa’s not here.” The fae with the horns hums. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

Mingi’s jaw twitches. These fae have clearly done this multiple times with humans before, and gotten away with it despite Seonghwa’s rule not to touch any that enter the village under his watch. Though, with that specificity, Mingi isn’t that surprised.

“Come on, General,” the one with the wings taunts. “Think of how satisfying her shrieks of terror will be.”

A flash of you scrambling away from him in terror flashes through his mind, your desperate cries ringing through his ears.

“Humans are such weak, pathetic creatures, anyways.” The one leaning on the counter rolls his eyes as Mingi stands to his feet. “It’ll probably be the only action she ever sees in her life with how ugly she is. She’ll probably be thanking us by the end of it for make her feel desirable.”

An image, soft and pure, of you tenderly gazing down at that wilting stem of spider lilies flits through his mind, and Mingi tenses. A blink, and the once peaceful scene shifts, blood splattered over your face as tears cut fresh tracks through the dirt and grime smeared over your cheeks.

“Don’t you want to feel the warmth of her blood spilling onto your hands as you bathe yourself in its crimson flow?” The fae with the horns grins maniacally. “Taste its bitter scent as it drips down your tongue?”

Mingi’s hands, which are currently clenched into fists at his sides, begin shaking.

“Come on, General,” the one that’s leaning against the bar continues, pushing himself forwards to lean into the silent redcap’s back. “Let us have our fun. We’ll take her off your hands.”

“Yeah,” The winged one smirks, eyes glinting in the light of the tavern. “Don’t you know human meat is a delicacy around here?”

“Let alone one so young, and fresh,” the horned one snickers, his grin widening as he licks his lips. “Oh, I can’t wait to tear into her-“

Blood splatters across the top of the bar, and every patron turns to see what the sudden commotion is about. Not a sound can be heard for several tense moments as realization settles over the entire room.

The horned fae can do nothing but open and close his jaw, blood spilling from his mouth as he stumbles away from the redcap across from him. Horror paints his features for a brief second before anger is taking over, watching as Mingi drops the now severed muscle in his hand, the horned fae’s tongue thudding against the floor.

“I warned you.”

Without another word, Mingi is storming outside the tavern to get some fresh air. The rest of the fae around him immediately part to let him pass, low whispers following him all the way outside. His hand clenches repeatedly, feeling disgusted by the wet warmth that covers his fingers.

Normally, Mingi would revel in the feeling. He loves the way blood coats his skin when he goes in for the kill, not to mention maiming something that annoys him. Sure, he has his morals, but that doesn’t mean he won’t put in the effort when the time calls for it.

Mingi doesn’t quite exactly know why he reacted the way he did. He put up with his men boasting about wanting to do much worse to you while back in the encampment. Yet, how three unknown fae could rile him up so easily only makes the confusion and anger he’s feeling all the more prominent.

It’s only because you’re still technically on a hunt with him. You’re not home free just yet. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He has to make sure you both make it back unharmed, and that includes not letting other fae take advantage of you.

No other reason. 

None at all.

Taking a deep breath in, Mingi lets the crisp night air fill his lungs. He flicks his wrist, more blood splattering against the ground as he scowls down at his hand. His whole body is tense, and he’s surprised his teeth don’t crack from the force at which he clenches his jaw.

He should probably check on you soon. It’s been a long day, and all he wants to do is rest. No more dealing with this stupid shit for the moment. It’s time for him to turn his brain off.

Besides, he could use the downtime.

Heading back inside after about five more minutes, Mingi flexes his hand. The now dried blood cracks over his skin, and a feeling of unease settles inside his chest. The other three fae are nowhere to be seen, and at the way a few of the other patrons spare looks his way out of the corners of their eyes, he can tell something is off.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

***

For half an hour, you do not move from your spot. 

Your ankle throbs as you curl up on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as best as you can. A familiar position, as you find your tears quickly depleting as your entire being goes numb.

Blankly, you stare at the opposite wall. You were this close to getting him to kill you, and you don’t know if you’re more upset at yourself or him for not seeing it through.

It’s not like you trusted him, nor do you necessarily trust him in general. However, faced with the same scenario you’ve played out so many times before, all you could see was that monster covered in blood, ready to strike you down once more.

There’s a bitterness that builds within your chest, but you don’t know if it’s at yourself, or the fae. You were so close to being done with all of this. Are you that horrible at committing to something, and seeing it through, that not even a fae wants to kill you? Are you that useless that you can’t even do that right?

Taking in a shaky breath, you finally push yourself up into a sitting position. Your whole body groans in protest, muscles aching due to the position you had been laying in on the cold, hard floor. Slowly, you pull yourself to your feet, mindful of the twinge in your right ankle as you hobble over to one of the side doors.

You’re pretty sure you saw a bathroom on the way in.

Time seems to pass languidly, and much too quickly all at once. By the time you pull yourself out of the tub, you have no idea if the redcap has returned or not. You didn’t hear his telltale footsteps stomping through the room, but you’ve learned that he can be quite light on his feet when he wants to be. Who knows how much time you have left to yourself, anyways.

As you’re drying off, you can faintly hear a commotion coming from the direction of the stairs. It seems as if one of the patrons has gotten too rowdy, for all seems to still a moment later.

You shake your head, wrapping the surprisingly fluffy towel around your plush body, and limping back into the main area of the room. The redcap is nowhere in sight, but there seems to be a fresh pile of clothes laid out on the bed. There’s even a clean set of undergarments for you, and as you look closer, you realize that it’s actually your old set. Upon a thorough inspection, they appear as if brand new, washed and dried to perfection.

Such a small gesture, whether through some form of magic, or something else, causes your heart to swell. It’s been a long time since you’ve had anything done for you like this, and to say it means a lot would be a tremendous understatement.

Feeling the material of your undergarments between your fingers, you let out a soft sigh through your nose. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you begin to change, managing to pull everything on quickly. There’s still a faint warmth clinging to the material of the clothes, as if they’ve been left out in the sun for too long, or have rested beside an open fire. It calms you, and breathing starts to become a little bit easier.

Standing from the bed, you can hear muffled voices begin shouting at each other from down the hallway. You figure them to be other patrons staying overnight, so you think nothing of it to walk towards the bathroom to hang your towel upon the back of the door. You’re sure you saw a little hook there before…

Just as you go to reenter the bathroom, the main door to the room swings open. You expect it to be the redcap returning from wherever it is that he went, but instead, what you see, or rather, whom, has you freezing right in your tracks.

Three unfamiliar fae stand before you. One has light green skin and horns, who seems to be bleeding from his mouth. Another has large wings, akin to a butterfly, with a neutral coloured pattern painted over them. The third is very human-like in appearance. He’s shorter than his two companions, with pointed ears, sharp teeth, and claws that adorn his features.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.” The one with the wings steps forwards, a malicious grin tugging at his lips.

Naturally, you take a step backwards, your heart jumping into your throat. Your eyes dart between the three fae as they creep towards you, matching their pace with each step backwards you take. In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder if it was the redcap that gave them the key to unlock this room.

“Don’t act so coy, Doll,” the human-like fae drawls, his fangs prominent as he smiles wickedly at you. “We’re only here to have some fun. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, I don’t want any trouble,” you say weakly, lifting your hands before you slightly in a defensive position.

Boisterous laughter greets your ears as the door to the room swings shut behind them, sealing your fate. There’s no way the other fae is going to come back to save you now. You’re stuck, and this time, you really will die at the hands of three unfamiliar fae who look at you like an object they’re going to enjoy ripping apart.

“You should have thought of that before you waltzed in here without a claim, acting like you own the place,” the one with wings spits, and you can hear the green one gargle out something that sounds like a noise of agreement. Only, more blood escapes his mouth, and he ends up spitting it in your direction and onto the floor at your feet.

“You’re not going to look much different than that pile of blood once we’re done with you,” the human-like one says, a sick, twisted sense of glee lighting up his features.

“Until then, you live to serve us.” The butterfly winged fae adds sharply. “We’ll take all the pleasure we can from this pathetic body of yours, and after each round, you’re going to thank us for even bothering to touch you.”

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, skin prickling in disgust as bile builds in your chest. Your stomach drops, and before you can think, you spin on your heel, attempting to make a break out the window.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The human-like fae blocks your path, grabbing your wrists in his hands harshly and holding you in place.

“Let me go!” You begin to thrash around to no avail, tripping over your own feet as you get dragged back and towards the one bed.

“Oh, this one has some fight left in her,” the winged one snickers, leaning casually against the wall as he observes the scene. “Looks like that general was too easy on this one. Guess we’ll have to make up for lost time.”

“You should be thanking us for even looking at a disgusting creature such as yourself.” The one that had dragged you towards the bed throws you upon it, wasting no time in pinning you down upon the mattress.

Your protests and pleas to stop fall on deaf ears. In fact, the more you struggle, the more it seems to delight the three fae closing in around you. Thrashing beneath his harsh hold only earns you a knee to the stomach, and you cry out in pain. 

Tears leak out of the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as you feel hands groping you all over as the fae above you keeps you captive beneath him. This scene is all to familiar to you, and just as with all those times before, no one is coming to your rescue. 

No matter how loudly you scream, no matter how much you beg, struggle, and cry, no one will care.

The only certainty that now awaits you is death.

“Stop struggling,” the fae above you hisses, his one hand pinning your wrists above your head as he adds more pressure to the knee digging into your stomach. “Shut up, and take it like pathetic human you are.”

The moment you see the fae reach a clawed hand towards your shirt, you stop breathing. 

It feels as if time stops. One moment the fae is above you, pinning you down unforgivingly. The next, he’s gone, the pressure on both your wrists and stomach completely having disappeared.

A sickening crunch echoes throughout the room, followed by an immediate scream of pain.

A blur moves through the room, and suddenly, you see a wing get tossed towards the window, followed shortly by another. The tearing sounds resonate through the room, followed almost immediately by muffled screams and pleas for mercy.

Only one figure remains within view, and as he uncurls himself into a standing position, his full height looms over the entire room. His towering form fills the space around you, and as you lay upon the bed, you feel as if you can breathe again. Never have you been so grateful to see that terrifying redcap standing across from you, but still you cannot prevent your body from shaking.

“All this for a fucking human.” A voice from the ground spits harshly.

Looking down, you see the green fae cowering in the corner, and the one with the once beautiful butterfly wings laying face down on his stomach. His back is completely torn asunder, blood coating the entire area as his wings lie in torn heaps upon the ground.

“You’re going to break code just for a stupid mortal?” The same fae hisses, pure anger on his features as he trembles beneath the redcap’s piercing gaze.

“You can’t kill us.” The one human-like fae by the window laughs. He seems to be holding his hands before himself, fingers severely deformed and sticking out in odd angles. Bones peek through his flesh, and blood coats every inch of his hands, but that does not prevent the way his whole body trembles as the redcap takes a menacing step towards him.

“You’re not dead yet, are you?” The general spits, gaze sharp as he pointedly looks between all three fae cowering around the room.

Frantically, they shake their heads.

“That’s what I thought.” He snaps, lips pulled over his fangs in a snarl. “I doubt any of you want to chance a duel against me given the state you’re all in. Not that’d you’d survive, even at full strength.”

Again, the three fae shake their head. Though this time, scowls adorn their features.

“Now,” the redcap’s eyes flash, a low snarl permeating the air. “Get out of my sight before I rid you all of yours.”

All three fae scramble for the door, the human-like one managing to trip over his own feet and land harshly on his broken hands. A sharp cry escapes him, and the horned fae ends up having to pull the other to his feet, soon supporting both broken fae as they tumble out of the room.

You can hear the redcap muttering under his breath, leaning down to pick something up from the floor. Not even a second later, and he’s crushed what appears to be a second ward key in his hand, tossing it over his shoulder without another thought.

He turns to you.

There you lie, stiff as a board on top of the one mattress. The other bed lays untouched to your side, but all you can do is stare with wide eyes at the redcap before you. Your gaze darts over the blood splattered on his skin, the red dotting his clothing in random patterns.

Your lungs burn, and your eyes sting. Yet, still, you do not move. No words escape you, not trusting your voice for the moment as you wait for him to move.

He takes a cautious step forward, but you fail to see the way his gaze softens as he does.

A whimper escapes you, another tear sliding from the corner of your cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he lifts his hands, palms facing upwards to show you he means you no harm. “Breathe.”

Oh, yeah. You should probably fill your lungs with air. No wonder your chest is burning.

A stuttering gasp escapes you as you heave a large breath into your lungs. However, the second you do, a harsh sob escapes you. Immediately, you’re scrambling back on the bed, a hand clutching over your stomach where that fae dug his knee into you. Your wrists throb, more tears blurring your vision as the redcap takes another step towards you.

“Stay away.” The plea is but a desperate whisper upon your lips, chin trembling as you attempt to curl in on yourself.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Still, he keeps his hands in the air, palms facing towards you. “You have my word.”

Your gaze catches on the blood staining his clothes, smeared over his skin, and you shake your head.

For a moment, you swear you watch his brow furrow, only for realization to line his features. He straightens, doing his best to move in the least threatening manner possible.

“Stay here.” His voice is low, an edge of worry lining his command.

Before you can even react, the fae disappears into the bathroom. You can hear the sound of water, followed by some frantic scrubbing. Then, more water trickling along with the movement inside the bathroom.

The whole time you sit on the bed, your gaze is locked on the little opening where the main door to the room and the door to the bathroom reside. You can faintly hear things being shuffled around you, and you swear you catch something dart across the room out of the corner of your eye. It’s small, and quick, but when you shift your head to look, all that greets you is empty space.

An empty room devoid of any of the mess you just witnessed stain it.

The blood splatters are gone, along with the tattered remains of the one fae’s wings. There’s even a fresh set of clothing at the end of your bed by your feet, completely identical to the ones you’re currently wearing.

You swallow thickly.

Turning your head, you begin to look around the room once more. Your eyes search for one thing in particular, and you find it resting beside you on the bedside table. It’s almost as if it had been placed delicately beside you after someone had realized the horrifying events that have just taken place.

The red spider lilies are crushed, the stem broken in two. The flower that means so much to you has been tread upon like it’s nothing, reflecting exactly how you feel in this moment. Only a few petals remain, wilted and dead, clinging to the plant for dear life in a final attempts to maintain what once was pure.

Slowly, you reach over and take the dying stem into your trembling grip.

A choked sob escapes you, and you’re quick to slap a hand over your mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut. The hand you have holding the flower also clutches at your throbbing stomach as your whole body shakes with the weight of your situation.

What you’ve been through - what you’re going through - you cannot take it anymore.

The hand that caresses the top of your head is soft, but the unexpected touch still makes you nearly jump out of your skin. Pain lingers in your gaze as you turn to see the redcap staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

No, not unreadable. You just cannot accept that someone is actually looking at you in concern, rather than pity for once.

He pulls his hand away, hesitant in the way he leans the slightest bit over the bed that you’re curled up on. His normally looming figure doesn’t seem so intimidating all of a sudden, almost as if his features have softened beneath the faint glow of the moon.

You watch him carefully, observing his every movement with a wary glint to your gaze. He saved you. He protected you, and you don’t know if that scares you more than if he had sent those other three fae after you like you had originally thought. His actions confuse you, and more than anything, you’re tired. 

Exhaustion doesn’t even come close to the immense fatigue you feel. You’re tired of the life you were given. Tired of the life you’ve been forced into. Tired of living.

Honestly, you don’t know what to do anymore. It seems accepting your fate isn’t going exactly as you thought it would, nor is it as easy as it seems.

“Are you hurt?” Though he keeps his voice soft, the sudden timbre cutting through the silence of the room still makes you jump.

You shake your head, hand tightening around that broken flower over your stomach.

His eyes glance the movement, and his expression falls slightly.

“I only wish to make sure you’re okay.” Again, he keeps his voice soft, tone steady as he meets your gaze.

You bite your lower lip, attempting to keep it from wobbling as a single sob wracks your entire body. Then another, and then another, until you’re breaking down before his very eyes.

Tears stream down your face as you continue to muffle your sobs behind your one hand. Your eyes squeeze shut, simply wishing to disappear in this very moment. You wish you had never been born, where nothing but servitude, injustice, and hell rule your life with an iron grip.

From the very first memories you can recall, someone has always been using you. Whether it be your parents, friends, or other family members, you’ve always lived to serve. No one has ever cared for you, and no one has ever fought for you.

It all feels like one big joke. A lie concocted by the monster stalking you through your every waking nightmare, ready to jump out and laugh at you for even thinking anyone could ever care for you.

Yet, despite the darkness swirling within, a light begins to peek through.

Softly, the bed dips as the fae rests a knee on the mattress. His hand strokes gently over your head, tentatively pulling you into his arms as he settles himself against the headboard.

“Shh, it’s okay,” his voice is calm, soothing. “I’ve got you.”

He holds you against his chest, cradling your head in the palm of his hand. He’s hesitant as he comforts you, making sure his arms are loose enough to allow you to pull away if need be. Only, you do not shy from his touch, instead finding it oddly satisfying that he of all creatures chose to comfort you.

Most important of all, you let him.

“I won’t let anything else harm you,” he says softly. “Not while I’m here to protect you.”

His one hand strokes lightly over your back, and though a shiver caresses your spine at the first touch, you find yourself melting into the warmth of his embrace. It’s soothing, and everything you’ve always needed but have never gotten in your entire life. A safety that shouldn’t be as welcoming as it is.

His body is firm and lean against your own. A solid foundation which holds you steady as you cling onto the fabric of his now clean shirt with your one hand. Your sobs are muffled into his chest, your sadness being absorbed into the material adorning his skin as he cradles you to him.

After some time, you feel his one hand shift downwards, placing itself over your own on top of your stomach. The warmth that you can feel radiating from his skin is welcomed, and it helps to ease the ache you feel lingering within. Softly, he begins to hum, his chest vibrating with the gentle sounds as he continues to cradle your head to his chest using his opposite hand.

The steady sound of his heart pulses beneath your ear, and the constant sound soothes you even further. You don’t realize it, but you curl in closer into him, breathing finally evening out as you start to calm down.

“Why did you-“ You swallow the dryness in your throat, sniffling lightly. “Why did you do that?”

Though your voice is barely above a whisper, you know he still hears you loud and clear.

“I… don’t know,” his brow furrows slightly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “My body just moved.”

You say nothing in response, unsure of how to reply to such an admission. You know that he cannot lie, but that doesn’t mean he cannot stretch the truth. Really, you shouldn’t be letting yourself be coddled by him, it’ll only make it hurt more when he betrays you in the end. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You are so used to disappointment, of having false hope, that anything you believe to be too good to be true always is. Tomorrow you’ll wake up, and he’ll be back to despising your existence, only finding value in what you can do for him.

The same as it always was. The same as it always will be.

[all2angels]

hi im the stoner gee anon.. :3 im back 4 more.. and its bad its not even stoner gee anymorw..

2019 gee who grooms u and wants to make u his oblivious-to-how-wrong-your-relationship-is gf/bf!! you guys would meet at some umbrella academy panel thing. he's so enamored by you when you walk up to the table, so much so that when you ask for a signature and drawing, he just HAS to put his number on there..

you're happy, anyone would be happy that a celebrity noticed them. but no, this is gerard way.. the man of ur dreams. as soon as you get home, you lock yourself in your room and text him, shuffling around and pacing like crazy as you anticipate his response. he starts off easy, just making small talk and asking you about your dreams... then a few weeks in or so, he'll drop the bomb that he slipped you his number 'cus he thought you were so beautiful. just stunning, actually.

he eventually starts talking about issues in his own relationship, telling you about how the sex is just so boring and sad.. how his marriage doesn't even feel like a marriage anymore. you feel a little uncomfortable that he's telling you this, but anything to help your heroic idol, right?! then he goes back to how pretty you are, saying that he wishes he had married you, that you were older so he could've met you earlier, so it could actually happen.

there's a night where he calls you, and he's breathing quite heavily. you ask, "what's wrong?" and he brushes it off, replying with a dismissive "nothing." on the other side of the line, his pants are tugged down, his hand's just ghosting over his cock, and he's so turned on. he's been thinking about you so much lately. "how was your day?" he asks, now teasing the tip of his cock, smearing pre-cum over it.. you're not even sure what's going on, but you oblige, telling about how mundane it all was. you can hear small whines over the phone, but you keep going. his hand is going so fast, pumping up and down with every word you say. you get to how you took a shower earlier, a fleeting comment, and he quite literally cums seconds after, with the photo in his imagination. he tries to hold the moans back, but he can't. and it's all finally clicked in your mind.

that was so long. i'm so sorry. but i'm not. i love your posts and these r my gifts to you <3

tw: MAJOR TW! underage, grooming, weirdo behavior. dead dove don't eat i didn't edit this this is literally my pure, unedited thoughts. i did not hold back LMFAO

STONER GEE ANON 😭😭😭😭 i want to give you the world. THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!

i love this dynamic so much ong MY TAKE BELOW

you swear that it wasn't creepy. like, a man in his forties giving his underage fan his number sounds bad, but it didn't sound bad to you. because he was your hero, he saved your life! it's not creepy.

it was when he admitted that he gave you his number because he thought you were attractive that you were hit my a bad, nauseating feeling. but you buried that feeling deep, deep down. he was just complimenting you. gerard way thought you were attractive circled your head alot.

gerard likes to talk a lot. he can go on and on about media that he likes. whether it be a book or a music album, he can go on for ages. you don't have the heart not to listen or tell him you were busy or anything. this was the person that gave you comfort for years, how could you deny a chance to talk to him? even if he's the only one talking.

then it stopped being about comic books, music, or books. things got personal. really personal. and, honestly you were a little uncomfortable when he shared graphic descriptions about his sex life. did you stop him? no. it was gerard way. you awkwardly laughed when he said he wished he could marry you, hoping he was joking even though you knew he wasn't.

this goes on for almost everyday. he'd lock himself in his office, talking to you for hours. when you told him you had school or anything, he'd guilt trip you until he settles for a quick (2, 3 hour?) call before you go to bed.

but despite your gut telling you that he has ill intentions, you were so attached. you were already attached before he gave you his number. and maybe that's why he felt so comfortable sharing these things with you like there were no possible consequences. he knows you can't let go of him.

and maybe that's why he has no shame when he calls you, dick in hand, painfully hard and asking about your day. your voice sounded so good to him, he could've finished just by listening to you. but when you let it slip that you showered was more than he could ask for. he let out a moan that you could hear from your end of the call and when you realized what was happening you hung up quickly.

nothing changed after that. he messaged you asking when you were free so you both could hop in a call, like he didn't just have a one sided SOP with you. you obviously didn't address it. but, you also gave him the time you were available. because how could you decline talking to your hero?

[rimunagenius]

Best Show Ever

დ Pairing: Josette Maskin x rockstar!reader

დ Warning: RPF!! some suggestive talk?, definite blurred platonic/romantic lines, and literal gay panic fluff

დ Word Count: 2.5k (whoops got carried away)

დ a/n: okay so this is my very first sapphic fic that i’ve ever written. It’s also very self indulgent and i’m pretty i requested it on someone acc and it had almost the same plot line, it’s most likely me (i forgot if i requested anonymously or not) but anyways!! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. i also used both preferred pronouns of jo’s so i’m sorry if it’s a little confusing. this pic is the vibe i was going for with reader x josette! ;)

დ

As a friend of Munagenuis, you were commonly spotted in the VIP sections of their concerts singing and dancing along to almost every song on their set lists. You were a superfan even though you had just as big of a following and sold-out arenas like this.

Most of the time you were on the side stage while they performed and made surprise appearances now and then when they happened to sing one of your featured songs. You met them through being one of your other fellow openers for Taylor Swift. 

You guys had met as you were a solo artist and wanted to not be alone in a pretty nerve-wracking situation such as opening for a huge sold-out stadium. You had all been backstage and that's when Pheobe had walked up to you completely starstruck because she had been a fan of yours for so long and meeting you backstage at a Taylor Swift concert was peak experience. In her words.

You couldn't believe it because you had discovered Lucy Dacus and went through a wormhole of her music where you discovered boygenius and eventually went down an even bigger wormhole for Pheobe. You loved their group and solo music. This was an unreal experience. You had listened to MUNA for a while, ever since you started your career. You just couldn’t wrap your head around this experience.

That's when she introduced you to MUNA and you couldn't even listen to anything she said because this beautiful person was just standing right in front of you, arm stretched out, waiting to shake your hand as Pheobe kept talking. "Hi, I'm Josette. This is Naomi and Katie." She shook your hand as they pointed to their best friends. 

You waved at them awestruck that you finally meeting one of the many big inspirations for your music career. This was so surreal. Especially since your celebrity crush had shaken your hand not even three seconds ago. 

You had known of MUNA and boygenius for quite some time and it was crazy to think that they knew who you were and liked listening to your music. You guys had talked that whole night and cheered each other on while you guys opened the concert. Since that night, you had all been even bigger fans of each other and hung out almost all the time. 

Over time, you had grown super close to Jo. You thanked your lucky stars that this could have happened to you and selfishly speaking, absolutely no one else, because you could not fathom ever being in a room and having the best friendship you could have nurtured with Jo. 

Over a span of a year of knowing MUNA, Josette especially, it had speculated, your fandom and MUNA's, that you and Josette were seeing each other. You guys had always seemed to laugh it off and go on about your day. You had known that there was something there. Whether it was just simple attraction or sexual tension mixed with mutual attraction. Definitely the latter.

It only started to become clearer because at one show you had been on the stage with them, after the eras tour opening you guys got busy and made music together, so you had been on stage singing your verse in the song. It was a little sexually suggestive, as the whole theme of the song, and while you were singing, Josette had lead guitar on it. 

They were all in their element as they had sauntered up to you and suddenly dropped to their knees and abandoned looking at the guitar strings and just looked up at you with this look in their eyes. Someone had gotten footage, made an edit of it, and tagged you in an Instagram story. 

You had reposted it and captioned it in the corner at the bottom, "if she keeps looking at me like that, I'm gonna fall in love 😍🧘🏻‍♀️ @ jojolovedog" You had reposted to your story and in a matter of minutes your Twitter feed was blowing up and it was just of you and Jo. 

Josette saw your story within the hour and reposted and captioned hers "i alr did…😍😍" That alone broke the internet and your mind for the better part of the week. Ever since then the rumors of your infatuation and "secret relationship" had just grown like some mold in a dirty basement. 

So as it was uncommon now for you to make an appearance with them on stage, you got used to the attention that boygenius and MUNA attracted to themselves on stage. And your little gay heart ate it up every time. 

You loved how they had all been openly themselves, kissing each other, and just loving on each other throughout the show. So when MUNA sang their featured song with you and the boys, things got crazy. 

While Katie had started the song off, you and the boys were dancing around and having fun. Pheobe had been running around hugging Katie while she sang. Julien tried to pluck the right strings while Lucy kissed her in every possible open area of skin. You had been laughing and moving your hips slowly and seductively while watching Jo play her guitar. Watching you dance and move the way you were, was driving Josette mad. She almost almost forgot what she was supposed to be playing. Almost. You took that as her not paying attention but you hoped it was because of what you wanted it to be. 

Naomi was singing some background vocals when you walked up to her, Pheobe following right next to you, and you both kissed either one of their cheeks. She laughed and then kissed you both on the lips. A short peck each. After she had initiated the lip kissing, Pheobe followed, kissing you on your lips while she held your face. 

The crowd immediately got louder and more hyped when you two started to dance around and go chase Lucy. You both grabbed Lucy, her settling for lying down on the ground, singing partially what sounded like background vocals. Pheobe had sat under her head, Lucy's head resting perfectly in her lap while the platinum blonde leaned down and kissed Lucy passionately. 

You straddled Lucy, her hands finding your thighs as you grabbed her face and kissed her with what you hoped was as much passion as your best friend Pheobe. 

Jo had walked around the stage, playing next to Julien, kissing her on the lips which you would've imagined sent some fans into cardiac arrest. And while you had finished kissing Lucy, Jo had seen the position you had been in and she wouldn't lie and say that that didn't make her want to take you right there. Make you sit on her like that.

She was pretty sure you had felt it too. There's no way you'd flirt with her with your lips insanely close to theirs, the lingering touches, and the sleepovers where you somehow always ended up cuddling each other, and didn't feel a single thing. 

The way your hands would brush through their hair while her hand was on your thigh. The longing gazes you two shared were not platonic. Jo was determined tonight to make it clear that she needed you in more ways than just one, being your best friend. She wanted to flaunt you and kiss you any waking moment. She has had a crush on you since you came into the spotlight after all.

She couldn't do that if you guys continued to fake flirt with each other platonically. 

But as your verse in the song was coming up, you got up and adjusted the sheer black leggings, opting to leave your form-fitting black mini skirt hiked up on your thighs. You wouldn't lie and say that you didn't wear this because you knew how Jo looked at you. Your legs. 

Whether it was just friendly or romantically, romantically for sure, she'd make any comment she could about the way your legs looked and it was always made with her eyes trailing up and down them, then pulling you to sit on her lap. 

The band had to know you guys were never going to be just friends. Your behavior was more than just friends and the tension would have to be released at some point, so they just would sit and wait til either one of you acted on it. I mean they could only make so many "just fuck already!" comments before it got old. 

So leaving the skirt to reveal almost all of your legs was definitely the right move. And it was. Walking closer to Jo, and raising the mic to your lips, her eyes trailed from your ankle doc marten shoes all the way up to the apex of your thighs. Oh how she wished she had you alone so she could see what was under. 

As you started to sing, the other instruments faded to allow just Josette's guitar to be heard and she played it so well. You watched her fingers as you sung. She took notice and sunk to her knees and played, abandoning looking at the strings. The same song you guys played when you noticed your feelings for her weren't just platonic anymore. You continued to sing the verse, this time with Katie and Naomi, and some of the boys. Your eyes focused on the pretty brown ones in front of you. 

You reached down and cupped their chin, their chest rising and falling rapidly as they continued to move their fingers at an insanely fast pace. You then sunk to your knees right in front of Jo, your faces inches apart as you sang the last of what you needed to. 

It was now or never. 

You had promised yourself that today you were gonna tell her or show her how you felt, what was the harm in that? You play it off as the normal concert shenanigans if it went south...that'd work right? Oh well. If it did work out, a little hard launch never hurt no one. 

Moving the microphone from your lips, your eyes watching the brunette in front of you waiting for her to look back up at you. When she did, you finally leaned in. 

Your lips connecting, in what felt the best kiss you had in your entire fucken life. You felt like it was only you two in the world and her lips felt like the only lifeline available. God did her lips feel like heaven on earth. 

You knew you made the right decision when Josette completely kissed you back. She was thanking every lucky star and sapphic god in the universe that you felt the same way she did. She would've thought otherwise if you didnt slip your tongue in her mouth and kissed her for two more seconds before pulling away. 

When the two of you pulled apart, the crowd was losing their fucking minds. You turned and looked, as the song ended, Julien running up to your side and kissing your cheek, you saw that the crowd, at least 95% of them, had their phones out. 

You knew that this was definitely gonna be everywhere in the next 10 minutes and you honestly couldn't be happier. 

After the show, you were in your dressing room, door ajar to let anyone know that they could walk in if needed. 

No one had walked in so when you heard the door shut you were scared as you had been scrolling through your Instagram, airpods in, your back facing the door while you sat at your vanity. You turned and saw Jo standing there, bouquet of pink, red, and orange tulips with a hint of babies breath. Tulips and babys breath were your favorite flowers and you had told Jo the meaning of them which made you love them even more so seeing these after one of the longest tours you guys had been on together was heartwarming and tear inducing. 

"Hey, jojo." You beamed at the most beautiful human being in front of you. 

"Hey, pretty lady." She handed you the flowers and you turned and set them down on the vanity, turning back to face them. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" A slight blush creeped up on her perfect cheekbones but an even more noticeable smirk took solace on he rlips. 

"Oh my god, Jo. You're so beautiful, you know that?" You giggles adjusting a fallen curl on her forehead while repeating her compliment back to her. Your hand ended up on her cheek, your other following suit. Somewhere along then and now their arms wrapped around your waist, their fingertips ghosting under the black cropped longsleeve you were still wearing from the show. 

"Can I kiss you, gorgeous?" They whispered, their face insanely close to yours. Your knees were weak, your skin was on fire at the mere thought that Josette Maskin, your lifelong, queer celebrity crush, wanted you, and thought you were the most beautiful thing in this world. You could barely even breathe properly. 

"Yes." You faintly whispered. She almost missed it. Almost. Soon her lips found yours, in what started as small tender kiss soon became a heated makeout. Josette picked you up off the ground, her hands finding place in where she's only ever dreamed of putting them. Her hand picking you up from your thighs, might they say dangerously close to the part of your body that's begged and cried for her for the last year. 

She scooted the flowers over, and placed you down on the vanity, her hands gripping your hips for dear life. Almost as if they didn't, you'd disappear forever. Your hands immediately ran through the short curls on the top of their head. As the kiss progressed, your tongues now dancing together, your arms dropped and just hung off her shoulders. Your body weak but all the strength and love imaginable to ever be possessed by a human being, in your body, being poured into the passionate, long overdue makeout session. 

Once Jo's hands found the sides of your legs, a small moan escaping your lips, a satisfied groan leaving their lips, none other than Naomi knocked on the door. "Yeah uh we gotta go! So wrap up whatever moaning and groaning is going on in there, and let's get a move on. We're all hungry." Not breaking the kiss the whole time. 

You kissed down Jo's jawline and down the column of their neck before they panted, "C'mon baby. We gotta go. As much as I love this and don't want to stop...we have to." You looked up at her, pupils blown, and smile on your face, you sighed. 

"Baby, huh?" You smirked at her. A small giggle escaping your lips. God, you were so whipped. 

They leaned down and gave you one last very passionate kiss, and laughed. "Yes. You're my pretty girl, arent you?" Her eyebrow grew slanted, making a questioning look. You kissed the crease in between her eyebrows, grabbed your flowers from behind you and hopped off the vanity. 

"Of course. Wouldn't want it any other way, baby. You and me," you pointed between the two of you as you reached for her hand as you walked backwards. "are forever, baby." You pulled her along behind you until her feet caught up with yours, as you walked out the dressing room. 

Her arm now reaching behind you, pinching your ass for second before wrapping around your waist. "Never forget it, gorgeous." 

This turned out to be best show of your entire lives.

[vaspider]

just a heads up that that post abt ppl reconnecting is by a like. meeeega z*onist. i usually am like eh ppl dont need to check usernames for everyone they reblog but for that one since its like. relatatef to an extent to the post i wanted to let you know for you and the people who follow u! i hope u are having whatever the best day for ur circumstances is

You're not Jewish, by your own admission. I went to make sure, before I started talking. You have some Jewish heritage, and you might look at converting, but you're not Jewish, so let's start there. And I am going to be as patient as I possibly can under the circumstances.

You have essentially just walked into the living room of a family that you're not a part of and said, "that thing that was just said about connecting with this family that I'm not a part of? You should not listen to it because it came from a term that those of us outside this family have rendered meaningless by overuse and abuse. You should not interact with that person because I am telling you they're a Bad one of y'all, because I've determined this word is Bad, and everyone has beaten it into the ground."

How do you think that would go, if you walked into my living room and pointed at someone there, as a complete and total stranger, and said, 'you should take my value statement about one of the people in your extended family'? Do you think it would go well, whether or not I agreed with that family member, that you've interjected yourself into intrafamily discussions, especially intrafamily discussions about our family's emotional survival and connection?

Because that's what this is, to be clear. Those people? They are my family. You just came in off the street and said, "Take my word on your family. They're bad. You shouldn't interact with them."

What's more, one of the two people you're pointing at, the only two people who spoke on that post, is someone who was present, and indeed the sole official witness, at a moment in my life which rates in terms of joy and personal meaning right up there with my wedding and the moment the midwife placed my daughter, naked and screaming, on my belly. You just came in to my living room and said, "The person who witnessed your mikveh immersion seven years ago? Bad. Take it from me, person who has never spoken to you before."

Do you also walk into drag shows, point at the person on the stage, and yell, "That's a groomer!"? Because that's basically what y'all sound like when you do this: you're coming in from the outside, wielding a word you've effectively rendered meaningless against people who belong here.

I'm real fucking tired of -- literally every time I interact with any post about Jewishness at all -- someone lunging in to tell me that There Be Bad Jews, or demanding that, because I am interacting with members of my family, I answer a bunch of fucking "when did you stop beating your wife" questions.

That was literally just in the last 24h. One post about how Judaism survives because we reconnect with each other, one post about how American institutions like Chabad are being labeled 'Israeli' as a means of smearing them. Literally dealing with living as a fucking Jew in the diaspora is now simply Not Allowed To Be Spoken Of, apparently, unless I strictly validate that everyone in the thread is not a Bad Bad Zionist, which of course applies to every Jew who says something we don't like, regardless of their repeatedly-stated values or self-identification.

It's almost like the end point of all of that is Jews simply not talking about being Jewish anywhere that they might be seen by someone who doesn't like that. If we can only speak about being Jewish if our Judaism meets the strict, ever-changing ethical purity standards of a bunch of Puritan-descended American leftists, then we can't speak about our lives at all, can we?

Funny, that.

Anyway, you have self-declared Zionists in your last 30 reblogs, so like, if you want to spend time endlessly policing someone's blog, make it your own.

Nobody ever send me asks like this ever again. This is the last one I'll even vaguely humor.

[bagely]

SOMETHING ABOUT... SINCERITY

from my discarded university Au

Roier had been trying to convince him to join his language club for a week, which Missa saw as another silly excuse to skip a few classes for extra credit. All week she had been introducing him to member after member of his blissful club, and today was no exception.

"You're going to love this guy, he's kind of emo like you." Roier said, with that smile that wouldn't leave his face. "Ya'll get to listen to Green Day in the rain or whatever it is you guys do."

"It's alarming the endless new ways you find to insult me." Missa replied. "I'm not going to enter that stupid club."

"you are going to enter Cabron, we're all there, even your brother is in this club" Roier commented with an air of pride. "Do you know how hard it was to convince Spreen? This club has its things, you'll only see if you join."

"I don't want to join the weird social experiment Quackity is doing."

"Social experiment," He repeated as if it were a joke "Quackity can't even count."

Before Missa could reply into the room a person he hadn't seen before entered. The world felt on pause for about two seconds, as if reality would need a second to process his alluring aura.

He sat across from them with a captivating smile, Looking at Roier and then at Missa he introduced himself. "I'm Philza, nice to meet you.. uhm, Roier told me you were thinking of joining our cultural exchange club."

"I..." His mind debated for a second whether to accept, but I already had too many things on my schedule to also add, it wouldn't be a good idea. He simply had to turn down this offer. "Yeah, I'm thinking about it."

'Crap. I'm not thinking, I'm not thinking about anything at all. Why Missa, why' He thought, turning to look at Roier, and feeling like he read his soul Roier smiled, knowing that he won.

The conversation flowed pleasantly as his initial awkwardness was forgotten. Surprisingly his taste in music was indeed similar to Missa's as roier had said, though he still tried not to be persuaded by charisma alone.

"Oh, I must go now." Said philza shortly after they exchanged numbers. Missa nodded slightly disappointed, but Philza smiled at him that gesture infected Missa making him smile as well. "You do have a beautiful smile."

" Thank-what?" was all Missa could say before Philza left the room. Out of nowhere he became conscious of his own breathing.

"Are you joining the club yet?" Roier asked.

"No. Callate - I'm going to class."

Similar little incidents began to happen in spurts. It seemed that at every corner he met Philza, and at first all their conversations were casual almost as if this one himself forgot the ways in which Phil ended their conversations which was usually compliments from Missa's point of view excessive out of nowhere.

The strangest- and most frustrating thing for Missa was that nothing was happening afterwards. If he liked him, he just should ask him out or something but he didn't say anything apart from exaggerated compliments. he had even told him on one occasion, literally; "You're so funny, I have to go now. I love you." And then he was gone - who the FUCK just does that out of nowhere?!

He was starting to wonder if he had started dating at some point and for some reason erased all memory of that moment. Or maybe it was a strange way Roier was trying to manipulate him to get him into his club, which seemed more likely every day.

But there was nothing else to do but confront him. Yes, he just had to wait for the perfect moment.

That came soon enough when he was invited to a party at Quackity's house, to celebrate something from the club which meant Philza would be there, and also alcohol which would be good for courage. The time for the party was not long in coming, and upon arriving at the place he was greeted by Roier.

"Your absurd manipulation ends here." Missa said, as he entered the house.

"Yeah, whatever do you want alcohol? It's in the kitchen." Replied Roier ignoring him.

Missa felt surrendered and automatically went all the way to the kitchen where she grabbed some drinks that the host of the house was preparing.

"Missa! You came! You're finally joining the club?"

"It's not in my plans." Replied the black-haired man to Quackity as he continued to drink. He began to feel the alcohol rising in his head.

It wasn't long before he was intercepted by Philza after he went out of the house to the garden to try to get some air. Alcohol was not a good idea.

"Are you okay?" the blond said approaching him, and checking his face by cupping his cheeks. Philza let out a laugh " you're stunning."

Missa held his breath, staring at him. There was something about Philza that attracted him in an inexplicable way, like an irresistible magnet. Perhaps it was his warm smile, or the way his eyes sparkled with genuine kindness. Or maybe...

Shaking his head, Missa tried to dispel those thoughts. "Why are you always doing this?" he asked as he pushed Philza's hands away from his cheeks that were starting to turn red.

"What are you up to?" Philza asked with that smile that turned his stomach.

"You're confusing me..." He replied, but from his silence he sensed that Philza didn't understand what he was referring to. Which annoyed him. "Do you want a kiss or something? Am I hallucinating? Why are you always fucking flirting!?"

"Flirting?" He started laughing loudly Philza. Missa forcefully stomped on his foot. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I was just being sincere."

"Being sincere? Eres pendejo?" Missa felt his hair stand on end, and his face turn redder. Then he looked up into Philza's face who looked totally honest with what he had said. Then Missa started nodding.

"What, what's wrong?"

Missa said nothing and kept nodding as he entered the house again followed by Philza. "Roier!" He started shouting "¡Me uno al maldito club!"

[throwmeabonepleaseandthankyou]

Ooh, I thought of something!

Can I get some Grillby headcanons? I'm not picky on the AU but Fell!Grillby is a looker for sure!

I feel like he's usually depicted as flirty for whatever reason? That's pretty much all I know about him though...

I don't know anything about other versions of him either but you don't have to include them if you don't feel like it!

I love that I had a whole response typed out but tumblr deleted my draft 🥰 ANYWAYS, I only have three flame boys available to drool over right now, but all three are just as a loving as the other! Also, I need names for my boys. Please, I'm open to all suggestions!

Grillby :

Even as he is the quietest of the three, he loves talking to you. Well, listening at least.

He could listen to you talk for hours. He has to listen to a certain skeleton crack jokes almost everyday of his life, at least you he can willingly listen to.

He is always grateful to see you come in just to walk behind the bar and start helping him.

His flames burn a bit brighter each time he sees you interact with the customers. Whether it's entertaining the duck lady's "translations" for him or you playing... whatever it is, with the guard dogs.

None of the boys are actually hot to the touch. They feel more like a blanket fresh out of the dryer or a stone left out in the sun.

They have to choose to be harmful, or they have to be angry enough for them to lose control.

Thankfully, Grillby doesn't get upset easily, and if he is feeling off, he goes and lays in the snow to cool himself off.

Until he gets hit with a snowball by you.

He sends the Snowdin kids on you. They're pros and you're screwed. He promised them free candy too. Be ready to treat this snowball fight like an actual war.

He actually likes to dance, liking to spin you around the restaurant after closing to the beat of whatever song the jukebox chose.

He doesn't shower, but he doesn't smell.

Well, he doesn't smell if you enjoy the scent of ash and charcoal.

Walking candle.

Fell :

Gods, what a flirt.

But not creepy flirty.

Cheesy flirty, make you squirm in your seat and force yourself not to laugh cheesy.

This Grillby is hot-headed, literally and figuratively.

It's not uncommon for him to burn whatever he's holding when Red(Sans) pisses him off with his constant taunting.

He will throw out anyone he catches flirting with you, or making suggestive looks at you. No creeps on his watch.

Each flame boy has a distinctive smell. His is those expensive cigars and lemon pepper.

While some people would like to think he would hurt his s/o, he would the most gentle with you.

You are his most prized wine glass, and he will keep you safe.

Doesn't matter if you're human or monster, he will kill his own kind to keep them away from you.

He's not too fond of kids.

Or so he says. You'll catch him giving out chocolate to the younger children and sour candies to the older ones.

He'll always deny it when you mention it.

While the OG's main drink is cider, his is hot chocolate with a twist.

He adds mint to it, giving it the spark that the monsters need to get on with their day.

He acts all tough n shit, but the second y'all are back at home and getting ready for bed, he just wants to sleep on your lap.

Big flame cat.

Outer :

If you were to put your hand in his flames, it would feel like you just stuck your hand in sugar.

I mean it, pulling your hand out, you'll have to go wash your hand from how sticky it feels.

It's not actually sticky though, and attempting to eat his flame just feels like you stuck a warhead sour candy in your mouth.

Imagine.

He smells like a vanilla candle that has been burned recently.

He gives out a special recipe drink that only he knows how to make. Not even you know how to.

No one has been able to replicate it either, and every time they have tried, their version was disgusting.

His flame, unlike the other two, is dense enough to be pulled back and styled like actual hair.

You fun with all of those pretty colors.

He is more physically affectionate than the others too, always having a hand on you somehow, keeping you close.

He is huge on praise, loving on you and treating you like a queen/king/royal. You are spoiled with this one, and he never says no to you.

He has the money to spare, so don't worry about the price.

[googleitlol]

It's been awhile but I wanted to post this little blurb to continue my Dove fic posts. I'm almost done with midterms so it felt nice to flesh out pt. 1 of this scene for a little break!

btw… ik this is a wukong x reader but, uh, it takes a while for the whole shipping part to happen… I'm sorry they literally hate each other but I'll get to the actual shipping when it happens, naturally. (It just might take… time) ANYWAY ENJOY–

Dove Masterlist

TW: Gore

Disagreements

The young monk shivers slightly at the chill of an adolescent winter's breeze. Many of the flora along the road that has been so frequently travelled was now coated in a blanket of frost. Snow has yet to fall, though it will no doubt come soon. Clouds cross the sky at a steady pace, the wind encouraging their movement. 

You walk alongside the horse that carries the Tripitaka monk, feeling the need to stretch your legs. The past few days you spent in your dove form were nice, despite having to listen to all of that irritating monkey's exaggerated tales, but sitting on Tripitaka's shoulder for so long began to feel tiring.

The Monkey King walks on the other side of the horse, whether he is unaware of your annoyed glances or just doesn't care is unclear. After spending the entire morning boasting to his master about his many accomplishments, one would think that he'd look your way and catch your glare. Or maybe he just enjoys seeing such a sour look on your face. With him, who knows?

The young master himself also failed to pick up on the annoyance that stems from his trusted ally, too enamoured with his disciple's stories. Wukong has a true sense for theatrics, which made his tall tales all the more entertaining. Even if the monk seemed ever so slightly put off whenever the king explained how he committed some of the atrocities from his past to earn his reputation, Tripitaka kept his small smile from the excitement in the monkey's voice.

Sighing over the tale of how the Great Sage earned his iron staff, Tripitaka turns to you. "What of you, young companion?" The question makes you look up in slight surprise. "You've nearly lived as long as Pilgrim Monkey here, even despite your mortality. Have you any tales as grand as his?"

You hum for a moment, in thought as your memory of every exciting moment from your life fails to recall itself. "None that comes to mind, Great Monk. I spent most of my life in training, which was long and tedious."

The young man frowns. "You've lived over five hundred years, have you not? Surely you have some stories to tell."

His curiosity makes you hum in amusement. The monk is close to you in age, though his wide eyes of wonder fill you with a strange warmth. Many weeks have passed since the start of the journey, and if not for the formalities you attempt to hold yourself to, you might consider the Great Monk a good companion, a friend. But that feels inappropriate to say.

"I suppose there are some, though not all of them are as light-hearted as the supposed Great Sage." You cast another glance to the celestial primate, who now finally looks to you. His expression is neutral, though, from the past few weeks of travel, you feel that the short abrupt flicks from the tip of his tail expose a glimpse at his own irritation.

Maybe he can't handle not having his master's attention. Good. "However, I haven't lived as long as you believe. Those five hundred years were spent in the Jade Palace, where time moves differently. What was centuries on the mortal plain was merely a few years for me."

To your surprise, the monk laughs lightly, eyes shining in delight. "You say you have no stories to tell, yet you lived in the Jade Palace? Never have I heard of a mortal staying in the realm of the celestials." You don't miss the twitch of Sun Wukong's brow, a hint of a smirk creeping its way onto your face. "Tell me, what is it like there?"

"Why ask the measly Dove?" Wukong laughs before you can answer. "I lived up there as well, you know. I've held two separate positions with those heavenly deities! I can tell you of the feasts, how servants waited on me, that I was given my very own office, even!"

You nearly surprise yourself as a cackle escapes your throat. The two men look at you as you cough discreetly into your arm. "Apologies, but you were the stable boy, were you not?" His tail flicks another time, now being accompanied with his ears flattening against his head. The Great Sage really spoke more through his body language than his words, you found.

"My second position was much more important." His eyes roll as his arms cross. "Not that you could understand what it means to be given such responsibilities from the court of heaven."

He's defensive, that's cute. "Maybe not. Although, you didn't seem to last long in either job offer, did you?"

That makes him laugh proudly. "At least I earned my place there by becoming the strongest. What did you do, again? Give Guan Yin some sad eyes until she gave you your little vacation?"

You frown at that, eyes narrowing. "Don't act like your presence was wanted, Ape." Tripitaka gives you a look of surprise at the snap of tone in your voice. "I was there because I had to be, we are not the same. You earned your place by causing so many problems, the Court's only diplomatic option was to keep you entertained!"

"And what do you know of my matters in Heaven?" Sun Wukong barks out another laugh, his tone mocking. You clench your fist as you glare at the being before you. His tail whips wildly now from side to side, his teeth bared with a threatening smile.

His question makes you roll your eyes, as though he had forgotten your very first encounter."Did your time under that mountain make you senile or did you forget I witnessed your rampage firsthand, you idiotic, brainless, stupid and foul—"

"Stop!" Your eyes snap towards the direction of a new voice. Men quickly surround you and the pilgrims, all brandishing weapons against your group. Tripitaka looks between them all with fear as you smile to yourself. It's been too long since there was some action on this trip. 

One of the six blocking your path steps forward, a man holding out his sword as he spoke. “Leave your horse and drop your bags, otherwise us kings of the highway will cut you down where you stand!” You can see he means business, but it only makes you itch to jump into action. It’ll be good to take down such lawless men–

A body hits the ground before you can reach for your weapon.

The bandits fall silent, five pairs of eyes wide with fear as the Pilgrim readjusts the grip of his staff. A steady drip of scarlet liquid falls by his feet. The body before him lays on its side, its head caved in a few paces away. Blood pours from it, pooling over the ground just where some of his insides are now exposed. The man’s eyes are still open, stuck in an expression stricken with terror.

“Whoops.” The monster shrugs. “Sometimes I forget what flimsy bodies you have.”

They all run, screaming as their prosecutor gives chase. Not a single man made it off the road. All you can do is stand amidst it all, the young monk atop the horse mirroring your expression of absolute dread. The men no longer hold life in their eyes, their bodies bent and mangled, spread along the path with their weapons in the now non-existent grasp of their hands. The Monkey King stood between it all, his hand casually wiping away the blood that had splashed onto his face in his swift deliverance of death. He didn’t even bother with the ripples of deep red that now stain his clothing and arms.

You have to fight back the bile that attempts to claw up your throat. While you manage to succeed, Tripitaka fails miserably. The monk fumbles off the horse, nearly losing his footing before you catch and help him to the side of the road where he empties his stomach. You’ve seen horrors, bodies of demons dismembered and bathed in blood. Many fights end in casualties, death is nothing new, but to see the Monkey King wield his staff…

It doesn’t help seeing human bodies discarded in such a way… no matter how many demons you’ve fought, seeing a person mutilated in such a way always leaves a gaping hole in the depths of your stomach and an intense weight holding down your heart.

Sun Wukong looks at the two of you, unbothered by his actions. “That guy has some spare arrows, Dove. You can never have too many, right?”

You can’t manage to say a word before Tripitaka regains his bearings and marches towards his disciple. “What have you done?!”

“Me?” The demon laughs. “Got us some free clothes, and a pretty good travel allowance if these guys were any good at robbing.”

“You killed them! You murdered six men!” The monk shouts, his voice just barely withholding an emotion you have yet to see from the man.

Wukong scoffs at the appalled reaction to his actions. “And you’re welcomed for it.”

“No–” The man sighs. “Sun Wukong, you’re a buddhist now, and we don’t kill people.”

“Pssh– they were asking for it.” The monkey scoffs, crouching down to shake some more of the human remains off his staff.

“No!” You’re surprised to hear such a strong demand from the measly monk, his voice more stern than you’ve ever heard. “You made a deal with the bodhisattva and whether you like it or not you will uphold your part of the bargain. That means not killing people!”

The disciple looks up at that. “You’re really upset? They wanted to rob you.”

“Not even a judge would give a death sentence for that!” He argues, his open glare taking his new student aback.

“Hey, what’s done is done. You can sit here and complain about it or we can keep moving.” He turns to continue west, looking over his shoulder as he does. His expression is more annoyed now, his tail flicking to and fro impatiently, waiting for his Master’s sign to keep moving.

But Tripitaka’s stare bears down on his pupil. “No. I won’t take another step with a murderer claiming to be my disciple.”

“Come on, you’re being ridiculous.” The Monkey King turns back to face us, a frown now hardening over his features.

“A person who murders in cold blood cannot call himself a buddhist.”

The two glare daggers into one another, it almost takes you aback. You didn’t realise the monk could take such a stand, yet here he is. Against the Great Sage, no less. Yet he refuses to back down, even with the demon challenging him. The air between the two feels thick, as though it’s become a semisolid you have to hold your breath in.

After what feels like an eternity, the monkey laughs. “Fine then, I guess I’m no buddhist.” He turns, taking a few steps away before calling back. “Good luck making it to the west, Master.” 

“Wha–” Before Tripitaka is even able to speak, Monkey King hops onto his Somersault Cloud. “Wait, you can’t leave!”

“Watch me.” The demon glances back to the two of you, and you catch his eye for the briefest moment. Before he takes off, you make sure he sees the grin resting on your face. You know that all he’s doing is proving your point, from your talk by the river. He knows it too, and he must hate it.

He’s gone before another second can pass, and all that’s left on the path is you, Tripitaka, the horse, and six dead men.

The monk keeps his eyes on the path the Great Sage took through the sky, his eyes wide with despair. “…What did I just do?”

Slowly, you approach the man, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You scolded a centuries-old demon for good reason, and he went to sulk about it.”

“No… no, no, no, no! This is terrible!” Tripitaka’s hands shoot to his head, eyes wide and panicked. “I’ve lost my first disciple! What am I supposed to do? Where did he even go?! I was angry, I didn’t mean–” 

“Monk, you must calm yourself.” You disrupt the spiral of distress before it can continue any longer. “You did the right thing. Your disciple did something wrong, you confronted him. Look at his actions!”

As the monk turns to glance at the casualties left behind, you quickly stop him. “Actually, don’t. I wouldn’t want you to get sick again.”

“I didn’t mean for him to leave, but I couldn’t just excuse–” The man cuts himself off, his face pale from just the thought of what we had witnessed mere moments ago.

Holding his arms, you offer a comforting smile. “I understand, but there’s no need to worry.”

“No need?” He guffaws. “Sun Wukong is gone!”

You sigh quietly under your breath. “I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner, but I had a feeling something like this would happen. I just didn’t think it’d be this soon.” You do your best to suppress the chuckle that tries to escape your throat.

“Guan Yin has left me with something for a situation like this.”

The slight frown you receive tells you the man’s interest is now piqued. “What?”

You glance back at the road before answering. “Help me with the robbers, and I’ll explain. Your disciple will be back, and we’ll have to be ready when he does.”

“I… I don’t understand.” Tripitaka frowns. “How do you know he’ll return?”

You don’t bother to hide your smirk as you think back to that night by the river.

 “I'll be there to watch the moment you mess up.”

“He’ll want to prove me wrong.”

[soupbitch-moneybitch]

for the tiny crossover of people who love ofmd and also race cars:

i mentioned this in a discord i'm in, but i am not a sports person at all, and i am ESPECIALLY not a race car person, except my partner has a tendency to periodically get really into a specific topic (fungi, the atomic bomb, ebola, etc), and by extension, bc i love him and love listening to him, i tend to learn things about these things by extension

which is all to say, i am now kind of disgustingly familiar with formula 1 race car driving?? to the point that i have opinions on the teams, and have favorite drivers, and know a bunch of the history and stuff. it fundamentally clashes with almost ever facet of my personality, yet i have watched almost every race this season live

the POINT tho, and also the critical problem, is that formula 1 racing--more so than any other race car competitions--lends itself SO FUCKING WELL to a blackbonnet au

if you don't know (-god i wish that were me pic-) formula 1 racing is international, and the teams are all from different countries, and so are the drivers, so you have all kinds of nationalities up in there. and there's a shitton of nepotism, and generational racers, and buying their way in, and all that sort of stuff, which ofc makes me think of like

ed, being this formula 1 driver who is one of the only drivers to start from the bottom and work his way up on skill alone, and he's about to break the record for number of world championships, but he's so fucking BORED with the whole thing, bc he has no competition anymore. he wins every race, no one even comes close, it's just the same day in and day out

ENTER

stede. mb his dad/family owns a team, or are big sponsors, so everyone assumes he got his place bc of daddy's money, esp bc he wasn't known in the racing circuit prior to formula 1, so ed doesn't pay any attention to this dude at all, besides a brief "oh cool, another kiwi #respect"

right up until stede beats him in a race

and suddenly there's real competition again. and they are stuck doing press together bc they always get podiums together after every grand prix, and they go out celebrating together in whatever random country they're in that week, but mb stede has never been much of a partier, and ed was over it years ago, so they come up with their own celebration rituals, that are just them hanging out and watching tv at the hotel, or playing racing video games, or whatever the fuck. and obviously they start to fall for each other, which causes all kinds of drama, bc izzy, ed's team lead, is like "don't let this poncy fuck get in your head!" and the fans are divided on whether they ship ed and stede, or if they hate stede for coming after ed's record breaking win, or if they LOVE stede for coming after ed's record breaking win, and it's just a huge clusterfuck of drama that makes it really hard to develop a real relationship during, esp considering that they hop countries literally every two weeks

and ofc it has to come down to the wire. they have an equal number of points at the final grand prix, so whichever one of them wins that race wins the championship. what will happen??? i dunno, but whatever it is, they'll fuck about it afterward for sure

it fits together like a gd puzzle. the story writes itself. but am i rly gonna be that person? am i rly gonna have to be a person who writes fanfiction about fucking RACE CARS???

this is ruining my life

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

hello. i'm not sure how to phrase this properly but do you have any advice on not being afraid of being social with real humans? i admit i am a bit paranoid. i do not want to share anything about myself with anyone in real life, i do not want to use any social media that can be easily traced back to my real identity, i am afraid of meeting up with and talking to people i can meet locally etc. i know that human connection requires vulnerability and being "real", but i've seen far too many examples of people being bullied for being themselves and from my experiences relationships don't last that long, i can't keep friends, so it's almost not worth it to open up that much because it can be used against you later once you stop talking etc etc etc., at least that's what i think. i don't know how to perceive people as kind and stop being afraid. it's hard. sorry if this question is not phrased well.

hi anonymous; i:m terrible to ask for this!

i have basically no real-life relationships and my whole life has basically been a tomb built upon an inability to change, connect, and grow; spiritually i:m like what happens if the bacteria inside an empty house is allowed to stagnate and flow in-to the floorboards till it becomes like a fat pungent jelly saturating the baseboards, principal post, foundation; nasty and tepid and like a black mold :-))!

any-ways: what helped me get-over my social anxiety, slightly, was just gradual exposure at my own behest: forcing myself to go-out and get something nice for myself weekly/daily; when i had a little more money: this would be stopping out for coffee; or: just going to a thrift-store and looking at books.

for internet stuff and bullying: being open and facing consequence for your own existence is just part-and-parcel of being a person; even: if you are "making a career out of yourself" (whether it be an artist, or just some prolific poster (i:d consider this a career, absolutely, because when i was "way emotionally worse" i:d more-or-less literally get financially incentivized for being actively suicidal and mentally ill--blood sacrifice)) you sort-of implicitly are surrendering a barrier between yourself and other, cause ultimately it:s All About Connection & people don:t connect to barriers super well; incidentally, i think i had a worse time with "bullying" when i had more to be ashamed about myself, and had more internal insecurities -- but i also cared more about my identity as an artist; i:ve Confronted(!) the parts i:ve been too ashamed to confront and made peace with them, and now am mostly content with just housekeeping.

But: i:m still terrifically lonely. purpose and identity helps there; the only things that have ever abated the loneliness for me is being completely ensorcelled with /something/ (like a writing project, drawing, fleshing out an inner world, feeling like i am furthering my goal to the Communication/bacteria) -- and those only come as impulses for me; without: every-day is just a lonely dead-quiet stretch between meals that:s filled up with finding excuses to keep myself busy.

~but: i think that:s also "better;" i keep myself to a routine and give myself responsibilities that i don:t let myself shirk (my praying, my cleaning, my exercising, forcing myself to go to church once a week, my cooking, my grocery shopping); it:s like what moto realizes at the end of boogiepop phantom episode 1,

unfortunately we have to reconcile ourselves by ourselves, and likely: that is a life-time struggle that none of us get to shirk;

if you:d like a recommendation, anonymous, i:d like you to watch "boogiepop and others" (not "boogiepop phantom") episode 6; it:s an episode about that struggle, suema talks about it; if i:m feeling super-duper down i:ll listen to that conversation @ the end of episode 6 between suema and aya, about the struggle with the imaginator, and whether-or-not boogiepop is real.

anyways, i don:t think i gave you great advice here anonymous; even: i doubt any of this will lift your spirits >:-)) but @ minimum: try to be kind to yourself, including patience with yourself, and also responsibility to yourself; often it seems like people are awaiting another to come and pluck the dirt out of us: but that dirt is us, and all another can do is add more slurry to us.

take care chief.

[littlestarlost]

Yellowjackets is a show about trauma. I don't know what else to tell you.

Alright, blood hive, here we go again.

We're about halfway through season 2 at this point, and I remain more convinced than ever that a large portion of the viewing public is not fundamentally listening to what the wilderness the showrunners are trying to say. If you're looking for a singular capital-R Reason for everything we see in the show, you're looking at the wrong stuff. So here are some more thoughts.

(Spoilers for all of Yellowjackets up to S2E5, "Two Truths and a Lie")

One: Yellowjackets is a show about trauma and its relationship to magical thinking.

I get another grey hair every time I see someone trying to puzzle out just what is in the woods.

There's nothing in the woods, y'all. Nothing. Until I'm proven wrong by the show itself, this is the hill I will stubbornly die on. But show has been EXTREMELY consistent this whole time in its ambiguity, and in my opinion anyone using the red string and thumbtacks approach to Yellowjackets is being played for a fool. It doesn’t matter if there’s actually an entity in the woods (there isn’t), or if Lottie actually has powers (she doesn’t); what matters is that the survivors are clinging to any answers they can grasp in a situation full of unknowns, and so are we. Part of what’s so devastating about their plight is that there’s no real reason for any of it. This is the basis for literally every religion humans have ever had; we’ve been grasping at ritual and magical thinking for millennia. We are observing the growth of that dependence and ritual right now, in the second season. We are also seeing the consequences of that situation in the future. We are seeing how the power of thought can provide both comfort and further trauma.

I suspect that we will never learn the meaning behind the mysterious symbol. I've seen theories that it's a witch's mark, or even that it's a miner's signal and that all the weird stuff happening to the Yellowjackets is the result of mercury poisoning because they're inadvertently on top of an old mine. That's a nice theory, but I don't think it's correct, and I also don't think it should be revealed anyway. It doesn't ultimately matter what the symbol meant to the dead guy or his cabin; what matters is what the symbol represents for the Yellowjackets themselves.

Two: Yellowjackets is a show about trauma and the way it twists the unknown.

I am fascinated but frustrated by the apparent age split with fans. It seems to me that there's a pretty good-sized gap between the older fans of the show, who would have been kids/teenagers in the 90s (including me), and the gen Z viewers, the latter of which seem unable to really really understand just how wild the wilderness is. The generational split here is with those who remember how VCRs work because we had them and those who have never needed to know. It's a split between we who went through our primary school years without access to Wikipedia and those who have had the wealth of human knowledge in their pockets since they were children.

I’ve watched people do all sorts of questioning and speculating, and it almost always traces back to whether or not you understand how the world worked before smartphones, AKA most of human history. Let me answer some of those questions right now off the top of my head:

How could the Yellowjackets not be found for 19 months?

People used to just fucking vanish, fam. We did not have GPS, we did not have trackers, we barely had battery-powered walkmen. People vanished all the time, and were never ever seen again. Sometimes they did it on purpose, and a lot of the time they disappeared by accident or malice, and a lot of times they died. 1996 doesn't seem that long ago in terms of technology, but it is. People still go missing to this day, even with all our tech tracking us everywhere. Canada is fucking huge and a lot of it is mostly wilderness. Here's a photo I found from Statistics Canada with the population density of Ontario; the black areas represent places where there's basically goddamn nothing but wilderness.

2. How was there no road to the Cabin Guy's Cabin? How did he get there? How did he get supplies there?

He had a plane, and also, once again: people used to disappear all the time. In his case, he seems to have done it on purpose.

3. How could Shauna possibly deliver a child in those conditions? How could the baby be getting the nutrients it needs?

People did this successfully for tens of thousands of years, you guys. You're literally reading this post because our ancestors successfully birthed children in the middle of fucking nowhere with zero medical aid or support.

4. How could Lottie know about the bear or the starlings or or or...?

Easy: she doesn't. Not entirely, anyway. She's an empathetic person who's really good at dealing with the emotions of other people and has a sense of spirituality that appears brave and confident, and people in dire situations with a lot of chaos will depend on that with their lives.

And speaking of Lottie...

Three: Yellowjackets is a show about trauma and how it forces you to transform.

At the end of last season I believed that we were going to get a Lottie Villain Era, just like everyone else. I do not believe that now.

Everything we have seen of Lottie shows a girl who was subjected to medical abuse and/or neglect from a very very young age. Regardless of her actual powers or lack thereof, she was placed on medication by her parents and didn't come off of it until she was in a super traumatizing situation in the wilderness. During this most recent season, we have seen both Teenage and Adult Lottie struggle with her role as a spiritual leader and advisor; she's good at it, but it drains her. It isn't something she's doing out of a desire for power or control: it's something she's doing as a trauma response. That trauma response is helping others, so she keeps doing it, but it's still a trauma response. Trauma transforms you into somebody new, over and over again. The scars you bear become your armor, and then your mask, and then it's hard to know where you end and the trauma begins.

Taissa, too, is transformed by trauma. Her other self is a trauma response, similar to alters in a DID system. It comes to the front when Taissa can't deal, and it's both helpful and harmful. I'm willing to bet a lot of her college years were spent sleepwalking, as the Other One dealt with exams and soccer games and law school. Any one of us with dissociative trauma responses can speak to the way that dissociation can be a savior and an abuser in the same breath.

Four: Yellowjackets is a show about trauma and how it compounds on itself.

This most recent episode showed Natalie coming to a realization about the last time she saw Travis, and she says the words we've heard in the season trailers: there was something in the woods, something they brought back with them. Or maybe it was in them the whole time.

In my previous essay I talked about how each Yellowjacket arrived in the woods with her own traumas strapped to her back. In my mind, that's what Natalie is talking about. There is no entity in the woods to blame for all of this, no ghost or witch who can be credited with the trauma the girls experienced and inflicted. There is only the trauma itself, in all its many shapes and sizes, in all the ways it fills in the gaps and makes shadows dance by firelight and drives us to the very brink of madness, holding us back by a fraying tether.

Yellowjackets is a show about trauma. The show's theme song rings out every episode: No return, no return, no reason. There is no return to the way things were. There is no return that can erase what you've been through. There is no reason for all of this, except for the one that's been very explicitly outlined via themes and story and dialogue and flashbacks and framing.

Yellowjackets is a show about trauma. It's the only answer we have, and I suspect--and hope--that it's the only answer we're ever going to get.

[lemongrablothbrok]

Was watching my favorite movie, Almost Famous, like a week or two ago. First of all, I'd just like to say, I could blog about this movie all fucking day, every fucking day, and intend to eventually (because I'm a masochist and like a challenge, damnit) do a post on every single Led Zeppelin reference that I could find in the movie (and there. Are. A lot. Probably literally more than there is of any other band or artist. For realsies), as well as an entire post of its own doing a character analysis of Vic, the Led Zeppelin fan (because I feel like he matters a lot more than his maybe two minutes of total screentime might suggest). But anyway...

So, I'm watching the director's cut, like I usually do (the theatrical cut just doesn't do it for me anymore), and there's one scene that (I'm pretty sure?) didn't make it into the regular cut of the film, but...like...

So, it's near the end of the movie, and Russell, the lead guitarist of the fictional band Stillwater, is having a conversation with the band's lead singer, Jeff, after butting heads with him for the entire movie and both of them coming to terms with the fact that...well...they don't like each other very much. And they're discussing whether it really matters if they like each other or not, and I think it's Jeff who says something like he thinks them liking each other might have been a detriment to the band, if anything, and how he's heard that all of the great duos hate each other or don't like each other or don't get along or whatever. Which, you know, cool, is true for maybe some of the most highly regarded rock groups (the Davies brothers in The Kinks, Joey Ramone and Johnny Ramone, and even Lennon and McCartney by the time The Beatles ended), clearly not all of them, though, but you know, hyperbole and all that. The real kicker, though? The fucking irony in that assertion, that none of the great duos in music get along? You know what song is playing in the background while they're talking about this?

"The [motherfucking] Rain Song", that's what. Like...uh...Jeff...you hear that song that's playing right now? Actually, probably not, since it might not be playing in-universe at that moment, though in Almost Famous it's sometimes hard to tell the diagetic (sp?) from non-diagetic music. But...like..."The Rain Song" is playing. Your argument is invalid, Jeff. Do you have any idea. Any fucking idea, Jeff, how much the duo responsible for that song (both in the writing and, quite possibly, the subject matter itself) don't hate each other? Like, pretty much the polar opposite of hate each other? Like, whether or not you believe that Page and Plant ever touched each other's no-no bits, what's not really up for debate is that those two men love each other like woah, whatever the nature of that love may be, doesn't matter, they are, for all intents and purposes, fucking married, they've both said so themselves. Yes, even James Patrick "No-Homo" Page.

I think Cameron Crowe definitely did that on purpose, and I appreciate the irony in the juxtaposition between the dialogue and the background music, is I guess what I'm saying. Listen, he was given special permission from the guys themselves to use a handful of Led Zeppelin's songs in his movie, he wasn't just going to slap them on any old scene all willy-nilly.

[growling]

Top 10 favourite narcissist moments

parasocial hatred. we never talked and I'm not sure you know I exist but I fucking hate you and hope the worst happens to you

getting so pissed over actual talented people that get like 50+ notes minimum for every art and endless praise from their 100+ followers every damn day whining about how much their art sucks and nobody appreciates them or whatever. like shut the fuck up do you just not know how good you have it or are you just fishing for attention. nevermind i have already decided which one and i decided i want you boiled in a pot

not being able to have a normal one without a constant string of supply aka attention and praise from everyone. every time someone talks to me or compliments my epic art skillz or acknowledges me in any way I get such a high I feel like a literal god and feeling giddy nonstop for the whole day, then it fades i start to feel a bit too ignored these past 2 days and a half and i just feel so empty and terrible and my world is destroyed and i need to hurt something now- oh someone said im cool again nevermind i have been fixed the universe is beautiful my future is bright mentally healthy people want me carnally

having a really fucked relationship with the concept of "unconditional love" everything is conditional what are you talking about. and "love" in general, when i say i'm loveless, whether romantically or platonically, i mean it. that doesn't mean i cannot get attached to people or care about them in some other way, no i am not going to explain it in detail right now

there is zero point in talking to anyone else or getting into any relationships because none of these people could ever be on my level. their thinking is so shallow and stupid and they all behave so predictably and enjoy the most nonsensical of things and it's like everyone just gets something that i don't and they're inferior in every way but it feels like they are out for me specifically because I'm not like them and as soon as they find me out I will never be safe there. It's lonely and terrifying but yeah sure I'm the asshole apparently because I secretly feel superior or whatever. contrary to popular opinion being extremely self-centered is not a positive thing for the guy that has it

not caring about anything that doesn't concern me specifically in any way. it's all "support people with low empathy" until they can't ""make up"" for it with high sympathy or just trying harder or something. Everything bad that ever happens is here just for my entertainment or an annoyance. vents and crying and whatnot make me incredibly uncomfortable or annoyed and i mean i will try to listen (because i am a wonderful kind person) but i will have zero idea on how to respond because thorought the entirety of it i didn't really pay attention and just kinda thought "oh my god stfu i don't careeee when can i leave" while envisioning rain code amvs in my mind. unless you unlock my easter egg that is

only doing nice things for praise and making people love me or just to feel good for being such a great person, and getting incredibly dissapointed and sometimes really pissed whenever they're not grateful enough

wow society is a shitshow i don't respect literally any of you people. i should run away and live away from everybody forever but i need to acquire my riches and fame first which will not be hard whatsoever. the struggle never ends

just. lying all the time. and not being able to tell whether you actually like somebody or their attention.

not seeing other people as people (i know they are, it doesn't change that i still feel they aren't), having to slowly spend enough time talking with them and find out enough information on them in order to start seeing them as an actual person. if i don't know who you are then you just aren't that important in the great scheme of things. and if i do know you and get attached (and maybe you also happen to have traits that make you special and better than others almost like me which makes me like you even more) then I decide you're my person now. not in a weird or entitled way, it's just how many of us show protectiveness and whatnot thanks radiostaticsmile for putting that into words. I do feel a bit of an ownership over people I like, kinda like a cat or dog with their people. i'm really not escaping the kittycat allegations am i. god damn it.

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

Hey :D I hope you're having a good day ☀️ For the ask game: 3, 11, 20 <3

Hey! My day has been kind of messy and tiring but it`s just got significantly better, and I'm not kidding:) I'm so, so glad to hear from you🫶 Our discussion of Banished was interrupted because my mind was hijacked by HotD promo for season 2. But when the dragon show lets me breathe for a while, we'll come back to it (maybe I will have watched The Terror by then😊). Actually, I'm quite surprised by how well I remember the events of Banished. Looks like my mind truly loved it so it decided not to let go:)

And now for the questions😊

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of? Lord of the Rings trilogy (yes, I'm cheating and counting them as one movie, as usual); Love Actually; Inception. Beautiful fantasy, beautiful reality and beautiful mindfuck (one you can understand though) - three of my favourite movies:)

11. What do you consider to be romance? Very good question and not the easiest one. I believe for me it means looking at a person, seeing them for who they truly are, with all their imperfections - and understand, truly understand, that this is the person you want to be with, plain and simple: without analyzing them or your relationship, without trying to figure out which of their virtues outweigh their flaws and why.

20. Favourite things about the night? The quiet. And it's not just about literal silence - more about quietness of the mind and spirit. It almost feels like at night I am more myself than during the day. And in this silence pretty much every experience feels sharper: whether it's a book I'm reading or a piece of music I'm listening to or a movie I'm watching. Plus, I tend to be at my most creative during nighttime:)

[tubbypeddle]

hii, I'd like a matchup for percy jackson and one piece please! (I'm using the previous person's request as a template sorry)

I’m a 5’9 girl, have brown skin, dark brown eyes, and curly/coily, brown hair. I have an athletic/rectangle-type body. I usually wear jorts/cargos and graphic tees when I feel masc. I love to wear crop tops and shorts when I feel more feminine.

im bisexual with a preference for men

im usually an extrovert on most days, especially with people I know, but sometimes I'm more introverted. i like to push myself to be a better version of me. i love adventuring, but I also enjoy relaxing a lot. i have a creative and active mind and I talk a lot. i love listening and debating on topics I enjoy.

i dislike people who are rude just to be rude/rude because they think its cool. people who give backhanded comments or gossip. i hate feeling overwhelmed or overstimulated, or just feeling tired in general.

irrational fear of heights lol. but really, im scared of not having a good future, and everything going wrong after college.

my hobbies are, reading, traveling, sports, writing, games, and baking

i love hugs and quality time with people I love, whether that be going out or just chilling at home.

what i prefer in a partner is someone who will be there for me when I struggle and feel overwhelmed. someone willing to be there for comfort, but also someone who isn't afraid of communicating their own feelings.

i think that's it, thank you!

okay so. ignore that this took even longer than it normally would.

because.

if you mention it, I might genuinely crash out

anyway.

(author's note: credits to gif owners, I do not own them. again, I literally cannot apologize enough, I am so sorry these are taking so long.)

It's shocking news. To hear that you're a demigod. The child, of a Greek myth.

Yeah right.

But, you suppose it would explain all the strange things that happened to you in your childhood. Apparently all of those myths that Mr. Brunner told you in school were real.

Because your best friend has goat hooves for feet???

He takes you to Camp Half-Blood, which your (apparently) satyr friend says is the only place safe for demigods like you. Almost everyone is shocked to meet you, especially because you're much older

He takes you to the Hermes cabin, where you'll stay until your Godly parent claims you.

And there, you meet

Travis Stoll

Now it may not be obvious at first, but let me explain.

He's one of the two head counselors for the cabin. Him and his brother personally get you situated into Camp life.

Connor finds you fun and polite enough, but it's Travis who has a crush on you.

It's like at first sight with you.

Connor and Travis have rather different types in women they like, which is why I personally see you with Travis more than Connor.

Connor likes girls who are softer. Maybe a little more "delicate". Girls who giggle at his every joke.

Travis likes his girls a little more athletic, of which there is no shortage of in Camp Half-Blood. He likes girls who are strong. Girl where he doesn't have to worry about them being hurt when he isn't around.

At first though, he doesn't even think his crush will go anywhere. He just likes to admire you from afar.

He's much too busy as a year-round Head counselor. Let alone, the replacement head counselor of a camper gone rogue.

The day his crush on you goes somewhere is when he finds you breaking down in a corner of the Hermes cabin. Your godly parent is just taking forever to claim you. You feel unwanted. Abandoned. Alone.

Now, this is nothing new to Travis. It's like a demigod's rite of passage into Camp Half-Blood.

Doesn't make it any easier to see someone else feeling the same way he did once upon a time.

He comforts you as best he can. He lets you scream and cry, or he lets you throw things around, if that's how you handle things.

And when you're done with your crying, he offers ways to get your mind off of it. Sparring, or drawing with you. Reading whatever textbooks the Big House has.

He even tells you about his own experiences with the gods. His own quests he's been on, big or small. He tells you about how his father claimed him. He isn't afraid of being vulnerable with you, even though all of his instincts are yelling at him to be paranoid.

From there, your friendship becomes something more. You find yourself looking for him whenever either of you have free time.

Since you enjoy active activities just as much as quieter ones, it's rather lucky Travis is the one who likes you. He's the same way.

He doesn't read as much, because even though all the books in Camp Half-Blood are written in Greek, he just doesn't like reading. But he'll listen to you read. He likes listening to you read aloud. Or even if you don't want to do that, he'll probably whittle away at a piece of wood while you draw.

His main love languages are quality time and acts of service after all. This is how he shows you he likes you.

It's very lucky that neither of you enjoy gossip. Travis hates rumors and all that what have you. It's a big reason why he doesn't get along with a lot of the Aphrodite kids.

His favorite dates with you are when you two go out and do something active. Preferably when you two can leave the camp. Not far, probably not even out of Manhattan.

He just wants to take you out to do something fun, that will leave memories that the two of you can cherish for a lifetime.

Honorable mentions!

Frank Zhang

You're actually pretty close to his canon romantic interest type. At least, what I'm imagining, based on your description. He also likes quieter activities, while still enjoying more physical things, too. You two would spend a lot of your time together since you enjoy many similar things. I just felt he'd be too obvious of a choice. (and also, he's from Heroes of Olympus, technically, and I didn't know if that's what you were also looking for.)

What a lovely dive into the world of Percy Jackson!

Now, it's time to move on from the world of gods and demigods, and into the world of pirates and giants.

You're sailing the Big Blue. Whether as a pirate or military, doesn't matter.

Either way, it's

Koby

He meets you by chance. Most likely while he's infiltrating a pirate's ship.

He finds you, probably being held hostage. And he rescues you.

He's enamored by you when you two first meet. He finds himself wanting to keep in touch with you after he's rescued you from the pirates, whether or not you are a pirate yourself.

He's proved before that he doesn't care about where you stand on that front. He just wants to hold your hand.

At first, he tries to get your attention by leaving you gifts. Anonymously, of course.

Training under Garp may have given him confidence in himself, but not confidence in his courting skills.

He leaves you little things like seashells he found along the beaches he came across that reminded him of you. Little flowers he came across while patrolling a town. Chocolates, if you're into those.

(He's getting all of his ideas from romance novels)

It takes him a long time to muster the courage to tell you who's leaving you those gifts.

Should you decide to accept him, I promise you that he's a great boyfriend.

He's attentive, and kind, and gives you everything that you want whenever he's able to. (His love languages are gift giving and quality time)

He makes time in his schedule for you. All of his vacation days are used up just for your dates.

He also enjoys just listening to you talk. He enjoys debating with you, just because he likes hearing your opinions and thoughts, even if sometimes he doesn't agree.

Also, he adores your style. Honestly, what someone wears isn't the first thing that catches his attention about people he's attracted to. It's their determination and their willpower that draws him in.

But he thinks you look cute in everything you choose to wear. Whether it be your crop tops and shorts, or your tanks and cargo jeans.

Really, he's just completely enamored by you.

Out of everyone, Koby is probably the most emotionally competent. At least, in the navy, he is. It's not often that you two have arguments. You understand that he does his best to make time for you, and he's very amenable to understanding you and how you work.

So when you two do get into arguments, Koby makes it a point to never raise his voice, no matter how frustrated he gets. He listens to what you have to say and is careful to change his behavior should he find you correct in what you're saying.

Relationships are a lot of work, but it's nothing he's not willing to do.

Honorable mentions!

Luffy

It's not that I thought he was obvious, although it was an obvious choice to me. It's that I think he might not be able to sit down for too long to have those long kinds of conversations that you seem to love. He's too hyper, he has to be doing something always. (and also he'd eat all your food)

I hope you enjoyed it 🥺

[sugarcherriess]

For the 1k headcanon requests (i hope I'm understanding how this works)

Kevin-tbz, soulmate bestfriends to lovers

Sunwoo-tbz, soulmate older brother's bestfriend

Q-tbz, rivals to lovers

(yes I'm slightly in a soulmate phase rn)

Since you didn’t specify a genre I’m gonna make them all fluff bc of the cute tropes 🥹🥹

All three are under the cut!

Soulmate Best Friends to Lovers with Kevin Moon:

I won’t even try to act like the first that that came to my brain after reading Kevin and soulmates in the same sentence wasn’t that one hc about soulmates getting the same birthmark in the same place on their bodies

Now imagine you and Kev being best friends since you were in diapers

It’s been a blissful few years with both of you being ambitious when it comes to love

You’ve dated people on and off, never really finding the one since yk, you both never had the soulmate mark

Kevin on the other hand prefers to keep it low and wait.

Which according to you is incredibly boring

However, one date of yours is a real bust

Like the kind of bust that makes you go straight to Kevins house and cry about love not being real

“I’m going to be 90 and still not have a partner,”

“You should be more worried about your inevitable toothless mouth at 90 thanks to all the icecream you’re eating,”

You stick out your tongue at him and continue to eat your icecream

“Turn around i have to change,” he orders you so that he can change into his pajamas.

The impromptu sleepover was your idea

“And if i dont? What do you have to hide, loser,” you jab at him

And he rolls his eyes but continues taking off his shirt

You keep your eyes on the tub of icecream for the most part

Only accidentally looking over at him once through your tear stricken eyes

And that’s when you see it

Kevin’s fucking jacked

No! Not that!

Kevin has the exact same birthmark on his back as you.

In the exact same place. In the exact same shape.

“Kev…” “hm?” “We’re soulmates,” “of course we are, i can recognise you from the sound of your piss stream–“ “no i mean. We’re /soulmates/ soulmates”

Kevin pauses at that

Then he turns and you explain to him what you just figured out. How you both spent almost half your expected lifetime without seeing your marks and connecting the dots is beyond you

Surely both marks being behind your backs was a huge factor

However it leaves you both stuck to your places

Until you talk it through and realise

You’ve never really been textbook best friends ever.

This new knowledge opens up a whole new pandora box of evident behaviours that made you seem beyond just best friends to everyone

“Guess our friends weren’t lying that we act more like couples than actual couples,,”

Your preestablished chemistry makes this easier to digest. But you dont jump too early into a relationship

You promise eachother to take it slow and see whether or not you can work as a couple

And of course you do

Kissing each other? Going on dates? Adoring each other’s every idea– stupid or not stupid, all of it came easy to you

Gradually you two became a thing

“So are we supposed to act like this is something new” – literally your entire friend group when you two meet up with them hand in hand, finally an exclusive couple

Soulmate Older Brother’s Best Friend with Sunwoo:

Older brother’s bestie Sunwoo?

Sunwoo who adores you and thinks you’re the cutest person in the world?

Sunwoo who’s so so soooo overprotective over you that he even surpasses your brother?

Sunwoo who wants you to join them in every activity and personally comes to your room to check up on you and hang out when he comes over?

Yes to all of the above

You’re absolutely infatuated with this man

Like i mean it

He’s so caring and warm and endearing

And he’s so funny

He listens to you and cares about you

If you ever go out somewhere, Sunwoo would be more high alert than your brother

He would text you every hour to check in

Would ask you whether you’ve had food and hydrated

And would lovingly blackmail you into feeding and hydrating if you haven’t

Would stay up with you on days that you had work late in the night

He would also help you do your homework if you need help!

Like if you’re bored at any hours of the day, you can call him up and he’ll be at your doorstep to take you out for a drive or to lay in and watch a dumb movie

Sometimes it feels like he’s more with you than he is with your big brother

So it’s not unnatural that one day your brother finds Sunwoo in your room and drags him away

“He’s MY best friend, stop hogging him!!????”

But you wont let go

Or so your brother thinks

“Ummmm”

You two don’t know how to explain what the fuck is going on when your brother looks back to tell you to let Sunwoo go.

Would you look at that, a red string of fate connects both your pinkies together!!!!!

And no matter how much your older brother pulls, it would not break!!!

You brother is taking it relatively well than you would’ve assumed

“Sigh, you gotta willingly come with me man. I won’t be able forcefully take pull you away,” he rolls his eyes

You cant even make eye contact with Sunwoo because of how shy you’ve gotten at this newfound intimacy with someone you’ve admired for so long.

“Yeah okay I’ll meet you in a sec,” Sunwoo assures your brother to make him leave

And as soon as he does, Sunwoo’s rushing his way back to you, warm hands grabbing your face as his lips land on yours in a passionate smooch

“I’ll see you later,” he promises and then leaves after his best friend

The later comes only ten minutes after that as he can not help but feel empty when he’s away from you much to the dismay of your brother 😔💔

Rivals to Lovers with Ji Changmin/Q:

Everyone always talks abt dance rivals Q x reader now lets talk about ART MAJORS Q x reader

You’ve been stuck in a perpetual rivalry since college began because highschool might’ve not mattered but this does and you need to be the best is the philosophy you both live by

And you both have to submit a final sculpture by the end of the year

This is your project that will dictate who gets to ride the college’s ass for the rest of your degree with regards to the opportunities on a global scale as well as other benefits

And you need to be the one on top

But then so does Changmin

Its a shame really because you could’ve been such great friends and your collective power of absolute cunt serving would leave others in the dust had it not been for you being forced into a competition with eachother

And its petty, the way you both bicker in every class and in every practical

If you say one thing he says another

If he agrees on one idea you present a completely different one

You two refuse to let the other have the last word and the rest of the study body and the profs are sick of it

So sick that the administration considers it necessary to fix this issue themselves so that this doesn’t negatively effect the establishment’s image

So they plan a trip!

A trip to an art museum where you have to choose a trip partner and use this trip to gather inspiration and brainstorm ideas with eachother

Oh did I mention that this project is in pairs?

And did i mention you two are paired together

The trip begins as usual

Bickering about not leaving enough space on the bus for the other

Bickering about being too noisy

Bickering about being too… *reads scribble on hand* there???

“Can you stop breathing so loud near me?”

“Only if you stop breathing at all,”

Cue eyes rolling from the rest of the student body

However, begrudgingly, you two become civil whilst inside the museum

Both of you are quiet at first

But then you start figuring out that you have so many things in common

Like the kind of art form you’re most passionate about

Your favourite sculptors

Your favourite stroke techniques

The works yk?

Its a gradual process but you two go from not even accepting each others presence for one minute to spending hours holed up in the art room sketching up ideals and laying out plans for your project

During the course of that project you two get more and more understanding

To the point when one of you is always bringing coffee for the other and the other is always offering to pay for food

When its the day of the final display, your and Changmin’s work gets the most praise

And then its time to part

And your hearts ache 🥹🥹🥹🥹

Its a sad sad goodbye

And finally, after several gruesome hours of fighting your egos, you both hit each other up

“I realised we have so much potential as individuals and it would be fascinating to see how much we can reinforce that potential if we work together,”

“Ji Changmin are you proposing to work on the final project together?”

“Yes and.. I also thought we could go get coffee… as a date,”

And there begins the turning point of your venomous glares gettign replaced by heart eyes for each other

The mouths that used to strike each other like spears now locked together in a battle of tonsil hockey

He’s def the type of bf to walk with his hands in the back pocket of your jeans 😤

The End 💘